Faces of Long Island celebrates the uniqueness of everyday Long Islanders and their life experiences in their own words. Join Newsday on this journey as we shine a light on the diverse people who call this island their home.

‘As the years went on, it just sunk in that this is something that could kill my son.’

Patchogue

“I found out when he was nine months old and my mother was watching him. I was working and she called me up and said, ‘I think you better come home.’ So, I come home and see his face, it’s blown up, welts all over it. I took him to an allergist, got him tested. And lo and behold, there was a larger-than-life peanut allergy on his little skin. And then my whole life just changed right there.

“As the years went on, it just sunk in that this is something that could kill my son. I remember going to a restaurant one time and he went by the case with all the cheesecakes and had a reaction just from smelling it. That’s how we discovered that he was airborne allergic.

“When I have to go onto a plane, it’s a whole big thing because not a lot of people understand the seriousness of it. And I have to ask the flight attendant to please make an announcement not to eat anything with peanuts because it’s recirculated air and there’s a chance he can inhale it and have a reaction. And if we’re all the way up in the air, the only thing that could save him is his auto-injector. Some people will be really great about it. I’ve had people sitting behind me who asked, ‘Is this, okay?’ and they would show me ingredients. And that’s an amazing feeling. Then you have the other side of it where people are like, ‘Why can’t I eat my peanuts?’ because they don’t understand. They think it’s a little itch. Peanut allergy is a whole different thing because it can actually kill you.

Any minute, one false move and it could be their life. Something simple as a food everybody else just eats and doesn’t have to worry about.

“There’s just such a lack of understanding of food allergies. I wish that there was more awareness out there. When I think about him going off to college and not having me there to kind of be his guide and protect him, I hope he’s ready.

I’ll have him make phone calls to restaurants now himself and ask the question, ‘What kind of oil do you cook in?’ and he does it. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let him go. It’s so exhausting. And it’s so scary. Any minute, one false move and it could be their life. Something simple as a food everybody else just eats and doesn’t have to worry about. It’s like I see peanut — and I see poison.”

Interviewed by Jay Max

‘We’ve been doing it a long time, so most people know us. We’ve become the old timers. We started not knowing anything and now everybody comes to us.’

West Islip

“We went to the Garden of Eve Chickapalooza and that’s how we got our first chickens. You pay $10 for the class and got a free chicken. And then it just kept growing. Two became three within a week. That became six and before you know it, we have about, I don’t know, 70? It’s hard to count now. Sometimes we lose some, sometimes we gain some.

“Our neighbors have chickens and a whole bunch of people in the neighborhood do too. The Long Island Chicken Keepers Group has thousands of members. Everybody’s really tight-knit. They’re also kind of secretive. Most people we know would never admit they have chickens. Keepers get blamed for rodent problems, so most don’t want people to know they have them otherwise you become the neighborhood pariah. You have to keep them clean.

“We’ve always had a lot of animals. It’s good to have animals around with kids too. I think kids with animals are more compassionate. They learn nurturing skills. The kids are always out tending and collecting eggs and feeding them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Some of the chickens are more friendly than others. At times, we’ll handle a chicken nonstop and it’s never friendly. Others are super friendly. You get super attached to the friendly ones.

“They can live 10 years. A lot of people will cull them when they stop laying. We don’t do that. We just figure they’ve worked hard for us making eggs, the least they could have is a nice life and hang out in the backyard eating bugs. We don’t eat our chickens. We do eat chicken, just not our chickens. They’re our pets. We’re keeping pets that lay eggs.

When people buy eggs from us, they want to see something unique, not something they can buy from the supermarket.

“Different breeds lay more than others. We have a whole lot of blue and green layers. When people buy eggs from us, they want to see something unique, not something they can buy from the supermarket. The black copper maran lays an egg that’s chocolate colored, we have those too. We use as many as we can and then we sell them to the neighborhood for $5 a dozen. In the spring and summer, we get two or three dozen a day. And we sell them as fast as we collect them.

“We’ve traveled with chickens. We have a house in Florida, and we brought chickens from there. There were breeds we couldn’t get up here. One of them was a rooster, she would just perch on my seat as we were driving on the interstate. The car stunk to holy hell by the time we got back.

“We’ve been doing it a long time, so most people know us. We’ve become the old timers. We started not knowing anything and now everybody comes to us.”

Interviewed by Betsy Abraham

‘From the second that I put it on, I instantly felt this relief and this sort of weight lifted off my shoulders.’

Jericho

“I call it my ‘hijab story.’ I am a visibly Muslim American woman because I wear the hijab, which is a scarf that I wear on my head as part of my wardrobe. It’s a way of dressing modestly, which is something that Muslim women do, traditionally.

“I didn’t wear a hijab when I was in high school, but people that came into my life later, in my adult years, just assumed that this was part of my life always. Growing up, I had a very normal childhood — great time in school, great friends, went to college.

“I was about to start medical school and there were certain things going on in my personal life. I just felt like there were obstacles and I was at a point where I was feeling down. I like to be very positive and always have the glass half-full approach to everything that I do. So that little bit of sadness that just kind of stayed with me, no matter what I did, was really bothering me and I needed to get in touch with my spirituality.

I used to always hear the saying that if you take one step towards God, he’ll take a hundred steps towards you.

“I needed to do something that would help me feel more at ease. I used to always hear the saying that if you take one step towards God, he’ll take a hundred steps towards you. And I just said, you know, maybe this is what I need to do right now for me. And so, I decided that I was going to wear the hijab.

“It was a big decision because I knew the responsibility that came with that — everybody was going to look at me as sort of a symbol of this religion. So that meant that even though I’m not claiming to be the most pious person, I didn’t want any of my actions or anything that I did to tarnish or give a bad representation of my religion. It was a big commitment and I certainly wanted to do it when I was ready for it. I didn’t want to start wearing it and then take it off because then it gives people mixed signals and confuses everybody. I took all of these things in my mind and said, ‘You know, I think I’m ready for this,’ and decided to start wearing the hijab.

“And from the second that I put it on, I instantly felt this relief and this sort of weight lifted off my shoulders. That feeling of sadness and overwhelming feeling of anxiety, or whatever I was dealing with at that time, literally just vanished with like a snap of a finger. And I never looked back since then.”

The person profiled here has been a guest on Newsday Live.

Interviewed by Jay Max