Ann's Choice
 Ann's Choice 


Black Friday, not much today.


New Feature.  You can now send a comment card to any department of General Services.  Take a look - click on the icon.  Just like Dining, let them know how they are doing.


2nd Floor Steel Going Up (As of November 17, 2017).  Click on the image.


The Railroad Club is building our train platform in the Village - check out the progress.  Click on the image.

Open Enrollment for Erickson Advantage  is October 15-December 7.  Additional details at Erickson Advantage.

Would you like to see a whole bunch of pictures from our recent Cabaret?  Click on the image and check out who was there.


Always new items !!  Free monitor -  Car wanted, Scooters.  


Want a laugh - check out the Humor section!!!

We have the 2018 Erickson Advantage Benefits posted.  Take a look.

Personal Stories

The following is a list of the stories in this section, with their author's name.

This is the sequence in which they appear.


  EARLIEST MEMORIES - Marge Schwegel

  FAMILY REUNION - Marge Schwegel








Holme Avenue in Elkins Park was just a dirt road when I was a little child. There were only three other houses on the street when my dad and mom bought two lots in 1940 and decided to build a house there. The area had small farms with wheat and cornfields and blackberry bushes, woods and a small stream where watercress grew.  Dad was a construction worker by trade and knew how to lay cinder blocks and bricks. He and Mom (with weekend help from some of his drinking buddies) worked hard on the small two bedroom house with attic and basement and matching red brick garage. Finally they were able to move from their tiny apartment in the Olney section of Philadelphia. I was born in January, 1942.


C. G. Jung in his book, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, remembers lying in his pram in the shadow of a tree on a fine sunny summer day. I can’t imagine remembering back that far.


My earliest memory is when my mother arrived back home from Jewish Hospital in Philadelphia with my dad at the wheel. It was 1946 and I was four years old. Mom got out of the old black Chevy holding the youngest member of our family, baby Richie, swaddled tightly in a white blanket. I was standing on the red brick front steps holding my grandmother’s hand with my younger brother, Jim, on the other side.


My mother’s mom was a gentle Ukrainian lady with a plump round face and a twinkle in her eyes. Her auburn hair was twisted tight in a bun but it fell down around her waist when she brushed it out before going to bed. Her English was halting and I remember when we children would do something mischievous, she would put her hand on her cheek and say “Oy, yoi” in a singsong voice.


My grandmother was nice but I had really missed my mom these past two weeks and wondered if she would ever get back home. It was a happy November day when she came up the steps to our house with the new baby.


Submitted by Marge Schwegel



On my mother’s side of the family, we get together every year or two. Usually, my cousin Ray and his wife, Lorine, host a summer picnic at their large home in the New Jersey countryside.  Ray always draws up a large poster of the family tree and hangs it on the side of the house nearest the driveway. Families arriving could add or subtract family members and update the poster before they went inside.

 The aunts and uncles, some with little ones, came two by two, bearing large casserole dishes, potato and cole slaw salads or desserts, which they deposited on the kitchen counter. The adults wandered out to the backyard patio and found folding chairs so they could settle in and start catching up on the news from other relatives. The children immediately dove into the pool to splash and cavort around.

A large roast pig was outside on a table ready for carving. The barbeque coals would be glowing red and gray, ready for the hot dogs and hamburgers. There was a platter of sliced tomatoes and onions.  Plastic squeeze bottles of ketchup, mustard and relish stood nearby like sentinels lined up for inspection.  As our family was Ukrainian, there was always a pot of sauerkraut with kielbasa.  Pierogies were nestled in a frying pan swimming in onions and butter.  Lorine would step out from the sliding doors with a big plastic bowl of assorted strawberries mixed with chunks of watermelon and cantaloupe, a welcome addition to a hot sunny day.  Beer for the adults and cans of soda were in coolers packed with ice.

Gab, gab, gab.  There was so much family news to hear about. Every half hour or so, I would switch my seat to another table to hear from other cousins, aunts and uncles. We enjoyed the good food and later on, a hot cup of coffee and a bite of homemade cake or pie topped off a wonderful day. Shadows were getting longer. The kids were wrapped in beach towels, their hair wet and tousled, tired after a long game of Marco Polo.

Before the mosquitoes came out, families slowly left for home, clutching their empty bowl or dish. There were many fond goodbyes, hugs and kisses, and promises to meet again next year.

     Submitted by Marge Schwegel



Serenity From The Sky

John A. Shewmon  1927-2012
For 67 years I lived in the Watchung Mountains of New Jersey
surrounded by grand old trees.  I was barely able to see the sky.  
As a youth I was a runner.  Now I'm old and I walk.  While
walking I sometimes think of the mess our world is in.
Wars, conflicts, floods, fires. oil spills, home invasions. One
disaster after another.  People everywhere seem to face a
challenge to survive.  Hope wanes.  
Three years ago I moved to Ann's Choice.  from the bay
window of my 4th floor sunroom the sky is in full view.
I sit and watch the ever changing cloud formations.  The
wonderful sunrise.  The breath-taking sunsets.  As I look
at the sky I see a semblance of normalcy.  Just look up
and let your mind wander.  Be reinforced by the hope for 
serenity.  A serenity that would wash across the earth in
one huge wave of peace and love.
Written in November 2010 - John died 9/11/12
Submitted by Eleanor M. Mueller

A true sailing story

sailing story.pdf
Adobe Acrobat document [259.5 KB]

A trip to Chiricuah Mountains

A Trip to Chiricuah Mountains, by Doris.[...]
Adobe Acrobat document [122.2 KB]
Because I am a resident of Ann’s Choice in beautiful Bucks County, I would like to talk about the art of communication today. Rather than put  pen to paper when writing to my family or friends, I use an electric typewriter. Since my hand writing is bad due to macular degeneration and I have not conquered the computer, this old fashioned means of communicating works out quite well for me . Colloquially, mail sent by computer is known as e-mail and letters sent by the postal service is known as snail-mail.
Let me tell you about how I think of postal delivery. I was an avid contester in the days when contesting was in full swing on radio programs. Now those contests were when a prize was offered by a company advertising their product. First, you would have to purchase said product. Then there was a company that did nothing but judge these contests. The contests were judged for aptness of thought, uniqueness, originality and had to be 25 words or less. After mailing in your writings it was great fun watching for the mailman every day. These contests were many and varied. Prizes given were money, cars, trips, household items, televisions, etc. I was fortunate to win one of the top prizes and several trips. As you can see, communications were far different than they are today.
As far as penmanship is concerned, the kids of today do not have good writing skills. In fact, most of them seem to use printing rather than cursive writing. Now, I happen to have a beautifully written poem that my grandmother wrote when she was all of 17 years of age. Her penmanship is really beautiful. I do not believe that they even have penmanship teachers in the schools today as we had way back then. Of course, with the computer the students do not really have to do much writing. As for snail-mail letters to friends and relatives, that is strictly a thing of the olden days, of which I seem to be a member. I am fortunate to have some well written letters from my grandchildren. If possible, I am going to learn the computer so that I can talk the computer talk.
Doris King McCullough
April, 2015

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