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Christmas spirit is a lifetime tradition for Homeland resident Marie Andrews

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Marie Andrews

Homeland resident, Marie Andrews, relaxing in her suite.

In 1934, Marie Andrews’ father started a tradition in Lykens, Pennsylvania, that continues to this day.

To thank the customers of his hardware store and electrical appliance repair shop, Richard Klinger outfitted a sound truck with evergreens, sat on top wearing a Santa Claus suit, and drove through the town, distributing candy and oranges to children.

In the years to come, the truck would be “electrically decorated,” in the words of one newspaper account, and tour the towns of northern Dauphin County. For more than 75 years, three generations of the Klinger family kept the tradition alive, and it continues today with their support and under the auspices of Lykens Borough. Cowboy singer Gene Autry even sent Marie’s dad a thank-you letter for featuring his recording “Here Comes Santa Claus.”

“It’s still called ‘Klinger’s Float,’ and it still goes out on Christmas Eve,” Marie said. The annual event took a lot of work on the family’s part. Marie remembers the first year when she bagged peanuts to be handed out.

Graduating from high school in 1943, she learned of a wartime program paying for nurses’ training. Harrisburg would have been close, but she figured if she could go anyplace for the training, why not try Philadelphia?

“I don’t know how I had the guts to do it,” she said. First, she applied at a Philadelphia hospital where a friend was studying. When that program accepted her right away, she thought, “If they would take me without even knowing me, maybe Penn would take me.”

She had to pass a lot of tests, but she made it into the University of Pennsylvania. It was an excellent program, with thorough training and strict standards. By the time she graduated, the war was over. Back in central Pennsylvania, she married and had her sons.

Marie worked at several jobs until becoming a school nurse in Central Dauphin School District, outside of Harrisburg, where she stayed for 28 years.

“I liked being with the kids,” she said. “It was an interesting job. There were lots of nice people to work with.”

Her sons attended Central Dauphin schools and, apparently inheriting their grandfather’s handyman genes, studied engineering in college. They both live in the Harrisburg area, and Marie now has four grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and a third on the way.

From her cheery personal care suite at Homeland, Marie likes to knit. Family members receive gifts such as a stocking cap in Philadelphia Eagles green and white, or a receiving blanket for the new baby.

She has lived happily at Homeland since 2012. She enjoys volunteering in Homeland’s library, as well as taking exercise classes and attending music events. From her window, she watches birds in the trees, including a cardinal that sometimes shows up.

“We do a lot of nice things,” she said. “I go on the shopping trips. I do well. I have a lot of friends. I’m very comfortable here.”

Resident Spotlight: Joanne Creason recalls a life of movie theaters, golf, and kids

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Joanne CreasonJoanne Creason remembers working her father’s neighborhood movie theaters in Harrisburg. She did everything but run the projector – booking movies, selling tickets, working the concessions counter and keeping a close eye on the children attending the Saturday matinees.

“They could misbehave a little until I caught them,” she said.

Joanne lives in a Homeland Center personal care suite featuring a photo display of her eight children. The Harrisburg native has lived at Homeland for more than 4 years.

Growing up, she attended Harrisburg Catholic High School – now Bishop McDevitt. She loved her math classes, “which was unusual for a girl,” and was valedictorian of her 1937 graduating class.

Joanne was an only child, although her parents raised a cousin, one and a half years older, who was like a sister to her. Her father, Walter Yost, starting his theater business by buying one building and then built two more – the Grand, the Pennway, and the Roxy.

“He loved the theaters, and the closeness with the people,” she said.

Joanne’s mother, Agnes Yost, made hats for a milliner in Harrisburg before she married and often put her sewing skills to use in the family’s theater’s repairing seats.

“She could sew beautifully,” Joanne said, recalling the feathered hats she favored. “She was quite a seamstress. She had wonderful taste.”

A sample of her mother’s meticulous work hangs on the wall in Joanne’s room. Eight framed photos of children – six boys and two girls – dangle on fabric bell pulls adorned with tassels. The eight are Joanne’s children – David, John, Richard, Bob, Mary Lynn, Elizabeth, Jim, and Bill.

Joanne met her husband, Lynn Creason, when he was in the Army and took a wrong bus. His destination was supposed to be Indiantown Gap, but he realized he was going the wrong route. An avid golfer, when the bus passed the Colonial Country Club outside Harrisburg, he decided to take a look. He was in uniform, and members invited him to play.

At the course, he met Joanne, 20 at the time and a golfing enthusiast as well. They started talking, and Joanne liked the paratrooper’s brashness.

“My mother said I fell in love with his jump boots,” Joanne said, smiling.

Following Lynn Creason’s Army service the family returned to Harrisburg, where Joanne and Lynn worked for her father’s theater business.

Joanne also pursued her love of golf and was recognized as “one of the state’s top feminine golfers,” according to news accounts over about 20 years on the competitive circuit. She led a 1954 regional tournament with help from “one brilliant shot,” wrote a sports reporter.

“Choosing a 3-iron, she rifled a tremendous 160-yard hit dead to the pin,” the news story noted. “The ball hit the green, bounced once and rolled directly into the cup for an eagle-2. No other contestant in the tourney could better par-4 for the same hole.”

In her suite is a laminated photo from the August 3, 1952, Harrisburg Patriot-News in a year Joanne didn’t win the Harrisburg District Women’s golf championship. In the photo, she’s holding 7-week-old Jim while four of her other five children wave to her. “That’s OK Ma,” the caption is headed. “You’re still our champ.”

Today, the children and Joanne’s grandchildren live in the area and elsewhere, gathering for family get-togethers when they can.

Joanne likes life at Homeland.

“I’m able to do what I want,” she said. “The staff are just like family. If you need something, they’ll jump up and help.”

Homeland resident Polly Myers finds home wherever she goes

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Polly Myers and Paula BakerKorea. Honolulu. Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Yuma, Arizona. El Centro, California. Arlington, Virginia. Carlisle. Six elementary schools. Three high schools.

Homeland resident Polly Myers saw the USA and beyond, even before she graduated from high school. Her father, a West Point graduate, was a career Army engineer whose assignments took the family around the globe.

Through it all, Polly made friends and learned to adjust. Polly, who came to Homeland in 2014 and has served on the Board of Managers, said she loves Homeland’s warm and attentive atmosphere.

“Everyone is friendly,’’ said Polly, who is in the Skilled Care wing. “The staff cares, and it shows.’’

It was while studying economics at Wellesley College that Polly suddenly became a Central Pennsylvania resident.

While planning a trip home to Arlington, she received a call telling her that her parents were now living in Carlisle. It proved a fateful move: during another break, an acquaintance introduced her to Bob Myers, the man she would marry.

“He was a charmer,” she said. “Bob and I just had a good time.” One night, they met in New York, where she raged about a speaker at school who said that businesses shouldn’t hire women. In response, Bob said, “I have a job in mind for you. Taking care of me.”

Back among her Wellesley friends, a heated debate ensued. Was Polly engaged or not? Some thought yes. Some thought no.

“Bob called later that night and said he told his parents he was engaged,” said Polly. “So, then I decided it really was a proposal.”

They married days after Polly graduated. It was the beginning of quite a journey. They bought a home in Camp Hill, learning the night of settlement that Bob’s great-grandfather had built it. While their three children were still young, he was diagnosed with a form of bone marrow cancer and given only a few years to live.

At the same time, Polly’s best friend, Joanne Wickersham, was fighting breast cancer. Joanne’s son-in-law played for the NFL’s Houston Oilers, and the team doctor got her an appointment at a top treatment center in Houston. Polly sat with her friend through chemo. When she saw the advanced care provided there, she thought that maybe they could help her husband.

Bob would go on to beat cancer. Joanne did not. One night, during an impromptu visit, Joanne’s home-care nurse asked Polly to hold Joanne while she changed the sheets. Polly apologized to Joanne, saying she knew how much it would hurt.

“She looked at me and said, ‘You never could hurt me,’” Polly recalled, her voice choking with emotion.
“I pulled her to me, and she died. The nurse said that she felt free to go because I was holding her.”

Bob, a lawyer, entered politics after his cancer diagnosis. As a Democrat, he had lost a close race for district attorney. Then, party officials asked him to run for Congress, believing that President Lyndon B. Johnson would sweep back into office and pull in Democrats on his coattails.

“That’s fine,” said Polly, “but I don’t think LBJ is going to run again.” She was right, and Bob lost by 10,000 votes. When a state Senate seat opened, he finally got his term in office, serving in the state’s upper chamber from 1974 to 1976.

“He loved it,” she said of her husband, who died in 1993. “He was so good at it.”

As a family, with their son and two daughters, they vacationed at the beach and in the mountains. Now with seven grandchildren, Polly enjoys watching football and college basketball. At Homeland, she made a dear friend in former dietitian Paula Barker. Every other Thursday, Paula makes a meal using recipes Polly finds and they eat together at Homeland’s classic 1950s-style diner.

“I realize how lucky I’ve been,” she said. “I’m just comfortable here.”

Resident Spotlight: Donald Rudy’s work offers delicious memories

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Donald RudyIn the lunch meat business, there’s one thing you learn by doing.

“I had to learn to slice,” said Homeland resident Donald Rudy. In those days, slicers didn’t have automatic stackers, so the operator had to slice and stack as he went along. “You’ve got to have good coordination, and you had to be fast. It was a knack.”

For 22 years, Rudy’s Farmer’s Market, in the Progress area of Harrisburg, served customers the best in meats and cheeses. It continued a tradition started by Rudy’s father, who in 1919 opened Frank B. Rudy and Sons in the city’s Broad Street Market.

Don and his brother, Burton, got into the business, and their cousins had similar stands in other markets. Shipments of lunch meats and massive wheels of cheese would arrive, and everyone would get to work.

At Eastertime, there were whole hams to be cut. “One Easter, we sold 500 hams,” said Don. “Easter, Christmas, and Fourth of July were our big weeks.”

The Fourth of July also was a big day in Don’s life because that’s when in 1954, he married his wife, Frances. They met as teens at Broad Street Market, where Frances’ father, Lynn Farver, owned a produce stand. The only problem: She lived in Mechanicsburg, and he lived in Progress.

“We bus-dated,” Don said. “I’d take my bus, and she’d take her bus. It depended on where the movie was.”

Frances was 18 and Don was almost 19 when they got married. He kept working for his father. She joined the business, too, and also worked for a food producer. Everywhere Fran went, she spread joy. He remembered one day when they took separate seats on the bus, and he could hear her chatting with someone. He asked if she knew that person. “No,” she said. They just happened to be seatmates.

Their lives revolved around family. Don and Frances had four daughters. Don, his brother, and his parents built neighboring homes. Every Sunday, everyone from both sides of the family would gather at Don and Fran’s house for sandwiches, pinochle, and shooting pool.

In 1968, they decided to build their own market on Route 22, on the outskirts of Harrisburg. At Rudy’s Farmers Market, shoppers found everything they needed, sold by a variety of vendors – meats, cheese, seafood, bread. A grocery section carried canned goods and other staples.

Donald Rudy with daughtersUntil it closed in 1990, the market was “a gathering place,” said Don’s oldest daughter, Debbie Kurtz, who was visiting recently along with her sister, Cindy Thomas. “You always saw people at the same time every week. You knew who would come on Friday nights, and they would make hours of it.”

Don moved to Homeland after Frances came for rehab. In the months before her death in January 2018, she formed strong bonds with her Homeland caregivers.

“They took terrific care of my mother,” Debbie said. “They were very informative. They genuinely liked her, so there was a rapport.”

Today, Don is the proud grandfather of 11, and great-grandfather of 15, ages 1 to 23. He likes life at Homeland. He enjoys Sunday services. When he can find three other players, he enjoys playing pinochle.

“I have a nice apartment,” he said. “I like the staff here.”

Resident Spotlight: Colleen and Lester Grotzinger savor an active life

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Colleen and Lester GrotzingerSometimes, high school sweethearts blossom into sweethearts for a lifetime.

Colleen and Lester Grotzinger knew each other from around their high school in the northcentral Pennsylvania town of Renovo. At a New Year’s Eve Party, they started talking, which led to their first date.

Today, the recent Homeland residents savor 66 active and adventurous years together

Married in 1951, Colleen had just graduated from college, and Lester had just finished basic training after his Pittsburgh-based National Guard battalion activated for service. The Korean War was underway, but the Army didn’t send Lester to Korea. He served in anti-aircraft artillery installations along the East Coast.

“Most people don’t even know that at one point, U.S. cities were protected by anti-aircraft artillery,” he says. “The U.S. was afraid of Russia bombing East Coast cities.”

While he served two years in the Army, Colleen lived in off-base apartments or back home in Renovo. When he left the service, he finished his studies at Carnegie Mellon University and launched a career as a mechanical engineer.

Les always knew he wanted to be an engineer. Growing up, he helped his dad around the house, building things and trying to understand how they worked. He devoted his career to a company that manufactured equipment – often rotating, high-speed compressors, steam turbines, and gas turbines – for chemical plants and refineries.

“They were big machines,” he says “Some of them were up to 200,000 horsepower. I had a very good career.”

Colleen was a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania who majored in elementary education. In those days, she says career choices for women were limited to teaching or nursing. At Penn’s exclusive Wharton School of Business, women weren’t even allowed in the building. When the Grotzingers returned to Penn for her 50th reunion, the group was waiting for a visit by the university president. The president’s car pulled up, and out stepped a woman.

“Things have changed just a little bit,” Les remarked to Colleen.

Today, adds Colleen, “I have grandchildren going there now.”

Colleen taught language arts in a middle school. Some say that’s a difficult age to teach, but she learned to have fun with her students.

“They were funny, in a comical way,” she says. “They want to make each other laugh, but they also made me laugh.”

Living in the southwestern Pennsylvania town of Greensburg, she was active in the League of Women’s Voters. For 35 years, both were active in a book club that read “anything and everything,” Colleen says, and even sometimes gathered on New Year’s Eve to do a play reading.

They also took on the challenge of renovating a fixer-upper, which they purchased after Les got out of the Army and had little money. With his skills as a handyman, he did much of the work, replacing windows and wiring, plumbing and ductwork.

“Everything Colleen wanted, we added in one fell swoop,” Les says. “A big addition for a living room and a fireplace and a two-car garage and a patio, all in one swoop.”

Les’ work took him around the world, sometimes to remote spots in North Africa or western Canada. When it was possible, Colleen came along. They have traveled to all 50 states, plus Canada, the Caribbean, England, and Europe. In Germany, they visited the Bavarian village of Lester’s ancestors. In Ireland, they met relatives of Colleen’s still living in the family homestead near the Cliffs of Moher.

Colleen couldn’t pick a favorite spot among their travels. She’d be happy to “go back to any of them.” Lester recalled a memorable trip to Italy, where he appreciated “the culture and the openness of the society.”

Resident Spotlight: Elaine Golembiewski recalls fun times

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When Elaine Golembiewski and her friends had good government jobs, they had enough money for cars and freedom. From her home in Wilkes-Barre, she would take out-of-town excursions or have some fun at local spots.

“My girlfriends and I would never sit at home,” she says. “We liked to go out.”

Sometimes, they would take a train to New York City. Other days, they would meet up at a nearby town or Harvey’s Lake, the popular Northeastern Pennsylvania getaway known to locals and tourists alike as the go-to place for water sports and lakeside amusements.

“The bunch of us worked for the government, so we all had money,” she recalls. “We all had cars.” Today, she sees her excursions through the eyes of a parent. “When I think what I put my mother through,” she sighs.

Elaine Golembiewski, pronounced Go-lem-BES-ski, was born Elaine Bosha, pronounced Bo-SHAY. Her father worked for The Central Railroad in the nearby town of Ashley. She had a sister and two brothers, and she graduated from James M. Coughlin High School.

As an accounting technician at Tobyhanna Army Depot, she “worked with figures – big ones.” There at Tobyhanna, she met her husband, Stephen Golembiewski. Before their son, Steven, arrived, they often traveled by car to favorite spots, mostly in Florida.

Stephen and Elaine were married for 55 years, before he passed away. After Stephen retired, he stayed active fishing and hunting. Even with all that fresh fish and meat around, Mrs. Golembiewski couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it.

“Even my brothers were great hunters, but I would never eat it,” she recalls.

Coming to Homeland in late 2017, she enjoys playing cards with her fellow residents.

“It’s nice here,” she says.