Like many of my neighbors, I have been privileged to be part of the fire company on our block. I can remember when we were children (we lived directly next door), and my mother was the President of the Auxiliary. There must have been thirty or forty women participating back then. Now, we are lucky if all eight of us can make the monthly meeting -- and we cannot plan a fundraising event unless ALL of our calendars are in sync, simply because there are too few to be missing anyone on crunch days.
I am always left with a simple question after we leave our monthly meetings -- where is everyone? Where are those thirty women of my mom's generation who were the foundation of Lakeside's Auxiliary? Surely, some have moved (or moved on), but many are still right here in our neighborhood. We discover at our annual Installation Dinner, that other fire companies have the exact same problem -- their auxiliaries barely hang on with five or ten members. What has changed?
Surely, life is not as simple as it was even a generation ago. At that time, it was the anomaly for someone's mom to work full time. The words "child care" were not yet a part of our everyday language. Now, it is the exact opposite. We are thrilled for the mom who simply gets to be home with her kids and be a home maker (the unsung career the women's movement unwittingly stole from us all, in my opinion). [side note: please be tolerant if your opinion on this is different, after working full time in Manhattan and not being able to enjoy my kid for so many years, well, I've earned by feelings on this -- but surely respect yours and anybody's.]
The point of this thought? We don't really have any free time any more. Even the stay-at-home mom often works part time or has her own direct sales thing going (Tupperware Ladies have been replaced with Jewelry Shows, Home Decor, Mary Kay and the dreaded knock-off-pocketbooks). So free time has simply become an oxymoron. It is spent doing laundry.
Adding to this, our society has so overscheduled our children, we have become full-time taxi services, shuttling from school to mad-science to religion to dance to soccer -- you get the picture.
The final nail in the coffin of altruistic neighborhood volunteerism, however, is that it too has become an oxymoron. Our volunteers are all paid. Now here I risk starting yet another debate -- Don't our firemen DESERVE their annuities? The very small gift our community can give back to them???? Of course they do. I'm just saying that as a society, we have risked true altruism for a payoff. Volunteering for its own sake is gone.
And here is the perfect example of this: There are a few women from the old auxiliary who still participate at Lakeside. They're firemen. And the answer to the obvious question of why is often, well why not. Why not get that annuity. If we are giving our time to our community and ten years later our community has an annuity for us, why not?
But you see, there is no annuity for being an auxiliary member. It is 100% voluntary. There isn't any pay off at all, to speak of.
Except the pay off that has stood for as long as mankind has gathered to live in communities -- quite simply, you are my neighbor, this is my community -- this is where I live. It is the same reason that people deliver Meals on Wheels and meet to clean up the side of the road twice a year. This is our home, and in some simple way, that makes us a family.
Auxiliaries used to exist to provide much needed financial and human support to our firefighters -- the financial role has been taken on by municipalities all over the place. But the heart -- the human support -- is still VITALLY necessary. We are the Christmas Parties; we are the neighborhood Halloween Bash; we are (as women have always been) the heartbeat of our homes. Homes that I hope still extend beyond my own front door.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
A Great CPA in Monroe, NY
John Paul Simonson, CPA
When we heard that our accountant John was opening his own business in Harriman, we could not tell people fast enough. You see, John has this way of taking the terror out of money. From simple yearly income tax filing to opening and then closing our own business, John just always showed up with simple answers and rock-solid support.
Money always makes me feel embarrassed and vulnerable. I’d rather tell someone my deep dark secrets, than explain how I could possibly have bounced five checks while I forgot to deposit the paychecks for a solid month. And I am forever grateful that when we closed our café in
I have called John with questions from the simple (“How many deductions does ‘Married/2’ really equal?”) to the sublime (“What percentage of your income do you have to spend on medical bills to declare those as nuclear waste?”).
I am fearlessly starting my own company again, and having an accountant like John who specializes in small businesses is a huge asset. He has helped me to choose the right form for my company and to understand income distributions and FICA, to set my hourly rates high enough to make a profit and to still get the client. He has helped me not to commingle my business assets with my household finances, and to understand how to maximize my deductions and minimize my paperwork.
Although John’s client roster is much larger now and extends from Long Island to
144 Route 17M
PO Box 674
Harriman, NY 10926-0674
Office: 845-238-5061
Cell: 845-662-1961
Fax: 845-238-5062
http://us.f507.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=johnsimonsoncpa@yahoo.com
Written by, Mary Vetell
Sunday, April 13, 2008
PIne Tree Elementary
If you're lucky enough to have a kid who goes to Pine Tree in Monroe, you could probably write this blog yourself. When I was about five years old, I started my education in Pine Tree. That was before the population exploded here in Monroe. The school not only went from Kindergarten all the way through 6th grade, but we also had enough room to host "the Harriman kids" in another wing.
I probably learned 99% of everything I would ever need to know by the time I left Pine Tree. I learned about kindness, and I learned that most people I would meet in life would find my kindness to be the equivalent of weakness. I learned that boys did not want girls on their baseball teams, and what you wore would often dictate people's opinion of you. (As adults, slip in "what you drive" and it's a perfect fit.) ...I drive a 1988 Dodge Aries K car, and I carry a $27 purse purchased way back when K Mart was still our main department store. The truth is that the best lesson I learned in Pine Tree was that I was an exceptional and uncommon young woman. That I was self-deprecatory to a fault and way too sensitive. That my sense of humor was very intellectual, and that I talked too much around new people (a nervous habit).
No, I'm wrong... There was a better lesson than all those things. I learned that on the written page, I could create magic. Carol Barry told me that when I was eleven-years old. It became the core of my ability to find peace. I never forgot Carol Barry. She asked me to write and help edit the Pine Tree Pitch from the very first issue they ever put out. Between her warmth and John Warbrick's stern encouragement, I managed to leave Pine Tree with the only thing I would need to survive some pretty tough times ahead: A full pen.
There have been times, years later, that I would stand on the subway platform in Manhattan, paralyzed as trains would race by in every direction. I would be writing, leaned against a support beam, on the back of some garbage scrap paper I found on a random bench. I have been published, and I have been rejected. But I have never been alone. My pen is my peace and my salvation. It is, as Carol Barry promised me, a silent friend through all things.
It is a lifetime later, and my own little girl walks those same halls. She eats in the same cafeteria and borrows books from the same library. It is, in many ways, bizarre to me. Have thirty-five years really gone by so quickly? I see her at certain angles or hear her be much too sensitive to life, and I can see myself through the mirror of time. She is gifted not to talk too much though -- thank Heaven. She is also gifted to have that magical teacher who finds each kid a treasure and obviously loves her vocation.
Teachers like John and Carol somehow unearth the brilliance in every student that goes through their classrooms. They build futures and unearth once-in-a-lifetime gems. If you don't live in Monroe and your kids don't go to Pine Tree, well quite simply, you should move.
In gratitude and peace, and in memory of my good friend, Carol Barry,
A lifetime later, I remain, Mary Vetell
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I probably learned 99% of everything I would ever need to know by the time I left Pine Tree. I learned about kindness, and I learned that most people I would meet in life would find my kindness to be the equivalent of weakness. I learned that boys did not want girls on their baseball teams, and what you wore would often dictate people's opinion of you. (As adults, slip in "what you drive" and it's a perfect fit.) ...I drive a 1988 Dodge Aries K car, and I carry a $27 purse purchased way back when K Mart was still our main department store. The truth is that the best lesson I learned in Pine Tree was that I was an exceptional and uncommon young woman. That I was self-deprecatory to a fault and way too sensitive. That my sense of humor was very intellectual, and that I talked too much around new people (a nervous habit).
No, I'm wrong... There was a better lesson than all those things. I learned that on the written page, I could create magic. Carol Barry told me that when I was eleven-years old. It became the core of my ability to find peace. I never forgot Carol Barry. She asked me to write and help edit the Pine Tree Pitch from the very first issue they ever put out. Between her warmth and John Warbrick's stern encouragement, I managed to leave Pine Tree with the only thing I would need to survive some pretty tough times ahead: A full pen.
There have been times, years later, that I would stand on the subway platform in Manhattan, paralyzed as trains would race by in every direction. I would be writing, leaned against a support beam, on the back of some garbage scrap paper I found on a random bench. I have been published, and I have been rejected. But I have never been alone. My pen is my peace and my salvation. It is, as Carol Barry promised me, a silent friend through all things.
It is a lifetime later, and my own little girl walks those same halls. She eats in the same cafeteria and borrows books from the same library. It is, in many ways, bizarre to me. Have thirty-five years really gone by so quickly? I see her at certain angles or hear her be much too sensitive to life, and I can see myself through the mirror of time. She is gifted not to talk too much though -- thank Heaven. She is also gifted to have that magical teacher who finds each kid a treasure and obviously loves her vocation.
Teachers like John and Carol somehow unearth the brilliance in every student that goes through their classrooms. They build futures and unearth once-in-a-lifetime gems. If you don't live in Monroe and your kids don't go to Pine Tree, well quite simply, you should move.
In gratitude and peace, and in memory of my good friend, Carol Barry,
A lifetime later, I remain, Mary Vetell
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Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Copper Bottom - Florida, New York
Copper Bottom
My husband and I were charmed from the moment we stood outside the paned windows and peeked into The Copper Bottom, in
Once seated, a gracious and outgoing server guided us through the many choices. (Later we finished the meal with a slice of carrot cake that our server, Debbie, actually makes herself – be sure to save room!) We started with an appetizer of blackened scallops on a bed of cold sesame noodles. The sweet, savory noodles perfectly contradicted the blackened crust of the soft scallops. My main course of lobster ravioli arrived steaming hot in an alfredo-style cream sauce, topped with three perfectly cooked shrimp. My husband had usual man-fare, but he said his steak was perfect, drizzled with just a hint of herb sauce.
Small things turned this simple dinner out into a great experience – the subtle attention of our server, beautiful water glasses, the brief visit from the owner, Mark – and of course a tremendous chef. The Copper Bottom was warm and inviting, the food is incredible, and you have the feeling that the next time you walked through the door, they would remember you by name.
This is definitely a place to visit more than once.
Visit their website at http://www.thecopperbottom.com/html/index.htm
By, Mary Vetell
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