<![CDATA[BUFFALO HEAD MEDIA - Lou Jasikoff: Thoughts on Life]]>

<![CDATA[BUFFALO HEAD MEDIA - Lou Jasikoff: Thoughts on Life]]>Sat, 18 Apr 2026 17:07:34 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[The Sisters of Saint Benedict]]>Mon, 26 Feb 2024 15:50:02 GMThttps://www.buffaloheadmedia.com/lou-jasikoff-thoughts-on-life/the-sisters-of-saint-benedict

by Lou Jasikoff

They say you reap what you sow, and I do believe that that's true. Growing up in the small town of Elwood on Long Island in the 1950s, I attended kindergarten and first grade in a little red schoolhouse. Really, I did! Just like you see in the movies. Adjacent to the school were woods, and the Sisters of Saint Benedict lived through those trees and up the hill—a Religious order of nuns from Poland that ran a nursing home for the elderly. From a distance and through the dark forest, it looked very run-down. To kids, it was downright spooky. The rumor amongst us kids was not to go into the forest because witches lived in those woods in that old run-down house. I don't remember any of us ever wandering too far into the woods.

During those times, the nuns were very poor and very much ignored by everyone. The Roman Catholic Church was of no help seeing the nuns as just that, a group of old nuns. The nuns received no state or federal support at the time either. It was no surprise to anyone in my family that my father found his way through those spooky woods and up the hill to help them out. But that was the kind of man my father was, and I know he respected their work ethic. So he helped whenever called upon to do so. As the years progressed, my father continued to help, but now I was older, and the excuse of the spooky woods no longer worked. So, I was expected to help, but not only me, mind you, my brother and sisters, and when we could entice them, our friends.

It is like yesterday when I remember a call from my father, "Son, the Nuns need some help." They needed some sod laid, and it would be long, hot, hard work. "Geez, Dad, I really am busy," I replied. "Yeah, I know. Bring as many of your friends as you can, too. It's a big job." Sure enough, that Saturday, my friends and I were laying sod all day. But we did well and were presented with one of the best lunches I ever remember.

Around that time, a new pope was elected, the Polish Pope John Paul; as it turned out, the sisters and John Paul went way back, and their order began to expand worldwide. Those who lived in the now-growing nursing homes would bequeath land to the nuns. Soon, my mom and dad were asked to go to Florida to check on land left to the order. Or drive one or two of the sisters to Detroit to check out property they inherited in that neck of the woods. Soon a lasting friendship between my parents and the nuns grew. The founding Nuns of the rest home have made it known to everyone that anyone in the Jasikoff family is always welcome to stay if ever needed. This is despite a long waiting list and the fact that some of us are male, and males are not usually accepted.

This leads me to two of my funniest stories and interactions with the Polish Nuns. One October evening, many years later, three of the Sisters came to visit while I was at my parents in Saratoga, New York. Two of the nuns I could still remember from Long Island. We were eating at the dining room table with a younger Nun who had just arrived from Poland. We began talking about Father Markowitz, who was the spiritual adviser to the nuns for many years back in the day. He later became bishop for the diocese of Kalamazoo in Michigan and spent the final months of his life with the sisters in Elwood, New York. I wound up asking the two older Nuns why they do not typically allow men to stay in the facility.

I will never forget her response. She said, "Oh, we used to, Lou, but it causes so many problems." I must have looked puzzled because she added, "Having only one or two men in the facility filled with so many women seems to cause constant catfights and arguments." I then said, "Even though most are in their 80s and 90s, and all are Nuns?" "Yes, I am afraid so. That is why we seldom accept men. Men are too disruptive to the order of things." Some things will never change, I guess, and that is a good thing.

My second story also occurs at my parents' Saratoga, New York home. Part of the Nun's vows is performing hard labor for a few hours daily. While visiting my folks in Saratoga, they wanted to stay true to their word. They refused to deviate from what they had pledged and offered their yard services to my parents. I am sure you could imagine the smiles and remarks the neighbors made as they cruised past the Jasikoff home and saw three nuns in full habit, mowing the lawn and weeding the garden. We have gotten more than a few laughs over that story, for sure.

The sisters of Saint Benedict always remembered those who helped them along the way, whether it was Father Markowitz or my parents. With their fellowship, easygoing attitudes, and grateful spirit, they really did give back so much more than the little bit of help they were offered, so what is the moral of the story?

My father died some years ago from a stroke and remained in a coma for a few days before eventually passing in Albany, New York. Every day my father lay ill, a different group of nuns traveled four hours one way from their small town of Elwood on Long Island to visit him. They would recite the rosary in Polish at his bedside before turning around and driving four hours home for the evening.

Yes, we truly reap what we sow. We are all here for a speck of time. So make a difference in the lives of those around you. You never know who you'll meet or where or the memories and friendships that will come from it all.

]]><![CDATA[Desiderata: Original Text]]>Mon, 26 Feb 2024 15:17:36 GMThttps://www.buffaloheadmedia.com/lou-jasikoff-thoughts-on-life/desiderata-original-text

This is the original text from the book where Desiderata was first published

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

]]><![CDATA[Musings on a Season Classic from Louis R. Jasikoff]]>Mon, 26 Feb 2024 15:10:51 GMThttps://www.buffaloheadmedia.com/lou-jasikoff-thoughts-on-life/musings-on-a-season-classic-from-louis-r-jasikoff

by Lou Jasikoff

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

The news can be depressing and worrisome, and here in our communities, things can sometimes seem futile. We worry about gifts to buy, money being tight, and that there is not enough time to do what we think needs to be done. Ah, this is the season of hustle and bustle! But it should also be a time to reflect. A time to be kind to yourself and to take the time to find your peace.

For me, it could be a simple walk in the woods. White Pines have always been my favorite. Is it the soft needles, clean underbrush, or pleasant smell? I don't know. I can't say for sure why this is so meditative, but I do love the peace I find walking amongst these trees. For you, perhaps tranquility can be found walking on the beach or curled up reading a good book.

Growing up, I was blessed with great parents, and to this day, the gifts that I remember the most were the simplest and the best. The fancy presents are long gone, but the simple ones remain on my wall desk or mantle to enjoy.

I would like to share one of these simple gifts with you. Consider this as you fret over what to put under the Christmas tree. It is a small plaque given to me as a youth, with a personal inscription in my father's words, reading, "I would like to think the following words were tried and tested and passed down thru the ages from those so great to those we love."
I, Louis Jasikoff, would now like to pass the same words on to you. In the crazy world in which we find ourselves today, try to uncover a little time to be alone with your thoughts. Slow down, enjoy the day, and share it with the ones you love.

]]><![CDATA[AMERICAN LEGION KOSCIUSZKO POST 207 HONORS ADJUTANT JOSEPH STASKIEL]]>Mon, 26 Feb 2024 14:34:17 GMThttps://www.buffaloheadmedia.com/lou-jasikoff-thoughts-on-life/american-legion-kosciuszko-post-207-honors-adjutant-joseph-staskiel

by Lori Bogedin

Thanks, Lou for letting me honor Dad here! OX

My Dad, Joesph Staskiel, born on December 11, 1938, in Glen Lyon, was not just any man; he was a beacon of dedication and love. A proud 1957 graduate of Newport Township High School, he went on to serve our country in the United States Army, with a memorable time spent in Iceland. His career spanned over 31 years as an analysis technician at Procter and Gamble, but it was his life outside of work that truly defined him.

He was a cornerstone of St. Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church, lending his voice to the choir and his hands to volunteer at countless church fundraising events.

My Dad's love for horses and all animals knew no bounds. He built two barns for my sister so she could fill them with love and care. His passion for collecting fossils was more than just a hobby; it was a way for him and our step-mom, Maryann, to connect with the community, sharing his treasures with local schools.

Flying was another of his remarkable talents. Dad earned his pilot license, mastering twin engines, gliders, and a seaplane rating. Together he and Maryann, they traveled across the USA, embracing adventures and friendships, always spreading kindness and never speaking ill of anyone.

My father left us in 2019, yet his remarkable legacy of kindness, unwavering dedication, and profound love continues to resonate. Throughout his life, he embodied a spirit of service, especially evident in his deep commitment to the American Legion Kosciuszko Post 207.

As the Adjutant, he invested his heart and soul into each endeavor, demonstrating leadership and compassion that inspired all around him. The article that follows was crafted during his lifetime, a period when he took immense pride in his involvement with the organization that meant so much to him. His contributions and the memories we shared will always be cherished and remembered.

We at the NEPA Visitor would like to say "thank you and good work" to Adjutant Joe J. Staskiel of the American Legion Kosciuszko Post, 207, for his 26 years of dedicated service to the American Legion, his country, and his community. We also extend the same expression of gratitude to every officer and member of the American Legion Post 207 and all our men and women in all of the armed forces, past and present. It is our honor to salute you.

It was in December 2017 that Joseph received the prominent award for his "26 Years of Dedicated Service" to Post 207, organized in 1926. Joseph's primary involvement with the post over the years has been serving as Adjustant (or administrative assistant) to Commander G.M. Kofira and Vice-Commander George W. Slaier.

As a young man serving in the United States Army, Joseph has always understood the importance of camaraderie and continued service. During his 26 years with the Post 207, Joseph has been instrumental in keeping and maintaining the 80-veteran membership for the post, along with honorary member Maryann's Staskiel, his wife, whose responsibility falls to the most vital part of the meeting, the pizza.

This year Joseph's goal is to keep the post's membership full, at a count of 80 members, which will garner the commander and other officers the distinction of "Post of the Year." The post's primary source of income is selling veterans' poppy flowers, the official memorial flower of the veterans of the Foreign Legion Wars of the United States.

The poem "In Flanders Field" inspired the practice of wearing poppies, written in 1915 by John McCrae. Wearing poppies honoring those whose lives were claimed in the American Wars is a Memorial Day tradition. However, displaying the symbol has become a popular way to show support for veterans on any occasion.

American Legion Post 207 is proud of its members, officers, and supporters. After taking care of the post's financial obligations, post members select a second organization to benefit from the hard work of members like Joseph and his post 207 comrades', The Wounded Warrior Project.

The project is a charity and veterans service organization that offers a variety of programs, services, and events for wounded veterans of military actions following September 11, 2001. The rest, then, is given back to the community. Groups, such as Boys and Girls Scouts of America, area fishing derbies, for instance, or something as life-changing as a drive to raise money for a wheelchair, which a veteran needed but could not afford.

According to history, the American Legion was chartered by Congress in 1919 as a patriotic veterans organization, focusing on service to veterans, members, and community service. The Legion evolved from a group of war-weary veterans of World War I into one of the most influential nonprofit organizations in the United States.

The NEPA Visitor appreciates and honors all the men and women who are serving or have served this great country of ours, and with all due respect, we ask the public that when you see veterans, thank them for your freedom. Oh, yeah, and buy a poppy too.

]]><![CDATA[The Class of Welsh Miners]]>Mon, 26 Feb 2024 13:46:23 GMThttps://www.buffaloheadmedia.com/lou-jasikoff-thoughts-on-life/the-class-of-welsh-miners

by Lou Jasikoff

In this journey of life, I have realized that the gifts most cherished are not those bought in the store or purchased online, but those little remembrances given from the heart by family, friends, or loved ones. These gifts often become life lessons.

One such gift was given to me in my younger days during a particularly turbulent time in my life. It was a simple handmade plaque with a simple inscription. To this day, that plaque sits proudly in my home office, where I often refer to its words of wisdom—passed down to me, to be passed down to others.

It speaks of "class" with an undertone that, if you want to be respected, you must learn to give respect. The indispensable golden rule is to do unto others as you would have done unto you. (Matthew 7:12)

One of the inscription's lessons, I have applied to my daily life is the following, "good manners are nothing more than a series of petty sacrifices."

We have all eluded sacrifices, making the excuse that we are too busy. Saying, "I wish I could, but maybe next time." I can honestly say, some of my most memorable moments of life, have been when I found an hour, a day, or in some cases, a month to be there for family, friends, neighbors, or even strangers on the street.

It's a beautiful life, for sure. Find the time to make the most of it, not make excuses. I have also learned on this life journey, that the gifts, most cherished help us to learn and grow. Class never runs scared. It is sure-footed, confident in the knowledge that you can meet life head-on and handle whatever comes along.

In Genesis 25:26, Jacob had class. Esau did not. In this ancient story, light is shed on the aspects of the human condition: fear, dishonesty, destiny, and ultimately integrity. Symbolically, we can see Jacob's wrestling match with the angel as a battle with our personal angel. And if integrity wins a victory, it marks us thereafter.

The handmade plaque I received those many years ago, reads as follows:

Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes.
Class is considerate of others. It knows that good manners are nothing more than a series of petty sacrifices.
Class bespeaks of aristocracy that has nothing to do with ancestors or money. The most affluent blue-blood, can be totally without Class, while the descendants of a Welch Miner, may ooze Class from every pore.
Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down.
Class needs not to strive to look better by making others look worse.
Class can walk with kings and keep virtue, talk with crowds, and keep the common touch. Any one who is comfortable with a person who has Class, is because they are comfortable with themselves.
If you have Class, you don't need much of anything else. If you don't have Class, no matter what else you have, it makes little difference.

The inscription on the back of this treasured plaque reads:

Lou, if anyone has been tested, you have. This belongs to you. Love Dad

The Year was 1989

]]><![CDATA[Penny for Your Thoughts]]>Mon, 26 Feb 2024 13:36:54 GMThttps://www.buffaloheadmedia.com/lou-jasikoff-thoughts-on-life/penny-for-your-thoughts

by Lou Jasikoff

My hobby of collecting pennies started at an early age and started innocently enough. My parents were born and raised in New York City, Lower East Side, 7th Street, between 1st and 2nd Avenues, to be exact—different times, and different eras, for sure. Growing up, Mom's apartment was quite spacious, especially compared to my Dad's.

Getting to the apartment where my Dad grew up required climbing straight up four flights of stairs, so steep that even as a young kid visiting my grandparents, it caused me to huff and puff. There was no elevator. The apartment was small, and I mean tiny: two bedrooms, a small living room, a little kitchen, and no bathroom. The bathroom was in the hall and shared by the two other families who lived on the same floor.

My two aunts shared one bedroom, my Dad and uncle shared the other, and my grandparents had the living room. Dad's room was just large enough for two beds and a dresser. That was it. My Dad kept his collectibles in a shoebox-type carton in the bottom drawer of the chest. One of those collectibles was a halfpenny first minted in 1793, and the last was in 1857.

One of the questions I always had when I looked through that box of collectibles when I was young was, why didn't my father save more halfpennies? I questioned this mainly because they no longer mint this type of coin. His response was always the same: "We needed those pennies to pay bills." As I said, different times, different eras.

Now grown, I reasoned one day, the penny would no longer be minted. I didn't want to be asked why I hadn't kept more pennies when I grew older, married, and had children. Lucky enough to have the means to pay my bills, I decided to start saving pennies in earnest for my grandchildren. And so it began, saving pennies, but that's not all!

I decided to pick up one of those giant crayon banks, and before I even had grandchildren started writing notes of encouragement, noting essential family events, and then putting in pennies and nickels. I used the bank as a time machine for them to have at a later date.

Today, I cultivated five of these ongoing time machines, one for each of my grandkids. Others have been filled over time and sealed, each with a grandchild's name on it, and they are to open them on their 21st birthdays.

What's in them, you ask? I don't even know at this point—a lot of pennies and nickels, that's for sure, but also words of wisdom. What I've written is not only from a grandfather to his grandchildren but from my heart. Among the pennies and nickels are hopes for them to never give up on their dreams, that with hard work, they can accomplish anything they set out to do, respect themselves and others, and enjoy life with all it has to offer.

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