Culture shock

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
10/29/05

The sign on the door of McCann's Drug Store in Hudson Falls advertised: "All Cards $.99." So when Rev. Victor Achima Owan got to the cash register with his card and was charged $1.06, he was puzzled.

"I thought, are they trying to take advantage of me just because I'm new?" he said. "I finally asked someone, and they explained to me about sales tax."

Taxes weren't the only thing that shocked Owan when he arrived in this country in June 2003 to become an associate pastor at St. Mary's-St. Paul's Catholic Church in Hudson Falls. He came from another place named "Falls" — the town of Agbokim Water Falls in Nigeria — but the similarities ended there.

As an African getting his first taste of American culture, Owan's first months here were full of confusion and surprises. Those experiences inspired him to write a book called "Culture Shock," a self-published handbook to crossing the cultural divide between Nigeria and the United States. He hopes that his humorous personal narrative will smooth the way for others making a similar transition.

Something as simple as sneezing can be complicated in a foreign country.

"Back home, it's a sign of good health when you sneeze. It means that someone, somewhere, is speaking well of you. We look forward to it," explained Owan. "Here, each time I sneezed, people said, 'Are you OK?' and I didn't understand their concern."

He was equally baffled by the way people greeted him, which seemed rude and aggressive."Everyone shakes hands with such a firm grip here. That intimidated me at first," said Owan. "In my country, when somebody shakes your hand that way, they are sending you a message, and it's not a good one."

While making eye contact is a normal part of polite conversation in American culture, Nigerians show respect in the opposite way — by looking down when someone more important is addressing them.

"Having people look me right in the face used to make me so nervous that I would stammer," he said.

Now, 36-year-old Owan seems comfortable in his new life at St. Mary's-St. Paul's, where he said he's experienced nothing but love from parishioners and others in the community. He has learned how to wash dishes and is getting better at cooking — things that men just don't do in Nigeria.

Although he's the only Nigerian priest in the Albany diocese, and perhaps the only African in Hudson Falls, Owan said he hasn't encountered any racism. He likes to make jokes about how much his dark skin ("chocolate, not black," he insists) stands out in a crowd of pale northern New Yorkers.

"Once, I went out to dinner with two white friends, and the waitress gave them white doggie bags, but gave me a black one. I decided to give her a hard time about it, asking 'Am I not black enough?' " he said. "We were all cracking up."

When he first arrived here in June 2003, Owan was looking forward to his first sight of snow. For months, he prayed for it to fall from the sky, and when it finally did, he ran outside and jumped in the snow like a child. But after two winters in upstate New York, he's starting to understand what it means to have too much of a good thing.

"I think God was too generous with me," he said, laughing.
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global warming?

Published in The Post-Star (D1)

10/24/05

The sky isn't necessarily falling, but it's certainly heating up.

The Northeast experienced its warmest July through September in more than a century this year, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and last month was the hottest September on record in terms of global land temperatures. Hurricane season was unusually strong, too -- there's only been one other year (1933) with this many storms.

For many scientists, this all points to one conclusion. Global warming is changing the Earth's climate, fueled by humans' ever-increasing output of carbon dioxide from things like cars and factories.

Local farmers aren't so sure. Many said it's been a strange year, with one of the latest frosts they can remember, but they aren't ready to jump on the global warming bandwagon just yet. They're used to coping with fickle weather patterns.

"I've seen so many changes in the weather over the years, that I'm pretty skeptical," said Tom Borden, 51. "We shouldn't ignore it, but I'm hesitant to throw in with the idea too quickly."

His family has owned a farm in Easton for six generations, which includes an apple orchard and a dairy farm. He said the long spell of dry, hot weather this summer made for a good haying season, and the corn matured more quickly than he'd expected in September. The late frost has allowed him to keep harvesting apples into late October, without concern for the bruising that can occur on frozen fruit.

"It's been a good growing season for us; a real long one," said Borden. "I wouldn't say I've never seen this before, but it's rare."

Ken Macica, a farmer in Schuylerville, said it was a season of mixed blessings. The dry summer took a toll on the size of his pumpkins, but he had a bumper hay crop of about 12,000 bales. Heavy rains in recent weeks have put a damper on his corn maze. There's only one place where things have grown predictably -- his greenhouses.

"You can grow anything in a greenhouse," he said.

But what happens when the whole planet is a greenhouse that won't stop heating up?

While a longer growing season could be a boost for agriculture, warmer fall temperatures also mean a duller, delayed foliage season. For upstate New York, where tourism employs more than 106,000 people, that could be a real problem.

"As we have fall after fall of dull colors, people will no longer travel great distances to see it," said Dr. Barrett Rock, a professor of natural resources at the University of New Hampshire. "I don't think this year is a fluke. It certainly follows a pattern that we've been in since the mid-90s."

Rock was part of a team that published a 2001 report on how climate change could affect New England and upstate New York. Using what's called the Hadley model for computerized climate modeling, the team calculated that the average temperature of the region could rise by 6 degrees Fahrenheit in the next century. And that's the conservative estimate; another modeling system predicts a rise of 10 degrees.

That might sound good to people who complain about cold weather, said Rock, but think of it in these terms: The average temperatures in Boston will eventually mirror the current climate in Richmond, Va., or Atlanta, Ga., depending on which model is correct.

"There would be no skiing, no maples to tap and no beautiful displays of fall foliage," said Rock. "I'm just a dumb botanist, not an economist, but I think its very safe to say that there will be severe, significant economic impacts with the kind of warming that's predicted."

Local science writer Bill McKibben agrees that the forecast for the next 100 years doesn't look good.

"By some point in this century, unless we really get to work changing our fuel systems in huge ways, we'll have no real winter -- no period when snow stays on the ground," predicts McKibben. "We'll just have month after month of mud season -- and brutally hot summers."

McKibben, a former writer for The New Yorker magazine, has been researching this topic for years. In 1989, he wrote one of the first books on climate change for a general audience, "The End of Nature." His latest book, "Wandering Home," offers a hopeful look at this region as a model for change.

"A hundred years ago, the Adirondacks were largely clearcut, and now it's become the largest example of ecological restoration anyplace on Earth," said McKibben, who lived in Johnsburg for many years. "What makes that especially sweet is that it wasn't done by building a wall around it. There's still many people making a living there."

Thinking locally is an important step in the right direction, he said, and farmers are well-positioned to take the lead by helping to build strong local food networks. Buying local food not only helps the economy, it reduces carbon dioxide emissions because less fuel is used for transportation.

Rock said he's not surprised to hear that many farmers are reluctant to accept signs of climate change.

"They're right, the weather is always changing, but it's also true that the atmospheric chemistry has changed in the last few decades. We're seeing a dramatic increase in the amount of severe weather, and that's going to affect farming in a big way."

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Dogs aren't people too

Published in The Post-Star (B12)
10/23/05

Dogs are animals.

Sure, it sounds obvious, but many people tend to forget that "they're not furry little humans," says local author Jon Katz. "We have a tendency to project human thought processes onto dogs, and it's not doing them any favors."

Katz lives on Bedlam Farm in Hebron, with two border collies (Orson and Rose), two Labrador retrievers (Clementine and Pearl), 25 sheep, three donkeys, a barn cat, and a grumpy rooster named Winston. It's a place that lives up to its name at times, but he loves it.

He's a writer who has found his niche -- dogs, the pet of choice in at least 38 million American households.

"I'm fascinated with the emotional geography between dogs and humans," said Katz. Apparently, he's not the only one. His books about dogs, including "A Dog Year" and "The Dogs of Bedlam Farm," have become best-sellers in what seemed to be an already saturated market for animal care books.

His latest book, "Katz on Dogs: A Commonsense Guide to Training and Living with Dogs," was released by Random House in early October and is already climbing into the top 200 best-selling books on Amazon.com. The point of the book, said Katz, is to help people understand the best way to train their dog is to "respect their animal nature," rather than treating them like naughty children.

"People often try to explain their dogs' behavior in human terms -- they're being angry, spiteful, or wily -- but usually these aren't things that are possible for a dog," Katz said. "This doesn't mean they don't have emotions or thought processes. But they're very alien."

Dogs are instinctive, simple creatures, Katz said. If we could see inside their minds, it would probably be like a DVD running a steady stream of images of people, food and places. They're not capable of constructing emotional scenarios, and they don't recognize time as a concept.

He's disturbed by the current trend of putting dogs on anti-depressant drugs for "separation anxiety" because they act up while their owners are away. "When a poorly trained dog is left alone, it doesn't know what to do. It tries to occupy itself, and often gets into trouble," Katz explained.

Don't shout "bad dog!" Katz said. Use positive reinforcement. Sometimes this means getting creative -- no one training method will work for everyone.

"People often feel stupid when they try to train their dogs. In my book, I'm trying very hard to come up with a rational approach that people won't feel so guilty or stressed about," he said.

For example, people often try unsuccessfully to silence a barking dog by yelling at it. The dog misinterprets this response, Katz said.

"To the dog, it's like 'Great, everybody's barking!'"

A better approach would be to ignore the noise, he said, and only pay attention to the dog when it is quiet. "Choose the behavior you want to reinforce."

Food can often be a useful training tool. Katz uses the example of a friend who couldn't get her dog to come. Then she started bringing chopped hot dogs along on their walks. Every 15 feet, she dropped a piece as she called the dog. "Soon, that dog had the best recall on the planet," he said.

Even Katz, for all his practicality, admits that "my dogs are spoiled beyond description." He attributes emotions to them unintentionally ("when I yell at them, you can almost hear them chuckle") and writes in his book that Orson "will always be my soulmate."

But he wants to make one thing clear: His dogs are not a substitute for human companions.
"I would never want my daughter to think that I value the dogs as much as I value her, because I don't," he said. "Sometimes it's easier for people to love dogs than other people, and there's a sadness about that."

simple.

Published in The Post-Star
10/23/05

We make money to buy stuff. We make stuff to earn money. We use the money to ... buy more stuff.

Critics have called this trend "compulsive consumerism," "stuffocation," and "affluenza." For many Americans, it's simply a fact of life. They cope by building bigger homes and renting extra storage space. Some hire professional organizers, a career that didn't even exist until the 1980s.

Others have taken a more radical approach: Just give it all away, and get what you need by sharing.

"In our community, you actually own nothing, you just have the use of what the community has," explained Cecelia Harvey, prioress of the Nuns of New Skete in Cambridge. "It's not that you don't have a closet with clothes in it that you wear, but you're like a steward, not an owner."

That attitude makes it easier to part with possessions, and Harvey said most of the nuns only own things they consider practical. Watches are necessary for their cheesecake-making business, but "you won't find us in minks and jewelry." Most of their clothes are donated.

"One thing that makes our life simpler is that we don't follow trends," she said. "Our mentality is to wear what the common people wear."

At the Common Sense Farm, another religious community in Cambridge, a group called the Twelve Tribes of Israel lives by a similar creed.

"We try to live in harmony with each other and with our surroundings, and meet one another's needs. I don't think it's all that unusual, just practical," said David Woodward, one of the founding members of the group.

The women in the community make most of the clothes they wear, and the men wear their hair in ponytails so they can easily cut it themselves. They support themselves by producing and selling natural body care products, and are planning to open a cafe in downtown Cambridge later this year.

"An economy that's not based on greed is our goal," said Woodward. He helped start the Twelve Tribes in Chattanooga, Tenn., in the early 1970s, motivated by a desire to live like the early Christians described in the gospel of Acts.

Although Twelve Tribes isn't averse to modern culture -- some members have cars, and even cell phones -- they do their shopping out of need rather than impulse. Members pool their personal financial resources, and a bookkeeper doles out money for things like food, clothes and tools. There's no budget for things like TVs and iPods, but Woodward said most of their entertainment "comes in the form of social interactions."

Many people who want to simplify their lives are unwilling or unable to join a religious community. They often seek the services of professional organizers such as Helen Volk, who runs the Albany-based business Beyond Clutter.

Volk said many of her clients want to change their lives by "downsizing or purging" their possessions, but it's not easy.

"A lot of people have too much stuff in their life because they have trouble letting go emotionally," Volk said. "Start with things that don't involve a big sentimental attachment, like things that have an expired date on them."

Even information expires, she points out -- stacks of old magazines and newspapers, for example.

She also suggests living by the rule of "one in, one out," which means getting rid of one thing for every new thing you accumulate.

"To me, the definition of clutter is the stuff we're not using, and if you're not using it, why are you holding on to it?" Volk said. She supports the idea of "conscious consumption," which means understanding "what you're buying, and why you're buying it." Above all, she said, people need to find balance in their lives.

"If you have 1,000 CDs, how many more do you have to have to be happy?" she said. "The answer is, happiness has nothing to do with what you own."

video review: Trois Couleurs

Published in The Post-Star (D5)
10/14/05

Trois Couleurs 1994. Directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski. Blue, starring Juliette Binoche, 100 minutes. White, starring Julie Delpy, 91 minutes. Red, starring Irene Jacob, 99 minutes. Rated R. In French, with English subtitles.

It's been more than a decade since Krzysztof Kieslowski, a renowned Polish director who died in 1996, made the intriguing "Trois Couleurs" trilogy of films based on the colors of the French flag and their meanings -- liberty, equality and fraternity. Time hasn't lessened their beauty one bit.

Although there's some overlapping of characters between the films, it's not essential to view them in order. Each one tells its own compelling tale, looking at love in different slants of light and emotion.

"Blue" is the saddest of the three, with Juliette Binoche as a young widow who tries to escape grief by completely discarding her old life. Some surprising truths emerge as she wanders numbly through the weeks after her husband's and daughter's death, challenging viewers to consider all the consequences of personal freedom. The elegiac tone is emphasized by a haunting concerto that is composed throughout the film.

"White" tends to be the most popular, perhaps because it addresses such a common theme -- imbalanced romance -- with a combination of humor and heartbreak. It follows the quest of a Polish hairdresser obsessively in love with his ex-wife (Julie Delpy), even after she publicly humiliates him by revealing his impotence at their divorce hearing. The thickly layered plot merits more than one viewing.

Kieslowski ends the trilogy on a redemptive note with "Red," a story of loneliness transformed by an unlikely friendship between a student model named Valentine (Irene Jacob) and a misanthropic old man. Its quirky characters and sense of fragile hope reminded me of a more recent French film, "Amelie," which I also highly recommend.

Don't be turned off by the subtitles -- even if you couldn't read the words, you'd still enjoy the feast of images, colors, and music in these movies. Best of all, the DVDs are available for free at your local library. If you like them, you should also devote some time to Kieslowski's 10-part masterpiece, "Decalogue."

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Local man helped save Lipizzans

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
10/14/05

In April 1945, most of the Lipizzaner horses in the world were all in one place -- a German prisoner-of-war camp in Hostau, Czechoslovakia, that lay in the path of advancing Russian troops.

When word of their plight reached U.S. Army General George Patton Jr., a former Olympic equestrian, he sent in the cavalry.

"If it hadn't been for Patton, there wouldn't be any Lipizzans today," said Gary Lashinsky, producer of "The World Famous Lipizzaner Stallions," a touring equestrian performance that will be at Glens Falls Civic Center tonight.

Timothy Horgan of Queensbury was a member of the 2nd Squadron of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Group that conducted the rescue mission in April 1945. Sixty years later, he's looking forward to getting his second glimpse of the mighty white stallions. He's going to tonight's performance with his three grandsons.

"Our colonel was a horseman, as was General Patton -- and when you're born a horseman, you stay a horseman," Horgan said. During the war, however, Horgan's mount was an M8 armored scout car. The cavalry stopped riding horses in 1942, two years before he was drafted.

The Lipizzans are a rare breed of white horses, descended from Spanish stock and trained in Vienna since the 16th century. They are prized for their grace and precision in dressage, an equestrian sport that requires a horse and rider to perform a dancelike sequence of maneuvers.

At the beginning of World War II, about 300 Lipizzans were evacuated from the famous Spanish Riding School in Piber, Austria, to a stud farm in Hostau. They were well cared for by the German troops who found them there, said Horgan, but their fate in the hands of the Russians was less certain.

"The Russian soldiers had a reputation for trashing places," Horgan said. "We knew they would do whatever they wanted with the horses -- use them as work horses, or worse, who knows."

Col. Charles Hancock Reed, who commanded Horgan's group, learned of the Lipizzans' location from the officer of a captured German intelligence unit. Reed is now dead, but described the encounter in a 1970 memoir.

"We found that we had mutual horse interests ... and agreed that these fine animals should not fall into the Communists' hands, and the prisoners should be rescued," he wrote. "Shortly, a laconic message was relayed from General Patton: 'Get them. Make it fast! You will have another mission.'"

The 2nd Cavalry reached Hostau on April 28, and were met with a friendly surrender by the Germans. "It appeared as a fiesta rather than a battle," Reed wrote. The troops released about 400 American, British, French and Polish prisoners of war, and loaded the horses into converted "six-by-six" supply trucks.

Horgan's unit was in charge of reconnaissance, which meant it drove ahead of the convoy of horses to make sure the roads and towns were safe to travel through.

After a three-day journey, the Lipizzans made it to Schwarzberg, Germany.Their rescue was popularized in a 1963 Disney movie, "The Miracle of the White Stallions," which Horgan said was mostly accurate.

"They took some liberties with the end, making it look like there was more of a battle than it really was, but I guess they had to do that," he said.

Now 80, Horgan said his memories of the war are fading, but he hasn't forgotten the mission that saved the Lipizzans."I only keep the good ones," he said, tapping his white head with his fingers.
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movie review: A History of Violence

Published in The Post-Star (Go! section)
10/13/05

A History of Violence 2005. Directed by David Cronenberg. Starring Viggo Mortenson, Maria Bello, Ed Harris, William Hurt and Ashton Holmes. 96 minutes. Rated R (for strong brutal violence, graphic sexuality, nudity, language, and some drug use).

In case the title didn't give it away, "A History of Violence" is not an uplifting movie. It will make you cringe at times -- but it will also make you think about things like love, morality, and the complexity of human relationships.

It's based on a graphic novel by John Wagner and Vince Locke, and it certainly is graphic (check out the caveats on the rating). Consider yourself warned.

The movie opens with a disturbingly nonchalant triple murder by a couple of lazy drifters who don't want to pay their motel bill, then shifts abruptly to a cozy family scene in the rural town of Millbrook, Ind. It feels as though director David Cronenberg is greeting his audience by splashing blood onto their laps, daring them to keep watching -- then inviting them in for a cup of tea.

The lead character, Tom Stall (brilliantly played by Viggo Mortenson), is the strong-but-gentle type who seems deeply content with his quiet life as a family man and owner of a local diner.
It's obvious his wife (Maria Bello) loves him fiercely, and their first sex scene conveys the sense of intimate camaraderie that defines their marriage. Their son Jack (Ashton Holmes) is a bright, tenderhearted teen, and their little daughter Sarah (Heidi Hayes) is a blonde cherub.

It all seems too good to be true -- so, of course, it is.

When the violent drifters from the opening scene surface at the diner in Millbrook, Stall saves his employees' lives by shooting the men with a surprising alacrity. He's hailed as a local hero, but soon finds out that one good deed doesn't deserve another. In fact, his heroism marks the beginning of the end of Tom Stall's life as he knows it. To say more would reveal too much of the suspenseful plot, but the comfortable part of the film is over.

By the end, viewers will understand the irony of an early scene in which Stall comforts Sarah after she wakes up screaming from a nightmare.

"There's no such thing as monsters," he tells her.

Maybe not. But there are such things as humans, and the dark secrets hidden in their hearts can be more frightening than any shadowy beast under the bed.

Want more?
If you share Cronenberg's taste for blood, check out "The Dead Zone," a 1983 flick adapted from a Stephen King novel.

If it's Viggo Mortenson's anguished-macho thing that's got you hooked, you'll probably like his roles in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy (2001-03) and "Hidalgo" (2004).

If you like both, try "A Perfect Murder," in which Mortenson plays a sleazy, sexy drifter involved with a rich woman (Gwyneth Paltrow.)
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Antiques business struggles

Published in The Post-Star (B1)
10/9/05

Staying solvent in the antiques business is getting trickier these days. To survive, you need good people skills, a head for numbers, and a gambler's sense of adventure.

Or at least a computer.

Internet auction sites like eBay are changing the way antiques are bought and sold, and it's starting to show in the local business landscape.

While some hidden treasures still wait to be uncovered in the dusty nooks of traditional antiques shops, more and more dealers are using eBay to showcase their wares to a larger crowd of customers than they could physically attract.

"eBay has been a mixed blessing, because you can get a huge customer base, but it's brought prices way down on some things that you used to think were a rare find -- then you find out that everyone has one in their basement," said Art deAvila, 45, who has been collecting and selling antiques since high school.

He and his brother, Robert deAvila, run 200 Glen Antique Marketplace, which recently relocated to Lower Warren Street.

Although no statistics are available on the antiques business as a whole, evidence points to hard times for local dealers. At least seven antiques shops within a two-block downtown radius in Glens Falls have closed in the last decade, leaving only Poor Richard's Antiques in the main shopping district.

In nearby Fort Ann, The Flying Trout Emporium recently went out of business. Debbie and John Geer opened the store about seven years ago, in a century-old farmhouse on Route 149.

Just down the road, the future of another antiques outlet is up in the air. The building that houses Fort Anne Antiques, a multidealer store at the corner of route 4 and 149, is for sale.

"Businesses like this are struggling," said Geer. "The culture is changing, and young people would rather go to someplace like Target and buy things new. There are still some true antiquers, but they're being more selective, not buying impulsively like they used to."

Geer said tourist traffic used to bring in a lot of customers, but for the last three years, the parking lot has been mostly empty.

"It's like someone's taken a faucet and turned it off," she said.

It's hard to put a finger on just one reason for the trend, she said, although the popularity of eBay is a factor.

"I'm just not a computer person, so eBay's not for me," she said. "I love going into a shop and picking an item up, feeling it in my hands and looking at it.

"But that kind of antiques shopping requires an investment of time, and now people want the instant gratification of typing something into the computer and finding it. The shop experience is fading, which is sad in a lot of ways."

Ron Kroohn and his partner, Bill Woodward, closed their downtown Glens Falls storefront a few years ago and tried selling exclusively on eBay. Now their shop, Antique Arcade, is part of Glenwood Manor Antiques in Queensbury.

"eBay was profitable, but I got bored after a while. I need to see people," said Kroohn.
Like many dealers, he got into the trade because he loved collecting things and finding bargains.

"The first time you buy something for a few dollars and sell it for a lot of dollars, you're hooked," he said.

Kroohn has been collecting and selling antiques for 27 years.

"I think, across the board, we've all found the last five years to be a period of flux," he said. "Some of it is eBay. But all businesses have their ups and downs."

Many dealers have moved to cooperative retail outlets, such as Glenwood Manor Antiques, a neo-colonial mansion with 30 rooms stuffed with everything from vintage clothing to old glass milk bottles and art-deco furniture.

"This is my main source of income, but it's also a social life for many of us -- we go out to dinner together, have picnics and talk about everything," said Enid Mastrianni, who at 43 is one of the co-op's youngest and newest members. "I know I'm impractical. I'm not getting rich, but I enjoy doing this so much."

The 25 dealers of Glenwood Manor may soon have to find a new home, however. The building, owned by H.R. Tyrer Galleries, has been for sale for several years.

"If this place closed, I'd stay in the business, and just seek out another antiques mall," said Mastrianni. "But it would be sad."

Demographic shifts have also affected demand for certain antique items. Older collectors are turning their dollars toward high-end art investments, while nostalgic baby boomers are discovering low-end antiques as a way to decorate their homes.

"We see a lot of young couples coming in here to furnish their house with 'antiques,' like furniture from the 1950s and '60s," said Bob Savarie, 79, a dealer at Glenwood Manor. "Obviously, they have a different definition of antique than I do."

Despite the "for sale" signs showing up on storefronts, many dealers remain optimistic.

"You never know in this business -- you could have a slow day, when nothing's selling, and then someone comes in right before closing and spends $2,000," said Jackie Devlin, a dealer at Glenwood Manor.

There will always be people who buy and sell antiques simply because they love it, like deAvila.
"It's the best job in the world, going out and treasure-hunting," he said.
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Lake George, one week later.

Published in The Post-Star (A8) and poststar.com
10/9/05

On the first weekend since the Ethan Allen tour boat capsized on Lake George, killing 20 senior citizens, life in the village was quietly returning to normal.

Soggy weather Saturday kept most tourists indoors, and business was slow in shops and restaurants along the main streets. Things seemed typical for a rainy off-season weekend, even for Columbus Day weekend, most locals said.

"I think it's getting back to normal slowly, but we're still grappling with this tragedy. It still feels to me like it just happened yesterday, or even a few minutes ago. All I can think is why, why, why?" said Karen Hanchett.

Hanchett owns The Corner Stone, a gift shop next to the Shoreline Cruises dock, where the Ethan Allen was based. Several people from the Michigan-based tour group on the Ethan Allen's final voyage came into her store before boarding the boat.

"It's going to be fresh in everyone's memory for a very long time, but we'll move forward," Hanchett said.

Across the street at Soprano's restaurant, two young waitresses were still thinking about the friendly seniors they had served last Sunday. About 15 or 20 members of the tour group -- identifiable by their nametags -- came in for a few slices of pizza between 1 and 2 p.m. that day. Laura Stevens and Lauren Donigian served them.

"They were really nice. They were just talking about the town and the leaves changing colors," said Stevens, 22.

Donigian, 20, overheard some of them chatting about a cruise on the lake. She didn't think much about it until she heard sirens go by a few hours later and learned that a tour boat had capsized.

"My jaw just dropped," she said. "I couldn't believe it at first."

Stevens had a similar reaction.

"I thought, how could that happen? How could a boat sink in Lake George?" she said.

For their boss, restaurant owner Joe Soprano, the tragedy felt like a close call. His 13-year-old son Anthony had been a passenger on the Ethan Allen just two days before the accident, as part of a "floating classroom" science unit at Queensbury middle school.

"What a strange thing," he said, shaking his head. "But I think Lake George will be fine in the long run. Accidents happen. I'm not blaming anybody."

Shoreline Cruises, which operated the Ethan Allen, was closed on Saturday. A few locals lingered at King Neptune's pub, owned by Shoreline, but no one was in the mood to talk about the Ethan Allen.

The only option for tourists seeking a commercial cruise on Saturday was the Lake George Steamboat Company. More than 300 tourists boarded the company's lunch cruise, despite bad weather.

No one from the company was available for comment -- a common theme in a town wearied by a week of intense media attention.
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soldier returns home

Published in The Post-Star (B3)

10/6/05

It’s hard to surprise a man who has spent 13 months in a place where bombs explode almost daily.

On Sunday, however, Sgt. 1st Class Shawn Saville walked through the door of the Hudson Falls firehouse and stopped in his tracks as more than 85 people shouted, "Surprise!"

Saville, 40, has been part of the Hudson Falls volunteer fire department for a decade and was a captain there when he left for Iraq last summer to serve with the 98th Division of the Army Reserve.

He got a warm welcome when he returned to his hometown on Sept. 28. A limousine full of friends and family — including his wife Heidi, daughter, Tiffany, and stepson, Jared — met him at the Albany International Airport. An escort of firetrucks joined them in Hudson Falls.

"We had to do it. We’re a brotherhood," said Fire Chief Paul Dietrich. "We figure he’s done his duty; served both his country and his village. He’s a real person of service."

Saville showed up at the firehouse around 2:30 p.m. Sunday for what he thought was a birthday party for a fellow firefighter. Although he was surprised to learn that he was actually the guest of honor, Saville’s reaction was calm. He simply grinned.

"Thanks," he told the crowd. "It’s good to be home."

When he didn’t say anything else, a friend teased him that he was "still a man of few words."

"Most of the words I learned in the last year; you don’t want to hear," joked Saville, a brawny man with a deeply clefted chin. He works as a technician at Glens Falls Business Machines.

Saville’s division was responsible for training Iraqi soldiers in basic combat. They spent time in Baghdad, Kirkush, Taji and Fallujah. Their goal was to help Iraqi forces become strong enough to defend themselves without American aid, and Saville said it’s a long process.

"The last group I was with was able to sustain themselves, but that’s just one small group out of many," he said.

It was a dangerous job, but that didn’t bother Saville. After all, he’s been in the military for almost 19 years, fulfilling a childhood dream of serving as a soldier.

The hardest part, he said, was being separated from his family. They agreed.

"He’s one of the only people I can talk to, and it was hard getting through my first year of high school without him," said Saville’s 15-year-old daughter, Tiffany.

"I think it’s harder with older kids, because they know the reality of the danger that their dad’s in. You can’t lie to them," said Heidi Saville. She and Shawn have been together for 14 years, having married in 1997.

Now that her husband is home again, she said, "he deserves to be treated like a king."

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women drivers.

Published in The Post-Star (D1)

10/3/05

Lynn Fuchs talks about cars the way evangelists talk about God.

Learning to drive, she declares, can change your life. It expands your social network, your shopping options, and even your job prospects.

Who wouldn’t want to get behind the wheel?

Some people, however, are afraid to convert from passengers to drivers. They might have grown up in a city where a subway pass was as good as gasoline, or grown used to relying on a spouse who hogged the steering wheel. Perhaps they’re jittery from a car crash.

Fear not, says Fuchs, owner of A Woman’s Way Driving School. She promises to teach them to drive her way — "a woman’s way" (even if they’re men) — by combining traditional instruction with phobia counseling.

"Self-confidence is the biggest issue for many of my students," Fuchs said. "They want to learn so badly, but they don’t think they can handle it."

She teaches them to take things one step at a time, training their eyes before their hands and feet.

Fuchs, 53, sports a Long Island accent, an enormous smile, and the aura of a friendly aunt. The answering machine at her driving school promises callers that, "We really care about you here at our school."

She compares her relationship with students to a doctor’s with her patients, and advertises on her Web site as "the specialist who makes house calls." For her, driver’s education is a calling. She has always loved driving, Fuchs said, and owns seven cars, including an antique Volvo that she uses for lessons.

She started down the driving school career path in her mid-20s, when she was involved in a car crash that started her thinking about defensive driving. She took a job as an instructor at a driving school in 1978, and discovered a passion for individualized teaching that she felt "wasn’t appreciated there."

In 1981, she founded A Woman’s Way in her hometown of Valley Stream, on Long Island. She opened the second location in Glens Falls about five years ago.

One of her goals, she said, is to help students avoid accidents by learning to think ahead. Drivers should "look early and deep" into side streets when approaching an intersection, she said, and watch the tires of oncoming vehicles for clues about their speed and direction. Pedestrians and bikers should, she said, be "wheel watchers," too.

"People don’t always realize that 3,000 pounds takes a lot of time to stop, so they may not be braking in time to stop at a light," Fuchs said. "If you notice that their wheels aren’t rotating more slowly as they approach the intersection, be careful."

She has given this technique a name — The Fuchs’ Formula — which she has copyrighted. The formula is detailed, with credit given to Fuchs, in Chapter 8 — Defensive Driving — of the New York driver’s manual.

In 2003, Fuchs received a certificate in counseling from St. Joseph’s College, although not all her students need phobia counseling. She also conducts prelicensing classes and elder driver evaluations for the Motor Vehicles Department, and teaches basic automobile safety.

Her students range from 16 to 85, and she estimated she’s taught about 25,000 of them. It’s a number she hopes will keep accelerating.

"I’m truly proud of what I do," she said. She would like eventually to establish a foundation for people who can’t afford to pay for a car or driving lessons.

"Driving changes your life, and if I can share that with someone else, I’ve done a good job." #

fashion page: Jeans.

Published in The Post-Star (B12)

10/2/05

If you need a reason to rejoice as summer slips away, look in your closet: Jeans, glorious jeans. With temperatures cooling off and fall fashions hitting the shelves, it's denim's time to shine.

Almost everyone has a favorite pair of jeans -- the ones that fit perfectly and are worn in all the right places. It's almost like dating. You know when you've found the right one, and you remember them long after the breakup.

"Oh my God, I loved them!" said Nichole Dick, 22, remembering the pair of "perfectly low, light-washed American Eagle jeans" she recently parted ways with. After three years of active duty in her wardrobe, the jeans had developed a hole in the knee, so she threw them out.

"Actually, I threw them out, took them out of the garbage and put them back in my closet again for a while," Dick said. Not longer after she finally trashed them for good, Dick realized torn jeans were making a comeback on the fashion scene. "If I'd only known," she said, laughing.

Now, Dick is in a new relationship with a pair of dark stonewashed, slightly stretchy low-rise jeans from Zumiez, the retail store where she works in Aviation Mall. "I know they're my new favorites because I'll go without washing them and wear them again, and I won't do that with anything else," she explained. "It's weird how I get attached to jeans."

For some people, the attachment is so strong, they never want it to end. Mike Zimmerman, 33, said he usually buys three of four pairs of identical jeans when he finds a style he likes. He currently favors Levi's zip-fly jeans, with a loose, comfortable fit, although he also has a pair of vintage jeans that he wears "about once a year, on special occasions."

Of course, the truly fashion-conscious among us have flings, not long-term relationships, with their clothes. Farzad Teimouri, 26, takes pride in wearing tight, trendy jeans with designer labels. When he moved to the Albany area from Shiraz, Iran, about eight years ago, he was dismayed by what he saw people wearing on the streets.

"American people don't know how to dress -- such bad style," said Teimouri, who runs a kiosk in Aviation Mall that sells T-shirts with slogans like "Jesus is my Homeboy" and "Tell Your Girlfriend I Said Thanks."

Teimouri estimated that he owns at least a dozen pairs of jeans, about half of which are Gucci. "They're more expensive than other brands, but they're good quality," he said. "I like whatever their latest style is."

The latest style, according to many sources, is "distressed" or "destroyed" denim.

"I think most of the jeans we sell have holes in them," said Rob Bedard, 27, a Saratoga Springs resident who works at American Eagle Outfitters. His favorite jeans have several strategically placed rips and threadbare spots, but it's not because he's been wearing them forever. He bought them that way this year. The torn areas are reinforced with extra stitching, although he admits that the fabric is still "jeopardized."

It's a look that's more popular with teenagers and young adults than older shoppers.

"Most kids come in here and want destroyed jeans, and their parents say, 'I'm not paying $48 for a pair of jeans that's all ripped up!' " he said. "Sure, they might fall apart more quickly because of what's been done to them. But I like the look."

If your favorite jeans still fit, but don't fit in with this fall's hot look, you can always destroy them yourself. Simply use a nail file or cheese grater to wear down the denim until only white threads appear in a few spots.

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Lake George boat accident: One day later

Published in The Post-Star (A1) and on poststar.com
10/4/05

New friend comforts after death of husband

On Sunday afternoon, Anna May Hawley, 74, was cold, wet and worried. She was among the survivors of the capsized Ethan Allen tour boat on Lake George, but the last time she had seen her husband, Earl, was in the water without a life jacket. He did not respond when she called his name.

As she waited for an ambulance in the aftermath of the tragedy, a rescuer tried to put her mind at ease.

"He's probably at the hospital, sweetheart," said Mounir Rahal, who pulled Anna May and five other senior citizens to safety in his motorboat after he saw the Ethan Allen capsize around 3 p.m. Sunday.

But later that night, Anna May found out the awful truth. Earl Hawley was among the 20 people who lost their lives in the accident.

The couple, from Trenton, Mich., had already starting making plans to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary next June when they left for a one-week fall foliage excursion last Tuesday, according to their daughter Cheryl.

They were part of a group of 48 senior citizens on the tour, which included a one-hour cruise on Lake George aboard the Ethan Allen on Sunday.

Hawley was comforted by a stranger in the long, stunned moments after her rescue.Laura Sullivan, 33, was at her parents' house on Cramer Point when she saw the emergency vehicles arrive on the lawn of the house two doors down. She asked if she could help, and an EMS worker directed her to Hawley, who simply needed someone to sit by her side.

"The first thing she did was apologize for the way her hair looked," Sullivan said later. "She said she'd just had it done special for the trip. I chuckled, and told her that's something my own grandmother might have said."

Hawley told her that the tour group had just had "a lovely slice of pizza" at Soprano's, a local restaurant, before walking over to the dock of Shoreline Cruises.

As Sullivan and Hawley chatted, they learned that they shared a common career. Sullivan teaches third grade at Tanglewood elementary school in South Glens Falls, and Hawley taught fourth-grade before retiring as a teacher in 1988.

The two women were together for about 20 minutes before rescue workers helped Hawley into an ambulance and took her to Glens Falls Hospital for evaluation.

Sullivan says she can't forget Hawley, who she calls "a lovely, sweet lady." She plans to send her a card, and said she hopes they will reconnect in the future."She really struck a chord with me," Sullivan said. "I just want her to know that I am still thinking of her."

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breaking news: boating tragedy on Lake George

Published in The Post-Star, reprinted in the Auburn Citizen. Excerpts used in Associated Press and Detroit Free Press articles.

(See main news story on this event at poststar.com)

10/3/05

LAKE GEORGE -- Anna May Hawley looked dazed and weary as she sat on the steps of a wooden lean-to on the shore of Cramer Point. A tag hung from her right wrist, identifying her as a noncritical patient for triage purposes. "Ann Mae Hawley, 74. Cold," was scrawled on it.

"I don't know where my husband is," Hawley kept saying, clutching a soft, yellow blanket around her slumped, wet shoulders.

Hawley was one of 49 people aboard the Ethan Allen, which capsized Sunday on Lake George. They were senior citizens from Michigan on a one-week tour of New Hampshire, Maine and New York.

The boat cruise was supposed to be just one more fun, relaxing activity on their itinerary -- a one-hour scenic trip along the shoreline of Lake George, followed by dinner and a night at an elegant local hotel called The Georgian in Lake George village.

The Ethan Allen sank quickly after it capsized around 3 p.m. Sunday afternoon, and witnesses say it was completely submerged within 10 or 15 minutes, leaving little time for rescue workers to reach the scene. Passing boaters rescued most of the 29 survivors.

"We were just cruising along, and all of a sudden, the boat tipped. We thought it was kind of like a joke," Hawley said about an hour after the accident. "Next thing I knew, I was in the water under the boat.

"I could see my husband, and I called to him, but he didn't respond. I don't know where he is now."

On the lawn of the house next door, emergency workers were bustling around other stunned senior citizens, asking them if they knew the date and the name of the president. Some of them cried; others said they were still in shock.

"I'm pretty shaken up," said Frances Nelson, 74, a tourist from Whitmore Lake, Mich., who was on the Ethan Allen. "I just can't believe it."

Survivors were comforted and given blankets on the lawn of a lakefront house at Cramer Point, then taken by ambulance to Glens Falls Hospital.

Police and rescue workers hung a plastic tarp beside the house. Within an hour of the accident, at least 14 bodies wrapped in white sheets lay on the other side.

One of the first rescuers to arrive was Brian Hart, an electrical contractor from East Greenbush, who was canoeing nearby with his two children and two nieces when he saw the Ethan Allen capsize. The boat was going north, trying to turn west, when it tipped, Hart said.
Hart immediately called 911, dropped the kids and canoe off at the nearest dock and called his brother, who lives on the shore. The men went out in a motorboat and pulled people from the water.

"I heard all these people screaming; it was like the Titanic. It was awful," he said. "It was hard to pull people out because they were so frantic. Some couldn't swim and grabbed me so hard that it's a good thing I was wearing a life jacket, or I'd be another casualty."

Hart said he pulled six people out of the water, but two had already drowned and one died moments after being rescued.

"One gentleman saw me pull his wife onto my boat after him and die right in front of us. He said it was their 55th wedding anniversary last week, and this was like a honeymoon cruise for them," Hart said, shaking his head and staring out at the lake, where divers were still searching for bodies several hours after the boat sank.

Another couple on the tour survived. Two hours after being rescued from the lake, Jean Peacock, 78, and her husband Lowell, 79, from Gibraltar, Mich., said they were grateful to be alive and together.

"The boat just kept tipping, people all slid to one side, and then suddenly I was underwater," said Peacock. She was temporarily trapped under the overturned boat behind a Plexiglass barrier meant to protect boat passengers from the elements.

"I tried to get out, but the glass was in the way, and I had to swim under it." When she surfaced, she was relieved to see her husband next to her. The couple clung to the boat for about five minutes before someone rescued them.

"I was just thinking, get me out of here. Get me out of here," said Peacock. "And I was so glad that my husband was with me."

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