Stacy Horn

The other day I couldn’t focus on anything so I just starting googling my street address. Among the people I came across who lived in my building were: a soviet spy, a movie actress, a holocaust survivor and a jilted lover.

Lydia Altschuler. From the FBI’s website: “Another tantalizing set of clues to Soviet intelligence emerged in the ALTO Case, where the Bureau intercepted coded messages passed from Soviet agents in Mexico to a mail drop in the United States run by a Lydia Altschuler for whom the case was named … the Bureau learned that these messages concerned Soviet attempts to free Trotsky’s assassin.”

The mail drop was my building!! I couldn’t find a picture of Lydia Altschuler, or anything about her later life. I’m guessing she changed her name.

Lynne Carver. This is Lynne playing the wife of Scrooge’s nephew in the 1938 version of A Christmas Carol, the one with Reginald Owen. Her career kinda stalled in the 1940’s and she moved to New York. Sadly, she died on August 12, 1955, a month before her 39th birthday. So young. Her husband at the time was William J. Mullhaney, so he must have lived here too, but I haven’t found much out about him yet. He was a former stage director who worked for Pitney-Bowes.

Max Krolik. From the New York Times obituary. “Max Krolik, an assistant professor of at St. John’s University, Jamaica, Queens, died Sunday after a short illness at his home … He was 42 years old.” Another one who died too young! He died on February 7, 1971. He’d published some papers on graph theory, but he was working on his doctorate and was still at the beginning of his career.

Update: A former student of Max Krolik’s, Dr. Robert O. Stanton, wrote a lovely tribute to him. It’s quite moving even if you didn’t know him!

When I googled his name to learn more about him I found this picture of him and his sister Rosa at the Chateau de la Hille on the website for the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

“Both were brought to the USA in 1941 through the efforts of Mme. Lilly Felddegen as part of a group of 100 children rescued by the US Committee on European Children, chaired by Marshall Field.” The complete story is here.

Finally, I found this short piece in the September 5, 1895 New York Times. I haven’t learned anything about Alberte Danes or Ferdinand Schueter/Sehueter yet, but that’s going to take a trip to the library, I think. The next time I’m there I’ll look them up. I’d really like to learn just which apartment each of these people lived in.

Before reading my post I strongly recommend watching Eric Whitacre’s Ted talk about his Virtual Choir. It’s only 14 minutes, and it’s probably the first time I’ve ever seen someone effectively communicate the sheer joy and beauty of singing in a choir. Just click on the link. You won’t regret it. After watching it I had to be a part of the next Virtual Choir, whenever that was.

I joined the mailing list and last month we all got our instructions about which piece we were doing and details about how to record and upload your entry. My plan was to practice right up until the January 31st deadline, and record my part the day before or some such. Then I remembered I was going to have a mouth full of ugly teeth as of January 12th.

So last Thursday I swam, blow dried my hair, and submitted my part. It was absolutely terrifying. I’m going to work very hard to describe it for my book, but the bottom line is: fear. Exposed to the world, “everyone is going to know how badly I sing” fear. Then euphoria. There is nothing like confronting something that terrifies you and doing it. Nothing.

Watch the video. If you want to do this too, go here.

I’m getting my teeth pulled Thursday and it’s over-shadowing everything. Tomorrow for instance, is the start of the new choir semester, and we’re singing the Verdi Requiem. I’ve never sung it before, but we sang a little of it at the holiday caroling party in December, and you could tell by just those few snippets how gorgeous it is.

But all I can think about is after this week I’ll be going to choir rehearsals with a mouth of ugly teeth. Oh! I have to explain. My top teeth are capped, four of them, and they are pulling those when they pull the teeth. So I will have two fake teeth and two ugly temporary caps on the other teeth. To recap: a mouth of ugly teeth.

Okay, now I want to cry. I promise it won’t be all-teeth, all the time here. Except this week it kinda might be. By next week I will be resigned to it and hopefully moving on. With my mouth of ugly teeth.

Christmas lights on Perry Street. I love walking through these. I feel like a Christmas princess.

I warn you, this is extremely sad. You should know in advance that the kid in the videos, Ben Breedlove, died not long after making them, and on Christmas. You will fall in love with him and then know that he is no longer on this earth. I don’t even know why I’m posting about him, it’s like spreading heartbreak. I guess I just want to acknowledge the passing of this impossibly sweet kid.

There are two videos: part one, and part two.

I’m applying for these two programs, and I went to a presentation about the Residency program last night and learned that they desperately need math and science teachers.

It seemed to me that in this economy there might be a lot of people with math and science backgrounds who might consider it. I was surprised at just how appealing I find the idea of teaching in low-income, high-need middle and high schools, but I do, and after learning more, now I’m dying to do it.

A resident from the program spoke about what she did and told the story of helping this girl, and as she talked I started remembering every teacher who ever said a kind word, or did something to help me, and how they changed my life. It’s a cliche, I know, but I’ve never forgotten one kind word or one gesture, every single one of them had that big an impact on my life. Maybe because, in truth, they were so rare. So many teachers in my past seemed to really hate their job, and us, I’m sorry to say. But I never give those teachers a thought. I was remembering the good ones, like the first one to say to me, “You could be a writer.”

“Imagine being that person,” the woman giving the presentation said, “and not just for one student, but for many of them. Over years.” God knows we need more mathematicians and scientists. You could be the teacher to make a difference between a so-so life for some kid, or one that puts them on the path towards creating computer chips using quantum mechanics or to finally come up a workable unified field theory. (And I will be the one who taught them how to write clear and concise papers about it all!)

Although there is an initial deadline of January 9th for early consideration, the final deadline is January 30th so you have time. The application actually doesn’t take long to do, so it’s completely possible to make the January 9th deadline. For more information, click here.

Poor sad unwanted Christmas trees. Used and then tossed aside.