Selected Interviews

Indian Summer

Pearl Langly

In our Continuing series "Hey Old Timer", we at KPPL asked local seniors to share their stories.  Today we asked octogenarian Pearl Langly to share her story about that rare occurrence when the summer extends far into the fall.  It's a beautiful weather anomaly called Indian Summer.  We asked Pearl about her most memorable Indian Summer

Pearl Langly- "My most memorable Indian Summer.  Well let me just say that I don't care for Indian Summers as a rule. I'm a fall fanatic. I love the foliage, I love the weather, and I love hot apple cider.  So it would seem that I might not find Indian Summers particularly memorable, or at the very least I would find my memories of them to be unpleasant. Truth be told my favorite summer was the year that it rained for most of August and the temperatures never went above 60 degrees. Oh that was phenomenal.  I know what you're thinking, that sounds like the perfect recipe for cabin fever, well I suppose it would have been had I not began a correspondence with a nice young boy in Romania that July.  He was a wonderful pen pal, although he died 2 years later in a tragic thresher accident on his family's farm.  Despite the fact that his death did tinge those letters with a terrible sense of melancholy, it was a beneficial experience none the less to make a new friend. Now, as for Indian Summers I do have a memorable one.  When I was 16 years old, I gained employment as a camp counselor at Camp Crystal Lake. It was a lovely old camp along the lake, it's been closed for decades now, but when it was open it was a wonderful place to spend your summers. Now, I was in charge of the 4 to 5 year olds and our group was called the Snails.  You see each group of children was housed together and given an animal name.  Now on this particular day my little Snails had just settled down for their 3p.m. nap.  At the time I was dating a handsome Italian boy name Albert Stenetti. Albert was the archery assistant at the camp, which is surprising as you would not expect Italians to have a predilection for archery.  He assured me that his mother, who was Scotch- Irish had instilled his love of the bow and arrow.  This makes sense given that Robin Hood was supposedly of the same origin and he was a fabulous archer. Anyway, on that day, I decided to sneak out and meet Albert in the art supply room of our Craft Cabin and canoodle.  We were necking when suddenly we heard a terrible scream. Well we straightened our clothes and hair and we ran to see what all the commotion was.  Albert ran ahead as I stopped to check on my Snails.  Well as you can imagine they were woken by the scream and they were quite upset.  I had to calm them down with chocolate milk from the mess hall, as I believe chocolate milk calms all children down.  However, the sugar in chocolate milk also stirs them up so it's really a double edged sword.  Anyway, once the Snails were calm, I ran ahead to our main meeting hall called the Eagle's Den to see what all the fuss was about.  Well, when I got there I found Debby Glickman who was in charge of the Buffaloes, ages 6-7. Well she had just returned from their 2:30 p.m. nature hike when they arrived at the lake just in time to see the Voorhees boy, a Woodchuck ages11- 12, sink to the bottom of the lake like a stone.  Poor Debby was so upset, she was such a lovely girl, unlike her sister Maureen who I personally didn't care for as I found her to be a bit snotty. Coincidentally Maureen was the leader of the Woodchucks, and we all went searching for Maureen and the Woodchucks to tell her about the Voorhees boy.  Well we found Maureen out behind the Timber Teepee, or the woodworking shed, with a boy who's name I can't quite remember.  Well once Maureen realized what had happened, she was broken up.  Maureen then told us that as it was an overcast day, and she had left the Woodchucks alone in their cabin with a small transistor radio and a stack of comic books.  Poor Maureen thought that would be more than enough to keep those boys busy, but the Voorhees boy snuck out and made a b-line right for the lake.  Well, as I said I didn't like Maureen, but you couldn't help but feel bad for her after all she only snuck out for a minute, and everyone knew that the Voorhees boy was a terrible swimmer and the lake was the last place any of us would've expected him to go.  Well, just as we were about to fish the poor boy out, Mrs. Voorhees, who happened to work in the mess hall, came running around the corner to see what had happened.  Well, once she learned that her son had drowned, she was very upset.  She screamed and cried, and finally we had to take her to the Medicine Hut to giver her an aspirin and a cold compress for her head.  Well, that didn't work in the slightest and she demanded to see Maureen and hear the full story.  Once she heard about all of the canoodling she was even more upset.  She called Maureen all sorts of names I won't repeat, and Mr. Gelson who ran the camp at the time, had to ask her to please watch her language.  Well she wouldn't and she called us all "filthy canoodlers" and she swore her vengeance.  Well I had had enough. I snapped "Look Monica (that was her Christian name) why didn't you teach your son to swim in the first place." That may have been cruel to say, but you do have to question the reasoning of a woman who enrolls her son for a summer camp that is lake adjacent and doesn't teach her son basic swimming safety.  Well, she flew into a rage demanding all sorts of crazy "blood vengeances" and she stormed off.  All in all she was an angry woman in a cable knit sweater. Well, I never heard what became of her, as the following summer I began working at the local library as a librarian's aide.  Also I should say that I never heard what became of Albert Stenetti as dating Italian boys had become passe by the following summer."

Back To School

Helen Shapiro

Next up we asked local septuagenarian Helen Shapiro about her experience in returning to college in her early 40's. Helen shares this story with us.

Helen Shapiro- "Well it all started when I lived in the green house. My late husband Ronald and I purchased that house in the summer of 1968 with a small loan from my aunt Louise who later died from an accidental head injury. Anyway, it was our dream home.  It was a lovely Victorian with a rose trellis and a cherry tree in the front yard.  Our neighbors to the left were the Martins, and the house to the right went through multiple owners until a quiet man named Mr. Krueger moved in and he stayed there for many years.  Well, like I said Mr. Krueger was a quiet man who mainly kept to himself.  The neighbors didn't care for him, but Ronald and I didn't mind. He kept his yard clean, and he didn't leave trash all over the curb. Well, as I said, I wouldn't say that Mr. Krueger was a friendly man, but one Thanksgiving I invited him over.  He declined, but I still sent Ronald over with a plate after dinner, because I didn't see a Mrs.Krueger anywhere and everyone needs a nice hot meal.  Well, I wouldn't say that he became our new friend, but he did seem to warm to us as the following Hanukkah he dropped by with a lovely assortment of hard candies.  Well, I went right to work making him a hand knitted sweater. Oh he loved that sweater he would wear it all the time.  After that he would come over occasionally, and he and Ronald would tinker in the garage with his sailboat.  Well unfortunately Ronald died very suddenly.  Ronald loved his red meat and he hated to exercise, he collapsed from a heart attack and left me a widow at the age of 40.  Well Mr. Krueger didn't send me a sympathy card, but he did come by and drag my garbage to the curb, tinker with the wiring, that sort of thing. Once, he ripped his sweater on a rusty nail and I fixed him a peanut butter sandwich while he waited for me to repair the hole.  Well we didn't talk much while he ate, but when he left he did thank me for the sandwich and the sweater repair.  Like I said the neighbors didn't care for Mr. Krueger, but I will take good manners over good conversation any day.  We went on like that for some time, he would help me with the house and I would fix him a plate of food, and then suddenly he passed away.  Well, I got out my best suit and I made sure to go to his funeral. I hate to say it, but I was the only person there.  I always told Ronald that our neighbors were snobs, and he would say to me "well you can pick your dream home, but not your dream neighborhood." I have to agree with my late husband on that.  Well, actually it's funny that at this point I mention dreams.  Not three months after Mr. Krueger's death I had the most vivid dream about him.  We were sitting in my kitchen eating peanut butter sandwiches when he turned to me and said "Helen, did you remember to put in the storm windows?"  Well I shot straight up in bed.  The dream was so vivid, and what's more it was so odd as he always called me Mrs. Shapiro and never Helen.  Well sure enough I woke up and checked the windows, and I had not had the storm windows put in. Well 2 days later I had them fixed, and don't you know it was just in time for our first winter storm of that year. Well dream or not Mr. Krueger saved me 30% in my heating bills that winter. I was so empowered by fixing the storm windows that I decided right then and there to stop rambling about in my old house and take some night classes.  So I did, and I became a court stenographer and that's how I met my second husband the judge.  Eventually I sold the green house, and moved down to Florida with my sister's youngest son David.  I should say that I had one last dream involving Mr. Krueger.  We were sitting in the kitchen eating peanut butter sandwiches just as before, but this time he said to me "Helen, your gutters need cleaning."  Well say what you want, but Mr. Krueger was a wonderful neighbor."