Wisdom Project | Eleanore Carsons, 104

The Wisdom Project at Moment: Inspirational conversations with wise people who have been fortunate to live long lives This week’s conversation is with Eleanore Carsons, 104, of Boca Raton, Florida.  Eleanore Carsons was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Her birth father died in the 1918-1919 Spanish flu epidemic. Her mother remarried and Eleanore’s stepfather adopted her when she was six years old. She went to New York University planning to be a teacher. Instead, saying hello to a boy named Morris (Moe) Carsons in a history of education class when she was 19 led to a 53-years-long marriage, two children, three grandchildren and two great grandchildren. When Moe Carsons died in 1995, Eleanore started a new life’s chapter at age 76, eventually moving from New York to Florida permanently, where she lives independently in a...

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Beshert | Three Strikes, You’re A Schlimazel

Living in New York City circa 1979-1980 was a test of fortitude, not the least of which involved the rats. The rat harvest was plentiful that year because of a tugboat strike, which stranded the city’s garbage, which piled up on the streets because the tugs weren’t moving to haul it to Staten Island. Then the New York City Opera shut down when contract negotiations with the musicians stalled and while that didn’t devolve into rodent anarchy, it was a disappointment to opera fans. When 1979 spilled into 1980, the city’s transit workers went on strike.  All of this made it a great time to be a journalism student there. We covered these stories. Both Pope John Paul II and the Dalai Lama came to visit the city that fall and we covered them, too, and...

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Beshert | When Cats Fly

“Your cat is in business class.” Startled, I looked up from my magazine and regarded the flight attendant. She couldn’t mean my cat, who was asleep in her carrier under the seat in front of me. “You must have the wrong passenger,” I said. “Mine’s right here.” I pulled the cat carrier into view. The zipper was open. The cat was gone.  “Oh God,” I said. “How did…?” The flight attendant scolded me for letting her out. “I didn’t let her out! She was asleep! It was zipped! I gave her a sedative in the car!” She didn’t believe me. “Just go get your cat.” I jumped up and ran into business class ahead of her. Panicked, I reasoned that my sedated animal would be moving at a drunk’s pace. There she was, groggily skulking the length of...

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