My Thanksgiving trip to Charleston, S.C., almost didn’t happen. Friends were to drive me to Union Station (the new departure point for the Connecticut Limo) which I was taking to go to Bradley Airport. Due to a misunderstanding, they never came to pick me up.

Even though in recent years I’ve simplified my Christmas giving, this year I find Christmas approaching at a pace I’m unable to match. At my present rate of speed, I might just be ready by Valentine’s Day.


When I downsized and moved, I did get rid of much Christmas memorabilia; still there was the small, permanently lit table tree to unpack, the few Annalee dolls and candles and the big Santa that formerly stood by the fireplace. I also bought some red poinsettia plants, and I do enjoy the holiday feeling the apartment now has.


But as yet, I haven’t been to a department store, shopping mall or mailed out one Christmas card. Who were that strange breed of folks who rushed out after Thanksgiving dinner to buy some electronic device on sale? I don’t know of anyone who did that!


I’ve received so many store coupons in the mail, I could wallpaper an entire room with them. No sooner did “Black Friday” expire, than “Friends and Family” arrived, followed by “Early Bird Specials,” close on the heels of “Blowout Sales,” which if you missed, you could still get to “Senior Day Monday.”


I could almost feel guilty for not heeding any of these urgent calls to buy, buy, buy, except that personally I feel saddened by the tendency to turn Christmas into a shopping orgy rather than a holiday with deep spiritual roots meant to gladden everyone’s heart. Where I have spent time so far, is in seeing and being with business associates and friends at various gatherings and events.


Special holiday lunches and dinners give us a chance to renew acquaintances as well as review accomplishments of the past year. My work and the many organizations to which I belong are dedicated to informing or helping seniors, and the chance to review those efforts and make plans for new ones is very rewarding.


There are so many wonderful plays, concerts, exhibits and other activities in the New Haven area and on the Shoreline that we all can enjoy if we can simplify some of the unnecessary obligations we have come to accept as part of Christmas. Although I enjoy fanciful and creative gift wrapping, this year, I am saving time by using simple gift bags for most presents. Topped with colorful tissue paper, they look pretty, are easy for me and for the recipient.


In addition to giving gift cards to restaurants or the theater, I like to shop locally; church bazaars and the Guilford Art Center always have unique and useful gifts. Even with all the above-mentioned shortcuts, I know I will run out of time so apologies in advance, if I don’t respond to your email or letter until well after the holidays.


Also know, dear reader, that I wish you joyful, stress-free days in happy anticipation of the holiday time to come. Meanwhile, Santa dear, could you slow down the reindeer, just a little bit ... Please?


Contact Jean Cherni, certified senior adviser for Senior Living Solutions and Pearce Plus, a helpful, full-service program for seniors contemplating a move, at jeancherni@sbcglobal.net or 49 Rose St., Apt. 510, Branford, 06405.

I'm reading: My Thanksgiving trip to Charleston, S.C., almost didn’t happen. Friends were to drive me to Union Station (the new departure point for the Connecticut Limo) which I was taking to go to Bradley Airport. Due to a misunderstanding, they never came to pick me up.

A cousin in Charleston, S.C., showed off her fine city

My Thanksgiving trip to Charleston, S.C., almost didn’t happen. Friends were to drive me to Union Station (the new departure point for the Connecticut Limo) which I was taking to go to Bradley Airport. Due to a misunderstanding, they never came to pick me up.


Waiting outside my apartment building and frantically trying to reach them by phone, I was just about out of time when help appeared in the form of my neighbors, Vera and John DePalma ,leaving to do errands. Instead, sensing my frantic state of mind, they threw my bags into their car and drove me to New Haven, just in time to make the limo.


I had obtained my limo reservation, airline ticket, boarding pass and even paid in advance for my luggage, all by computer because unless you are flying first class, help is no longer available at the airport, and there are no longer any “niceties” like pillows or food service during your flight.


Finally, arriving in Charleston, where my cousin Faith and her husband, Gary, met me, I was surprised to see cabbage palmetto trees; I didn’t realize they existed that far north.


Charleston itself, which I toured the next day via horse-drawn carriage, is indeed a charming city with block after block of elegant old homes as well as a downtown shopping area featuring all the latest upscale brands plus a several block-long covered arcade known as the Marketplace where artisans sell unique, handcrafted sweetgrass baskets, one of the oldest forms of African art, alongside costume jewelry, scarves and other souvenirs.


Charleston is now the only place in America where the craft is still practiced. Originally used to collect and store vegetables, the baskets come in an amazing variety of shapes and sizes with larger more complicated ones commanding prices of almost $1,000. Since I am a basket devotee and already have a collection from different foreign countries on my kitchen walls, I succumbed to a small, simple one as my remembrance of Charleston.


As you walk or drive through the city, ornate and beautiful ironwork gates and fences can be admired everywhere. On a portion of East Bay Street, 13 historic houses known as Rainbow Row have been painted in different pastel colors. Also evident on many of the buildings are the metal rods used to strengthen the floor joists of homes that had been damaged in the 1886 earthquake.


Time did not permit a visit to either Fort Sumter where the first shots of the Civil War were fired, or to one of the many plantation homes, especially beautiful, I was told, in the spring. I did, however, visit Charleston’s two major museums, the Gibbes Museum of Art, which had a small, disappointing collection, and the far superior Charleston Museum, founded in 1773 and the country’s oldest museum.


Thanksgiving wouldn’t be the same without lots of food, and in addition to a large gathering with neighbors on the holiday itself, we ate out quite often. I tried she crab soup (delicious), hominy grits (like a watery rice pudding) crab cakes and spicy shrimp (both delicious). My cousins live on James Island, across a causeway and about 15 minutes from downtown.


While their home faces a lovely small man-made lake, James Island itself, like others in the area, offer beach-front living and wonderful water views, very much like the waterfront areas of our Connecticut shoreline towns. The new homes there, however, are all built with no basements, but long stairways leading to the front door and then once inside, there is a “Tara-like” entryway with another long staircase leading to the upstairs.


Many out-of-town, younger retirees have settled here, but I predict a huge exodus when they all reach their 80s, some 20 years from now. Meanwhile, y’all take care till next Sunday when we can visit together again.


Contact Jean Cherni, certified senior adviser for Senior Living Solutions and Pearce Plus, a helpful, full-service program for seniors contemplating a move, at jeancherni@sbcglobal.net or 49 Rose St., Apt. 510, Branford, 06405.

I'm reading: A cousin in Charleston, S.C., showed off her fine city

‘Spectacular’ aptly describes exhibits at The Metropolitan Museum of Art

At present, with extended walking both painful and difficult, I carefully weigh the effort involved in any activity against the anticipated gain. Although I came home exhausted after the trip, a recent visit and day spent at The Metropolitan Museum in New York provided enough beauty and excitement to make up for all the discomfort.


If you are planning a Christmas trip into the city, skip a few store windows and spend time with several current treasures, now on view at the museum. First, for lovers of breathtaking fabrics and textiles, “Interwoven Globe: The Worldwide Textile Trade, 1500–1800” is a feast for the eyes of fabrics, embroideries, textiles, woven, dyed and printed, from all over the world. From wall hangings to garments and quilts, tapestries and capes, kimonos and religious vestments, the collection is almost overwhelming in scope and beauty.


It is interesting to see how, as trade with the Far East evolved and wealthy Europeans sought out exotic fabrics for their homes and personal wardrobes, artisans in China, India and Japan adapted their skills to Western tastes. The exhibit runs through Jan. 5.


A second, much smaller, but also delightful exhibit, features objects from one of the world’s longest-running dynasties (57 B.C-.935 A.D.), dominating the Korean peninsula, “Silla”, Korea’s golden kingdom, is something most of us have never heard about; until now, there had been no major exhibit of this kingdom’s art in the West.


Excavated from royal tombs, glittering gold jewelry and pottery is dazzling. A queen’s crown in the form of a gold headband with attached, branch-like elements made of thin, gold sheets encrusted with small oval pieces of jade, is a stunner. Two remarkable bodhisattva are featured; one a 3-foot high sculpture in gilded bronze is serenely beautiful, the other toward the end of the exhibit, is in a room of its own, a massive cast-iron Buddha, that surprises you with its size and power.


The Silla exhibit is on view until Feb. 2. As I walked through the museum after lunch, I spied several workers on movable, electric conveyances, putting up the famous Christmas tree. I never knew that it comes in labeled sections, like a crossword puzzle. The tree features more than 200 elaborate Neapolitan creche figures.


After resting on one of the infrequent benches, I made a final stop before departing for Grand Central Station at a delightful exhibit of Venetian glass on the ground floor. Featuring more than 300 works by Carlo Scarpa, a young Venetian architect who created designs for the Venini Co., using innovative new techniques, the exhibit includes large colorful pieces as well as small works of cobweb-like delicacy.


There was not enough time to revisit the outstanding new, Islamic galleries (which I have previously visited twice). I can’t seem to get my fill of this beautiful collection; and if you have not previously seen these galleries, you absolutely must include them.


Arriving home after the lengthy train trip, I literally fell into bed, a worn out sightseer, but with enough beautiful memory pictures to keep me happy for some time.


Contact Jean Cherni, certified senior adviser for Senior Living Solutions and Pearce Plus, a helpful, full-service program for seniors contemplating a move, at jeancherni@sbcglobal.net or 49 Rose St., Apt. 510, Branford, 06405.

I'm reading: ‘Spectacular’ aptly describes exhibits at The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Branford columnist remembers JFK’s death like it was yesterday

So much has been written, spoken and televised this past week about the 50th anniversary of JFK’s assassination and death, that I hesitate to attempt to add to the far more profound and able writers on the subject, and yet somehow I cannot allow the event to pass without making my own small observation.


It is only my senior age group that retains a vivid memory of that day. My sons were too small and have vague recollections while my daughter was not yet born.


The memory is as vivid as if it were yesterday; and yet 50 years ago, my life and the life of this country were so vastly different than they are today. We had just returned from living in Japan for an extended period and had barely settled into an apartment in Peter Cooper Village, a large complex in New York City.


I was on my way to pick up my boys from school and bring them home for lunch, and I had stopped first at the laundromat on First Avenue to drop off some small rugs. As I emerged from there, my eye caught a woman standing on the sidewalk, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Concerned, I went over and put my hand on her arm and asked if I could help her.


“Haven’t you heard?” she replied, “The president has been shot.” We hugged, and then I walked the remaining block to the school where they were dismissing all the children, for the day.


We went home to remain glued to the radio and the television and soon learned the unthinkable; our young, charismatic president, so vital, so full of promise, was dead. Returning to one’s country, after a period of living abroad, is always something of a cultural shock in that you see both its faults and strengths in a new light. I could not perceive of how the country had changed so that this horrific event could possibly take place; and in the days that followed with the additional killings of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, I came to realize the change was a permanent one.


Later, we would learn of the cruel set of circumstances that conspired to make history that day: Oswald’s recent job at the Texas School Book Depository, the motorcade taking a route passing directly by and finally, the overcast Texas skies clearing so that a decision was made to remove the bubble over the presidential limo.


Television, still a relatively new medium, brought the sorrowful pageantry of the funeral into our homes. Who can forget the riderless horse, Jackie’s grief-stricken face behind her veil and little John-John’s goodbye salute as the casket went by?


Historians have now revealed many unflattering personal facts about President Kennedy as well as determined that his accomplishments were mediocre. Perhaps, it really doesn’t matter. What is gone for good is a certain innocence we all had at that time; a wonderful, if unrealistic belief in ourselves and our country; the vision of America as a Camelot, died along with President Kennedy.


Certainly, we have made tremendous progress in many areas: women and minorities holding positions of power, unthinkable 50 years ago, and that is much to be admired and commended, but just as small children lose a lovely naivete when they learn that there are no fairies or Santa Claus, so too, did Americans lose a certain vision of ourselves and our country that I fear will never return.


Jean Cherni writes a column for the Sunday Register. Contact her, a certified senior adviser for Senior Living Solutions and Pearce Plus, at jeancherni@sbcglobal.net or 49 Rose St., Apt. 510, Branford, 06405.

I'm reading: Branford columnist remembers JFK’s death like it was yesterday