
From left: Little Nine Partners Historical Society President Dyan Wapnick, Dutchess County Historian Will Tatum III and Edward Downey following Tatum’s talk.
Photo by Judith O’Hara Balfe
PINE PLAINS — Dutchess County Historian Will Tatum III spoke at the Nine Partners Historical Society meeting at the Pine Plains Free Library on Friday, March 24, just two days before the town celebrated its 200th anniversary on Sunday, March 26. The topic was, naturally, the birth of Pine Plains, or how it came to be its own entity, having split from the town of North East.
Tatum stated: “March 26, 1823, was a seminal as well as pivotal date for the municipal map of northern and eastern Dutchess County. The date of act creating Pine Plains as an independent town completed the process begun in 1818 when Milan first separated from the town of North East, the origins of which stretched back to the early Colonial period.
The final act in this municipal drama created the town of Pine Plains as we know it today and redrew the boundaries of North East and Amenia, shifting the old town line south. That change in town lines helps to explain why the histories of North East and Amenia remain so closely interwoven today, while speaking to the prominence of Pine Plains from the 1770s onward.”
His discussion included a description of the original eight partners and a kind of exposé of the ninth partner, who, as it turns out, was not always evident on paper. Tatum explained that there were several names for the group — the Little Nine Partners, the Great Nine Partners, and the Lower Nine Partners — which acquired a patent, or land grant in Dutchess County on May 27, 1697, from New York Gov. Benjamin Fletcher.
Pine Plains was settled as a farming community, and was thriving by 1770. Roads were already in place, and there was commercial traffic as well as a government. In 1683 (is this the correct year?) there were 12 original New York counties, and Dutchess was one of them. The land was divided into land “patents,” as it was taken from the Indigenous tribes and at one point, a patent was formed: the North East Precinct, which included North East, Pine Plains and Milan.
The North East Precinct lived into the 1800s, but evidently there was some growing dissatisfaction. Tatum remarked that a fire in 1911 in the state Capitol in Albany had wiped out most records, so while there is no written proof, it seems that both Pine Plains and Milan wanted to be independent.
Some maps drawn at the time show changes in the geography; Milan became a town in 1818, and by 1823, Pine Plains did the same. However, Tatum pointed out that the 1823 law that led to the creation of the town of Pine Plains hardly mentions Pine Plains, but says it is an act to “…divide the Towns of Northeast and Amenia, in the county of Dutchess.”
Talking about this today, it would seem as though this was easily accomplished, but it wasn’t. Some of the land belonged to the Schaghticoke-Mahican people, and a Moravian mission had been set up at Shekomeko around 1742. But by 1823, the mission had long since failed, and the land was acquired from the Indigenous people who remained.
Another point that Tatum made clear was that, for a very long time, Amenia was much larger than it is now. Some of Amenia was given to North East in order to make that entity large enough to become its own town, because when Milan and Pine Plains pulled away from North East, there just wasn’t enough left to declare it a town without “borrowing” from the much larger Amenia.
Pine Plains is dedicating much of the remainder of 2023 to events commemorating the bicentennial. Tatum’s was followed by refreshments and lots of conversation, copies of the New Pine Plains Herald were available, and there was lots of excitement for the festivities that would be taking place on Sunday, March 26, with many more to follow as outlined by Town Supervisor Brian Walsh, planning board member Kate Osofsky and others. One highlight will be a reading of Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” with Dutchess County Legislature Chair Greg Pulver playing the pivotal role of the Stage Manager.
More information about upcoming festivities can be found on the town website: www.pineplains-ny.gov
Jan. 27 marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau. I traveled to Poland as part of a delegation for the commemoration and spent a few days before the event with my father and sister learning, remembering and gathering information.
My dad’s parents, Miriam and Yehuda, of blessed memory, were deported to Auschwitz -Birkenau from the Lódz Ghetto. They both had families that perished and met each other after the camp was liberated.
The gate at Auschwitz. Natalia Zukerman
I put my feet in the train tracks where they would have arrived, ran my hands across the walls of the horrible gas chambers, the broken wood of the crowded bunks, gathered dirt in my shoes where they would have walked, and made sure to touch the trunks of the trees along the path—innocent witnesses.
My father’s parents survived. How did they do it? Miriam was quickly sent to a work camp on the Czech border, and Yehuda played violin in the Auschwitz orchestra (aka the Death Orchestra). Music saved him. A million miracles saved them both.
Many members of our extended family did not survive.
Suitcases taken from prisoners at Auschwitz.Natalia Zukerman
Cuikerman was the original Polish spelling of our name. We poured over page after page of our name in the Book of Names. I can’t explain it, but as I read the names—aloud and quietly—I felt some of their spirits finally release.
Innocent witnesses.
I never wanted to come to Auschwitz-Birkenau. I grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust. It was part of our dark story. From the time I was very little, I saw all the images, watched the movies, read the books. I’ve had nightmares my whole life. I remember the tattoo on my grandmother’s forearm. This was enough.
But until you stand in the field the size of a city and look out at the expanse of crematoria, gas chambers, bunkers, the enormity and scale is just a story, words on a page. Now I have metabolized it in a different way. Now it is part of my DNA on a deeper level. Now I am changed.
A crematorium at Auschwitz.Natalia Zukerman
On Holocaust Remembrance Day, world leaders from fifty countries—including King Charles, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Emmanuel Macron, Justin Trudeau and so many more— gathered with survivors and their families, musicians, friends and patrons of the organization in an enormous tent at the entrance to Birkenau. A freight train stood in front of the main gate. The car, from Germany, honors the 420,000 Hungarian Jews deported in 1944. Its conservation was funded by Frank Lowy, whose father, Hugo, was killed in the camp.
It radiated with horror in almost theatrical lighting, its now silenced whistle audible in the memories of all who gathered.
I listened to survivor after survivor speak. I watched as each world leader lit candles in remembrance. I said Kaddish (the Jewish prayer for the dead) with the several thousand people present.
But I only heard one person, 99-year-old Polish-born Swedish-Jewish doctor Leon Weintraub, utter any words that made sense to me, to my very fragile and shaken heart. He became a doctor after the war and told the group gathered the one absolute truth: there is only one race—the human race. He talked about the fact that under the skin, we are the same, words that were beyond powerful. In the very place where the most evil “experiments” were conducted to prove the supremacy of the Aryan race, this man stood there in all his beautiful bravery and told the truth. He was able, for a moment, to remove a hierarchy of care and replace it with an expansive, human appeal. He brought the memory of all the people killed, not just the Jews when he said, “be sensitive to all manifestations of intolerance and dislike of those who differ in terms of skin color, religion or sexual orientation.” He widened the conversation, lest we also forget the Romani, queer, disabled, dissidents and more that were also victims of the Nazis. Lest we forget the lesson of Gandhi when he said, “intolerance itself is a form of violence.”
Weintraub ended by saying, “allowing the memory of millions of innocent victims to fade would be equivalent to robbing them of their lives a second time.”
Shoes taken from prisoners.Natalia Zukerman
There are multiple genocides on planet earth right now. There are humans in actual concentration camps as I write this. There are whole populations being murdered.
After this experience, more than ever, I vow to speak the truth as loudly and as often as I can.
Speaking up, questioning and protesting is not only not antisemitism, it defines the core principles of what it means to be Jewish.
A beautiful Jewish human named Albert Einstein said, “Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty.”
This must and will be my task. Nothing else makes any sense.
Prisoners slept four to a bunk at Birkenau.Natalia Zukerman
Dina La Fonte
The “sober curious” movement has gained momentum in recent years, encouraging individuals to explore life without alcohol—whether for health reasons, personal growth, or simple curiosity. Dina La Fonte, a certified recovery coach, is theSenior Business Affairs Associate at Mountainside, an alcohol and drug addiction treatment center with a holistic approach to wellness that has several locations, including the one in Canaan, Connecticut. With nearly five years of sobriety, La Fonte blends professional expertise with lived experience, making her a powerful advocate for recovery.
Like many, La Fonte’s path to recovery was not just about removing alcohol; it was about rediscovering herself. “Once you get sober from a substance, whether it’s alcohol, drugs, gambling or what have you, emotional aspects of change come into place,” she explained. “It’s not a hard stop; it’s a continued process of integration and struggle.” Her own journey has led her to a career in recovery coaching, allowing her to help others find their own path.
“What I love about my work at Mountainside is that it allows me to be who I am without forcing me into a mold,” she said. “In recovery, we identify our authentic voice, establish boundaries, and clarify what we truly want.”
La Fonte explained that the rise of the “sober curious” movement may reflect a cultural shift in how we approach alcohol and self-care. La Fonte attributes this change to open conversations that break down stigma. “Even five or six years ago, admitting you had a problem came with embarrassment,” she said. “Now, the more we discuss it, the more people realize they’re not alone.” This newfound openness has perhaps made it easier for some individuals to explore sobriety and even do so without the pressure of a lifelong commitment.
Beyond emotional well-being, La Fonte also noted the physical benefits of sobriety. “It wasn’t immediate, but after a year, I noticed my skin clearing up, my energy improving, and my confidence growing,” she recalled. “Casual drinking dehydrates the skin, affects sleep, and contributes to inflammation. When people realize how much better they feel without alcohol, they want to hold onto that.”
In her role at Mountainside, La Fonte has expanded beyond coaching to influence organization-wide initiatives. “I still work directly with clients, but now I also help evolve how we support them,” she said. “Mountainside takes a holistic approach—integrating yoga, grief therapy, sound baths, and more. It’s not about pushing people through a system; it’s about meeting them where they are.”
La Fonte uses her social media platform as a “micro-influencer” to promote sober living and wellness. “I focus on positivity in sobriety—whether it’s skincare, self-care, or mental health. I test vegan and cruelty-free products, but I only promote what aligns with my values.”
For those exploring sobriety, La Fonte’s message is simple: “I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help.” She encourages open conversations and meeting people where they are. “If you’re curious about sobriety, let’s talk. I don’t need to know you to be proud of you. I don’t need to know you to love you. I already love you.Just reaching out is a huge step.”
With voices like La Fonte’s leading the conversation, perhaps the sober curious movement is more than a trend—it’s a cultural shift redefining what it means to live fully and authentically.
To contact Dina La Fonte, email her at dina.lafonte@mountainside.com, explore the Mountainside website at mountainside.com, or follow La Fonte on Instagram @dinalafonte