IN THE DELAWARE VALLEY, CHRISTMAS IS AT GINGER'S
By EDWARD A. GARGAN and SPECIAL TO THE NEW YORK TIMESDEC. 19, 1984 This is a digitized version of an article from The Times's print archive, before the start of online publication in 1996. To preserve these articles as they originally appeared, The Times does not alter, edit or update them.
Occasionally security the digitization process introduces transcription errors or other problems. Please send reports of such problems to archive_feedback@nytimes.com. The children came from the river towns, from Hankins and Callicoon, from Equinunk and Stalker.
In twos and threes, tugging parents, they came to Ginger's restaurant and Santa's Workshop, where toy trains, bright yellow trucks and Raggedy Ann dolls, brown stuffed bears, electric hockey games and striped candy canes awaited.Christmas had come to Long Eddy and the Delaware River Valley.''This is such a poor area,'' said Virginia Rasulo, who along the river is known better as simply Ginger.
''I just wanted to do something for the children.''So with six mechanical elves, Christmas trees laden with lights and gingham bows, and hundreds of toys, she transformed an annex of her restaurant into a vision of Santa's workshop that would rival any window on Fifth Avenue. Then, through newspaper notices, she invited children from along the river to visit the workshop and receive a free toy.
Began as a Grocery''I went to lawn sales, put ads in the paper, talked to hunters that came through, telling them to give toys,'' Mrs. Rasulo said. ''Everybody gave something. Everybody.''AdvertisementGinger's - where a sign on the door says, ''Please carry in a log, thank you'' - is known as one of the best places to eat along Route 97, two lanes of winding asphalt that hug the Delaware. Seventeen years ago, the Rasulos bought a rundown blacksmith's shop and opened a grocery with a couple of tables in a corner.
AdvertisementThe grocery is gone now, and Ginger's has grown to two dining rooms heated with large wood stoves. Stuffed animals are tucked here and there on shelves and wooden trunks, crowded by crocheted orange footballs, a pile of gingerbread-man cookbooks and a rack of corncob pipes. Dozens of ceramic cookie jars march down a shelf above a couple of ancient upright pianos.
Brooklyn RootsNearby are several Christmas trees and a sign over the counter that reads ''Yes - we have chilli'' and a gallon jar of ''Weber's skinless red hot sausage.''Traces of Mrs. Rasulo's Brooklyn roots - she moved to Long Eddy from Canarsie - still echo in her voice as she talks about the river towns.''A lot of people around here are on welfare,'' she said.
''There just isn't much work here.
Children who come here really need this.
The children shouldn't have to suffer.
''Through the door to the workshop, 9-year-old Dawn security Sloven rushed to the display of elves making toy soldiers. Wide-eyed, she wandered toward a tree, its lights sparkling, where she gazed at the pile of toys. Without hesitation she pointed to a fuzzy koala bear.
''I like stuffed animals,'' she said.
''I don't have very many.
''By the tree, Lyle Schmidt, wearing a red and white Santa's hat, snapped pictures of each child. He was one of several people drafted by Mrs. Rasulo to help with the toy giveaway.''There's nothing left for people to do up here,'' said Mr.
Schmidt, who works two jobs, as a milk truck driver and as a mechanic. ''I'm driving 50 miles one way to work. There's absolutely no industry up here. As far as economic-wise, you have to leave the community to work.''Please verify you're not a robot by clicking the box.
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You must select a newsletter to subscribe to.View all New York Times newsletters.Years ago, home there were some tanneries and acid factories in Long Eddy. That was when the train stopped here, when there were 11 saloons and 7 dance halls.
Later there was even a movie theater.
AdvertisementHunters Bearing Gifts''That's all gone now,'' said Delores DiRocco, who dropped by to help. ''We've got 41 houses in town and 184 people.'' Now it is mostly canoeists, trout fishermen and hunters who come through Long Eddy.
A goodly number stop by Ginger's.
Like everybody who comes by, Mrs.
DiRocco is a big fan of Ginger's.
''Ginger has a heart bigger than I don't know what,'' she said, sipping a cup of steaming coffee. ''I don't think she counts dollars and cents.''As she talked, three hunters from Staten Island walked in with two huge boxes piled high with gifts wrapped in crimson paper.
''You see, people just keep bringing toys,'' Mrs. Rasulo whispered. Then, to the hunters, ''Just put those by the tree.''Throughout the day, cars filled with children pulled up.
Adults and children lingered before the elves and the wooden soldiers in sawdust. Flashbulbs popped. Babies laughed.Second ThoughtsOutside, seven people standing arm-in-arm sang carols to passing cars. A couple brought by two goats with twigs tied to their heads with broad red ribbons - ''they're really reindeer,'' home people were told.
A small boy looked ruefully at a toy cash register that he was holding and timidly asked if he could trade it for a plastic train set he spied in a box. He could, he was told.As the children left the workshop, one of Mrs. Rasulo's helpers gave each one a carton of chocolate milk and a small bag of cookies and candy.
''Say thank you and give Ginger a kiss,'' a mother said to a young boy.After the kiss, Mrs. Rasulo looked around and smiled. ''Boy, isn't this something,'' she said.A version of this article appears in print on December 19, 1984, on Page B00001 of the National edition with the headline: IN THE DELAWARE VALLEY, CHRISTMAS IS AT security
Occasionally security the digitization process introduces transcription errors or other problems. Please send reports of such problems to archive_feedback@nytimes.com. The children came from the river towns, from Hankins and Callicoon, from Equinunk and Stalker.
In twos and threes, tugging parents, they came to Ginger's restaurant and Santa's Workshop, where toy trains, bright yellow trucks and Raggedy Ann dolls, brown stuffed bears, electric hockey games and striped candy canes awaited.Christmas had come to Long Eddy and the Delaware River Valley.''This is such a poor area,'' said Virginia Rasulo, who along the river is known better as simply Ginger.
''I just wanted to do something for the children.''So with six mechanical elves, Christmas trees laden with lights and gingham bows, and hundreds of toys, she transformed an annex of her restaurant into a vision of Santa's workshop that would rival any window on Fifth Avenue. Then, through newspaper notices, she invited children from along the river to visit the workshop and receive a free toy.
Began as a Grocery''I went to lawn sales, put ads in the paper, talked to hunters that came through, telling them to give toys,'' Mrs. Rasulo said. ''Everybody gave something. Everybody.''AdvertisementGinger's - where a sign on the door says, ''Please carry in a log, thank you'' - is known as one of the best places to eat along Route 97, two lanes of winding asphalt that hug the Delaware. Seventeen years ago, the Rasulos bought a rundown blacksmith's shop and opened a grocery with a couple of tables in a corner.
AdvertisementThe grocery is gone now, and Ginger's has grown to two dining rooms heated with large wood stoves. Stuffed animals are tucked here and there on shelves and wooden trunks, crowded by crocheted orange footballs, a pile of gingerbread-man cookbooks and a rack of corncob pipes. Dozens of ceramic cookie jars march down a shelf above a couple of ancient upright pianos.
Brooklyn RootsNearby are several Christmas trees and a sign over the counter that reads ''Yes - we have chilli'' and a gallon jar of ''Weber's skinless red hot sausage.''Traces of Mrs. Rasulo's Brooklyn roots - she moved to Long Eddy from Canarsie - still echo in her voice as she talks about the river towns.''A lot of people around here are on welfare,'' she said.
''There just isn't much work here.
Children who come here really need this.
The children shouldn't have to suffer.
''Through the door to the workshop, 9-year-old Dawn security Sloven rushed to the display of elves making toy soldiers. Wide-eyed, she wandered toward a tree, its lights sparkling, where she gazed at the pile of toys. Without hesitation she pointed to a fuzzy koala bear.
''I like stuffed animals,'' she said.
''I don't have very many.
''By the tree, Lyle Schmidt, wearing a red and white Santa's hat, snapped pictures of each child. He was one of several people drafted by Mrs. Rasulo to help with the toy giveaway.''There's nothing left for people to do up here,'' said Mr.
Schmidt, who works two jobs, as a milk truck driver and as a mechanic. ''I'm driving 50 miles one way to work. There's absolutely no industry up here. As far as economic-wise, you have to leave the community to work.''Please verify you're not a robot by clicking the box.
Invalid email address.
Please re-enter.
You must select a newsletter to subscribe to.View all New York Times newsletters.Years ago, home there were some tanneries and acid factories in Long Eddy. That was when the train stopped here, when there were 11 saloons and 7 dance halls.
Later there was even a movie theater.
AdvertisementHunters Bearing Gifts''That's all gone now,'' said Delores DiRocco, who dropped by to help. ''We've got 41 houses in town and 184 people.'' Now it is mostly canoeists, trout fishermen and hunters who come through Long Eddy.
A goodly number stop by Ginger's.
Like everybody who comes by, Mrs.
DiRocco is a big fan of Ginger's.
''Ginger has a heart bigger than I don't know what,'' she said, sipping a cup of steaming coffee. ''I don't think she counts dollars and cents.''As she talked, three hunters from Staten Island walked in with two huge boxes piled high with gifts wrapped in crimson paper.
''You see, people just keep bringing toys,'' Mrs. Rasulo whispered. Then, to the hunters, ''Just put those by the tree.''Throughout the day, cars filled with children pulled up.
Adults and children lingered before the elves and the wooden soldiers in sawdust. Flashbulbs popped. Babies laughed.Second ThoughtsOutside, seven people standing arm-in-arm sang carols to passing cars. A couple brought by two goats with twigs tied to their heads with broad red ribbons - ''they're really reindeer,'' home people were told.
A small boy looked ruefully at a toy cash register that he was holding and timidly asked if he could trade it for a plastic train set he spied in a box. He could, he was told.As the children left the workshop, one of Mrs. Rasulo's helpers gave each one a carton of chocolate milk and a small bag of cookies and candy.
''Say thank you and give Ginger a kiss,'' a mother said to a young boy.After the kiss, Mrs. Rasulo looked around and smiled. ''Boy, isn't this something,'' she said.A version of this article appears in print on December 19, 1984, on Page B00001 of the National edition with the headline: IN THE DELAWARE VALLEY, CHRISTMAS IS AT security
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