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Kindness across the waves: a flag’s final voyage

6 Apr

Today I bring you a heartwarming story of kindness, respect and reconciliation.

The story was told to me by Webster resident Kathy Hertzel, whose father Bill served in the Pacific Theater in WWII. In November 1944, after fighting on the island of Leyte in the Philippines, he removed a silk battle flag from the body of a fallen Japanese soldier. Such battlefield souvenirs were common among Allied servicemen. 

The red disk in the center of the large flag, symbolizing the Rising Sun, was surrounded by names and symbols written in Japanese kanji. They included the soldier’s name – Matsujiro Yonaiyama – and well-wishes from family members and friends. A bullet hole and blood were also still visible. Bill realized the profound personal significance of what he had found, so he folded the flag carefully and tucked it inside a leather pouch to keep it safe during the long trip home after the war. 

Bill stored the pouch in his dresser, bringing it out only occasionally to show visitors. Kathy remembers how carefully her father took care of it, making sure she knew it was a precious artifact that should be respected. As a young girl, she was fascinated by the flag, slowly yellowing with age, and often wondered about the young man who wore the flag so bravely as he fought in the war.

For years, the flag remained mostly forgotten, until 1978, when Bill showed it to a Japanese colleague. She was able to translate some of the writing, including the soldier’s name. That discovery gave the flag a human identity. 

Bill died later that year, so he was never able to continue his search. But in 1995, on the 50th anniversary of the end of the war in the Pacific, his daughter Kathy took up the cause. 

Her first efforts – writing to the Japanese consulate in New York City and the U.S. Ambassador to Japan – fell on deaf ears. Several years later, a friend suggested she contact a colleague of hers in California whose roommate was Japanese. That attempt was much more successful. 

The roommate, Tishi Washizu, agreed to help. He carried photos of the flag back to Tokyo, where the national newspaper Asahi Shimbun picked up the story. On January 28, 2000, Shigejiro Yonaiyama saw the article, recognized his brother’s name and contacted the local newspaper bureau; they, in turn, relayed the message to Kathy.

Kathy knew it was imperative that the flag be returned to the family, so she quickly arranged for its journey home. After carefully packing the heirloom, she sent it back to where it had started more than 55 years before. In an accompanying letter, she wrote, “It is with much joy that I send this flag on its final voyage.”

On March 19, 2000, the flag was placed in the hands of Matsujiro’s brother and nephew, and that same day it was presented at Matsujiro’s empty grave.  

Here’s an especially touching twist to this story: the family never knew what had happened to Matsujiro. They’d been told that he’d died when the ship carrying him from Manchuria to Leyte sank, and never even knew the time or place of his death. All they had received to remember him by was an empty box with his name on it. Now, thanks to the efforts of Kathy Hertzel and many others, the memory of Matsujiro Yonaiyama lives on, in a battle flag which hangs proudly on a shrine in his brother’s home.

* * *

(posted 4/6/2026)

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Hear ye, hear ye! Never-ending happy hour receives proclamation

30 Mar

This is kinda fun.

At least three times now, I’ve written about the fun-loving, close-knit Brooksboro Drive neighbors. Beginning March 22, 2020 (at the height of COVID), they began meeting at the end of Jack Turan’s driveway for a kind of “happy hour,” sharing a beverage, conversation and a few laughs. 

They were dubbed “Yak With Jack” happy hours, and the last time I featured them in the blog was last September, when the neighbors marked their 2,000th straight happy hour. That’s more than five years when at least two neighbors (and usually more), grabbed a beverage and met at Jack’s house, every night, regardless of the weather.

If you read that blog, you’ll see that the plan was to finally call an end to the happy hours. But we all know how difficult it is to bring something with that much momentum to a hard stop. So of course, despite Jack’s best intentions, the happy hours continued.

So now here’s the fun part of this story. Last Sunday, March 22, the happy hours reached their six-year milestone. And this time they didn’t just have a party; the accomplishment was officially recognized by Webster Town Supervisor Alex Scialdone — a regular happy hour participant — who presented Jack Turan and the assembled neighbors with an official proclamation.

The text of the proclamation read:

Proclamation in Recognition of Yakville

WHEREAS, the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic caused schools to close, businesses to shutter, and social establishments to lock their doors. It was a time of isolation for millions of Americans who might otherwise seek camaraderie and their or beverage of choice at a local establishment; and

WHEREAS, during a period of intense social seclusion and inspired by the approach of some towns in Italy to maintain some semblance of community, “Yakville” was born. The end of a driveway became the daily designated gathering spot for a community that missed its “village”; and

WHEREAS, 2026 marks six years since Jack Turan established the inaugural Happy Hour in the Brooksboro community. The practice continues as long as at least two people gather together for at least fifteen minutes. Upwards of eight families now participate with the desire to socialize with neighbors and friends who have become family over these many years; and

WHEREAS, while the end of this tradition has been teased, it continues today. It has survived inclement weather, mourned the loss of family and friends, and celebrated countless special occasions; and

WHEREAS, the community and relationships built through this daily gathering will endure long after the final happy hour draws to a close; and

NOW, THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED, on this 22nd day of March in the year 2026, on behalf of the Webster Town Supervisor’s office and the Webster community, we recognize an incredible group that came together during one of the most challenging times in our history and has sustained an inspirational sense of community through the years.

Congratulations, “Yakville” and long may you gather.

* * *

(posted 3/30/2026)

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A positive look at all those &%$*@! potholes

28 Mar

Everyone pretty much agrees: the potholes this year are AWFUL — worse than we can remember seeing in a long time. We can thank the extra harsh winter we had this year, complete with its repetitive freezing-then-thawing-then-freezing again cycles. But knowing why it happens doesn’t mean we’re not going to gripe about it. Especially when one of those huge holes takes out a tire or ball joint.

So until the Town and Village and New York State have a chance to get out and fill all those holes, we have to look for the positives in the pothole situation. Like how serpentining around them makes you feel like you’re the main character in Mario Kart. Or how you can have fun playing “Count the Potholes” with your kids as you drive them to school.

But here’s something neat that two of my readers actually alerted me to: the potholes on Main Street by Golden Boys are so deep that you can actually see down to the original brick pavers.

I reached out to Webster Town Historian Lynn Barton to see if she could provide some historical details, like how long ago it was that Main Street was paved with bricks. She believes the bricks were laid sometime in the 1920s, perhaps when the Blue Line Trolley was rumbling through town, but she can’t be certain. So those potholes could be revealing a hundred years of history.

If you get the Webster Herald, you’ll want to check it out next week; Lynn will be submitting a “brick” photo dated 1937. She also sent along the photo below, taken in 2015 in front of Barry’s Old School Irish when the Village was doing some work there. “Every time they need to dig up the road, we lose bricks,” she said.

You never know how and when local history will enrich our lives. We just have to look for it and appreciate it.

* * *

(posted 3/28/2026)

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Bygone Blog: Let the litter games begin!

21 Mar

You probably didn’t notice it, but spring officially arrived on Friday morning, in all its cold, cloudy and rainy glory. The occasion made me think of a spring day 13 years ago when we were still living off of Hatch Rd. in North Penfield. Jack and I would take a walk every day around our neighborhood, and every spring would be dismayed at the number of advertising flyers that were littering the ground.

I actually wrote two blogs about that. The first was in 2012, and this follow-up a year later.

* * *

Let the Litter Games Begin!

(Originally posted March 31, 2013)

Around this time last year I posted a blog about G&G Sealcoating and its marketing literature. Specifically, it was about how their marketing literature was strewn all over our neighborhood. In one two-day period last April, my husband Jack and I picked up almost 30 of the flyers along our regular two-mile walking route through the neighborhood. They had fluttered out of the newspaper boxes where they had been carelessly stuffed, extracted by the strong spring winds.

Since then, I’ve always considered this particular company to be King of the Litterers. I thought their neighborhood trashing record would stand forever.

But on Friday, it was in real danger.

On Friday afternoon, Jack and I were on that very same two-mile walk when we noticed a glossy white flyer at the side of the road. We thought at first our seal-coating friends had gotten an early start on their littering in defense of their title. But we were surprised to see it was an entirely new contender in the litter derby — a lawn care company. A little farther down the road we found a second. Then a third. We began to think that maybe, just maybe, this company was going to mount a serious challenge for the title.

All of a sudden we became much more vigilant as we walked, carefully inspecting lawns and bushes. At one point we split up along two conjoined side streets to cover more ground. Sure enough, by the time we met back up at the far end, we had both collected a handful of glossy white flyers. But we also had collected a handful of glossy green flyers.

Yes, ANOTHER lawn care company had joined the contest. Game on.

Things got serious. We started keeping score. White Lawn Care Company (WLCC) had the early lead by virtue of all the flyers from the early part of the walk. But Green Lawn Care Company (GLCC) quickly made up the deficit. Before long the score was neck-and-neck. There were several lead changes. By the time we got home we’d lost count, and we were honestly excited to see if WLCC had been able to pull it out in the end.

But it wasn’t to be. The final tally was 18 WLCC flyers, 19 GLCC flyers.

So our heartiest congratulations to Green Lawn Care Company. Their total was far short of Driveway Seal-Coating Company’s record-setting 30 flyers, but they CAN claim the title of “Most Prolific Neighborhood Litterer of the Spring” so far. Enjoy that winning feeling, GLCC, for it will be fleeting. Driveway Seal-Coating Company — King of the Litterers — should be rejoining the game in a week or two. 

* * *

Fortunately, I haven’t seen this issue cropping up in the village, but I wonder if it’s still happening in my old neighborhood?

* * *

(posted 3/21/2026)

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A St. Patrick’s Day legend

15 Mar

So how are you planning to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day this year? Gonna try to squeeze into a pub? Go to a house party? Or maybe just hang out at home and sip a Guinness?

The decision is an easy one for us. My family’s had a standing invitation every year to the St. Patrick’s Day party hosted by our friends the Hollerans. Mary and Jim have been hosting this shindig for more than 30 years. Every year the mix of party-goers changes a bit, as new friends and neighbors are met, old friends move out of town, toddlers grow into adulthood, and new babies are born. But through it all, we can count on one thing: the story of the birth of my third child will be told, and it will have become more outlandish.

The real story goes like this:

On March 17, 1994, I was nine months pregnant and expecting my third child on March 30. As was our custom, my two children (then ages 7 and 4) and I were at the Hollerans’ St. Patrick’s Day party. My husband Jack worked nights at the time and hadn’t arrived yet.

I’d been very careful throughout my pregnancy not to consume any alcohol, but thought it would be safe to have just one beer that evening, which I did. I drove myself and the kids home relatively early.

Somewhat later that evening I started feeling rather “weird,” so I called Jack (who by this time had gotten to the party) and warned him not to be too late. Sure enough, later that night I went into labor and my youngest daughter Erin was born the next morning.

Naturally, a connection was immediately made between the one beer I had and the fact I went into labor almost two weeks early. That was the simple seed from which the legend has grown.

Every year the story gets a bit more … entertaining. These days when the story is told, there’s no telling what new facts we might discover. In previous years, for example, we’ve learned that Jack ignored my phone call and refused to go home. And that Mary, the party’s hostess, was the one to say the fateful words, “Oh, one beer won’t make a difference” and now regrets it.

Depending on who’s telling the story, I enjoyed 30 jello shots … or downed two pitchers of margaritas … or did a keg stand with the pope. Kinda wondering where the story will take us this year.

I hope your St. Patrick’s Day evening is not quite so exciting.

***

Here’s a fun memory I came across recently, taken at Lynn Pilaroscia’s annual “Stand Around and Play Some Tunes,” which used to be held at the White House in Webster Park every June. Erin was just over two years old here and was clearly already in training. I guess when your birth is famously credited to a single St. Paddy’s Day beer, mastering the keg pump isn’t just a hobby — it’s a birthright.

* * *

(posted 3/8/2026)

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My driveway is messy again!

5 Mar

For me, the surest sign of spring is when my driveway is once again full of artistic chalk drawings.

Well, “artistic” might be a bit of a stretch. After all, we are talking about “art” created by preschoolers, who — whenever the weather allows — come by my house and enjoy the simple pleasure of scribbling with chalk. Everywhere.

Every day, just before lunch, my friend Laura rolls by with some little friends, for whom she provides daycare. Some days there may be only four of them, other days more like six or eight. At least two, often three or four, are tucked into a stroller, while the rest toddle alongside. My house is a regular stop on their daily walks, and the kids have come to expect a box of chalk waiting for them when they arrive.

But this winter has been long and snowy and cold, and the messy sidewalks not fit for strollers. I hadn’t seen the daycare caravan for what seemed like forever. But then, on Wednesday, when it was sunny and the temperature hit 50 degrees, I got a text: “We’re heading out for a walk. Will you be home?”

I assured Laura that I would, made a cup of coffee and sat out on my porch to watch for them. Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, I saw the advance guard running down the sidewalk towards my house as furiously as their little legs could take them. My knees enjoyed several hugs.

You see the result of their visit. It’s all rather Neo-Expressionistic, but if you look closely, you’ll see moons and flowers and rainbows and some kind of bird. I think.

Next week’s weather is supposed to be spring-like, so I look forward to getting more knee-hugs and my driveway being messed up several more times in the coming days. It just makes my heart happy.

* * *

(posted 3/4/2026)

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Looking for more veterans’ stories from Webster — and some help

26 Feb

Several weeks ago I posted a blog about the 2026 theme for Wreaths Across America, scheduled for Saturday Dec. 19: “Remember Me: Stories From the Home Front.” The idea is to ensure that the individual names, families, and sacrifices of our veterans are not just recognized collectively at the Wreaths Across America ceremony, but also remembered personally.

To support this effort, local Wreaths Across America Coordinator Cherie Wood would like to share your veterans’ stories. She wants to hear from anyone who has a tie to Webster — either the veteran or the person submitting the story — about your service or the service of a veteran family member or friend. The stories don’t have to be about local soldiers, or someone who died in battle. They can be from recent conflicts or from long ago.

In that original blog, I started the ball rolling with a story about my paternal grandfather, Orville William Best, from Kansas City, Missouri, who fought in WWI. Just eight days before the end of the fighting in Europe, he was injured in a mustard gas attack by the Germans, and suffered a machine gun wound to the stomach.

Recently, local Wreaths coordinator received another story, from Kathy Hertzel.

Kathy wrote,

My father was William (Bill) Hertzel who served in the Pacific Theater during WW II. He and my mother were married on November 21, 1941, 17 days before the attack on Pearl Harbor. He subsequently was drafted and left in March 1942. He was 27 years old and would be gone until December 1945.

My father was a sergeant in the Army’s 77th Infantry Division, 305th Battalion and fought on various islands including Leyte and was a part of Operation Iceberg which was the invasion of Okinawa. He did not say much to me about his wartime experiences but would tell me how he used flame throwers into the caves and how horrible that was.

My father was awarded the Bronze Star for the battle of Okinawa. Like other soldiers he brought several souvenirs home, taken from fallen Japanese soldiers. One was a Japanese flag which was worn around a soldier’s waist, on which was the soldier’s name and well wishes. I was able to return the flag to that soldier’s family in 2002 with the help of a colleague in locating the family.

As well as my father’s service, his father fought in the Spanish American War and his grandfather in the Civil War including at Appomattox.

Now it’s your turn. This year, let’s do more than just remember the battles that were fought. Let’s really try to remember the individual soldiers who sacrificed so many things when they were fighting for our country. If you’d like to submit a story for this inspirinng Webster project, email your story to WebsterWreaths@icloud.com, including where the veteran served, when, and include a photo or video if possible.

Now here’s another way you can help:

Cherie is looking for people in the Webster community who would like to help collect these stories. Someone who would enjoy interviewing veterans, their spouses and families — basically, chat with people who don’t have access to computers, but would like to share their stories. Think about, perhaps, residents at senior care facilities who would have trouble typing up their story and wouldn’t have a clue how to upload a photo.

If we’re going to do a good job of capturing our veterans’ stories, we’re going to need some help. If you’re interested, email Cherie Wood at WebsterWreaths@icloud.com.

* * *

(posted 2/26/2026)

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My return to martial arts has taken an unexpected twist

25 Feb

Sometimes my blogs take on a life of their own. I start out with a solid plan of what I want to write about, how to structure it and how to do the research. But then something happens that messes that plan up completely. Today’s story is a one of those.

For several days now I’ve been planning to write about my recent return to martial arts. I studied Shotokan karate for twenty years, but after a decade away from the dojo, I recently felt a sudden urge to dive back in. Fortunately, I quickly found a new karate family that made the decision to start again an easy one.

That school — that family — is Golden Eagle Martial Arts, located at the Webster Recreation Center. Its style is American Freestyle Karate. Based primarily on Kyokushin techniques, it offers a little bit of everything: fundamentals, self-defense, kata (forms), sparring, weapons and breaking. When I went to watch a class, I was pleasantly surprised to see that most of its basic techniques and katas were closely aligned with my Shotokan training.

In addition to the “my-getting-back-into-karate” angle, a second hook for the blog was going to be the fact that the dojo recently marked its 30th anniversary. The school opened in 1996 when the Webster Recreation Center was still located in the old Ridgecrest School on Ebner Dr. After a temporary move to Klem North during the renovation of the Xerox facility on Chiyoda Dr., the program found its permanent home there.

Aside from its close alignment with my former style, there was a lot to love about this school. I saw kids and adults training side by side, guided by the strong leadership of Shihan Matt, Sensei Mike and Sensei Mary Lou, whose teaching styles expertly balanced discipline with a sense of fun. It’s family focused; on the day I was there, a mom, dad and their three kids were training together. And it’s very affordable, especially when compared to a lot of other martial arts schools in the area.

I was hooked. I would definitely be signing up for the next session, and I started to compose my blog and congratulate the school on its 30th anniversary.

But that’s when the story took an abrupt turn.

Earlier this week, at the beginning of class, Shihan Matt sat all the students down and announced that, thanks to some annoying health issues, he has to close the school. It was clearly a very difficult announcement for him to make, and certainly a decision that he did not make lightly. Before him sat adults and youths who had studied at the school for years, children who were just beginning their martial arts journeys, and one older adult who was looking forward to getting back into the dojo after a long hiatus. We all sat in stunned silence.

Matt announced that the dojo’s last day will be Monday, June 15. However, he did offer a glimmer of hope, mentioning that there are preliminary talks about potentially keeping the school going — which might mean a different location or different instructors — if things can be worked out.

So there is hope that Golden Eagle Martial Arts will be able to continue its long tradition of providing affordable family fun, and continue to provide children and adults with the lifelong benefits of martial arts. In the meantime, I have almost four full months of quality karate training ahead of me, and I’m going to take advantage of every minute.

And by the way, congratulations on 30 years, Golden Eagle Martial Arts!

* * *

(posted 2/25/2026)

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A bit of whimsy at Five Mile Line

21 Feb

I’ve often said that my favorite blog ideas come from my readers. Today’s tidbit is a really good example of that.

It comes from my Webster Rec workout buddy Beth, who told me the other day about an unusual little Christmas tree that someone has erected along the eastbound Five Mile Line exit ramp off Rt. 104. It’s on the north side of the ramp, just before you get to the light at Five Mile Line.

I had a chance to drive by it this morning and snap a photo (fortunately there was no one behind me). It’s a scraggly little thing (think Charlie Brown), adorned with some blue garland and a few ornaments. Beth tells me it’s been there for a while and the decorations keep being updated. I think she also said there were lights on it, but I was wondering how that could be. But then I looked more closely at the photo I took and saw some wires which seemed to lead to a miniature solar panel attached to the railing. Someone has really put some effort into this.

Thank you to the playful soul who came up with this little bit of whimsy. If it makes even one person smile when they’re having a tough day, it’s well worth it.

Thanks for the idea, Beth.

* * *

(posted 2/21/2026)

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Young dancers spread kindness, share joy with local elders

16 Feb

Here’s a nice little story about how the students at Dancing With Denise share happiness and kindness with the older generation.

Studio owner Denise Baller calls it the “Yaya Project,” named in honor of her mother Tina, who passed away in 2019. The studio recently celebrated its 40th anniversary, and from the very beginning, “Miss Tina” — whom Denise’s kids affectionately called “Yaya” — was a friendly, smiling face greeting everyone who entered the waiting room.

After Tina passed away, Denise wanted to come up with some way to continue spreading the happiness and kindness that her mother would share every day. The Yaya Project was born.

Every year (sometimes around Valentine’s Day, sometimes at Christmas), Dancing With Denise students each donate $5 to “adopt” a Gramma or Grampa. Denise takes all the donations and purchases small gifts, like fluffy socks, candy, stuffed animals and note pads. The students then make up small gift bags, which they deliver to residents of local nursing homes, assisted living facilities and memory care homes.

Denise makes weekly visits to elder care facilities, and this year on Valentine’s Day was able to deliver 40 gift bags to the residents. Some years she’s been able to deliver as many as 100.

Denise believes her Yaya Project is a great way to teach children the importance of being kind.

It’s a kind gesture to teach the kids that it doesn’t cost a lot of money to make someone smile! My mom loved “volunteering” as she would say, making everyone happy by her presence at the front desk! So in keeping her memory alive, every week I travel to various homes where elders live and share my love of music and dance with them, making them smile! A little love goes a long way!

The Yaya Project is a great example of how Denise takes her lessons well beyond the studio. By fostering community connections, she teaches her students that dance is not just a skill, but a powerful vehicle for spreading joy and making our world a better place.

* * *

(posted 2/16/2026)

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