Straus Family newsletter

A recent edition of the Straus Family Newsletter tells the history of the relationship of Roger Williams Straus and Gladys Guggenheim Straus - and thus makes reference to their summer home in the Catskills, a site that all Frost Valley people know and love. That is of course the estate along the East Branch of the Neversink River that Frost Valley acquired from the Straus family in the 1970s, and which served for many years under the name "Straus House" or "Straus Family Center" or, for short, just "Straus." Now of course the building and the property serve as the East Valley Ranch (EVR for short), the location of our equestrian camp for girls.

Be sure to read the newsletter. The entire issue is available here as a PDF.

Frost Valley patches - years 1 and 2

Dawn Helfand Huebner was going through her Frost Valley memorabilia and found - among many other things - these wonderful relic patches. For years each camper received a "W" patch, where "W" of course referred to Wawayanda. But in the early 1970s, when we began to refer to our place as "Frost Valley" and not just "Wawayanda," it made a little less sense to give (for instance) the girls in "Camp Henry Hird" a "W" patch. So we devised the "FV" patch. I can't remember how many years we gave them to campers at the end of their sessions each summer, but I do know that when we discontinued these patches we did not go back to the "W"s. It was decades before Dan Weir and Kam Kobeissi brought them back. So, again, consider these patches rare items.

an article about our Rob Sherman-Kaplan

A recent article published in a magazine associated with the time-share industry (and a global event called "ARDAWORLD") features Frost Valley alumnus Rob Sherman-Kaplan. In one section, Rob is asked what we he want to do if he wasn't in market research. Read his answer!

McNair's Menagerie

I've been in touch lately with Shelly Payson, who was a camper at Wawayanda starting in 1963 for four or five summers. In 1964 (I think) she was in Pocohontas Village, cabin 4 (now cabin 34), and her counselor's name was Kim McNair. The group called themselves "McNair's Menagerie." Shelly remembers all eight campers in the cabin, although in two cases no their last names:

Susan Schein
Wendy Schein
Debbie Heilner
Debbie Siegal
Rita (from Little Silver)
Hope
Patty Sellers
Shelly Payson

The Schein twins stay on for many years and were counselors in the early 1970s. Patty Sellers I never knew myself but her brother was Scott Sellers; he and I became good friends during our Outpost summer (1966).

Shelly promises to send me photographs when she finds some - along with informative captions!

Fran and Ted Biagini

Back in December I was invited to give a series of talks - as special "Humanities Lecturer" - at Friends' Central School on the Main Line, just outside Philadelphia. The school advertized this event widely, and put an ad in the Philadephia Inquirer, which reaches many people in Philly but also in South Jersey. There it was that Fran and Ted Biagini read about the event, saw their old Frost Valley friend Al Filreis described and photographed there, and decided to make the drive across the river to surprise him. Me, that is.

So after that talk these familiar folks approach me. And yes, there they were: Fran and Ted. Ted, now 80 years old (is that possible?!), and Fran, and two of their daughters (who also grew up at camp).

Ted was our Waterfront Director in the early 1970s and Fran was the nurse. They were recruited to Frost Valley either through John and Karen Giannotti or (and/or) through Chuck and Joy White. In any case, Karen was a nurse in those days, and so, from 1973 on, was Joy.

They all looked terrific! We had a nice time remembering camp in those years. And I urged them to visit us this coming summer.

Jim Huebner has died

During a visit to Frost Valley four or five years ago: Jim and Dawn with nephew Drew and niece Jesse.

Many Frost Valley people have known Dawn Helfand Huebner and her husband Jim. Dawn of course grew up at Frost Valley and spent many, many summers there - first as a camper, then an FCC (=CIT), then a counselor, village chief and eventually Director of Camp Wawayanda. She also worked at Camp Storer in Michigan, where she met Jim. Later they lived in New Hampshire, with their son Eli, and together made many visits to Frost Valley - summertimes and for alumni reunions. Jim was a camp guy, and Frost Valley really appealed to him.

Jim died young - much too young - but it happened knowingly and consciously and thoughtfully. He died on January 1, 2014. Our hearts go out to Dawn and Eli. When our Frost Valley friends have to go, be they young or very old, the whole Valley family feels the loss. We hope Dawn will visit again sooner rather than later, and that the spirit of camp will embrace her in itself.

When our kids were young - too young to be Frost Valley campers - we would meet at camp and spend three or four days, sometimes a week, together, living in the Castle, taking hikes, participating in camp activities, and doing an annual overnight sleep-out at Banks Hill. During these annual get-togethers I got to see Jim the camp guy and parent, in one: gentle, thoughtful, the most patient father you could imagine, with a wicked but subtle sense of humor and a ready laugh.

If you wish to offer your condolences in words, please try this Facebook page

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jim-Huebner-Memorial-Page/1950750740159

or send them to Dawn at this address: dhuebnerphd@comcast.net .

Below is Dawn's eulogy for Jim:

***

Jim and I met on February 21, 1981 at a YMCA camp in the Irish Hills of Michigan.  It was a snowy day.  I was a 20 year old junior in college interviewing for a summer job leading teen-age adventure trips to the Rocky Mountains.  Jim was directing a weekend environmental education group at the camp, and while he wasn’t formally involved in the interviews, he was asked to check me out.  He did.  I got the job.

Our first real date took place several weeks later in Lansing, Michigan.  Even though I was smitten at camp, I was nervous about meeting Jim in a different setting – so I brought my brother, then a freshman in college, on my first date with Jim.  We drove an hour to Lansing, where we met at a camping store to buy boots and a backpack, then went to a Chinese restaurant for Moo Shoo Pork.  After dinner I felt sure enough to ditch my brother at the MSU library to continue my evening with Jim - alone.

There was so much I loved about him right from the start: his warmth, his humor, his beard, his amazing memory.  Jim was smart and curious, interested in everything from the mating habits of gadflies to the fall of the Roman Empire.  He could recount conversations word-for-word, knew the name of every tree and wildflower when we took walks.  He could sing the theme song of just about any sitcom from the 1970s and 80s and did so, often.  Needless to say, you wouldn’t have wanted him as a rival in Trivial Pursuit; he would have beaten you, hands down.

Which is why it was odd, and scary, when we went to an appointment some 10 years later at an office we’d been to at least 15 times, and he didn’t recognize the building.  He couldn’t remember how to get there – a place just 2 miles from where we lived – the next time we needed to go.  And he started forgetting things, having weird, deja vouix experiences during which he’d feel certain he had dreamt whatever he was living through.  We found out he had temporal lobe epilepsy, with seizures that would continue first three or four times a week and eventually as many as 4 a day over the next 25 years.

The seizures took their toll, as did the hefty doses of medication he took in a bid to control them.  And with each seizure, he lost a little bit more.  He lost his pilot’s license – less than 2 months after he had earned it.  He lost his ability to correctly imprint and retrieve memories, and with it the ability to reminisce.  He lost the ability to remember names and find words and keep track of plans.

Those of you who knew Jim might be surprised to hear this.  He seemed fine.  That’s because he was smart, and used logic, and took good guesses to fill in the pieces.  He worked tremendously hard to develop compensatory mechanisms, taking pictures of his students, for example, and studying them every night for months, trying to memorize their names.  He took copious notes about conversations he had had, commitments he had made, and he reviewed them all.  He gradually cut out many of his hobbies to focus his energies on keeping his head above water at school, caring desperately about his students and taking seriously his mission to instill both a knowledge of and a passion for physics.

And then he developed Type I Diabetes, with the added complication of needing to track and manage blood sugars, reeling from the highs and lows he tended to have despite his best efforts at careful control.  And then his accident – last year – with shattered bones and a punctured lung and large areas of road rash and secondary MERSA, and worst of all, a head injury.  And it all got to be too much.

Over the course of this past year, Jim tried hard to accept the changes, the losses stacking upon losses.  He continued to work so hard to function to the best of his ability.  He leaned more and more heavily on me, needing me to orient him, to advocate for him, to make lists and remind him to use them.

He wanted to thank me by building a shelving unit, something I very much needed.  Jim has built furniture before.  And he was – prior to moving to NH – a mechanical engineer at Ford, on the design team that built a solar powered car now on display at the Henry Ford Museum.  The shelf he wanted to build was pretty simple, but he couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t figure out how to measure and cut notches in the 4 posts to make the shelves equidistant.  He made one attempt, and failed.  And another, and failed again.  He couldn’t see it.  Couldn’t hold onto what he needed to do to make those measurements work.  I told him it didn’t matter, but of course it did.  It mattered to him.

It wasn’t that one incident that made Jim decide to stop the medical treatment that was keeping him alive.  It was that incident and a thousand others like it.  It was not having any idea who I was talking about when I mentioned longtime colleagues of mine by name.  It was looking at a photo album and knowing, intellectually, he was seeing Eli at age 2, but not recognizing him.  It was having blood sugars in the 400’s and 20 seizures a month and trouble finding words and an awareness that none of this, not one single part, would ever get better.

We are immensely grateful to Hospice for conceptualizing Jim’s wish to discontinue medical treatment as an end-of-life decision he had the right to make.  We are grateful for the friends who supported us through this immensely painful time, and the family that has stood by our sides.

Anyone who knew Jim knows he was the consummate teacher.  He cared deeply about his students, and was so incredibly proud of them for taking on challenges and pushing past limitations.  He put in countless hours tutoring students struggling to understand Physics, made phone calls to parents, and even apart from school, often lapsed into detailed explanations about how things worked.

Jim was known for wearing bow ties.  He wore one to school every day.  I’m not sure about whether this happened in his final years but in his early years of teaching he kept a spare bowtie in his classroom, flinging it across the room when a previously hesitant student raised their hand to answer a question, or took a chance, working hard to not just memorize but actually understand what Jim was trying to teach.  Getting to wear the class bowtie was an honor; it meant you had left your comfort zone as a student.  It meant Mr. Huebner was proud.

Jim was an amazing man.  Brave and strong and loyal and kind.  He was an incredible father to Eli, giving him not only the shape of his face but also a strength of character that will allow him to go on, to live, and to breathe, and to love; to contribute to this world in positive ways.  Jim helped Eli find and pursue passions of his own, and celebrated Eli for his unique and wonderful spirit.  It is in Eli that Jim will live on.

Jim had an amazing collection of bowties which are now on display in the community room.  It is Eli’s and my hope that those of you who knew Jim, whether as a teacher, a colleague or a friend, those of you who might be moved to do so, please take one of Jim bowties.  The only criteria for ‘earning’ a tie is that you commit yourself to learning something new, be it how to make biscotti or speak Arabic or tie a bowtie - anything of interest to you, anything that doesn’t come naturally but that you are willing to learn.  We want Jim’s ties to go out into the world, a reminder of all that he taught, and all that he helped us to learn.

I want to end with the refrain of a song Jim sang at camp the first night I met him.  Those who knew Jim will recognize his characteristic humor:

Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble

When you’re perfect in every way

I can’t wait to look in the mirror

‘Cause I get better looking each day

To know me is to love me

I must be a hell of a man

Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble

But I’m doing the best that I can.

Castle

The Castle is a place with many odd views. Here's one that has always fascinated me.

make a gift this holiday season to help us help kids have 2 weeks at camp next summer

 

My five decades of experiences at Frost Valley have taught me pretty much everything I know how to do – to be a patient parent, to be an attentive citizen, to be a teacher who cares personally about his students, and indeed to do whatever is in my power to preserve what Frost Valley does for kids.

I’ve seen Frost Valley make the lives of kids better in just two weeks. Seriously. I’ve seen it. Many times. Probably you’ve heard me tell these stories. No space for those stories here, but click on this video 

                     http://youtu.be/ivqXQFurfIs

and take a good look at these kids’ expressions – and you’ll easily be able to imagine – or, from your own experience, remind yourself of - the impact of this place on children and families. I’m totally committed to it.

To kids whose families cannot afford two weeks at camp in the summer, we at Frost Valley make $650,000 available annually. It’s our goal never to say no to a family who wants to send their child to camp – no matter the family’s economic status, nor the child’s ability or disability.

We need to raise the funds to make this financial aid – “camperships” – possible. My goal is to raise $10,000 before December 31, 2013. Will you please help me help these kids? Thank you so much for considering it. Just click this link

             http://frostvalley.kintera.org/thegreatestgift/afilreis

and you'll see my Frost Valley web page, my goal, etc. Click on "GIVE NOW" and make a donation.  Thank you so much!

I'm personally very grateful for your help. Please help me help these kids whose families cannot afford to send their children to camp. This kind of support has been no less than life-changing and indeed life-saving for some.

- Al

Cobb returns

Rick Cobb returned in 1982 to work for four weeks as a super-counselor in Lenape.

the flags are up on the O Circle

A few beautiful mid-July day. 1981, Olympic Day coming soon. We had set up the flags around the Olympic Circle a few days before the craziness began.

Lacota Village in 1980

Tison in winter

Here is a shot of the Tison Estate house seen through the Japanese garden sculpture in front of the house - wintertime in the late 1970s.

cross-country skiing in 1974

Our "ski barn" in the early 1970s was the "Old Rec Hall," which was named Margetts Lodge after complete renovation. It was cold in there, and we had several propane heaters working full blast during the early-70s snowy frigid winters. People put on their skis in front of the Rec Hall, on the rise just north of the flagpole. My father took this picture in January 1974. I was working that weekend as a "ski instructor." I believe the woman in the white cap is Marsha Murphy, one of the full-year staff that year, along with Jack McCue and others. (Marsha and Jack ended up marrying and changed the surnames to McMuphy.)

main Frost Valley entrance, August day in the late 1970s

the greatest gift... video series beginning now

If you click here you will be able to watch a video in which Jerry Huncosky talks about the greatest gift Frost Valley has given him. This is the first in a series of "Greatest Gift" videos and I hope everyone will watch them and, of course, ponder their own greatest gift.

And we encourage you to share, on our Facebook page, a simple video or story of the greatest gift Frost Valley has given you or your family! 

Here is the link to the FV FB page: https://www.facebook.com/frostvalleyymca

cabin 8 in the autumn

Mary and Gun

Mary Fleischauer and an international counselor from Denmark named "Gun." I think Gun's last name was Meldron. She was a nurse's aid. The year was 1978 or so.

Pigeon Lodge

continuity

the blue stake truck, sans door

Here I am, driving the old blue stake truck, which seems to be missing the driver's side door! I'm the Program Director here (I'm guessing it's 1977) and was setting up for an all-camp program. Lenny Aberman is sitting in the back (he was one of my perennial camper assistants).

Rick Kaskel writes a blog entry

When I was a child growing up in Brooklyn, I looked forward to every summer when I could escape the city, be with friends in the country, play sports, have counselors as heroes and come of age as a teenager.  After a long lapse, this opportunity returned in a unique manner — I was asked to represent The Children's Hospital at Montefiore at its summer kidney camp program at the Frost Valley YMCA, which is run in partnership with the Ruth Gottshco Foundation.

This pioneer initiative began in 1974 with the desire of Ruth's mother, Eva, to have a summer camp experience for children stricken with kidney disease requiring dialysis.  Although Ruth, unfortunately, was not alive at the start of this program during the summer of 1974, history was made when 60 children and teenagers from around the United States ventured to Claryville, New York, and the Frost Valley YMCA to experience the beauty of being a mainstreamed camper while receiving hemodialysis in a small renovated facility in the middle of the Catskill mountains.  Indeed, this was the first-of-its-kind program that became a model for others to simulate worldwide.

What I remember vividly and experience every time I go there (and this year will be the thirty-fifth year) is the wonderfully rewarding feeling of seeing children, that we often encounter in the hospital setting while on dialysis or after receiving a transplant, engaging in the wonders of camping with its attendant challenges and milestones. Almost equally important is the mutual appreciation by their fellow campers and counselors who are fortunate enough to have shared their camp experiences with them.

It is difficult to quantify this mutual growth and understanding but I can recall many examples where it has changed lives. I remember the kidney campers who were amazed that they could ride a horse, backpack into the woods for overnight stays, and sing to their hearts content in the dining hall along with hundreds of other campers. More importantly, I remember those who used their newfound confidence to move forward with their lives; finish high school, go to college and still return every summer to Frost Valley, not as a camper, but instead as a counselor either on dialysis or with a kidney transplant, now with tremendous responsibilities for others.

I also remember the young visiting international counselor who at age 17 first saw children on dialysis at camp. He returned year after year while in college and is now a leading transplant surgeon at a major medical center. His children also started at Frost Valley as soon as they were old enough and became counselors in the true "Lifer Spirit" of this unique camp.

So why do I love to go to camp?  Because I get fueled by the energy and belief that anyone — if given the opportunity — can overcome even the most difficult obstacles and strive to grow and reach their potential. Around this time of the year I again begin thinking about camp, but these days it's more often thoughts of our Children's Kidney Center at Frost Valley, rather than memories of my own childhood camp experiences.  Come join us sometime and see why thousands of campers and staff also have these memories in their minds and hearts.

Frederick J. Kaskel, MD, PhD, is chief of the Division of Pediatric Nephrology at The Children's Hospital at Montefiore and Professor and Vice Chair of Pediatrics at Albert Einstein College of Medicine.

view from above in the late 1980s

How was this photo taken? From atop Mount Hayden (Hayden Lodge chimney)? I don't think so. The point of view is too far to the west of Hayden. I can't figure it out. It's not taken from room 1 of Margetts Lodge - too high up for that.  If you know, please tell me.

I posted the above photo to Facebook and it led to a lively discussion - from where was this photo taken. See below.

Rose Senatore has passed away

The latest information about the memorial for Rose:

The funeral will be 10 am at the funeral home on Saturday, than on to Church and cemetery.

**

Rose Senatore worked as an assistant in Frost Valley's Montclair, NJ, office for many, many years. Before that she worked at the Newark office (on Bleeker Street) for Wawayanda during the early years at Frost Valley. She and Josephine Giannetti were Halbe Brown's right-hand folks for a long time.

When I was a young staffer, and would spend a lot of time myself helping out in the Montclair office, Rose was always generous and kind to me, watching out for me, giving me advice, etc. She loved everyone and always had time to catch up, asking you about your parents, your school.

And she loved Frost Valley, and would do anything for the organization.

Lourdes Montoro was another one taken in by Rose. Lourdes writes: "ROSE SENATORE was more than a faithful FV worker, a devoted assistant to Halbe in the Montclair office and my first American mom - since my 1st summer (since Internationals could use the office on the holdover wekeends)."

Rose passed away very recently. We will miss her.

The wake for Rose is at Ippolito-Stellato, 7 Two Bridges Road, Fairfield, NJ 07004 on Friday from 3 to 9 pm, and the funeral will take place on Saturday.

Marion Nicholson

Marion Nicholson passed away recently. She and her husband (through their foundation) were very supportive of Frost Valley over the years. Here is a link to her obituary.

A note from Kate Landis - gathering in NYC this weekend

A few of us are organizing an all-are-welcome Family FV Reunion in NYC this weekend, and would love to make sure everyone knows about it. The idea is to get our families and friends together and have a picnic lunch, enjoy the sunshine and catch up. Wondering if you could help us promote it through the blog? I have posted on the FV alumni page and we are all teaching out to old friends.
Here are the details:

 https://www.facebook.com/events/231419420339044/

People can email me at Kate.Landis@gmail.com if they are not on Facebook or need help finding us!

Eileen Bradley and her director, 1984

Eileen Bradley, counselor; me, camp director. 1984. I was no doubt attempting to get Eileen to do something she didn't want to do.

Hirdstock 1987

Blum's beautiful photo of Memorial Island

Eric Blum's sister sent me a thumb drive full of photos taken by Eric over the years at Frost Valley.  A number of them were taken during his first summer, 1986. I will post a selection from time to time. For now, I post this one. It was taken a few years ago - of Memorial Island in Reflection Pond. It's a beautiful photo, but beyond that - it's of course where Eric's ashes are buried now.

chapel/morning reflection at Reflection Pond, late '70s

Forstmann's old bullpen

The old Forstmann-era bullpen is now history. For years it served as a laundry, and it really didn't serve well in that capacity. It would have taken too much time and expense to make it right, so yesterday it went down, and a new facility - which will have the old Catskill farm-style look of most of our buildings - will be up in its place, on the same site, in a month. For some years the upstairs was the ski shop. For several summers the downstairs was the Out-trip building. Upstairs there was sewing in the late 70s. Etc. Now gone. Dan Weir took these before and after photos.

Frost Valley people who knew that building from the late 60s until the mid-80s will hardly imagine it in the summertime without Marie Hess just inside the door or sitting in a chaise chair just in front.

 

My own favorite view of the building is from this angle - across the field, near the main road, looking at it from far away and just to the west - an angle that makes it look like a nice little old mountain cabin. The photo below was taken in 1972.

Blum memorial weekend

During a beautiful autumnal Frost Valley weekend, friends and family of the late Eric Blum gathered in the valley to remember this remarkable guy. On Saturday at 4 PM we began to celebrate in Blum style: beer, meat of all sort grilling on the grills, and, later, cigars. The cigar band was specially designed with a photo of Eric on it. The meat started at 4 and was still coming (ribs prepared by Eric's BBQ partner John, who had come from Virginia for the occasion) at 9:30 PM. If Eric had been there, he would have insisted on "nothing green on anyone's plate," but, well, we caved and there was salad too and even veggie burgers. On Sunday morning we gathered in the Ketcham Chapel for the part that Eric would not have enjoyed: sentiment, affection, serious expressions of love, in addition to some hilarious Blum stories. Scroll down for the videos of Matt's and Mark's testimonials and you'll see what I mean.

Dave Bieler & Joe Elliot (right).

Sue Geller and Matt Buczek.

Dave Bieler with Nina Braun.

Brian Sense (who flew in from Colorado) with current Adventure Director Lincoln McLain.

Kam, Jackson, Jeff, Dan and Joe.

Three Adventure Directors across the years.

Dan Goldman with Katie Kelly.

A letter Eric wrote to his FV staff colleagues one summer.

Rick Kaskel, Claudia Swain, Phyllis Kaskel and Bud Cox hang out with Sue Geller's adorable daughter.

Just some of the annual "Camp Schlep" T-shirts Eric had made each summer. If you were up (or down!) to the standards of real Frost Valley schlepping, you got one of these.

One summer Eric made his own weekly schedule - Schlep Village! Notice the activities.

Eric volunteered for many, many summers. In the late 90s Peter Swain drew up a mock contract. Here's one of them.

Jerry Huncosky (who coordinated the entire weekend of events) with Melissa Pauls.

Peter Swain with Lincoln.

On Sunday morning family and friends began gathering around the site on Memorial Island in Reflection Pond before the service began in the chapel. Eric's ashes are buried here, and there is a plaque (see below) along with a miniature of the log bench Eric loved to sit on as he gazed at camp's activities from his spot in from of Margetts Lodge.

Lillian Rountree traveled from Pittsburgh. Here she is with Peter Swain, once her camp director.