Golden years? You better believe it. For the Lehigh Valley's many senior citizens who are staying active in their 70s, 80s and beyond, age is nothing more than a number and quality of life is enhanced with giving back—in word and in deed. Stellar seniors, indeed!
ROSE CHROMIAK, 88
Jane Larsen likes to call her mother, Rose Chromiak, one of the original working moms. The now 88-year-old Chromiak was balancing a thriving career and a busy household decades before the female moneymaker/caregiver hybrid moved into the mainstream.
But the nose-to-the-grindstone approach wasn't a hard sell to Chromiak; it's a way of life that was ingrained in her DNA. She was born in her family's farmhouse in Ballietsville, Pennsylvania, in 1927.
“We didn't go to the hospital for that in those days,” Chromiak says with a laugh. She was one of 13 children born to Prokip and Anastasia Kokolus, Polish immigrants who came to the U.S. in the early 20th century in search of a better life. Three of the Kokolus children died in infancy from pneumonia; the surviving siblings were expected to pitch in on the family farm.
Chromiak recalls rising with the sun to milk the cows, clean the barn and tend to the chickens. It was a demanding upbringing; she and her siblings found solace in their academics.
“We were so glad to be able to do our homework after the chores,” Chromiak says. “We were all good students.” Her favorite subjects were geography and history. As for math: “I put up with that,” Chromiak says with a chuckle.
The family's resiliency was especially tested during the years when the Great Depression held the nation in its grip. Chromiak remembers the creative shortcuts her parents employed to make ends meet.
“Mom took the feed bags from the cows, opened them up and made bed sheets and pillows out of them,” says Chromiak. “They lasted a long time!”
After graduating from South Whitehall (now Parkland) High School in 1945, she enrolled in the Allentown Hospital School of Nursing. The work ethic that was instilled in Chromiak as a child carried her over a hurdle that nearly derailed her burgeoning career: she contemplated dropping out of school for good following a painful on-the-job back injury, but the fighter in her wasn't ready to wave the white flag. She graduated in 1949.
Although she developed a number of friendships in nursing school that are still thriving today, Chromiak says she was never really a social butterfly. “I was quieter, more shy than the other girls,” she says. “I wasn't used to having fun because I was always working hard.”
Even so, she did find time to fall in love. A friend set her up with a professional photographer, Peter Jay Chromiak. Their first date was at the former Village Inn in Allentown, in 1950. Chromiak says the details of that fateful meeting have faded over the years, but she can recall the observances of her soon-to-be-husband: “He always told me that I was nervous. He said that my lips were quivering when I was eating.”
Chromiak eventually conquered her dating jitters and walked down the aisle in 1952. She left her nursing career and joined her husband as a partner at his photography studio on 7th Street in Allentown. The studio was on the first floor of a Victorian brownstone, and the happy couple lived in an apartment in the back. It wasn't long before they welcomed a tiny, new roommate: daughter Jane was born in 1953, followed by sons Peter and Tom in 1957 and 1959, respectively. A second daughter, Carol, joined the family tree in 1964.
When she wasn't balancing a baby on her hip, Chromiak was burning the midnight oil in the studio with her husband, retouching negatives and developing black and white prints of countless blushing brides and diploma-ready high school students. “We should have had help, but we couldn't afford those things,” she says.
Chromiak's next major challenge would come later in life, when she was called upon to summon the skills acquired during her nursing days to take care of her ailing husband. The photography studio was sold in 2000, and Peter Jay Chromiak passed away the following year. In the decade that followed, it would be Chromiak herself who needed medical attention.
She survived a heart attack, only to develop congestive heart failure and go under the knife to have two major heart valves replaced at the age of 84. Then, a mere six months later, she developed a staph infection that affected one of the new valves, which led to a stroke. Still, against all odds, and to the amazement of the doctors and nurses who tended to her, Chromiak pulled through.
Now, with her health restored, this mother to four, grandmother to six, and inspiration to all, can take stock of all the ups and downs of a very full life.
“It all went by so fast,” she says. “I don't know where the years went.”
“SNOOKIE” FULWOOD, 78
He'll answer to the name on his birth certificate, but 78-year-old Fondren Mitchel Fulwood is probably better known by the nickname that was bestowed on him by his grandmother when he was just a boy. “Everybody just calls me Snookie,” he says with a laugh. And he's quick to point out that he was the original Snookie, not to be confused with a certain “Jersey Shore” star.
He can't recall exactly how his grandmother came up with the unusual moniker, but he knows it stuck with him from the time he was a little boy in Tampa, Florida (his birthplace), to the present day, where you'll find Fulwood busy with his many volunteer endeavors in the Slatebelt region. He donates a lot of his time each week to Meals on Wheels of Northampton County and the Portland Upper Mt. Bethel Food Pantry.
You may have noticed both of those organizations have food in common; Fulwood says that's no coincidence. “My wife always jokes about how much I like food, so I guess I was just drawn to those places.”
Even though he was most definitely on the slender side when he was growing up—he managed to pack just 105 pounds on his 5'10” frame as a young man—Fulwood says he always loved to eat. “My mother used to make the best chicken and dumplings when I was growing up,” he recalls. “Any time the church had a dinner, she'd make a big pot and everyone loved it.” He also speaks fondly of outdoor barbecues and fish fries enjoyed with family and friends in Florida; he even spent several years working for a company that made French fries. “I had to peel a lot of potatoes,” he says with a laugh.
But, while he was perfecting his comfort-food palate, Fulwood was also learning to appreciate the generosity of others. “My dad died when I was six years old,” he recalls. “My mother never remarried. We had some tough times and had to depend on help from other people.”
He graduated from Turkey Creek High School (home of the Fighting Gobblers) in Plant City, Florida, in 1955. Soon after, he embarked on what would be a 44-year career in the pipe insulation business, a career that took him all over the United States. Fulwood recalls being contracted for stints at Disney World in 1971, and Epcot Center in 1982. He also spent time in Maine and Alaska. “I'd never seen snow before,” he says. “I was 40 years old.”
Despite his nomadic lifestyle, Fulwood found the time to marry and raise four children with his first wife in Florida. Decades later, a divorce, a stint working for PPL in Martins Creek, and a serendipitous visit to a bank would usher in the beginning of the next chapter of his life. He met his current wife, Frances, at a local PNC bank branch; she was an employee who helped him open a checking account. They married in 1996, and settled in Upper Mt. Bethel Township, where they still reside.
The volunteering bug bit Fulwood following his retirement in 1999. He recalls bumping into a friend at the post office; that friend, a volunteer for Meals on Wheels, encouraged him to give delivery duty a shot. “I thought, ‘I had the time, so why not,'” says Fulwood. He started as a fill-in driver, but has since graduated to managing his own route in Bangor. He delivers meals to a dozen or more homes every week. The senior citizens who started out as his clients are now his friends. “I do enjoy talking to them,” he says. “I do it to be around the people.”
Fulwood also serves on the board of the Portland Upper Mt. Bethel Food Pantry, which provides food for up to 150 families every month.
A series of health concerns encroached on his already-full plate, beginning in 2005. That year, he underwent a triple bypass. Three years later, an operation on his rotator cuff laid him up for several weeks. Then came a prostate cancer diagnosis. But, medical challenges that may have snuffed out the verve of other senior citizens his age were barely blips on Fulwood's radar; he returned to his duties with Meals on Wheels and the food pantry as soon as he was able. “I can't sit around,” he says. “A lot of people, when they retire, that's all they do. Not me.”
Now cancer free, Fulwood says he has no plans to slow down any time soon, and he hopes his fellow golden-agers follow his lead. “There are a lot of places around here that need volunteers,” he says.
Did You Know...
March is Meals on Wheels' annual March for Meals month? For more information about donating or volunteering for Meals on Wheels, visit mealsonwheels.pa.org.
(From left to right) Leah, Lorraine and Peg with Girl Scout pal, Olivia Wickel
Lorraine, Peg & Leah
Girl Scout Troop 6153
If it's Tuesday night, chances are it's a girls' night at Phoebe, Allentown. Make that Girl Scout night: a troop of 10 or so energetic, bubbly, sash-wearing young ladies meets there weekly during scout season. And there to greet them at the door is a different kind of girls club: Lorraine Wotring, Peg Brennen and Leah Everett. They've served as senior leaders of the Phoebe troop since 2012.
“We're watching them grow up,” says Wotring. “We have fun with them.” Joan Wickel, director of community life at Phoebe Allentown, was instrumental in bringing the Girl Scout program back to Phoebe, following its original run from 2000 to 2006. “I was looking for an intergenerational opportunity for the residents and knew that the Girl Scouts was a good fit for here,” she says. “The intermingling of the generations is important and teaches patience to the girls and the residents alike.”
Wotring, Brennen and Everett are all residents of the sprawling Phoebe campus in Allentown. They hadn't met prior to signing on for the volunteer opportunity with the scouts, but now they've formed a tribe of three. Brennen was unable to attend a recent weekly meeting because of illness, and her fellow musketeers felt her absence. “Everyone asks if someone's not there,” Wotring said. “Something is missing.”
It only makes sense that this party of three works best when everyone is present and accounted for, because each of the ladies has carved out a role for herself over the past three years. “Lorraine is a very calm, quiet force,” explains Wickel. “Peg will jump right in. And Leah will keep them in line.” According to Brennen, harmony was the common denominator from the start: “We agree on a lot of things.”
Everett is the unofficial sweet-tooth-satisfier of the group. She often has treats like fresh-baked brownies, cookies and pies ready and waiting for the girls. “I spoil them a little bit,” she says.
But Everett and her cohorts aren't just rolling up their sleeves in the kitchen; sometimes working the Girl Scout beat means taking the show on the road. Besides lending a hand during local outings, Wotring, Brennen and Everett also travel with the scouts to various locations in Allentown when it comes time to peddle those mouth-watering boxes of Thin Mints, Samoas and Tagalongs. “We keep track of every box that's sold,” says Wotring. And all the while, the trio is imparting important lessons about the value of hard work and of chasing down a goal.
This year, proceeds from the cookie sales will help to pay for a much-anticipated overnight trip to Gettysburg.
There are craft nights, too; the scouts are encouraged to think outside the box and be creative, even if the end result proves to be a bit of a headache for the adults in charge. Wotring recalls a paper making session that didn't go quite as planned. “That was a real mess,” she recalls with a laugh.
Even so, chances are the Phoebe ladies wouldn't trade their time with their young charges for anything. “These leaders really make a difference to these girls and I believe the girls make a difference to them,” says Wickel. Brennen, a lifelong resident of Allentown who recently celebrated her 100th birthday, agrees with that sentiment. She says the time she spends with the scouts helps her adhere to her anti-couch potato policy. “It keeps your mind active,” she says.
Wotring, 85, who was born and raised in Walnutport, agrees. She and her husband, Donald, also a Phoebe resident, used to volunteer at a food bank until walking up and down steps became too much of a challenge. Now they take full advantage of the many volunteer opportunities at Phoebe, including assisting with bingo games and helping to transport residents to and from the activity room.
Everett, a native of Andreas, Pennsylvania, says the volunteer bug bit her early in life. “I was brought up to believe that if someone needed help, you helped them,” she explains. Now 77 years old, Everett goes the extra mile to make sure no hankering for the sweeter things in life goes unanswered. According to Wickel, Everett bakes hundreds of cookies leading up to the
December holidays, and then delivers a plate of them to each of the nurses' stations in Phoebe's Health Care Center.
Collectively, the Girl Scout gang is a vital part of the bustling, everyday operations at Phoebe. “We couldn't do a lot of what we do without them,” says Wickel. But the pleasure, Wotring says, is all theirs: “It makes you feel young.”
Want to nominate a Stellar Senior you may know? Inbox our editor at editor@lehighvalleystyle.com and use the subject header "Stellar Senior 2016"
Golden years? You better believe it. For the Lehigh Valley's many senior citizens who are staying active in their 70s, 80s and beyond, age is nothing more than a number and quality of life is enhanced with giving back—in word and in deed. Stellar seniors, indeed!
ROSE CHROMIAK, 88
Jane Larsen likes to call her mother, Rose Chromiak, one of the original working moms. The now 88-year-old Chromiak was balancing a thriving career and a busy household decades before the female moneymaker/caregiver hybrid moved into the mainstream.
But the nose-to-the-grindstone approach wasn't a hard sell to Chromiak; it's a way of life that was ingrained in her DNA. She was born in her family's farmhouse in Ballietsville, Pennsylvania, in 1927.
“We didn't go to the hospital for that in those days,” Chromiak says with a laugh. She was one of 13 children born to Prokip and Anastasia Kokolus, Polish immigrants who came to the U.S. in the early 20th century in search of a better life. Three of the Kokolus children died in infancy from pneumonia; the surviving siblings were expected to pitch in on the family farm.
Chromiak recalls rising with the sun to milk the cows, clean the barn and tend to the chickens. It was a demanding upbringing; she and her siblings found solace in their academics.
“We were so glad to be able to do our homework after the chores,” Chromiak says. “We were all good students.” Her favorite subjects were geography and history. As for math: “I put up with that,” Chromiak says with a chuckle.
The family's resiliency was especially tested during the years when the Great Depression held the nation in its grip. Chromiak remembers the creative shortcuts her parents employed to make ends meet.
“Mom took the feed bags from the cows, opened them up and made bed sheets and pillows out of them,” says Chromiak. “They lasted a long time!”
After graduating from South Whitehall (now Parkland) High School in 1945, she enrolled in the Allentown Hospital School of Nursing. The work ethic that was instilled in Chromiak as a child carried her over a hurdle that nearly derailed her burgeoning career: she contemplated dropping out of school for good following a painful on-the-job back injury, but the fighter in her wasn't ready to wave the white flag. She graduated in 1949.
Although she developed a number of friendships in nursing school that are still thriving today, Chromiak says she was never really a social butterfly. “I was quieter, more shy than the other girls,” she says. “I wasn't used to having fun because I was always working hard.”
Even so, she did find time to fall in love. A friend set her up with a professional photographer, Peter Jay Chromiak. Their first date was at the former Village Inn in Allentown, in 1950. Chromiak says the details of that fateful meeting have faded over the years, but she can recall the observances of her soon-to-be-husband: “He always told me that I was nervous. He said that my lips were quivering when I was eating.”
Chromiak eventually conquered her dating jitters and walked down the aisle in 1952. She left her nursing career and joined her husband as a partner at his photography studio on 7th Street in Allentown. The studio was on the first floor of a Victorian brownstone, and the happy couple lived in an apartment in the back. It wasn't long before they welcomed a tiny, new roommate: daughter Jane was born in 1953, followed by sons Peter and Tom in 1957 and 1959, respectively. A second daughter, Carol, joined the family tree in 1964.
When she wasn't balancing a baby on her hip, Chromiak was burning the midnight oil in the studio with her husband, retouching negatives and developing black and white prints of countless blushing brides and diploma-ready high school students. “We should have had help, but we couldn't afford those things,” she says.
Chromiak's next major challenge would come later in life, when she was called upon to summon the skills acquired during her nursing days to take care of her ailing husband. The photography studio was sold in 2000, and Peter Jay Chromiak passed away the following year. In the decade that followed, it would be Chromiak herself who needed medical attention.
She survived a heart attack, only to develop congestive heart failure and go under the knife to have two major heart valves replaced at the age of 84. Then, a mere six months later, she developed a staph infection that affected one of the new valves, which led to a stroke. Still, against all odds, and to the amazement of the doctors and nurses who tended to her, Chromiak pulled through.
Now, with her health restored, this mother to four, grandmother to six, and inspiration to all, can take stock of all the ups and downs of a very full life.
“It all went by so fast,” she says. “I don't know where the years went.”
“SNOOKIE” FULWOOD, 78
He'll answer to the name on his birth certificate, but 78-year-old Fondren Mitchel Fulwood is probably better known by the nickname that was bestowed on him by his grandmother when he was just a boy. “Everybody just calls me Snookie,” he says with a laugh. And he's quick to point out that he was the original Snookie, not to be confused with a certain “Jersey Shore” star.
He can't recall exactly how his grandmother came up with the unusual moniker, but he knows it stuck with him from the time he was a little boy in Tampa, Florida (his birthplace), to the present day, where you'll find Fulwood busy with his many volunteer endeavors in the Slatebelt region. He donates a lot of his time each week to Meals on Wheels of Northampton County and the Portland Upper Mt. Bethel Food Pantry.
You may have noticed both of those organizations have food in common; Fulwood says that's no coincidence. “My wife always jokes about how much I like food, so I guess I was just drawn to those places.”
Even though he was most definitely on the slender side when he was growing up—he managed to pack just 105 pounds on his 5'10” frame as a young man—Fulwood says he always loved to eat. “My mother used to make the best chicken and dumplings when I was growing up,” he recalls. “Any time the church had a dinner, she'd make a big pot and everyone loved it.” He also speaks fondly of outdoor barbecues and fish fries enjoyed with family and friends in Florida; he even spent several years working for a company that made French fries. “I had to peel a lot of potatoes,” he says with a laugh.
But, while he was perfecting his comfort-food palate, Fulwood was also learning to appreciate the generosity of others. “My dad died when I was six years old,” he recalls. “My mother never remarried. We had some tough times and had to depend on help from other people.”
He graduated from Turkey Creek High School (home of the Fighting Gobblers) in Plant City, Florida, in 1955. Soon after, he embarked on what would be a 44-year career in the pipe insulation business, a career that took him all over the United States. Fulwood recalls being contracted for stints at Disney World in 1971, and Epcot Center in 1982. He also spent time in Maine and Alaska. “I'd never seen snow before,” he says. “I was 40 years old.”
Despite his nomadic lifestyle, Fulwood found the time to marry and raise four children with his first wife in Florida. Decades later, a divorce, a stint working for PPL in Martins Creek, and a serendipitous visit to a bank would usher in the beginning of the next chapter of his life. He met his current wife, Frances, at a local PNC bank branch; she was an employee who helped him open a checking account. They married in 1996, and settled in Upper Mt. Bethel Township, where they still reside.
The volunteering bug bit Fulwood following his retirement in 1999. He recalls bumping into a friend at the post office; that friend, a volunteer for Meals on Wheels, encouraged him to give delivery duty a shot. “I thought, ‘I had the time, so why not,'” says Fulwood. He started as a fill-in driver, but has since graduated to managing his own route in Bangor. He delivers meals to a dozen or more homes every week. The senior citizens who started out as his clients are now his friends. “I do enjoy talking to them,” he says. “I do it to be around the people.”
Fulwood also serves on the board of the Portland Upper Mt. Bethel Food Pantry, which provides food for up to 150 families every month.
A series of health concerns encroached on his already-full plate, beginning in 2005. That year, he underwent a triple bypass. Three years later, an operation on his rotator cuff laid him up for several weeks. Then came a prostate cancer diagnosis. But, medical challenges that may have snuffed out the verve of other senior citizens his age were barely blips on Fulwood's radar; he returned to his duties with Meals on Wheels and the food pantry as soon as he was able. “I can't sit around,” he says. “A lot of people, when they retire, that's all they do. Not me.”
Now cancer free, Fulwood says he has no plans to slow down any time soon, and he hopes his fellow golden-agers follow his lead. “There are a lot of places around here that need volunteers,” he says.
Did You Know...
March is Meals on Wheels' annual March for Meals month? For more information about donating or volunteering for Meals on Wheels, visit mealsonwheels.pa.org.
(From left to right) Leah, Lorraine and Peg with Girl Scout pal, Olivia Wickel
Lorraine, Peg & Leah
Girl Scout Troop 6153
If it's Tuesday night, chances are it's a girls' night at Phoebe, Allentown. Make that Girl Scout night: a troop of 10 or so energetic, bubbly, sash-wearing young ladies meets there weekly during scout season. And there to greet them at the door is a different kind of girls club: Lorraine Wotring, Peg Brennen and Leah Everett. They've served as senior leaders of the Phoebe troop since 2012.
“We're watching them grow up,” says Wotring. “We have fun with them.” Joan Wickel, director of community life at Phoebe Allentown, was instrumental in bringing the Girl Scout program back to Phoebe, following its original run from 2000 to 2006. “I was looking for an intergenerational opportunity for the residents and knew that the Girl Scouts was a good fit for here,” she says. “The intermingling of the generations is important and teaches patience to the girls and the residents alike.”
Wotring, Brennen and Everett are all residents of the sprawling Phoebe campus in Allentown. They hadn't met prior to signing on for the volunteer opportunity with the scouts, but now they've formed a tribe of three. Brennen was unable to attend a recent weekly meeting because of illness, and her fellow musketeers felt her absence. “Everyone asks if someone's not there,” Wotring said. “Something is missing.”
It only makes sense that this party of three works best when everyone is present and accounted for, because each of the ladies has carved out a role for herself over the past three years. “Lorraine is a very calm, quiet force,” explains Wickel. “Peg will jump right in. And Leah will keep them in line.” According to Brennen, harmony was the common denominator from the start: “We agree on a lot of things.”
Everett is the unofficial sweet-tooth-satisfier of the group. She often has treats like fresh-baked brownies, cookies and pies ready and waiting for the girls. “I spoil them a little bit,” she says.
But Everett and her cohorts aren't just rolling up their sleeves in the kitchen; sometimes working the Girl Scout beat means taking the show on the road. Besides lending a hand during local outings, Wotring, Brennen and Everett also travel with the scouts to various locations in Allentown when it comes time to peddle those mouth-watering boxes of Thin Mints, Samoas and Tagalongs. “We keep track of every box that's sold,” says Wotring. And all the while, the trio is imparting important lessons about the value of hard work and of chasing down a goal.
This year, proceeds from the cookie sales will help to pay for a much-anticipated overnight trip to Gettysburg.
There are craft nights, too; the scouts are encouraged to think outside the box and be creative, even if the end result proves to be a bit of a headache for the adults in charge. Wotring recalls a paper making session that didn't go quite as planned. “That was a real mess,” she recalls with a laugh.
Even so, chances are the Phoebe ladies wouldn't trade their time with their young charges for anything. “These leaders really make a difference to these girls and I believe the girls make a difference to them,” says Wickel. Brennen, a lifelong resident of Allentown who recently celebrated her 100th birthday, agrees with that sentiment. She says the time she spends with the scouts helps her adhere to her anti-couch potato policy. “It keeps your mind active,” she says.
Wotring, 85, who was born and raised in Walnutport, agrees. She and her husband, Donald, also a Phoebe resident, used to volunteer at a food bank until walking up and down steps became too much of a challenge. Now they take full advantage of the many volunteer opportunities at Phoebe, including assisting with bingo games and helping to transport residents to and from the activity room.
Everett, a native of Andreas, Pennsylvania, says the volunteer bug bit her early in life. “I was brought up to believe that if someone needed help, you helped them,” she explains. Now 77 years old, Everett goes the extra mile to make sure no hankering for the sweeter things in life goes unanswered. According to Wickel, Everett bakes hundreds of cookies leading up to the
December holidays, and then delivers a plate of them to each of the nurses' stations in Phoebe's Health Care Center.
Collectively, the Girl Scout gang is a vital part of the bustling, everyday operations at Phoebe. “We couldn't do a lot of what we do without them,” says Wickel. But the pleasure, Wotring says, is all theirs: “It makes you feel young.”
Want to nominate a Stellar Senior you may know? Inbox our editor at editor@lehighvalleystyle.com and use the subject header "Stellar Senior 2016"
