An inside look at Army recruiting

Published in The Post-Star (A1)
2/12/06

Staff Sgt. Paul Beausoleil put on his black beret and stepped out of his U.S. government car into the Aviation Mall parking lot. He smoothed the front of his uniform -- a new "digital camouflage" pattern that recently replaced the more familiar Army uniforms -- and strode purposefully through the glass doors of the mall.

"I try to make eye contact with people first, to see if they're interested in talking to me," he explained. "You can usually tell a lot just from the way they greet you."

In the jargon of recruiters, this type of "face-to-face prospecting" is called "P3" time. Beausoleil, a gregarious guy with a ready smile, prefers this to "P1" -- trying to reach potential recruits by phone. Some days, his calls net him nothing more than an earful of angry words from parents or the beeps of answering machines.

"You've got to have a thick skin in this job," he said. "Parents, know this: I can't take your child off the list until they tell me directly that they want to be off the list."

It's the rare conversations that keep him going.

"As long as I can talk about the Army, I'm OK," he said, then laughed. "Heck, as long as I can talk, I'm OK."

On this weekday afternoon in the post-Christmas lull, there were only a handful of shoppers at the mall. No one wanted to talk, but Beausoleil was still upbeat and smiling as he drove back to his recruiting station in Queensbury about an hour later.

He said it can take a long time for some people to make up their mind about joining, and he's been working on a few of the mall employees.

Some of them have already enlisted, like Ashley Harris, the 19-year-old girl staffing the sunglasses kiosk. Harris leaves for basic training next month and is looking forward to it. She didn't need a recruiter to convince her -- she has wanted to be in the military all her life -- but she enjoys chatting with Beausoleil.

"Sometimes, you're just there to say hello, be a presence," Beausoleil said. "People know who I am; they see my uniform. If they want to talk to me, they will. And you never know when they might want to."

TRUMAN, PART ONE
Eighteen-year-old Truman Allen had no interest in talking to a recruiter when his best friend Joseph Clement dragged him into the Queensbury recruiting station last summer.

Both young men had just graduated from South Glens Falls high school, and Allen wasn't sure what he wanted to do next. He had recently moved out of his parents' house, but life didn't seem so hard, at first.

Allen got a summer job at the Magic Forest amusement park, cleaning toilets and performing a juggling act, but he quit in August when he grew tired of the long hours.

Then he spent more than $100 on kitchen knives that a direct-marketing company promised to help him sell at a profit. The "guaranteed sales appointments" didn't pan out, however, and he lost his investment.

Allen thought his luck had changed when he got a full-time job at a Target warehouse in late October. A month later, he was fired for getting into an accident with some of the loading equipment.

By that point, his brother Vernison, 19, was also without a steady job or place to stay, and they were running out of options.

For six days in late November, the brothers slept in Truman's 1994 Chevy Beretta, a small two-door model with a busted window on the passenger's side. They ended up at the Mountainview Motel in Wilton, where $175 a week gets them a one-room "efficiency apartment" -- what Allen calls "a cave with wood around it." He sleeps on the floor, and his brother sleeps on the couch.

"Right now my life is going nowhere," Allen said recently. "I need to get moving."

Clement, who enlisted in the Reserves last November, gave Allen a ride to the Queensbury recruiting station a few weeks ago. On Allen's third visit, he agreed to take a practice version of the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery to see what type of jobs he might qualify for if he joined.

"I think this could really help him," Clement said.

The recruiting effort
As Clement waited for his friend, he discussed his own decision to enlist. For him, he said, it came down to the money.

"I'm going into the Army to kind of get stuff on track," he said. "Right now, I'm the typical college kid, still living at home. I want to get financial stability, get my own apartment."

In the long run, he hopes to work in law enforcement, and he is counting on the five extra points -- "veterans' preference points" -- that military service will add to his civil service exam score.

He considered joining the Air Force when a recruiter contacted him as a junior in high school, but
he said he got scared when the war in Iraq started. After graduation, he enrolled at Adirondack Community College with a major in criminal justice, and he took out a student loan to pay the $3,000 annual tuition.

Not long into his first semester, he received a recruitment postcard from the Army.

It's a typical introduction to the military: Under the terms of the No Child Left Behind Act that President Bush signed into law two years ago, any high school or college that accepts federal funding is required to provide military recruiters with the names and contact information of all students 17 and older.

"When I was a young recruiter, we didn't have that rule. We had to find people by going through school yearbooks and the telephone book," said Sgt. 1st Class William Harvey, commander of the Queensbury recruiting station. "It helps a lot. That's how we find a lot of these guys."

In 2003, almost 68,000 people enlisted in the Army, according to Pentagon statistics. Half of them were teenagers ages 17 to 19. Combining those statistics with census data, as the National Priorities Project did last year, shows that military recruitment rates tend to mirror poverty rates in most regions.

Harvey, though, said he doesn't see the link.

"Sure, there's poor places here and there, but I can't see where we've benefited from it," he said. "Lake George is certainly not a poverty-stricken area, and we've put a lot of kids in from there."
The Queensbury station covers a 4,200-square-mile territory in Warren, Washington, Essex, Saratoga and Hamilton counties. Each month, the station receives a target number of new recruits -- "a mission" -- from its battalion.

The current mission, which ends Monday, is seven full-time soldiers and two reservists. Each of the five recruiters is expected to sign up two people a month, although the less experienced ones get some slack.

Beausoleil had already enlisted two soldiers by the first week of February, marking the eighth month in a row he has met his mission. The office was about halfway to its recruitment goal by then, with two full-time members and two reservists signed up.

"It's pretty consistent throughout the year," Harvey said. "I don't see that it's getting tougher because of the war."

He noted that his station recruited 24 people during the October to December quarter -- six more than the same period a year earlier.

"When it comes down to it, if a young man or woman wants to join the Army, they're going to join regardless of what's going on in the world," he said.

The reasons for joining, Harvey said, are different for each individual.

"Some people want college money, some people want to travel, some want special training," he said. "When I joined 15 years ago, I think the biggest reason was just wanting to do my part for my country."

TRUMAN, PART TWO
Allen came out of the testing room and perched on the edge of a black chair embroidered in gold with the words "ARMY." He wore a red hoodie, baggy jeans, glasses and a blue ball cap cocked sideways.

"I'm not quite sure what I want to do -- whatever they want me to, I guess," he said. "I'm pretty sure I want to join the Reserves, not the full-time Army, because I don't want to be sent far away from home."

When the score printed out, Sgt. Beausoleil glanced at the paper and let out a whoop of delight.
"Dude! You got an 88! The national average is a 44! You did better than I did on mine!" he exclaimed, grinning.

Allen smiled, but he didn't look surprised.

"It was pretty easy," he said. "I was a smart kid in high school, I just didn't do my homework."

Beausoleil sat down across from Allen and took out a chart and a pencil. He calculated the pay and benefits that Allen would earn in the Reserves, compared to the full-time Army, drawing an exaggerated zero in all of the benefit categories for the Reserves.

"In the Army, you get a free place to stay," he said, pulling out a color brochure of the barracks to show Allen. "Where did you say you're living now? A motel?"

Allen laughed and looked embarrassed.

"It's an efficiency apartment," he said. "You're making it sound bad."

Sgt. 1st Class Allen Ford, who handles the Reserves recruiting, looked the young man in the eye.

"It doesn't matter to us whether you go full or part-time, but we're trying to figure out what's best for you. What would hold you back from going full-time?" Ford asked.

Allen hesitated a moment.

"Um ... the dangers," he said quietly.

'Do a greater good'

Beausoleil said later that he doesn't think most people understand what the Army is.

"They think they'll join, get a weapon, and go to war. It doesn't work like that," he said. "There's no guarantee that you will or you won't go to war. It depends on if your unit is called up, and a lot of them aren't."

In his 10 years of service, Beausoleil has never gone to war. He spent one year touring South Korea as part of a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, and his most recent post was in Hawaii.
He enlisted at age 22 because the Army offered him a job as a paramedic, fulfilling a lifelong dream.

"I was anti-military as a kid. I wouldn't even talk to my recruiter," he said. "When I joined, it was because I walked into the office and got the job I wanted."

Most soldiers become recruiters by assignment, but Beausoleil volunteered for the job in 2004.

"I felt like I could do a greater good for the community by being here," he said. "My goal is to put in 76 people in three years."

He pulled out a letter from a soldier in training and pointed to the last sentence.

"Just from asking around, I know for a fact that you are the most honest recruiter ever," the soldier had written from boot camp.

Beausoleil beamed with satisfaction as he read the words out loud.

"That's the biggest honor I've ever received," he said.

TRUMAN, PART THREE

The next day, recruiters picked Allen up at his apartment and brought him to the military entrance processing station in Albany, where he took the full-fledged aptitude test.

"I'm probably willing to sign up immediately if I pass, because if I don't, I'm probably going to back out and I don't want to," he said. "It would open up a lot of doors for me."

He said he would rather be a professional juggler than a soldier, but he feels trapped right now.

"I say a lot that I'm not afraid to die, I'm just afraid not to live. And right now, I don't feel like I'm really living. I'm stuck," he said. "I haven't really asked anyone for help, because it's humiliating, you know?"

Allen said Beausoleil told him that the chances of getting deployed are small, although that can change at any time.

"I think he's honest," he said.

He paused for a moment, thinking.

"Then again, I thought that about the guy who sold me the knives, too. ... Maybe it's an act, I don't know. But it feels real to me," he said.

Allen's score came back later that day, and it was good -- 90 points out of 99. That meant he could sign up anytime, if he passed a physical and background check. The recruiters brought him home and told him to sleep on it.

"I think he needs some time to think about it. He's confused about whether he should join the Reserves or the full-time, and we don't want to hound him," Harvey said.

Harvey said he's frustrated with the stereotype of recruiters who use high-pressure, deceptive tactics to sign up naive kids and ship them off to war as soon as possible.

"I just wish people would realize this is a job we have to do. We're not here to badger people," he said. "We're doing our job the same way they do theirs."

After hesitating for a few days, Allen went back to the MEPS for his physical last Thursday. He passed.

The same day, he took the Army oath of enlistment and committed to six years. He chose a job as an "information systems operator analyst," building computers and networks, a vacancy recruiters told him is fairly rare.

"I've always liked computers, and they're going to train me, so I'm excited," he said. "It's what I want."

His starting pay, according to Sgt. Harvey, will be $1,178 a month with free room and board, plus $988 a month for college and free tuition while he remains in the full-time service.

He leaves on March 22 for nine weeks of basic training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, followed by 20 weeks of advanced training in Georgia. Although he doesn't know where he will be stationed after that, he decided that the guarantee of a good job was worth the possibility of leaving this area.

"I had to take a risk," he said.
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Biathlon for dummies

Published in The Post-Star (D1)

2/14/06

So, you're going cross-country skiing. Don't forget your hat and gloves, water bottle and a few granola bars.

Oh, and look -- there's that new .22 caliber rifle you got for Christmas. Since you're going to be out in the woods anyway, might as well bring that along and get in a little target practice. Besides, it looks kind of cool strapped on your back. (Just don't lend it to the vice president, even if he asks nicely.)

If you're actually nodding (and not off) as you follow this thought process, you could be a born biathlete.

Most of us, however, will turn on our televisions this week and be understandably perplexed by the sight of athletes wearing tights and toting guns.

The sport comes from Scandinavia, where it was used as a form of military protection for several centuries.

These days, biathletes like Curt Schreiner of Day like it for different reasons.

"Biathlon was just a really fun way for me to do something I already enjoyed doing," he said, explaining why he first got involved in the sport as a teenager. The 38-year-old National Guard soldier has since competed in three Olympics, married Olympic biathlete Deborah Nordyke, and now runs the Saratoga Biathlon Club in Day.

What's so addicting about biathlon, he said, is the challenge of combining two sports that make completely opposite physical demands. The adrenaline-fueled speed of racing through the snow on skis and the calm, cool precision of marksmanship are like the yin and yang of athletic competition.

Imagine running to the top of the Empire State Building and then trying to thread a needle -- you get the idea.

"Cross-country skiing is the most physiologically demanding sport there is. By the time you get to the targets, you're breathing really hard, you're shaking, the wind's blowing, and there's a lot of things you have to concentrate on to make it happen," said Schreiner. "That's why when you hit 5 for 5 in a race, it really feels like an accomplishment. And it doesn't happen very often."

There are five types of biathlon races in the Winter Games this year, each with separate men's and women's categories, although some won't make it onto network television.

Individual races (20 km for men, 15 km for women) have four shooting stages -- alternating between a prone and standing position, with five targets each time -- and each missed shot adds one minute to an athlete's time. Sprints cover half this distance, with two shooting stages (one prone, one standing) and a 150-meter penalty loop for each missed shot.

Pursuit races (12.5 km for men, 10 km for women) use four shooting stages and a penalty loop. While the individual and sprint use an interval start, biathletes start the pursuit according to their standings in the previous race and then try to overtake each other.

Relays are just what they sound like, with three or four athletes on a team, each skiing 4 to 7.5 km and shooting twice along the way.

The most exciting race to watch, said Schreiner, is probably the "mass start," new to the Olympics this year. It's similar to the pursuit, but all the skiers start at the same time, and it is limited to the top 30 in overall World Cup standings.

The U.S. men's favorite is Alaska native Jay Hakkinen, who placed 13th in the pursuit in 2002 -- the best-ever finish for an American biathlete.

Also keep your sights on Ole Einar Bjoerndalen (take your best shot at pronouncing that one), Norway's star biathlete, who took home the gold in all four men's events in 2002.

SOME BIATHLON TERMS
Arm sling: Webbing or belt that connects the rifle forestock to the shooter's upper arm for stability during shooting.
Harness: Backpack-style straps that hold the rifle on the biathlete's back while skiing.
Magazine: Holds ammunition, in up to four clips of five rounds each.
Prone: The lying-down position a biathlete takes to shoot in some stages.
Rifle: A .22-caliber, straight-pull bolt-action model that must weigh at least 3.5 kg (about 8 lbs).
Snow guard: Cap over the rifle's muzzle that keeps snow out and can be flipped open to shoot.
More info at www.usbiathlon.org and www.nbcolympics.com/biathlon

WHEN TO WATCH
Men's biathlon pursuit will air from noon to 6 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 18, on NBC.
Women's biathlon pursuit will air from midnight to 1 a.m. Sunday, Feb. 19, on NBC.
Women's 12.5 km mass-start biathlon will air from 1 to 6 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 25, on NBC.
Men's 15 km mass-start biathlon will air from 8 to 11:30 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 25, on NBC.

Valentine's day shopping advice...

Published in The Post-Star (B12)
2/12/06

It's amazing how much pressure those two little words on the calendar -- Valentine's Day -- can exert on a relationship. What do you get a girl to show your love, when chocolate is too cliche and diamonds are too expensive?

Enter lingerie, the gift that keeps on giving. It's something both of you can enjoy, and most women say they like getting it.

But in an informal poll of local shoppers last week, most men said they didn't plan to bring home any of those familiar pink-and-white striped shopping bags this Valentine's Day.

The majority were relying on more conservative gifts -- flowers, jewelry, or a carefully selected card. Some said they had dared to buy lingerie as a gift in the past, but only through a catalog or the Internet.

One 26-year-old said he wasn't dating anyone right now, but wouldn't be afraid to go into a store like Victoria's Secret and ask for assistance.

"Some people think going into places like that makes you look like a pervert, but it doesn't bother me," he said.

He declined to give his name.

Come on, guys.

At L&B Novelties and Gifts, a tiny, eclectic gift shop in downtown Hudson Falls, cheap lingerie has been an unexpected best-seller since the store opened last November.

"At first, we carried it as kind of a joke, but we've sold a lot of it," said Kelly LaPoint, one of the store's owners. Demand has been strongest in the weeks before Christmas and Valentine's Day, he said, with at least 40 customers making lingerie purchases for the holidays.

The younger crowd gravitates toward the skimpiest numbers, like an $8 neon red "baby doll" top and matching thong that conceal about as much as a screen door.

"It seems like the younger girls don't want to leave much to the imagination," he said. "The trashier, the better."

The farther people get from their teenage years, the more demure their taste in lingerie seems to become. He pointed to a hanging display of full-length satin nightgowns and robes -- also fairly transparent.

"The older people go for those," he said, "the more conservative types."

He said he wasn't surprised to learn that most young men were reluctant to discuss lingerie shopping with a reporter.

"It's an embarrassment thing," he said. "That's why people like coming in here. It's more discreet than shopping in a big store, like Wal-Mart."

If you don't know a woman's tastes very well, it's best to err on the side of caution. Ask a salesperson what's most popular with female customers, or buy a gift certificate.

Keep in mind that the type of outfit you pick out for someone reflects what you think about their tastes and personality. If you buy that flaming red leather-and-lace contraption, you might be sending the message, "I think you're a prostitute." (Or, "I wish you were a prostitute.")
Then again, buying a flannel nightie suggests you think they're about as sexy as Grandma.

As a general rule, the longer you've been in a relationship, the more latitude you have to choose a risque gift.

"When you've been married 20 years, like me, it doesn't matter," LaPoint said. "There ain't much left to be embarrassed about."
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Romance in Rutland?

Published in The Post-Star (G1)
2/7/06

A romantic weekend in ... Rutland?

Don't laugh.

Sure, it's no Big Apple, but this part of central Vermont has a few choice fruits to offer visitors.

For one thing, it's a lot closer than Montreal or Manhattan. Downtown Rutland is just more than an hour's drive from Glens Falls, and the trip is sweetened by cheaper gas prices across the state border. Walk around the historic downtown, then head east a few miles more to explore the charming towns of Mendon and Killington.

For another, it's not home. Routine can snuff out romance after a while, and a weekend getaway might be just what you need to get the fire started again. (And if it turns out that you and your partner are poor traveling companions ... well, at least you won't have far to hitchhike back.)

OUTDOOR ACTIVITIES
Skiing at Killington is the most obvious winter tourist attraction in the area, but it's certainly not the only way to play in the snow.

* Get taken for a ride -- What could be more romantic than feeling the winter wind kiss your frostbitten nose as you take in a front-row view of a horse's behind? Several hotels in the region offer horse-drawn sleigh rides for about $25 a person, including The Mountain Top Inn, (802) 483-6089, Cortina Inn, (802) 773-3333, and Hawk Inn and Mountain Resort, (802) 672-3811.

* Rely on animal instinct -- See above, but substitute "hyper dogs" for "horse." Green Mountain Dog Sled Adventures will take you and your sweetheart on the ride of your life on the trails at Killington Resort. One sled fits two adults (no more than 320 pounds total), and costs $105 if you reserve through the resort, (800) 621-6867. One-hour tours depart from 5:30-8:30 p.m. Thursday through Sunday evenings, and every day from Feb. 19-25. At the Mountain Top Inn, half-hour dog sled tours are $65 per person.

* Go weak in the knees -- Or at least, the ankles. Wobbling around on ice skates makes a great excuse to reach for a hand to hold. The weather's been weird this winter, but if it ever cools down long enough for the pond at the Cortina Inn to freeze, you can skate for just $5 a person (free to hotel guests) on weekends and holidays between 4 and 9 p.m. Rentals are $5 extra. You'll find the inn along Route 4, about 6 miles east of Rutland on the outskirts of Killington.
The Mountain Top Inn and the Grist Mill, (802) 422-6680, in Killington also have outdoor rinks (no skate rentals).
As a backup plan, the Rutland Field House often opens its indoor rink for public skating -- call (802) 773-8460 for current hours.

INDOOR ACTIVITIES
If you hate the outdoors, well, maybe you shouldn't be vacationing in Vermont. But here are a few suggestions to warm you up to the idea:

* Refuse to get out of bed -- Enjoy a lazy morning, then head over to Sugar and Spice for its all-day breakfast menu. This sugarhouse-cum-restaurant gets pretty steamy during syrup-making season, which could be anytime now. The pumpkin pancakes, served with homemade maple syrup, will make you fall in love with carbs all over again. On Route 4 in Mendon, just east of Rutland.

* Take a coffee break -- Wasn't that brunch exhausting? Maybe you should catch your breath before embarking on that search for the perfect "I LOVErmont" T-shirt.
The Coffee Exchange, at the intersection of Center Street and Merchants Row in downtown Rutland, is a former bank building converted to a cozy cafe. The old vault makes a nice nook for couples to relax and look deep into each others' lattes.
Just a few doors down on Center Street, the Back Home Again Cafe offers an invitingly dim atmosphere with natural wood furniture and a menu full of organic goodies. Try a cup of yerba mate -- we're not sure what they mean by "herbal stimulant," but it can't hurt -- and save the snuggling for later, since this place is run by a conservative religious community.

* Get high together -- Love involves trust, right? Prove it. Couples can hold the belay rope for each other at a 8,000-square-foot indoor climbing gym at Green Mountain Rock Climbing Center, one of the largest in New England. $15 gets you a day pass and shoe rentals. First-time visitors must start out with a $10 safety lesson. Located on Route 4 on the east edge of Rutland. Check out www.vermontclimbing.com or call (802) 773-3343. Also the headquarters for Vermont Adventure ice climbing tours.

* Rub it in -- After a tough day of climbing, your muscles could use some TLC. At Peace of Mind Emporium on Route 4 (3 miles east of Route 7 in Rutland), you can take a lesson in "couples massage," sip a free cup of herbal tea in the meditation room, or just buy some scented oils and lotions to take back to your room.

WHERE TO STAY
There are too many places in this region to list, but here are a few that look promising:

* Chocolate Truffle B&B (www.chocolatetruffle.info) has the perfect name for a Valentine's getaway destination, doesn't it? This Victorian mansion in downtown Rutland (routes 7 and 4B) is offering a February "sweetheart's package" for $199 per couple that includes dinner, dessert, a room for one night, and a full breakfast in the morning. (802) 747-5049.

* Journey's End B&B, 17 Journey's End Road, Mendon (www.journeysendvt.com) is an old English manor with four guest rooms ($130-175) and two luxury suites ($225-275). Prices include snacks and a fireside breakfast in the morning. (802) 775-0406.

* Harvest Moon B&B, 1659 N. Grove St., Rutland (www.harvestmoonvt.com), offers two rooms in a historic farmhouse with mountain views for $90-105 a night, including breakfast. (802) 773-0889.

* Cortina Inn, 103 Route 4, Killington (www.cortinainn.com). This place feels too cozy and personal to be a "resort hotel," but the prices ($209 per night) will remind you. During Presidents' Week (Feb. 20-25), the rate for a double drops to $179, including breakfast and a $10 voucher for the in-house restaurant and bar. The amenities make it worth it -- you could spend all day enjoying the indoor pool, hot tub, sauna and fitness center with massage therapists. The pricier rooms have jacuzzis and fireplaces.
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Facing cancer head-on

Published in The Post-Star (B1) and on poststar.com

2/5/06

Too much life radiates from Kelly Mulholland's sparkling brown eyes, glossy hair, and full-wattage smile for a woman who has been told she is dying.

Breast cancer is trying to take over her body, but it's up against a steely sense of optimism.
The disease has reached Stage 4, which means it has spread to other organs -- in Kelly's case, her sternum, ribs and one lung. Medicine can only hold it at bay temporarily.

"Doctors have said that eventually this will consume my body and kill me, but I'm not going to buy that," she said. "I just have this feeling that I am going to heal."

Kelly has a husband -- News Channel 13 reporter Mark Mulholland -- and two young children, and doesn't plan to say goodbye to them anytime soon.

"I see it as a challenge, and I've kicked into fighter mode. I'm going to beat this," she said. "Obviously, my biggest reason is my family. But I also really want to share my story and help others."

She's so determined to beat the disease that she has taken every possible alternative approach to healing, from Reiki and acupuncture to an arsenal of nutritional supplements. She takes more than 80 pills a day, has switched to a gluten-free diet, and drinks green tea by the gallon.

"I feel I have to treat my body as a whole system," she said. "I'm just trying to do everything I possibly can."

She also travels to holistic health centers, keeps a journal and goes on spiritual retreats.

"I truly believe that our physical state is connected to our emotional state," she explained.

On Sundays, a group of six female friends and relatives gather at the Mulhollands' house for a hands-on healing group. Using a "light touch" method that Kelly learned at the Center for Integrated Manual Therapy in Bloomfield, Conn., they use their hands to connect "centers of energy" in her body.

Although Kelly can't fully explain how it works, she said she often feels emotionally and physically stronger after each session.

"I think we all believe that it has helped Kelly," said Laura Bouyea, a close friend and member of the healing group. "It's nice to see the positive in her, and I think it's good to have that connection of friends."

Bouyea and her husband, Kevin, have organized a fund-raising effort called Kelly's Kause to help with the $1,900 to $2,400 a month in medical costs that are not covered by the Mulhollands' insurance.

In Kelly's view, beating cancer takes more than money or medicine -- it's a mind game.

"Your thinking really does manifest itself in your body," she explained. "I'm just so lucky that I'm a positive thinker."

Mark said he is constantly impressed by his wife's attitude.

"She's not feeling sorry for herself at all. If she did, I think it would be tougher for everyone to deal with," he reflected.

The couple met in 1993. She grew up in Glens Falls, and was working in a clothing store and substitute teaching when a friend introduced her to Mark. He grew up in Whitehall, and had just started his job at the television station.

Even before they met, Kelly had caught Mark's eye when she showed up in the pages of a local newspaper, modeling clothes and swimsuits for a fashion feature.

"I was intrigued," he remembers, chuckling.

Four years later, they were married.

On a recent Thursday evening, the Mulhollands went through their evening ritual at their Wilton home. After dinner came playtime with their 3-year-old daughter, McKenna, and 5-year-old son, Connor. They read books out loud, put on a CD of bouncy children's tunes, and picked out a few games to play before bed.

As they settled on the living room carpet around a game of "Hungry Hungry Hippos," Kelly suddenly flapped her hands around her face and tugged at the neck of her turtleneck sweater.

"Whew -- hot flash!" she exclaimed.

Menopause? Not likely. She's only 35.

Earlier that day, Kelly had been to the cancer center at Glens Falls Hospital for endocrine therapy -- a monthly injection of a hormone-suppressing drug that stops the estrogen in her body from feeding the breast cancer cells. Hot flashes are a common side effect.

It's easier to cope with than chemotherapy, but it's not a cure.

Kelly and Mark have been through this once before. In 2003, she was teaching third grade in the Saratoga Springs school district when doctors first found the cancer in her breast. The tumor was attached to her chest wall, threatening her vascular system.

She had surgery to remove the tumor, then spent five months under the nauseating spell of chemotherapy. Her hair fell out, her energy evaporated, and she spent days at a time in bed.

"The first treatments were rough, rough," she said. "I thought that being young, chemotherapy would be less of a big deal. Actually, they treat you more aggressively, because your body is more hormonal. It was a very long summer."

The chemotherapy was followed by several months of radiation.

When it was over, she was "almost positive" that the cancer had left her body.

"We were so hopeful," Mark said.

For the next year and a half, doctors thought she might be right.

In early 2005, Kelly started feeling pain in her sternum.

"I noticed it whenever I had one of the kids on my lap, and they would lean their head back against my chest," she said. "I figured it was just residual pain from the radiation."

When the pain got worse, she went in for a biopsy. Last August, doctors told her what she didn't want to hear.

The cancer was back, and it was spreading.

"We never expected this," she said.

Connor and McKenna were toddlers at the time of their mother's initial diagnosis. These days, their parents don't hide Kelly's illness from them, but they leave it to the kids to initiate conversations about it.

"They use the word cancer, but I'm not sure they really know what it means," Mark said.

One night last month, Kelly crawled into bed with Connor when he was having trouble sleeping.
As his mom was dozing off, he asked her about the Sunday women's healing group. She explained, groggily, that she gains strength from the gentle touch of her friends. It helps her feel better, she said.

"Does cancer go away?" Connor asked.

As Kelly recalled the question later, her voice sounded strong and certain.

"It can," she told him. "It can."

HOW TO HELP
To learn more about Kelly's Kause, to donate goods or services to the fundraiser, or to doante money, log on to www. kellyskause.com.

movie review: Glory Road

Glory Road 2006. Directed by James Gartner, produced by Jerry Bruckheimer. Starring Josh Lucas, Derek Luke, Damaine Radcliff, Wilbur Fitzgerald, Mehcad Brooks, Emily Deschanel, Tatyana Ali, Jon Voight, and others. 106 minutes. Rated PG for racial issues including epithets, violence and mild language.

If nothing else, you have to be impressed by the true story behind this predictably feel-good sports flick. "Glory Road" takes viewers back to 1965, when former girls' basketball coach Don Haskins (Josh Lucas) lands his first NCAA coaching job at Texas Western University in El Paso.

The school's basketball team, called the Miners, has a lousy reputation. Haskins is determined to change that by recruiting more talented players.

Who cares if those players happen to be black?

In the South at that time, a whole lot of people, as it turned out. Things get ugly -- though not too ugly for Disney -- when Haskins insists on adding seven black players to the team, many of them in starting positions.

Haskins' courageous decision endsup transforming the whole culture of the sport, and it also transforms the Miners into a winning team. They storm through the season with only a single loss.

As the team's athletic performance heats up, so do the racial tensions surrounding -- and among -- the players. They learn (of course) they have to stick together, fight hatred with dignity and never quit. Hardly a surprising message, but a good one nonetheless.

The film's weakest point is the acting. Lucas, who previously starred in "Sweet Home Alabama," delivers a stale and scripted sense of moral outrage. His blue-eyed glower does convey a necessary intensity in the role of Coach Haskins, but there's no emotional intelligence behind it.

Derek Luke puts in a solid performance as the suave, likeable point guard Bobby Joe Hill, and the rest of the cast does its best to fill out their roles in a script with little room for character development.

Jon Voight is the best actor in the bunch, but he doesn't show up onscreen until the end. He plays the coach of the all-white University of Kentucky team, facing off against the Miners in the final championship.

Even the most jaded viewer can't help but admit the sense of historical significance surrounding that game, and in the end, that's what makes this movie worth watching (though perhaps just as a rental).

The luxury of perspective makes it easy to laugh now at the blind stupidity of some of the old white men portrayed in the film. They shook their head at the sight of color on the court, saying things like:

"Negroes playing professional basketball? Can you imagine?"

Yeah, I think we can sort of picture that.

Want more?
If you like this, check out "Remember the Titans (2000)," starring Denzel Washington, which is arguably a more satisfying version of the familiar "racially mixed underdog sports team overcomes prejudice and beats the odds" plotline.

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recommended reading: Crow Lake

Published in The Post-Star (G13)
1/26/06

Crow Lake, by Mary Lawson.

This quiet, poignant work of literary fiction is narrated by Kate Morrison, a young woman who grew up in Crow Lake, a tiny farming community in northern Ontario. When she was 7 years old, her parents died in a car accident, leaving Kate and her baby sister in the care of their two teenage brothers.

Kate's level-headed, yet slightly uncertain voice draws readers quickly into her interior world, and Lawson's beautiful writing keeps us there. It's a sad story, but not as tragic as it might appear on the surface.

The story turns our heads slowly back and forth between Kate's past and present. Even as a child, she was introverted and thoughtful -- her favorite activity was perching on the edge of a pond with her big brother and watching the lives of water bugs and tadpoles.

As an adult, she carries that passion for observation into a successful career as an invertebrate zoologist. She's great at spotting changes in the lives of microscopic organisms, but seems blind when it comes to major matters of the heart.

Although she seems to have found the man of her dreams (Daniel, also a zoology professor), she evades his attempts at emotional intimacy. It's hard to fault her, though -- as she points out, love and loss have been closely linked in her life.

In explaining herself to Daniel, Kate must explain the history of her family and of Crow Lake itself, where she jokes (accurately) that the Eleventh Commandment is something along the lines of "Though shalt not have or express emotions, at any cost."

She learns, of course, that approach simply doesn't work forever. Suppressing her feelings keeps her from realizing an important truth, which finally dawns on her as the novel draws to a close.

This isn't a thriller, yet Lawson spins real suspense out of the emotional threads connecting the characters in Crow Lake, and takes her time wiping away the cobwebs shrouding their shared past. It's a book that stays with you long after you have closed the cover.

If you like this, try "The Kite Runner," by Khaled Hosseini, which has a very different setting (Afghanistan) but is similarly narrated by a young man who must take a hard look at his past in order to understand his present.
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JW's volunteer to help hurricane victims

Published in The Post-Star (B1)

1/20/06

When the winds and waves of Hurricane Katrina ripped through Gulfport, Miss., leaving roofs on the ground and refrigerators in the road, few residents were prepared to rebuild their homes without outside help.

For Jehovah's Witnesses, help was soon on the way in the form of their "brothers and sisters."

Congregations of Witnesses in the Adirondack region took the disaster as a call to action. About 50 members of local Kingdom Halls -- including Glens Falls, South Glens Falls, Warrensburg, Saranac Lake and Cambridge -- traveled to Gulfport in December to spend two weeks replacing shingles and Sheetrock for fellow members of their faith.

"We see ourselves as a spiritual family, and we really do feel that way," said Linda O'Neil, 58. She was among five members of the Warrensburg Kingdom Hall who made the trip to Gulfport.

She said the Witnesses are used to building entire Kingdom Halls in a weekend, so the prospect of rebuilding hundreds of homes in a few weeks wasn't too daunting.

"We're already organized to do building and relief work, so when there's an emergency situation, we're available to go on relatively short notice," O'Neil said.

In Orange Grove, a suburb of Gulfport, where the workers set up a makeshift headquarters, at least 280 of the homes damaged by Katrina belonged to Witnesses or people who were considering conversion.

After three months, two-thirds of those homes had been rebuilt by volunteers from Kingdom Halls around the country.

"We accomplished so much because this is a group of people that went there with the idea of following direction and being true helpers," said David O'Neil, Linda's husband.

The couple volunteered on a roofing crew that repaired six roofs in seven days. They aren't roofers by trade -- they own a heating equipment business -- but said they learned on the job from other volunteers who had already spent a week there.

"As a woman, I love it, because I'm not treated any differently. I'm looked on as another willing worker," Linda said. "It was hard work, and we were exhausted at the end of the day, but we all had such fun together."

One of the things that stood out to the visitors at first glance was the visual chaos left behind by Katrina. Everything was in the wrong place -- washing machines beside the highway, bed sheets in tree branches and boats on dry ground.

"It's very hard to mentally handle all the stuff that's out there," David said. "Your mind just wants to get a big Dumpster and clean it all up."

Although their religious beliefs prohibit them from political commentary, it was hard to ignore the sight of hundreds of unused FEMA trailers when so many residents still lacked permanent shelter. A county supervisor told them some people were still living beneath the drive-through overhangs of fast-food restaurants.

A FEMA employee explained to the volunteers that before victims could receive a trailer, their property had to have a working septic system, clean water and electricity.

"A lot of people just didn't qualify, and I guess their hands were tied," said Linda. "Personally, I was shocked to see entire parking lots and fields full of empty trailers."

Her husband's response was more cautious.

"I know you can only do so much so fast, and it's a lot of work to install each one," David said. "We don't know who was making the rules."

The group drove their own cars down, stayed with host families and ate meals prepared by a volunteer kitchen crew that included Bolton Landing residents Harold and Barbara Detrick.

"It was a real privilege to be able to go down there and help," said Harold, 64. "No matter where we go, we can get along with other Witnesses, because they're family."

All the volunteers met at 7 a.m. each day to discuss Scripture before going to their assigned work sites.

"Our spiritual purpose was to encourage the friends and neighbors who had been devastated, and to show love," Linda explained. "We believe that Jehovah does things for his people by means of his people."

For the O'Neils, the trip meant spending their 30th anniversary in a laundromat, washing their dirty work clothes, but they didn't mind.

"We are the ones who receive just as much, if not more, than we give on a project like this," David reflected.

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profile of a fitness instructor

Published in The Post-Star (G11)

1/19/06

The sight of his own 320-pound body hit Mike Rowe harder than a hangover as he watched the video of his 21st birthday party.

"I thought, Oh my God, that's what I look like?" he said, shaking his head in horror. "Never again."

Five years later, Rowe is a trim, muscular 185-pound fitness instructor with more bounce in his step than Tigger.

He now teaches three classes a week at Tropical Fitness in Queensbury, and said he hopes to encourage other people who are struggling to reach their desired weight.

"I'm a group fitness instructor, but I'm not teaching exercise -- I'm changing lives," he said. "I know what it's like, I've been there and I remember thinking it was impossible. I want to be an inspiration."

One of the things he tells his students is that lasting weight loss doesn't come quickly or easily.

"It's a slow, steady progression," he said. "It's taken me five years, and that's the way it should be."

Rowe grew up in Warrensburg and took the fast-track to an associate's degree in culinary arts from Johnson & Wales University in Rhode Island. He put on "a lot more than the freshman 10 or 15," he said, but had little time to take care of his own body.

He graduated in 1998, and was soon helping his parents run their own restaurant in Indian Lake. Between that and a second job at another local restaurant, he often worked 18-hour days.

"I've always been high-energy, but I probably could have gotten more done if I wasn't hindered by my weight," Rowe reflected.

He had tried the Atkins diet and other weight-loss plans, but "the key ingredient was missing," he said.

"I was doing it because I thought I had to, not because I really wanted to ... In the end, it worked because I did it for me."

His first steps toward lasting weight loss were simple. He cut back his meal portions by eating out of 8-inch cereal bowls instead of using 12-inch dinner plates, and took the edge off his appetite with a big salad before moving on to the main course. He quit drinking his daily regimen of coffee and Diet Coke, and cut out all sugary products.

He felt too self-conscious to join a gym at first, so he worked out at home with dance aerobics videos. Soon he knew them by heart. After about a year, he had lost at least 30 pounds and was confident enough to join Tropical Fitness, a Warrensburg gym owned by Steve Carroll.

Carroll remembers their first meeting. Rowe dropped in on an intense "cycle cardio class" and asked if he could try joining in. It was a challenging workout, but he kept up with a smile.

"At the end he said, 'That was awesome! When can we do it again?' " Carroll said. "I knew he was something special."

Rowe worked out for at least an hour each weekday for more than a year, gaining more confidence as his weight gradually crept down toward the 200 mark.

By 2004, Carroll had opened another Tropical Fitness gym in Queensbury and needed an instructor to teach a martial arts-based aerobics class called "Body Combat." When he found out that Rowe was a Tae Kwan Do black belt, he convinced him to train as an instructor.

"He excelled. People just loved him," Carroll said. "He was easy to follow, and full of expression."

Now, Rowe said his dream is to train other fitness instructors to teach Body Combat. He is currently getting certified as a trainer through the Les Mills company.

When he's teaching, Rowe said he sees himself as a performer. He keeps his mind on having fun, not burning calories, although plenty of that happens along the way. He's proud to point out that "there's not a dry shirt" on any of his students by the end of class.

"They always say that they want some of whatever I'm on," he said with a perky shrug. "I'm not on anything -- this is just me!"

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fun with darts

Published in The Post-Star (G1)

1/19/06

They placed their toes against the worn lines of tape on the bar's wooden floor, leaned forward, set their jaws in determination, and let it fly.

Bull's-eye.

Once a week, some of the best shooters in the region take aim at the Parting Glass, an Irish pub in Saratoga Springs that has devoted an entire back room to darts. It has hosted its own league since 1985.

"The Parting Glass is a legendary darts bar. It's a great atmosphere, and I'm saying that as an outsider who's played in other leagues," Peter Ryby said. He recently moved to the area from New Jersey, and had heard of the league before he got here.

The league plays two seasons a year, taking summers off. Membership varies from year to year, but this season turned up a healthy crop of 64 members (16 teams), said Clay Magnusen, a longtime member and organizer.

Last week, the group celebrated the season's end with dinner, plenty of beer, and a final shootout to determine who would take home the $960 prize pot their $4 weekly dues had financed.

Even with so much money on the line, the mood was light. Darters called out jokes and insults to each other across the noisy room as they took aim at the circular cork targets.

They all gave the same shrug-your-shoulders response when asked why they joined the league:

It's fun.

It's something to do on a Tuesday night.

What they didn't say -- but is obvious to any observer -- is that it's also a family of sorts.

"We have players who have been in the league for 10 to 12 years, so there's a good core group of shooters," Magnusen said. "We have members who have competed at the regional and national level, but we also have people who come in saying, 'Teach me how to play darts.'"

What most people like about it, he said, is that anyone can play, regardless of age or gender. Married couples, parents and their twentysomething kids, middle-aged guys, retirees and college students all mingle at the pub each week in the name of darts.

"I'm not into sports in general, but I got into this because my best friend is in it, and it's a fun night out," said Cheryl Murdie, a 25-year-old from Saratoga Springs. Her friend, Joy Bernash, took second in the women's all-star category this year.

"I like it because it's something my husband and I can do together," Bernash explained.

Nearby, a father-and-son team took turns in front of one of the room's 10 dart boards.

"I've been shooting since I was 12, and I guess this is already my fifth year in the league," said Chris Favaro, a 23-year-old who works in the restaurant business.

"This guy got me into it," he added, pointing out his father, Don Favaro.

"He's my third son I've gotten in here, and the fourth is well on his way -- as a matter of fact, he beat me the other night," Favaro growled. "It's relaxing. And this is one of the best bunches of people I've ever met."

That sentiment was echoed by Larry Bemis, 45, who said he already knew of the league when he moved here from Portland, Maine, in 1997. He's been a darter for more than two decades, so he knows talent when he sees it.

"There are enough good shooters here that it's competitive, but it's still fun," he said.

His team placed first this season, but Bemis sat out the final shootout because his right arm was in a sling. He sat by the bar and sipped a beer with his good hand while watching his friends play.
He said the sling was because of hand surgery, but Ryby had a different explanation.

"Larry's so good, we all got together and broke his arm," he joked.

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Ethan Allen rescuers honored

Published in The Post-Star (A1) and on poststar.com
2/2/06

The community gave itself a resounding pat on the back last night for its efficient, compassionate response to the sinking of the Ethan Allen on Lake George last October.

More than 600 people came to the Glens Falls Civic Center for a "Service to Community" ceremony, which honored the emergency personnel, civilian rescuers and local officials who responded to the tragedy and its aftermath. (To see The Post-Star's coverage of the event from the beginning, see our archive of stories at http://www.poststar.com/ea_archive.asp.)

"I am very proud to say I belong to such a caring community," remarked William Thomas, chairman of the Warren County Board of Supervisors, which sponsored the event.

Calling the rescue effort "a herculean task," Thomas expressed his gratitude to the rescuers -- both professional and civilian -- who were on the lake that day. His message was echoed in speeches by Sen. Elizabeth Little, R-Queensbury, and Assemblywoman Teresa Sayward, R-Willsboro.

"They do this every day on a much smaller scale, and this was a good catalyst to recognize that," Warren County Sheriff Larry Cleveland said after the ceremony, referring to the hundreds of police, fire, and EMS workers who were honored.

For many of the boaters who happened to be on Lake George on that sunny Sunday afternoon in October, a day of leisure turned into a self-taught crash course in water rescue. Twenty people died in the accident, but 28 survived, including the boat's captain, Richard Paris. The majority were saved by civilians, who pulled victims out of the water into their personal boats.

The memory of that day is still close at hand for Brian Hart, an electrician from East Greenbush. He was out in his motorboat with his daughter and three nieces when the Ethan Allen overturned just a few hundred feet away.

"We heard the screams, and saw it tip over," he said. "We called 911, and started taking as many people into our boat as we could."

At Wednesday night's ceremony, Hart was among two dozen civilian rescuers recognized with a certificate and a medallion for "heroic actions and service to the community." He was also mentioned by name in a letter from one of the survivors who he rescued, Carol Charlton, who called him "my angel."

Lake George Mayor Robert Blais read aloud the letter to the community from Charlton, the organizer of the Shorelines Tours group that was on the Ethan Allen when it capsized. The passengers were mostly senior citizens from Michigan, who were nearing the end of a one-week fall foliage tour through the Northeast.

"That afternoon is etched into all of our minds, memories, and spirits," wrote Charlton. "You humans, you beautiful people, became for a time our angels, our means of being given a second chance at life. ... Please know that on that afternoon, you superceded what man can do for man. My love transcends into your world every second."

Hart said he has kept in touch with Charlton, and hopes to see her next October when she returns to commemorate the anniversary of the tragedy.

Another civilian rescuer, South Glens Falls jeweler Mounir Rahal, said his family is planning a trip to Michigan this summer to visit Fred Metz, one of the victims who they pulled to safety in their boat.
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