A SPECIAL LADY: HATTIE SMELTER’S 100^TH BIRTHDAY PARTY  By  CALVIN SCHWARTZ   December 19^th 2014

Three years ago, because of a special synchronicity, I was invited to the birthday party of Emily Cook, turning 101, at Arbor Terrace of Middletown (formerly Regal Pointe). It was a particularly poignant experience for me. I got a chance to talk to Emily at length after her festive party with all the senior residents, musical entertainment (Jerry Spathis)and a birthday cake fit for a centenarian. Emily was sharp and filled with emoted memories. Her descriptions of the Great Depression and her life in general were riveting. We became friends and the following year, I went to her 102^nd birthday party and somewhere in between parties, I managed to bring a TV crew and interview her live. On camera, she invited me back to her room; I laughed and still do, thinking about that.

The video went national. I learned a life lesson; how precious and meaningful time spent with seniors can be.  They can fill your senses and quest for historical first-hand accounts; that unique commentary/perspective not found on Google. Too often these days, I wish upon a star I had spent more time talking to grandparents and parents and seniors down the block, filling a void in my roots and knowledge.

I got a message a few weeks ago on Facebook from Darci Voight Kennedy, from Arbor Terrace, that another resident (it’s not assisted living but independent senior living), Hattie Smelter was turning 100 on December 12^th and once again I was invited to the birthday party. I knew right away I’d be there.

Arbor Place was adorned with balloons and party signage. Waiting for the party to begin, Hattie, perfectly coiffed and looking 25 years younger than her age, was sitting off to the side in the lobby talking to the party entertainer, a vibrant talented Cathy DaPrato. I overheard Hattie mention one of her favorite songs was ‘Goodnight Sweetheart.’  I remembered the song from ‘American Graffiti’ and originally from the ‘Spaniels’ in 1954; still within my memory banks.

I sat and listened to a hit parade of memorable songs while the party rolled on. Hattie got up to dance with several different partners. Again she looked 25 years younger; she moved gracefully. While entertainer Cathy was talking, a resident, John Sorrentino, sat down next to me. He was only 91 and met Hattie for the first time a year ago at the mailbox which he had a hard time opening due to failing vision. Hattie walked over, took the key and opened it. A few weeks later he asked Hattie to be his girlfriend. She replied, “It’s too late.” John went on to tell me about his career as a building inspector in Florida. Later in his apartment, he’d show me a commendation letter for being honest and avoiding corruption and an invitation from President Bush to attend a special dinner. John hinted we should work on a book of his life.

When Cathy sang ‘Sweet Caroline’ most of the residents swung their hands side to side; they were into it; another couple nearby just held hands. The cake was cut, champagne passed around and it was time for Hattie and me.  She was born in Jersey City on December 12, 1914. When she was 15 years old she worked for the American Can Company. “Do you remember it?” Of course I did.  “I went to Saint Anthony’s grammar school for three years then public school. I left when I was in eighth grade because I had to go to work. You know, The Depression. For a woman it was easier to get a job.”   I knew why; they paid women less. Hattie blurted out, “$7 a week.”

But she worked for the American Can Company only during the summer months because she was under age. “They wanted my birth certificate so I never went back.” She laughed.  “Then I got this job. I worked in one place for 34 years.” I thought about Tom Brokaw and the greatest generation and wondered if people today regularly work in the same places for 34 years; Hattie was tough stuff I kept thinking. Maybe it was a contributing factor to living to 100. I decided not to ask her the typical question.

She worked all those years for Mongolia Importing Company testing casings for hot dogs and kielbasa. “I was in water all day long; rubber boots and apron. I used to gauge the casings. When my mother was sick I took a few weeks off. My job was always there.”

“How’d you meet your husband?”  “I was going to a dance with two of my lady friends in Bayonne at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Parish. Leo was on the bus. He had a gold tooth. I’ll never forget it. At the dance he comes over and starts talking and going back home he sat with me on the bus. After that, we kept company (I remember my mother always used that expression) for 18 months then we got married. We stayed married for 60 years. I had a daughter, Dorothy who passed away a few years ago.”

All of a sudden Hattie interjects, “Make sure you write good stuff, nothing bad about me.”  “Is there bad stuff?”  “I hope not,” she was quick to respond.  I asked about music. She likes the radio, Bing Crosby and TV; she especially likes ‘Kelly and Michael,’ whom she is going to see in person in January. They have a special program at Arbor Terrace corporate where they seek to fulfill bucket list for their residents. Hattie’s is going to meet Kelly Ripa and Michael Strahan.

I knew I forgot to introduce myself when we started. “I’m Calvin by the way.”  “I remember Calvin Coolidge,” she stated randomly almost. “Do you remember him as President? Did you like him?”
“I forgot about him.” I thought that was so typical. No one has much to say about my namesake although I’ve been reading about an undercurrent that Coolidge is coming into vogue; history may discover he was far better than originally thought. “I remember Herbert Hoover. We used to say here comes Hoover on a horse.”

“What was it like during the depression?”  Hattie shook her head. “People used to sell apples. It was real bad. I had a job which was good. I bought shoes for myself for 99 cents. Would you believe it? Do you know how you used to pay? They put the money in a box and sent it up. They were never robbed. Then they sent the change back down. Then I bought laces for five cents.”

“During World War II, what did you do?”  “I used to work on Flit cans (Flit was an insecticide launched in 1923). Do you remember it?”  “Yes I do!”  “I used to solder them. I made a mistake once and soldered them together. I was tired. They moved me to five gallon cans.”

Hattie’s friends kept coming over to congratulate her. She asked if the party was over. I guess it was time for me too.  How engaging and delightful my time with Hattie was.  I did savor every moment. There’s a message and lesson; to do this regularly and absorb, interact and cherish. I asked Hattie if I could come to her 101^st birthday party. We shook hands on it. She had a firm grip. She left a firm grip on my soul.

FOR MORE INFORMATION On ARBOR TERRCE OF MIDDLETOWN  Phone  732-957-0083    www. at-middletown.com