BOLLI JOURNAL UPDATE!

Our deadline for submissions passed at the end of September, at which point, we had a record number of pieces, both literary and artistic, from a host of BOLLI’s creative members.   Over 200 items from 78 members!

We are both thrilled…and dismayed.  Thrilled because of the array of material…but because we can only take, at most, 60 items, we are dismayed because it means that we are not going to be able to include something from everyone in this year’s volume.   Instead, we have been hard at work selecting pieces that we believe offer something for everyone!

So, at this point, we have made our initial literary selections but have not yet notified those writers as we need to set up a draft of the volume in order to determine exactly how many pages we can devote to their work.  While that drafting is in progress, the group is now working to narrow down the art and photography submissions.

If you submitted literary material to us and have not yet heard from us, that means your work is in that group of selected items.  If you submitted art and/or photography, we are making those selections at this time.

We so appreciate your patience as we dig through this veritable treasure trove–and you should hear from us before the end of this calendar year!

 

A SENIOR MOMENT FROM DONNA: GIVE US A BREAK

GIVE US A BREAK

by Donna Johns

Stuck in the house waiting for a repair, I sat down with a cup of coffee to watch Robert Mueller’s testimony to Congress.  He was, as I expected, clear and to the point and very “lawyer-y.”  He kept flipping through that 400 page report to verify his answers.  And he looked a tiny bit annoyed. I’m sure he would have preferred to be fishing, or reading, or just about anything that did not involve being thanked for his service and attacked for his findings. They mercifully gave him (and me) a break after 90 minutes.

Returning to the television, the talking heads were analyzing his performance:

“He seems confused.”

“He keeps shuffling papers.”

“Is he ill?”

As I am wont to do when confronted with idiot talking heads, I began to yell at them. “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he’s hard of hearing! He’s not sick. He’s just 75. Give him a break!” I watched the second morning session, paying closer attention to the man. Sure enough, when asked a question, Mueller tilted his head to hear better. He probably has one good ear and one that is trashed. We see it at BOLLI all the time.

Shuffling papers?  He was very precise when he found the relevant portions of his report.  He just took his sweet time finding them. At his age, many of us can’t find our keys, eyeglasses, or the shopping list we wrote last night. I thought it was admirable that he actually found anything in those two massive binders.

That got me thinking of all the criticisms we face as we age. Our children are chronic offenders but it comes from just about everyone. Rather than shrugging off our little idiosyncrasies, there is a tendency to try to fix us, as if we were broken.  Nope, not broken…just different. Raise your hand if any of these ring a bell.

  • “I got stuck behind a Q-Tip driving 20 miles per hour. Why are they still on the road?”  Answer: How much damage can I do going 20 miles per hour? Also…need groceries.  Also, what’s your hurry?
  • ” Can’t you hear me? Why don’t you pay attention?” Answer: You mumble. And frankly, if you can’t speak up, why do I have to pay             attention?
  • ”Why are you taking so long to (fill in the blank)?” Answer:  After a lifetime of hurrying, I’m enjoying a more leisurely pace. Also, how            important is (fill in the blank) anyway?

Aging is a daily challenge, and most of us do it with dignity. Perhaps the young-uns need to appreciate our uniqueness and quit diagnosing our “shortcomings.” Move on…nothing to fix here!

BOLLI Matters feature writer Donna Johns

Donna is a teacher/librarian, writer of unpublished romance novels, sometime director of community theater and BOLLI member. She has two fantastic faux knees which set off the metal detectors at Fenway Park.

MEMOIR FROM DENNIS: TWO SPECIAL FRIENDSHIPS

Two Special Friendships

 by Dennis Greene

My life is richer because of two women whose paths I was lucky enough to have crossed. They are both smart, strong and beautiful, and, like a lot of us, are currently dealing with the undeserved curveballs life throws our way.

Recently,  my friend Hunter lost the sight in one eye due to a sudden arterial occlusion or “eye stroke.”  She notified her legions of friends of the loss, informed us that the doctors said the damage was probably total and irreversible, and reminded us gamely that she still had one eye that was working fine.  Hunter is tough, well-grounded,  indominable.  Though we have never met and have only spoken on the phone once, I consider her one of my best friends.  I met Hunter through Judy.

Judy was my first girlfriend.  She was tall, pretty, smart, and a very nice person.  I met her in high school in 1960 when she was scooping ice cream at Gulf Hill Dairy.  We dated pretty regularly during my senior year,  but I am not sure how to characterize the relationship. At the time, I had nothing to compare it with, but it probably fell into the “semi-serious” category.  I do know that, when I went away to college, I expected to see her at Thanksgiving, but, shortly before the holiday, I received a “Dear John” letter.  Judy told me she had started dating Dave and we wouldn’t be seeing one another anymore.

Dave was one of the most popular guys in my class, one of the best all-around athletes in the school, my teammate on the basketball team, and a good guy. He was also tall, movie star handsome, and destined to become a Marine officer.  I was glad for Judy but a little sad for me. But, because of her, I had much more experience with the opposite sex than I had had a year earlier. And I was strangely proud to have received my first “Dear John” letter. It proved I was in the game.

Judy and Dave have been married more than half a century.

Twenty years later, my wife and I attended my 20th high school reunion.  As we stood in line to get our name tags, Judy and Dave walked in.  Eileen had heard me tell high school stories and was interested in meeting them.  As I made the introductions,  I realized, from Judy’s expression, that she had no idea who I was.  It was an awkward moment that Eileen seems to take some joy in mentioning, while noting that most women remember their prom dates.

Over the years following that reunion, I kept in touch with Dave and Judy, and when we discovered Facebook, Judy and I began playing Lexulous (a scrabble type game) on line.  At some point, she suggested that I might also like to play with her friend Hunter, a woman she had met through their mutual love of rescued Border collies. For a number of years, the three of us played lots of games.

Then, sadly, Dave began suffering from Lewy Body Dementia, and Judy stopped playing, devoting all of her time to caring for him.  She was a talented artist, but she gave up all her woodcarving and most of her photography activities. It made me think about how much caregivers have to forgo in order to care for a loved one. Such caregivers deserve much more appreciation than they often receive.

Hunter and I have continued to play online games for over eight years now.  According to the Lexulous site, we have played over 3,000 games. The site makes it easy for players to chat, and ,through that online interaction,  I have come to know quite a bit about Hunter.  She loves dogs and horses and always has several.  She has told me stories about her parents and her children, and she is outspoken about her political beliefs. In fact, she is outspoken and effusive about most everything.

Hunter was not as open and forthcoming at first, but, at some point, she expressed a very liberal opinion and mentioned that I probably would disagree with her.  As an educated, Jewish Democrat with atheist leanings, born in Newark, N. J.,  I wasn’t used to having anyone assume I was politically conservative. When I asked her why she thought I would disagree, she told me that she just assumed I was a conservative, religious Republican who belonged to a yacht club because I had been friends with Judy and Dave.  I told her she had me pegged wrong, and, since then, Hunter has been much more free-wheeling when it comes to expressing her opinions. Her recent Trump posts have been especially entertaining.  I never noted that these two friends were at such different ends of the political spectrum.

Hunter called me once for legal advice when a used truck she had purchased in Texas broke down about 150 miles from the dealer, but all of our other contact has been through Facebook. Recently, I told her that I had added her to my bucket list and planned to visit her in Florida. I am going to do that sometime soon.

When we look back on our lives, the things that shine are the friendships we have been lucky enough to share.  For me, Hunter and Judy are two that shine the brightest.

“BOLLI Matters” feature writer Dennis Greene

Dennis spent five years as an engineer and then forty as a lawyer–and sixty as a pop culture geek and junkie.  He saw “The Day the Earth Stood Still” in 1951 when he was seven and has been hooked on speculative fiction ever since.  He has engaged in memoir writing since joining BOLLI.

MEDICAL MOMENTS WITH STEVE: WHO KNOWS? TWO CANCERS

TWO CANCERS

by Steve Goldfinger

The patient had turned 50 and was in perfect health when she went for her first colonoscopy. There, at the very last segment of bowel to be examined, was a small cancer growing in the region of her appendix. Surgery to remove it was performed the next week. Seventeen months later, she was dead from metastases throughout her body.

At age 55, my father noted constipation. Within weeks, he was unable to have a bowel movement. As a physician who was well aware of his own body, he could recognize each wave of peristalsis curving in his abdomen and then stopping abruptly where his colon met his rectum. He told me these things the night he brought home the films from the barium enema he’d gone through that day. Without doubt, a cancer completely obstructed his bowel. The next day, he signed in to the local community hospital, spared the foreign intern by cavalierly writing his own history into the chart, and called upon his surgical buddy “Chippy” to do the operation. No need for a major medical center or a renowned surgeon to take care of things. And Chippy was pretty good at what he did.

My mother and I sat in the waiting room, she in her thoughts and I in mine.  A third year medical student having just completed a three month exposure to surgery, I expected the worst. When Chippy finally came in, I saw him smile. “No lymph nodes,” he exclaimed, “it all grew in.”  My father lived another 32 years with nary a bowel complaint.

“It all grew in.”

Just what signal from the interior of my father’s bowel had directed those cancer cells inward?  And with such force as to not allow any to escape in the other direction. Was it anything akin to the earth’s magnetic field that directs each salmon to its personal spawning rivulet? Impossible. Swallows travel 6,000 miles to return to Capistrano to resettle in their cliff nests each year. Instinct, memory, wind currents, and who knows what else. Nothing that seems to pertain to a cancer cell.

More likely, my father’s cancer cells didn’t all home inward. Perhaps some escaped from his colon but could not thrive in the outer world. Possibly, they found the soil of whatever tissue they reached inhospitable, not letting them set up shop and multiply. Or perhaps his cancer cells, unlike those of my patient,  were unable to secrete a fertilizing substance that would allow them to dig deep and flourish in foreign lands.

Questions begging for answers.

Who knows?

BOLLI Matters feature writer Steve Goldfinger

After a long career in medicine, Steve has been exploring his artistic side.  At BOLLI, he has taken writing courses, been active in the Writers Guild, and even tried CAST (Creativity in Acting, Storytelling, and Theatre) where his imagination made him a singular player!

 

NOVEMBER LINES FROM LYDIA: MY JUNK DRAWERS

MY JUNK DRAWERS

by Lydia Bogar

The junk drawer in my kitchen holds the tools that are not down cellar in my pink tool bag. Screwdrivers, both flat and Philips, a blue hammer, green florist tape, black electrical tape, twist ties, elastic bands. And then there are the Band-Aids, the razor blades, the box of matches from the Goat Island Grill in Georgetown SC, night light, broken night light, stapler, 3 boxes of staples, scissors, my Stanley tape measure and a carpenter’s pencil, a souvenir from my 2015 kitchen reno.

The junk drawer next to my bed holds pens and pencils, Sudoku puzzles, an extra pair of glasses, Chapstick, bookmarks, small pads of paper, more Band-Aids, Mass cards, hand cream, mechanical pencil refills, flashlight, 2015 Ellis Island Membership card, TV remote, Halls’ Lozenges, face cream, paperclips, and a miniature map of the Manhattan subway system.

What do these drawers have to say?  That I’m a little OCD and that there’s an obvious difference between the private drawer in my room and the larger, public drawer in my kitchen. Strange and personal, but under control.  After all, these contents are not on my bureau, kitchen counter, or the floor.

I think of my friend Theresa whose life resembles a junk drawer, one that she cannot unpack without professional support. So many trials.  So much self-destruction.  Not in the same ballpark as the items in my drawers that I call junk.

I have now consolidated the boxes of staples—some have been reunited with the staple gun while others have joined the stapler in my desk.  The loose razor blades are back in the box. The twist ties and broken night light have been tossed.  And the tape measure is back in the car, where I was compelled to purge the glove box and the console compartment.

I am thankful for my junk spaces–that I can unpack at will.

BOLLI Matters feature writer and co-chair of Writers Guild, Lydia Bogar

Our own “Renaissance Woman,” Lydia has done everything from teaching English to doing volunteer emergency service.  She says she “hails from Woosta– educated at BOLLI.”

 

MEET OUR MEMBERS: “ACCIDENTAL” ARTIST BETTY BRUDNICK

“ACCIDENTAL” ARTIST BETTY BRUDNICK

By Betty  Brudnick and Sue Wurster

BOLLI member and fine artist Betty Brudnick

 

At BOLLI, our membership includes those from all proverbial walks of life, and yet, we all seem to be very much on the same path—the one leading to personal enrichment.  Betty Brudnick is no exception.  I asked Betty what brought her to BOLLI, and this is what she said.

“My husband Irv and I had been members at HILR (Harvard Institute for Learning in Retirement), and at lunch one day, a friend said to us, ‘You know, there’s someone at Brandeis I think you two should meet.  His name is Bernie Reisman.  He is thinking of starting a similar program and would really benefit from any help you could give him.’  So, we met with Bernie, and it wasn’t long before BALI (Brandeis Adult Learning Institute as it was called then) was born.  With the help of other seekers, we built the foundation of BALI, reached out to other retired people, and attracted over 300 to our first informational meeting.  It was an exceedingly hot day, the air conditioning quit, and the power went out—and yet, our overflow audience stayed.  We began courses, twice a week, at the Gosman Athletic Facility taught by friends and other knowledgeable volunteers.  

Discovering that she is truly a BOLLI “original” was pretty exciting–particularly with our 20th anniversary approaching.  But what about your art work? I asked.

In addition to Betty’s career as a social worker, community activist, political junkie, and member of several boards, much of her time and energy has also revolved, of course, around being a wife, a mother, and a daughter to ailing parents.  Art had never really been part of the picture.

“Except for starting to study piano when I was 7 (which continued through my college years,” she says, “I would say that the left side of my brain was dominant.”  She goes on to add that, “My interest in the arts didn’t become apparent until middle age when an accident incapacitated me for several months.  At that point,  I began to examine my life.   And I had an epiphany.”

“I realized that I had spent my life focused on others’ needs, and now, it was time to focus on my own.”  She had always liked creating with her hands—knitting, doing macramé, weaving—but, other than doodling in her notebooks when bored at school, she had never considered drawing or painting.  So, she decided to see if she might have any artistic talent of that sort and enrolled in a drawing class at the MFA.  She loved it, and soon moved on to  a watercolor class, then art lessons in Gloucester, and, finally, working with a watercolor atelier at the Radcliffe Seminars.  “Those were such wonderful years,” she muses.  “Learning, painting, showing work with inspirational artists.”

While she did a good deal of watercolor painting over those years, she continued, of course, to focus on others.  After developing a job bank and doing other projects at the Council on Aging in Malden, Betty says she found herself wanting to explore other forms of creativity as well.

“It seems that nature hates a vacuum,” she indicates, “and so, while I was shopping at the farmers’ market in Sarasota, I stopped at a booth that had some interesting pieces of glass.”  Her conversation with the artist led to an invitation to try her hand at fusing glass herself, and “I found my new avocation.”  Her tutor was a young Greek minister who was also pursuing an advanced degree in theology which, she says, led to  “lots of interesting discussions  while I learned to cut, shape, and fuse glass.”  She soon discovered and joined the Southwest Florida Glass Alliance, a large community of ardent glass collectors in the area, and began to explore both the history of the glass art movement and its artists in this country.  “I was even invited to the homes of many collectors.  How could I resist?”  Ultimately, in addition to doing her own glass work, she began collecting pieces by Italian, Japanese, and American glass artists.

“As far as I know, there were no artists in my family,” Betty says.  “Architects and musicians, yes, but no painters.  My children’s talents lie in other directions—not visual art.  It’s too soon to tell, but one of my granddaughters is an art history major!”

Personally, I can add that, having taught two of those granddaughters, I know that one is a highly accomplished pianist herself.  So, clearly, the piano lessons Betty embarked on when she was 7 tapped into her artistic side–and remain firmly ensconced in the family gene pool.

Overall, Betty indicates, “It’s been rewarding to watch BOLLI’s growth to a year-round community.  Irv would have been so pleased.”  It’s been equally as rewarding to dive into painting and glass work, and she looks forward to whatever avocation comes next.

BOLL Matters editor Sue Wurster

There’s nothing I like more than getting to know the people around me even better!  I hope you’ll leave a comment for Betty in the box below.  It means a lot to each of our profiled members to hear from others.   And I’d love to hear from you about you or other BOLLI members we can all get to know better.

 

 

 

 

 

THE BOLLI JOURNAL 2020: Now Accepting Submissions!

THE 2020 BOLLI JOURNAL IS NOW ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS!

Yes, the next volume featuring the creative work of our BOLLI membership is underway, and we’re looking forward to seeing your work!

Submission Process

 BOLLI members may submit up to four pieces of writing and/or visual art/craft work (total) for consideration.  (Nor more than three per member will be published.) 

Writing: Any BOLLI member may submit original unpublished fiction, creative nonfiction (including memoir, topical essay, nature, travel, sports, food writing, etc.) poetry, or playwriting.  Please double space and number each page of your work, but do not write your name on your manuscript/s. Include a word count below the title of each piece being submitted.  (Items not to exceed 1000 words.)

Visual Art/Craft:  Any BOLLI member may submit original, unpublished high resolution photographs. High resolution images of original drawing, painting, printmaking, sculpture, ceramics, woodworking, etc. may also be submitted.  Photos must not be compressed, sent in “original” or “actual size,” (at least 300 ppi or pixels per inch), and in the sRGB color space.

Sending Materials:  Work should be submitted via email although hard copy may be left with Lily Gardner for scanning and sending via email.  (No particular computer program is preferred for submission, but all photography should be sent in high resolution.)  Indicate “Journal Submission” in the subject line of your email.  Material should be provided as attachments. Send to the editor at: susanlwurster@gmail.com.

Your submission will be acknowledged within a week of its receipt. If you do not receive such acknowledgment, contact editor Sue Wurster at: susanlwurster@gmail.com

Editorial Review:  All material will be reviewed (as “blind” submissions on a “rolling” basis) by The Journal committee:  Managing/Production Editor Sue Wurster and Art Editor Joanne Fortunato; Helen Abrams, Margie Arons-Barron, Lydia Bogar, Betsy Campbell,  Miriam Goldman, Dennis Greene, Donna Johns, Marjorie Roemer, Caroline Schwirian, and Larry Schwirian,  Genre editors will review, make suggestions for improvement, and present items to the full committee for consideration.

The editor will respond to members with suggestions from the committee for improving submitted work.  While we will be reviewing work on a rolling basis, final decisions regarding items to be included in this volume will be made after the September 30 submission deadline when all items will be considered for the volume as a whole.

Deadline for Submission: SEPTEMBER 30, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND? THE PONY RIDE by Barry David

THE PONY RIDE

By Barry David

The ring was oval-shaped, and we stood about midway on one side watching the ponies.  It was a glorious fall day. We were in no rush.

My granddaughter held my hand.  She had not yet decided about having a ride; it’s scary to try something new.  So we waited as she carefully appraised each pony as it passed by with its mounted child.

There were brown ones and black ones, some with mixed colors, and others with patterns.

I wondered what she was thinking.   Was she intimidated by them, simply afraid, or was she considering what color pony she’d like to ride?  What goes through a four-year-old’s head?  Lots!

“Would you like a ride?” I asked her.

“Yes,” was her reply, and there was no question about it.

“But I don’t want to ride on a big pony.”

“Okay,” I assured her.

“But I don’t want a small pony.”

“Oh,” I mumbled.  Where was this outing going?

In silence, we watched a few more go by and then, she said, “Papa, I want to ride on a medium pony.”

“Okay!”

A medium pony.  Not too big or too small.  Moderation.  And, given the times we are in as a nation, not too far left or right.

The extremes we deal with each day can make most of us uncomfortable whether in a pony ring or in politics.  Whether we are four or eighty-four, white or black, male or female, conservative or progressive, we are all simply part of the human web that connects us.

When faced with complex choices, compromise most often points the way to a lasting solution.   Sounds pretty basic, and it is.  Not rocket science, if egos are parked at the door.

Too many of our leaders need to get off their donkeys or elephants and mount a ring full of medium ponies.  If they just go on pony ride, they will help us all get “there” faster and “fairer.”  If not, we need to send them home on their donkeys or elephants, never to return.  We can’t allow any leader’s ego and dated ideology to screw up what can be a good pony ride for America.

And, oh, yes!  The pony ride—on a medium, light brown and white pony—was a great success.

BOLLI “Matters” contributor Barry David

Barry says that he and his wife Liz began taking courses at BOLLI “almost from the beginning while winding down my career in the computer field as GM of ADP.  Love taking subjects that I’ve not had exposure to before.  Being snowbirds, we’re delighted that spring semester is build the five-week offerings.  BOLLI has been and remains an important part of our life.”

 

 

MEET OUR MEMBERS: Howard Barnstone, Woodworker Extraordinaire

HOWARD BARNSTONE

Woodworker Extraordinaire

At five years old, Howard Barnstone was given a toy lathe which he used to make turnings out of balsa wood.  After that, his toys of choice extended to Lincoln Logs, Lego, and “girds and panels” sets.  And so began his lifelong interest in woodworking.  In his high school wood shop course, he made a chess board out of oak and cherry squares and then moved on to creating wooden skateboards—totally ahead of his time.  At U. Mass. Amherst, he enrolled in a woodworking art course in order to finish the wooden clock he had been working on at the end of high school—even the gears were cut out of mahogany.

When he was about 27, Howard took an open night class in woodworking at Brookline High where he was making a cherry coffee table.  He was planning to finish it up during the last class, but he was invited to another event being held on the same evening.   “I was torn about which way to go,” he says.  “I finally decided to go to the event and leave early.  I figured, that way, I could also make the class.”  That ended up being a good decision.  At the event, he met Gayle Ehrlich, his wife (and fellow BOLLI member)—but was also able to finish his project.

Howard chose to follow a path in the business world but says that he can see a connection between business and furniture building and design.  “I used to put together merger and acquisition deals for a financial information company.  Building furniture is similar to complex business deals in that both involve many interlocking pieces that need to not only stand alone but also function within a complicated over-arching concept.”

All along the way, Howard managed to find time for open shop courses at the local high schools.  He built a variety of tables for his family in the process.   Now that his children are grown and he has retired from the business world, Howard says that he is pursuing woodworking and furniture building and design in an even more in-depth way.  “My goal is to refine my abilities and make great furniture for my own pleasure,” he says, “enjoying it for its craft and mastery.”

Howard says he mostly designs and builds tables and cabinets, particularly in the Shaker style which “I like for its clean lines, efficiencies, and practicality.”  He says he also admires the work of both Thomas Moser and Stickley.

Shaker night tables (in progress) and boot benchh

During the spring of 2017, Howard took the three-month full-time intensive furniture course at the North Bennett Street School which he enjoyed immensely.  “We completed two full projects—a Shaker night stand and a cupboard on a stand,” he says.  “We spent extensive time with both hand and machine tools.  We also focused on dove-tail, mortise and tenon, and other aspects of joinery as well as wood choice and properties.”  Since then, he has also completed Peter Thibeault’s course on The Fine Art of Furniture.

At this point, Howard is focused on the next steps in his journey with furniture.  “I look forward to better applying design concepts and principles,” he says, “learning about the evolution of historical furniture design and modern approaches to the manipulation of wood products to achieve certain furniture design aesthetics.”

In terms of future work, Howard says that “Like authors feel they have a certain number of books in them,  I have a certain number of furniture pieces in me–and it is up to me, like the author, to produce, them by putting in the hard work. Time will tell.”

Finally, Howard says that it doesn’t really matter what he is making as long as it is engaging him. “I think of myself as being the furniture version of a gentleman farmer.  I just get extreme joy from the process of working with wood.”

*

BOLLI Member and Furniture Artist Howard Barnstone

Howard says about his BOLLI experience, “I have been taking classes at BOLLI or the past four years and have enjoyed the quality of the teachers, courses, and the camaraderie  of learning together.”

 

 

Is there a BOLLI member you’d like to see profiled in BOLLI Matters? Contact Sue Wurster via email:  susanlwurster@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

SEPTEMBER CHEF’S CORNER: SWEDISH MEATBALL STROGANOFF

SWEDISH MEATBALL STROGANOFF

from John Rudy

I found this recipe in an old cooking magazine in the ‘70s.  I make plain meatballs (lean hamburger, some salt and one small finely-chopped onion).  I then broil the meatballs until they are medium rare; not more than about 6 minutes turning once.  I usually make them quite small, smaller than a golf ball, maybe 3/4ʺ.  The meatballs can be frozen to be used later.

The sauce recipe is sufficient for about 1½ pounds of meat.

By using lite cream cheese and sour cream, the calories are reduced and the taste seems to be the same.

Stroganoff Sauce

2 cans Cream of Mushroom soup (10½ oz can)

1½ cup Milk

6 oz  Cream cheese (softened)  (I use the “lite”)

¼ cup   Catsup

¼ tsp  Garlic Powder

1 pt  Sour cream (I use the “lite”)

Mix together in large saucepan (except for the sour cream);  warm, but do not boil. Stir constantly.

Add the meatballs and cook until thawed (if previously frozen) or hot.

Stir in the sour cream.

Serve over noodles or with toothpicks as an appetizer. (If the latter, there will be too much sauce.)

BOLLI Matters “Chef’s Corner” feature writer John Rud

 

John says that it was his mother who inspired his love of cooking and baking at an early age.  (She cooked vegetables in boil-able packages.)

OCTOBER LINES FROM LYDIA: A Memorable Dinner Date

A Totally Un-Memorable Dinner Date

by Lydia Bogar

Howling laughter from my tweenage daughters–one in the dining room window and the other peeking out from the shutters in the living room, scoping out my date, Tom. “Oh Mom, you’re gonna die!”

My friends Cheryl and Jay said that Tom, an engineer, worked with Jay in Foxboro and lived on “The Lake” in Webster.  Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg.  (Yeah, that Lake. Even the New York Times has written about it.

Only child. Never married. No kids. Wicked smart. Very shy. Dour expression.

We spoke once on the phone before that Sunday night dinner date but did not get beyond directions to my house and what a nice guy Jay is.

I have no memory of the drive from my house to the dining room at the Marriott in downtown Worcester. Maybe fifteen minutes that I will never get back.

I do remember the table for two but not the conversation.  I have no memory of appetizer, entrée, or dessert.  Was there wine?  Oh God, I hope so.

Quiet ride back to my house. Walked me to the door. I shook his hand with the other hand on the door knob.

The tweens were waiting.

“What? Really, he seems like a nice guy–but boring.”

The howling started again.  “Mom, we could have told you that as soon as we saw his pocket protector!”

I didn’t tell them about the second pocket protector (for mechanical pencils) he had clipped to his shirt pocket.

Tom married a few years later, a diminutive Asian lady with a PhD in something. It was a society wedding by Worcester standards because of the family compound of homes on The Lake that he inherited when he turned 50.

Yes.  Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg.

Block. Copy. Paste.

Sure, beats having to spell it.

Frequent BOLLI blogger, Lydia Bogar

Our own “Renaissance Woman,” Lydia has done everything from teaching English to doing volunteer emergency service.  She says she “hails from Woosta– educated at BOLLI.”

 

CONGRATULATIONS! Margie Arons-Barron

MASSACHUSETTS BROADCASTERS HALL OF FAME
Margie Arons-Barron

At a luncheon earlier today, Margie Arons-Barron was one of nine outstanding broadcasters inducted into the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame.   On the association’s website, this years’ inductees are described:

“Our class of 2019 represents some of the true treasures of broadcasting,” Hall of Fame President and former WBZ-TV News Director Peter Brown said. “This group of outstanding professionals has been recognized for their enduring commitment and deep dedication to their craft. Their body of work is a testament to their talents and their passions for bringing to their audiences the very best in news, information, and entertainment. They are the leaders who set forth the path that future generations will follow. Let us welcome them as they join more than 150 others who can proudly state they have been inducted into the Massachusetts Broadcasters of Fame.”

The long-time former Editorial Director at WCVB-TV, Channel 5, Boston’s ABC affiliate, Marjorie Arons-Barron has been an award-winning journalist for nearly three decades.  For 20 years, she produced and often hosted WCVB’s Five on Five, at one time the nation’s longest running, locally produced public affairs discussion program. Prior to working at Channel 5, she was an associate producer of PBS Television’s The Advocates, a national political affairs writer for The Boston Phoenix, a reporter for WGBH-TV’s Ten O’Clock News and political editor of The Newton Times.  Arons-Barron has won many awards, including three New England Emmy Awards and, for five consecutive years, the National Award for Excellence in Television Editorials from the National Broadcast Editorial Association.  She has also been honored by, among others, United Press International, Associated Press, the American Trial Lawyers Association, the Alliance for the Mentally Ill, the Massachusetts Teachers Association, the Massachusetts Broadcasters Association, the Massachusetts National Guard, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, the YWCA, and the Big Sisters Association of Greater Boston.

We are so proud to have Margie as a member of the BOLLI community–congratulations, friend!

 

 

MEMOIR FROM LARRY: THE DRAWER OF MISFIT TOYS

THE DRAWER OF MISFIT TOYS

By L. Schwirian

         In the mid 70’s to mid-80’s, when our sons were young, we typically traveled at least twice a year to visit both sets of grandparents–one set in Cleveland and the other set near Pittsburgh.  As the drive was nearly six hundred miles, we (mostly Caroline) had to invent things to do along the way so that the three of them wouldn’t do bodily harm to one another or rip the back seat to shreds.  We always brought plenty of books and a number of tapes, mostly Muppet songs, as we sped along the interstates of Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio.  I particularly remember all of us singing along with Kermit the Frog, Why are There So Many Songs about Rainbows? On more than one occasion, usually when we were at least a couple of hundred miles out, Caroline would wonder if she had turned the iron off.   After the second or third time, I started packing the iron in the trunk.

When we finally reached my parent’s home after twelve or more hours on the road (there were many pit stops along the way), all three sons would pile out of the car and head for “the drawer of misfit toys” in my mother’s kitchen. The drawer contained bits and pieces of old toys that had long since been lost or abandoned. There was a little ball with jacks, numerous marbles of various sizes and colors, a yoyo, a top, playing cards, toy soldiers, knights on plastic horses, a few Lincoln Logs (but not enough to build anything with), pieces of an erector set, a dart gun, a harmonica, commemorative coins, nuts and bolts, rubber bands, a mouth harp, as well as various and sundry other stuff.

But there were two things that seemed to be favorites. One was a hollow, woven cylindrical shaped object about six inches long and less than a half-inch in diameter with openings at both ends. One son would put his index finger in one end and ask his brother or cousin to put his or her finger in the other end. When he pulled back, the tube would stretch, reducing the diameter and trapping both fingers.

The most intriguing toy, however, was a large horseshoe magnet about five inches long, two inches wide, and about a quarter-inch thick.  It had not originally been a toy but must have been removed from some piece of machinery…it was a very strong magnet. There were also two small magnets in the form of black and white terrier dogs. The oldest son would get under the kitchen table with the big magnet while the other two sons would place the two little magnets on the tabletop; wherever the big magnet moved the little dogs would follow.  It was pure magic.

Many of these trips took place around the Christmas holiday which meant that there would be a tumultuous unwrapping of gifts on Christmas morning and an overabundance of new toys.  But as likely as not, after a couple days, all three sons would be back exploring the “drawer of misfit toys.”

BOLLI Matters feature writer and co-chair of the Writers Guild, Larry Schwirian

 Architect Larry and his fellow architect wife Caroline live in an historic preservation home in Newton and have led BOLLI courses on architecture.  Larry has been an active participant in and leader of the Writers Guild special interest group as well as serving on the BOLLI Journal staff.  

A SENIOR MOMENT WITH JOHN RUDY: SHARKS

SHARKS

by John Rudy

We’ve been hearing a lot about sharks lately, especially as sightings on Cape Cod Bay become more frequent.  People in Massachusetts are worrying about it even though hardly anyone is injured or killed by sharks.  We would do well to worry about a much more imminent danger.

It has been estimated that 80,000 people died of flu in the US during the 2017-18 season.  Many others did not die but were much sicker than they might have been if they had been vaccinated.

According to the CDC, the flu vaccine reduces the odds of getting  the flu by about 60%.  But, of course, that total varies from year to year and among different groups of people.  Still, it’s a significant number.  And yet, too few get the flu shot.   Click here for more information from the CDC.

For all adult age groups, flu vaccination coverage estimates in the 2017–18 season were at their lowest levels compared with the seven prior flu seasons. For the 2017-18 season, flu vaccination coverage increased with age, from 26.9% among adults 18-49 years to 59.6% among adults ≥65 years.

I got my flu shot on Friday at CVS, and it cost me nothing (Insurance coverage).  For seniors (I do not recall the definition of “senior”), they give the higher dosage.  I’ve done this every year since the flu shots came out.  In my experience, there is no pain, no soreness, no side effects.

I suggest that, this year, all of you do the same.

BOLLI “Matters” feature writer John Rudy

Our Tech Guru and Creative Chef has been branching out into travel writing and now health advice for us Seniors!  Thanks, John–

COMING ATTRACTIONS: REFRACTED VISIONS by Suzanne Hodes

You are Invited to See

REFRACTED VISIONS

    BOLLI member Suzanne Hodes is showing works in oil, mixed media on paper, and watercolors.
Fall Reflections, Oil, 36×50
                              Running Now until Wednesday, October 16                                            Gallery Hours:  Mon-Fri. 11-6;  Sat. 12-5; Sun.  12-3

THREE STONES GALLERY

 115 Commonwealth Avenue, Concord

 

MEDICAL MOMENTS WITH STEVE: WHO KNOWS? SURPRISE ENDING

Some may question the advisability of airing this confessional remembrance to a broad audience, but Steve says that, for him, it is a story of efficiency gone horribly wrong, an inadequate reaction, and a singular event that can haunt one for a lifetime.  

SURPRISE ENDING

by Steve Goldfinger

He was in his mid-forties, comatose, febrile, and near the end. His hemophilia had caused uncontrollable bleeding throughout his body, and bacteria had infected his blood-laden tissues. A young attending, I led my team of house staff and students on rounds in our critical care area, stopping at his bedside only briefly. We had come to recognize that a huge number of transfusions had not made a difference; we could not stop the bleeding; and no new antibiotic was going to reverse the course. His vital signs told us he had entered the final stage. There was no family to contact, no friends we knew of. I commented that death was near and that no new measures made any sense. As we moved on to the next patient, our senior resident left us and went back towards the nurse’s station. We didn’t know why; nor did we ask. There were too many patients to be seen.

About 15 minutes later, he returned. “Well, it’s over,” he announced. When I asked what he meant, he told us. He had loaded a syringe with a lethal dose of potassium chloride and injected it into the dying patient’s vein. Instantaneous death occurred when it reached the heart and stopped it from beating.

Silence.

I was staggered by what he had done, so staggered that I was unable to say a word. We looked at each other. The group looked at me. I could not talk, could not imagine how he could have done such a thing, could not find a way to convert busy patient rounds into an ethics seminar. Could not even reprimand him as much as I felt I needed to.

Why? I continue to ask myself 40 years later.  Was I so intent on getting to all the patients that I failed to take a mandatory time out?  Was I unwilling to chastise him in front of all the others?  Would doing so require an explication of the moral principles he had violated? And was I capable of summoning up those principles and expressing them in an articulate way without time to recall them, reflect on them? Or, perhaps, did a small part of me completely understand what he had done and found it within reasonable, if not ethical, boundaries?

We received his report, and, a moment later, moved on to the next bedside without comment. Nor did I bring up this abhorrent act for discussion the following morning.

To this day, I am ashamed. I wonder how those students and interns regarded my silence.  Did they think this was a routine rite of passing endorsed by me, my colleagues, our profession? I can only hope that, as they moved on in their training, they came to recognize the event as the horrendous anomaly it was.

But in thinking about it now, was that injection of potassium chloride very different from the morphine drip that would some day come to use…ostensibly to reduce suffering…but, so often, in amounts that terminate breathing prematurely?

Who knows?

BOLLI Matters feature writer Steve Goldfinger

After a long career in medicine, Steve has been exploring his artistic side.  At BOLLI, he has taken writing courses, been active in the Writers Guild, and even tried CAST (Creativity in Acting, Storytelling, and Theatre) where his imagination made him a singular player!

 

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