‘‘I AM, AND WILL ALWAYS BE, A PATERSONIAN”

 At times I am not sure and perhaps you can tell me who the real me is.  I was born on 27 September 1929 and named Lorraine.  At age 6, my mom, Gussie, her parents, sister and brother came from Lodz, Poland, where my grandfather was a weaver.  My Dad, Marty, was born in New York City. Both his parents died when he was about 5 years old and he was raised by his sister, Rose Manketo, the mother of Abe, Lillian and Rhoda Manketo Chalfin.
 
My father, Marty Finke, the distributer of the Paterson Evening News and my mom, Gussie Freed a graduate of Paterson Normal School were married in June 1928.  I can’t count the many times we moved about the city of Paterson, but I do know that we lived in the districts where I attended Pubic School # 6, Pubic School # 21 and finally where I graduated from Public School # 20 in Dec. 1943.
 
I remember living in the attic in my grandmother’s home at 182 Harrison Street where my great-grandfather, an Orthodox Jew, had a room. Every morning he would walk to the Barnert Temple on Straight Street and Broadway where he would spend most of the day in the orthodox shul in the basement of the temple. The Water Street, the Fair Street and the Godwin Street Shuls were not orthodox enough for him. I do remember living on E. 23rd Street between 8th and 9th Avenue.Spotless Cleaners was located on the corner of 9th Avenue and a wonderful candy store and a shoemaker were on the corner of 8th Avenue.
 
Frank X Graves Sr., my father’s best friend, moved to 8th Avenue and 25th street; and we did too. Our house at 233 8th Avenue was the first house on the corner, next to the best open lot anywhere on 8th avenue enabling all of us, friends and foes alike, to sleigh ride from that corner down the 8th avenue hill, all the way to McLean Blvd. A block away, on East 26th street, my uncle, by love, not by birth, Abe J. Greene, the World Boxing Commissioner and the Editor of the Paterson Evening News lived with his family. In the spring of 1941 Frank Sr., his wife and children, Frank Jr. and Dorothy, moved to East 42nd Street between 18th and 19th Ave., and my father decided it was time for us to move again. In Oct 1941 I was enrolled in Public School #20 and we moved to 388 E. 41st St next door to Dr. Bender, and a block away from Max Habernickle, former  owners of Haband Clothes, and across from them lived attorney Teddy Rosenberg and family. At each of our moves, the fish man in his wagon and the vegetable man in his truck continued to visit us every week with fresh fish and veggies.
 
My father’s fleet of trucks was garaged across the street from the front door of the “ Y” on Ellison Street and my parents enrolled me in Sunday school at the “Y”. When summer arrived that first year after our move, he also made sure I became a full time participant of 'Camp Vacation', on the rooftop of the “Y”.  What a great time that was, what wonderful counselors we had, and Herbie Susser was my favorite!  I can’t name the others because I am getting too old to remember their names, but what a camp that was! The afternoons on the rooftop of the “Y” is where we had games, hose showers and napped on our towels on that hot floor. We had different subjects in the classrooms on the third floor, and art on the second floor.
 
The “Y” is where I learned to swim and where we wore the ugliest grey cotton bathing suits with our basket numbers on the back. Esther Yablonka was my first swim instructor. How do I remember her name after so many years?  She was a woman I will never forget.  I looked for any excuse I could think of to get to the pool and swim with Esther. To me, she was a woman of massive size and I was always a skinny, boney little girl. Esther would take me on her back and tell me to follow the movements of her arms, her legs, and her head. When we both did a crawl, breathe on the left, face in the water and breathe out… What a woman. As a young adult, her instructions eventually led me to enroll in the many Red Cross lifeguard classes held in the “Y” pool.  It was where I began a more than 50-year history as a waterfront instructor in several sleep-away camps, and upscale hotels in and around South Miami Beach, Florida.  When my youngest son began to attend Camp Veritans in the 1950’s, I became the ‘’shallow water instructor’ at Camp Veritans. Along with Ida Abramowitz, daily, we drove to camp to teach youngsters that even in the very shallowest waters, it was possible to drown if they did not know the importance of knowing how to swim.  What pride we both took at camp’s end when all of our youngsters became proficient in proceeding to the next stage of their waterfront experiences.
 
Years passed and WWII became part of our every day existence.  In January 1942, the Army Air Force established an Auxiliary in the State of New Jersey. They believed that women would soon become interested in flying and in January 1944 a call went out to girls, age 15 and sophomores in high school, to enlist and assist in the war effort. This appealed to me and I thought, what an opportunity to do something important. On 14 October 1944, I was accepted in the first All Girl Squadron of the Civil Air Patrol and found myself, with 50 other high School girls, 6 of us Jewish, in Passaic County, at the Paterson YMCA in temporary uniforms, lined up and beginning to follow orders. A week later, at the Paterson Armory and marching in formation in full WAC uniforms, I began attending a weekly class learning Morse Code, reading signal flags, identifying German war planes, learning emergency first- aid, learning artificial respiration, doing the necessary paper work to relieve men who had to report for draft calls and, appear at the local and state airports to experience our first flights. As we strapped on huge parachutes, my first flight was in a bi-wing 2-seater open cockpit, propeller driven airplane. We had to go to Newark, N.J. and learn to fly a plane through the “Link Trainer” System.  What was that? A Link Trainer was a simulation of the cockpit of an airplane, but on land, in an office. In an emergency, if we were in a plane, we might be called upon to assist in landing a plane and the 'Link Trainer' taught us to level a plane and bring it onto the ground safely.  I remained in the C.A.P. until after I graduated from Eastside High School in February 1947.
 
Due to unexpected financial problems there were no funds for a college education but I wasn’t going to let that stand in my way.  With some help from older family friends, I headed off on the overnight train to Miami, Florida; to a tiny, single, very cheap room and within 2 days I found work in the Leslie Hotel in Miami Beach and learned to use a plug- in telephone switchboard. At the same time, I took the bus over to the U. of Florida and enrolled in night classes in journalism and accounting; both subjects which aided me in finding employment during the years I lived in Florida and beyond. I found a furnished apartment across from Biscayne Bay, learned to sail a boat, taught swimming at local hotels, became involved in local politics, made lifelong friends and eventually returned to Paterson. I met my future husband, a veteran of WWII, Bernie Neufeld, brother of Donald and Harold, married, settled down, became members of the Hebrew Free School, also known as the Community Synagogue, where our 3 sons, Arthur, Bruce and Daniel celebrated their Bar-Mitzvot, and life went on as it was supposed to. At this time, my father, age 51, suffered a severe heart attack and died on 26th July 1959.  That tragedy was the first of my losses.  In my youth I had been a member of Junior Hadassah, and, as an adult, I became a member of Senior Hadassah. In time I became Donor Chair, Treasurer and then V.P., all learning experiences on my way to what became a “Volunteer Extraordinaire”. Using the education I received at U. Florida, and with the help of brother-in-law, Donald, partner in Dorfman, Abrams & Music, Accounting firm, I did the bookkeeping for the business. All went well until Bernie became ill in December 1970 and died on 15th April 1971. That was my second great loss. ‘Difficult’ was not the word for it.  With the opening of the Garden State Plaza and the Bergen Mall, our business came to almost a standstill and eventually we closed the doors.  Now what?  Arthur was still in college, Bruce went off to U. of Connecticut, Daniel was in private day school in Bergen County and daily, I began to drive into New York City to work for a multi-million dollar, fine printing paper house doing their accounting. Big responsibility, and daily, I felt rewarded by the success of my short education at U. of Florida. It wasn’t too long after, that I was introduced to Eugene Robson, a New York attorney, and also a veteran of WWII.  Two years later he moved to Paterson and we married and drove into Manhattan daily to work.
 
Bruce had been living on Kibbutz Usha, Israel and spent 3 months exploring the eastern part of Africa when he decided to return to U.Conn. He earned his B.S. in fruit and vegetable diseases and made ‘aliyah’ to live and work at Rosh Hanikra on the Lebanese border with Israel. Two years later he became ill and returned to the states. After being diagnosed with A.L.L. (Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia) on 12th May 1978, he entered Sloan Kettering Hospital in New York and 4 months later, to the day, he passed way. That was the third of my many losses. The only hospice available for help was at St. Vincent in N.Y. and at the time, I knew nothing about hospice care.
 
In 1983 Eugene decided to retire and after working in my company for 9 ½ years, I submitted my resignation.  Now, what to do and where to go? The boys were out of the house and I was no longer preparing snacks and 'on the spot meals' for many of their friends. I was a cook, a good one, and we decided to move to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia where we had many friends. What would I do there? Aha!! Do what I knew best.  On 26 acres of land in the middle of Rappahannock County I rebuilt a 4 bedroom, split level house, to accommodate over-night visitors to the area, a country inn, and named it ‘Meadowood’. Paterson was always in the picture, as I would drive to N. J. at least once a month to visit Sunshine’s kosher deli on Park Avenue and E.33rd Street for fresh sliced lox and kosher pastrami, and to bring bagels and fresh rye bread back on each trip. Eugene had never lived outside of Manhattan but he learned to till my gardens and pick fresh fruits and veggies on the property. He volunteered to work at the local Historical Society to codify their rules, laws and legal papers and I filled in what little spare time I had educating myself on Harriet Keebler Ross’ history of  hospice care. In due time I became Director of the “Hospice of the Rapidan”, the 5 counties surrounding the area we lived in. My volunteer credentials began to increase and, when business at the Inn was slow, I would drive to my office in Culpepper, VA, complete necessary paper work and visit all of the volunteers working in private homes, with sick and dying residents of the Rapidan. Through the efforts of local doctors, my executive board and the volunteers, we convinced Culpepper Hospital to donate the use of a suite for the care of hospice inpatients. In June 1986, pushing a hand lawn mower in 95 degree temperature, Eugene suffered a severe coronary and with hospice care survived until Labor Day, the 2nd of September 1985, as the second of my husbands passed away. That was now my fourth loss.
 
It was difficult to maintain my inn. It required more hands to work the grounds, more income other than my hospice salary provided me and certainly more income when the inn was not  booked up. I found a bookkeeping job with one of the local farmers who grew Belgian endives for $5.00 an hour.  It was just enough to carry me over each month until the height of each season; however, it was all becoming too much for me. I resigned my position at the hospice. The inn went on the market in September 1987 and I signed a Deed of Sale on the 20th of November 1987, and found an apartment in Manassas, VA, packed up bag and baggage, began courses on the computer and found a job at a legal firm in downtown Washington, D.C. where I commuted every day. Life was acceptable even in this strange new environment, but I also found the Montgomery County J.C.C. where I found new friends, volunteered in Suburban Hospital in Chevy Chase, MD, and, I was at peace with the world.  I was again a single, unattached female and I joined the forces of others in the same position. Although I had a different history than most of the other women, there were too many of us and I didn’t like the odds. I continued to drive to Paterson at least once a month trying to reestablish old friendships, but most of my friends were at least 10 years older and were no longer living. As I write this newsletter, the only friend still living is Ruth Gabin Greenberg, a true and devoted friend of both Bernie and mine from way back when. 
 
My mother, while  living in Florida, would commute, by bus, to my sister in Paterson and now, to me, in the Blue Ridge, never happy wherever she was. Her depression had gotten so bad that she was hospitalized in Culpepper several times. Eventually she returned to Florida.
 
The J.C.C. did bring singles together and as luck would have it, on the eve of one of my planned trips before my move, I met Harry Glixon, a professional electrical engineer. He worked at the Pentagon and was a frequent traveler to Australia and Alaska on business and pleasure. He was another WWII veteran who was also a former P.O.W. during the War. His history convinced me, as time went by, that I had more to offer as a volunteer to the greater community wherever I lived.  My mother was back in the picture again, an emergency call from a Florida State Hospital advised me that she was confined for her own safety. After her third attempt at it, she was successful in taking her own life on 28th August 1990.  That was my fifth great loss. 
 
Harry and I married on 29 March 1993 and lived in his home until August 2003 when we moved to Sarasota, Florida.  We both registered as Life Members in the Ex-POW programs; we were both members of the J.W.V. (Jewish War Veterans) and both of us became members of the D.A.V., (Disabled American Veterans). During WWII, Harry had received 2 Purple Hearts and 2 Bronze Stars for his service above and beyond the call of duty to his country and he showed me his eligibility to be interred at Arlington National Cemetery at the time of his death.  I was not interested in thinking about death when we married but shortly after we were married in 1994 Harry was diagnosed with Parkinson Disease (P.D.) and our lives changed forever. After an exciting but difficult trip to Germany and to France, we began to travel through the National Parks in spring and summers and then winter in Port Charlotte, Florida. On our return to Maryland in the spring of 2003 his P.D. had advanced and he was no longer able to climb stairs in either of his homes and I had to become a full time caregiver. After a very speedy trip to Florida I found our future home which was perfect by any measure.  No stairs, lots of space, a pool to exercise in daily, many organizations to participate in and friendly neighbors. The move was complete and we hired help for Harry which gave  me extra time to participate in projects of interest to me. I volunteered at Doctors Hospital, a 15-minute drive from the house. With no J.C.C. nearby, I found an interest in the J.F.C.S. (Jewish Family & Children’s Service) and began to work with seniors but after 2 years found it depressing and switched to working with the V.P. of Development.  Due to an unusual accident, Harry’s P.D. advanced and on the morning of December 10th, 2007, Harry lost his battle with life.  He was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery on 1st February 2008.  My 3 WWII husbands were all gone.  And now my losses had reached number 6.
 
In January 2009 the construction of a new Veterans Cemetery was opened and Sarasota National Cemetery (S.N.C.) was and is the perfect place for me to volunteer; I was asked to work in the Administration Building.  On June 28, 2014, Patriot Plaza was donated to NCA during a dedication fully underwritten by the Patterson Foundation.  The Patterson Foundation (T.P.F.) a private foundation which honors the Patterson family, is the first-of-a-kind partnership with the National Cemetery Administration (N.C.A.), building a legacy for generations to come. The Patterson Foundation can trace its roots back to Joseph Medill who helped establish the Republican Party and was influential in Abraham Lincoln’s election to the presidency.  President Lincoln established the National Cemetery System in 1862.
 
Patriot Plaza is not a memorial. Its mission is to “HONOR SERVICE, INSPIRE PATRIOTISM, AND EMBRACE FREEDOM. In March 2014, I enlisted as a docent and have participated in every event held at the Plaza. There are no costs to visit Patriot Plaza and any and all events held at the Plaza are free and open to the public.
 
My first and oldest son, Arthur Neufeld, was a social studies and history teacher at Eastside High School for years and was director of the summer camp in Fair Lawn for many years. He developed a lingering illness which physicians were unable to diagnose. After many futile diagnoses, a laboratory in Canada found the answer.  As of today, Churg Straus Syndrome still has no cure.  On Leap year, 29th February 2012, Arthur passed away and was laid to rest across from his father and near his brother, his grandparents and other family members. My sister, Anita, became ill and died on 8th January 2013. Arthur’s wife, Lois Gordon Neufeld, became ill shortly after Arthur’s death and lost her battle with life on 20th August 2016.
 
I'm now on the cusp of being 88 years old and I am still going strong and looking forward to contributing additional years as a volunteer in my Sarasota community. “As I read over the words you have just read, I think how lucky I have been to see the failures and then the successes I have experienced in my lifetime…  My losses have been more than any one person should have to bear; however, I have had a philosophy that has carried me to this day which is, “We, you and I, cannot change yesterday but because today is here and now we must all look for a brighter day tomorrow.” 
 
Always Paterson, 
Lorraine Finke, Neufeld, Robson-Glixon, member of the JHSNJ