A single blade of grass

Russell has been an elevator mechanic since the 1960's. I've known him for about ten years.
When you eat lunch and drink coffee with a co-worker four or five times a week you get to know them pretty well. What anyone should know about Russell, he tells you himself. "I don't know anything about elevators. Ask me about baseball, the pool or lawns."

And during those many visits to double D's I would hear people call Russell and ask him those types of questions. I hear him give very detailed advice "That's right, put the fertilizer down the first weekend in April."
Some time ago, on a Monday, I asked my friend Russell what he did over the weekend.
"Well, I had a three foot by six foot area of grass that had the blades going in a different direction from the rest of the lawn."
I quietly wondered 'Where is he going with this?' A cesspool issue? A deranged teenager on a minibike?
"So I cut out the area and replaced it with new sod."
He was serious. Russell's mind is gone. Who would notice such a thing? Or care? It's not in his nature to play mind games. I calmly asked "Are all the lawn blades now going in the same direction?"
"Yes they are."
Russell's lawn-stress comes from an imperfect lawn.

In the book The Little Prince a drawing is shown to people in order to determine how they think. Asking a suburban about their lawn gives you similar results. I found it doesn't matter how good a Long Island lawn looks. What's important is the priority level that person gives a lawn relative to where they are in life. Does a lawn need more time then your own kids? Would you spend food shopping cash on pesticide? Or, are the kids grown-up and the lawn still brown?

This morning, on the soccer field before Gregory's game, my friend Mike asked me about Rebecca's game. Mike lives two doors down and his son, Danny, is on the same team as Gregory.
"I would've dropped off the boys so you could have seen Rebecca's game too."
"I was fertilizing the lawn. I'm getting discouraged with it. The kids play in the same spot every day. The goal area is all dirt."
Mike knows the deal "I have a #$%^ pitchers mound in the middle of my lawn! What can you do?"
"Lisa and I decided to keep the sports arena in the backyard from now on. Maybe I can keep the front decent."
Mike laughed a little. Another Dad joined in. Everyone has a plan to keep the lawn green.
Mike pays someone to do his lawn. His lawn-stress comes from writing those checks.

My brother in law Pat loves to work on his lawn. He frequently says "The lawn relaxes me." He grew up on Long Island so it's in his nature. He never had to learn about lawns, he grew up with them. Lawn knowledge helps save time and money. The work is easier when you know success is guaranteed.
What causes Pat's lawn-stress is his own dogs roaming around the property. Dogs do more lawn damage than athletic kids.

My friend John lives across the street. He went to an agriculture college. His lawn philosophy includes mulching. The major advantage of mulching is putting the grass seed back into the lawn. The mulching lawn-stress comes from the frequent mows required.

I don't want to mulch because the grass clippings will end up in the pool. I never like to pay someone else to do work I can do. I don't care enough (okay, at all) about lawn blade direction.
If I didn't have Long Island neighbors my lawn wouldn't exist. A person's status rises and falls with his lawn out here. It must be something in the water.

Phone calls

Hello?
Hi Mom! (It's Lisa's Mom on the phone)
Hi Jim. You're awake?
Yes. I had to get up to answer the phone.
Sorry.
I'm kidding. I just got home. Lisa went to breakfast with her friends.
Okay.
I called Tante Resl this morning to get some blog information.
Did she yell at you? She isn't very good on the phone.
Yes. I did notice that in the first few seconds of our conversation.
She gets a lot of sales calls.
Do you want to sign her up on the "do not call" list? Are you near your computer?
Okay. Hold on. My emails get lost. It puts all the names together instead of the date.
You need to click on the 'received' button to organize them chronologically.
Okay. Hold on. Just a moment. Yes! It worked. Okay, now what?
I just sent you a link for the national do not call list. You have to hit the send/receive button.
Okay. I got it.
Click on the link.
Okay.
Put in Tante's phone number and hit the submit button.
Okay.
Tante didn't want to reveal her favorite color this morning. She gave me both blue and yellow. She kept asking me "What else you want to know?" with an impatient voice. Where were you married? She said at the Justice of the Peace. Where? I asked again. I don't remember. What else? When was Eugene's birthday? He was 12 years older than me. Do you have a date? No. What else? How did you meet Eugene? I used to go to the dance hall. Otto introduced us. They worked together at Bohacks. What else do you want to know?
See, she isn't very good on the phone.
I was looking for a story. Something I could twist around and exaggerate with funny details.
It's better to talk to her in person.
I'll tell Lisa you called.
Good bye.

Theresa

Mondolf Germany, 1918


In the middle of World War One, George Kainzbauer and his wife Francesca gave birth to Theresa. Theresa is one the youngest of eleven siblings. She would spend the next 19 years working on her parents farm.

In 1937 Theresa hopped on a ship and cruised across the Atlantic Ocean. One of her siblings picked her up from Ellis Island.

Living in the German area of Ridgewood, Theresa made friends at the local dance hall. At that dance hall Theresa was introduce to Eigen by a mutual friend named Otto. Otto and Eigen worked as bakers at a supermarket called Bohacks. Eigen, 12 years older than Theresa, fell in love. In 1942 they married at the 'Justice of the Peace'. The Catholic Church wouldn't marry them because of Eigen's previous marriage. (Eigen had two sons from that marriage)

One of Theresa's brothers fought in World War Two on the German side. He was listed as missing-in-action was never found.


Theresa and Eugene (American for Eigen) moved to a 'cold water flat' at 19-19 Greene Avenue in Ridgewood. Theresa found work by a sign in the window of a store which read "Girl Wanted". She applied and was immediately hired as a seamstress. Her work ethic would be considered by most as insane. When ever anyone describes Theresa her strong work ethic gets mentioned. At the knitting mill Theresa was the fastest worker. She was promoted to Forewoman.



Around 1950 Theresa and Eugene viewed a house in Floral Park for $11,000. Although nervous about the price they took the plunge. Theresa lived there for 52 years.



Vacations were always spent with their friends Otto and Elsie Reich. Card games were very common among the close friends.


The worse of times came in 1981 when Eugene died of liver cancer.


With no children of her own, Theresa became known as Tante Resl. Many of the younger kids only know her as Tante. Tante's tradition of Thanksgiving dinner went from a small family gathering in the 1950's to a huge two-turkey feast as the family grew. The finished basement was the only area large enough to feed the 30 plus family members. An additional stove was added in the basement to help keep all the food hot.



At 78 years old Tante would drive to North Babylon to spend time with her great great nephews Andrew and Gregory. Walking with the strollers, Lisa had trouble keeping pace. Even outpacing the much younger family members while picking up leaves!


Tante sold the small, well kept, house in 2003. The kitchen had original white tile, floor and walls, which looked brand new. No cracks or scratches. It is more a tribute to her housekeeping than to the workmanship.


Last week, at her 90th birthday party, she took the "Surprise!" in stride.

The ongoing family tree library needs more history of Tante Resl. Where was she married? Church? Please share your favorite Tante story.... How many family members are shorter than her? At what age did she migrate to America? What was her cats name? What was the name of the company she worked for? What did her husband, Eugene, do for a living? Was he in WW2? Favorite color sweater? I'm guessing white. Eventually the entire family tree will be uploaded to an online website that everyone can view. I'm searching for one that keeps information private and lets us upload photos. I know I can ask Tante all these questions but she is still recharging her batteries from her 90th Surprise party. Jim

Hello James. I do not know when or where Tatnte got married. I think Diane is the only member shorter than her. She had a dog named Tippy. Her husband was a baker at a bakery called Bohacks. She worked in a knitting mill. The fastest worker in the place. Not the best but the fastest. I remember A diner story of her and her husband trying to swat a fly and causing a commotion because they couldn't get it. Love you,Lisa

Dearest Jim,I am not sure where she was married. I don't have a favorite Tante story,just wonderful memories.The most special are the many, many Sundayafternoons playing "31" with her and Uncle Eugene. I do not believe I am shorter than her, we will have to put it to the test the next time we areall together. Lisa is just jealous. I think she was 17 years old when she came over, but I could be wrong. Her mother told her and her sister that only 1 of them could go because she needed the other one at home to help.Tante Resl quickly said she wanted to come and so it was decided. (good thing she didn't hesitate). When she first came to America, she took a job in a coffee shop, serving donuts and coffee (there wasn't any lunches). She was paid very little but she also got free room and board. It is there that she met Uncle Eugene. He came in to help at lunch time when it was busy. The woman that owned the shop told Tante when she first met Uncle Eugene that she was going to marry him. She was right. Uncle Eugene has two sons from his first marriage. She only met them a few times, mostly before they were married. His ex-wife remarried and he adopted the boys. Their best friends were Otto and Else. She has many wonderful memories with them. They took all of there vacations together. The 4 of them always shared a hotel room to save money on their trips. They had to take vacations predicated on Tante Resl's shut down at the mill because the"men' could take it at any time. They had union. She did not. Her boss told the employees at the knitting mill that he wasn't getting the union and if you wanted one you could find work elsewhere. They played cards fora little money often with Otto and Else. The winning would go into a kitty to save for the next vacation. Otto and Else lost their grandson to suicide. It was very difficult for them. I will try to think of some more stuff, but that is all I got for now. Talk to you soon. Diane

Here's a few more memories:Tante, uncle eigen, elsi and otto went dancing almost every weekend. She worked for Mr & Mrs Smidt. She was nice, but he was tough.The last couple of years, she was promoted to for women. Too much stress. She hated it and had to quit. She was the fastest seamstress (no kidding), but according to Tante not the best.Her dog was "Tippie". Her car was "Betsy". Tante's mom(our great grandmother) never got over the 'missing in action' of her son Alfonse. All her brothers that went to war never returned, except one. However, he came back, disabled and died at an earlier than a typical Kainzbauer age.- Donna.

Uncle Jon Brings the CRAZY!

Lets kick this up a notch....

If my nephew Greg breaks his goal of $2,500 raised, I too will shave my head and email everyone a video of the actual head shaving.

The head shaving will take place in March, 2008

Please feel free to forward this around....

From: Jonathan S. Carroll (NY) Sent: Friday, February 15, 2008 9:05 AMSubject: Greg
My nephew Greg is raising money for Cancer research. On March 8, 2008 he will shave his head for charity.

If you would like to make a donation to support his efforts it would be appreciated.

Click here to help

Jonathan

St. Baldrick's day

View the St. Baldrick's homepage, click here.

This is last years picture. And Gregory is at it again!

Lisa and I were inspired by him when he gave up cookies for Lent. Not to be out done, Lisa gave up tea and I gave up coffee.

So he upped the ante by agreeing to get his head shaved for a cancer curing fundraiser. If Lisa decides to shave her head, I will follow. The odds of that are slim. But the potential funny pictures posted here would get serious attention and donations.

The doorman hurdle

Working an extra late-night shift was a lot of fun last night. My first call was to 237 Park Avenue. Someone was trapped in elevator #9. When I arrived (just before my shift actually started) the doorman told me one lady was stuck and needed to get out quickly. I ask the normal questions attempting to assess the situation.
Is she calm or panicking? Claustrophobic? Pregnant or epileptic? Do we need to call the fire department?
The doorman immediately presses the intercom talk button "Are you pregnant?"
The lady yelled "What?"
"They want me to ask you" he said.
Now, I understand its difficult to get a normal person to work the graveyard shift. I understand the intense amount of stress a doorman must be under each night, in a near-empty building.
As the nocturnal porter starts to laugh at the doorman I asked "Dude, are you serious? What's the matter with you?"
"How else will we know?" he inquires of me.
I went on to explain that I was hoping he would already have pertinent information from what our victim already volunteered. (She became a victim when this idiot doorman forced her to reconsider her safety. And her maternity status.)
I wait as Einstein looks for the machine room keys. And I wonder why he didn't perform this task just after calling Schindler with an elevator problem.

Once in the machine room my twenty plus years of elevator experience quickly diagnosed the problem. But the burning smell and smoke from a large relay did help. At this time I didn't know which floor she was trapped on. I was hoping to be able to pick the hall door near her and open the car door by hand. I went down to investigate her location.

The lady was stuck in a blind shaft. I called the office for a second mechanic. A blind shaft is the part of the hoistway that has no doors to the hallway. This particular blind shaft was the first 12 stories of the building above the lobby landing. She was stuck on the ninth floor. I knew the only way out for her was to be helped from the side door of elevator #9 to the side door of #8.

I pulled the mainline and ventured down the stairs to elevator #8. Once on top of #8 I heard the voice of elevator mechanic #2, Sean. He arrived rather quickly I noticed. After customary greetings and the offering of coffee, Sean and I descended slowly atop of elevator #8. When we reached the point where our car top was level with #9 we noticed the side doors do not have a beam between them. Nothing but nine floors of gravity creating a rather unsafe transfer spot. At this point Sean climbs over to our victims car. He opens the top escape hatch and begins to talk to the lady.

With universal hand signals I inquire if she's old or fat. (I already know she isn't pregnant) I'm concerned about a transfer as we consider calling the FDNY. We would be able to get them to this point in the shaft and they can be responsible for her safety.

Sean wants to look at the melted relay. A slow trip up to 21 will delay our goal. So I stayed with our victim while Sean went up to the machine room. Her name is Sharon and she works at a cosmetic company in the building. I offer her my cell phone but she already had one and was in contact with her friends. Her first priority, upon exit, was to use a bathroom.

I call Sean on the phone. He wants to make a temporary repair to the relay and hope for the best. I originally didn't look for a "relay repair" because I thought I would be able to get her out without a transfer.

Eventually Sean patched the relay terminal with a large sheet metal screw. It was just barely hanging on to the stranded wire. As I ran the car (from the car top controls) on inspection speed up he stood by the fire extinguisher in the machine room.

Sharon was free. I got a hug. Sean got two tickets on his car. One for an expired inspection sticker and one for not putting money in the parking meter. That's how he arrived so quickly.

I repaired four more elevators that night. Then, at 6AM, I got another entrapment call. This time it was 1345 Avenue of the Americas. Two doorman work the same night-shift at this building. One doorman is named Frank. Frank has worked there for a few months but never knows where anything is or even where the keys are. Frank and I got trapped in a stairwell a few weeks back because he thought it was unlocked.

The other doorman greeted me this morning and jokingly asked if I wanted Frank to escort me around the building.
"No thanks. Just toss me the keys and tell me which floor the low rise machine room is located".

Doorman #2 didn't know which floor and he didn't know which keys were needed. So I asked him "Why do you pick on Frank when you, yourself, don't know your way around here? How long have you been working here?"
His answer of four years shocked me. It took one half hour to get from the lobby to inside the elevator machine room. The victim of this building may blame the elevator mechanic for not working quick enough. The real resistance of my rescues is never revealed.