Faces of Long Island celebrates the uniqueness of everyday Long Islanders. In their own words, they tell us about their life experiences, challenges and triumphs. Newsday launched this social media journey into the human experience to shine a light on the diverse people of this wonderful place we call home.

‘I always felt the spirituality in the martial arts. When I was training, it just went through me in that spiritual way. And it was a great connection for me.’

Kings Park

“There’s a lot of history in my life. It’s like 50 years of martial arts, so a tremendous amount of growth and change over the years. I was in Okinawa [Japan] four times. The last one was an invitation from the Okinawan government in 2019 to represent Isshin-Ryu karate and the USA on a high-level black belt tour. So that was an amazing thing. I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but I did. And it was an awesome trip.

“I was the only female and the highest ranking one in my group — and the oldest one in my group, ha-ha. The tour took us to walking the path of the old masters, all the founders of the different styles of martial arts.

“One of the best days for me was when we went to a martial arts museum in Naha, and I brought my first book with me — which took me 20 years to write, by the way. Years prior, Isshin-Ryu master Angi Uezu had sent me some pictures of older masters, his family and old ‘Okinawa Times.’’ And he said, ‘Please make a book.’ And I thought, ‘I don’t know what to do with that.’ While I was writing the book, I went to look for something else, and the photos fell out of the bookshelf right into my hand. It’s as if they said, ‘We belong in your book.’

“The masters, when they saw it, got so excited about the photos that went in the back of the book. The first story I ever wrote that was published was for a magazine called TaeKwonDo Times. This is when I was experiencing the spiritual aspect of the martial arts very strongly, and I’m reading ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull.’

“So, my story was called ‘The Limitless Spirit of the Martial Arts.’ And I kept trying to get a picture with a rising sun and a seagull across it. I sent them the little one-page story, and when it came out, on one side of the paper was my story, the sun, seagull, and on the other side of the page was a full picture of me. The whole page! This magazine profiled Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, all the top guys.

“Normal people get a little square in the corner. That was amazing. That’s why the book became ‘The Limitless Spirit of the Martial Arts.’ I always felt the spirituality in the martial arts. When I was training, it just went through me in that spiritual way. And it was a great connection for me.”

I want to tell people to follow their heart. Be open to possibilities. We never know where life will lead!

“In 1972, after my second baby was born, I joined a health club in Smithtown. I really didn’t care about exercises, ha-ha, but they did have a self-defense program. It was so much fun. When they disbanded that program, my friend and I had a gentleman come to the house and teach us tae kwon do in my living room, which really piqued my interest.

“And because he was gentle in his approach, it didn’t turn me off to martial arts. But then he couldn’t teach anymore. So I started to look for a real dojo, and all the dojos were, ‘No, we don’t want women. You could take a self-defense class, but I’m not teaching you karate.’ That was the mentality in that time. I finally found somebody with a program who was teaching Isshin-Ryu, which used a vertical punch instead of a corkscrew, and that made all the difference to me. I fell in love with it. That’s how I discovered my sensei, Nick Adler.

“So, by 1974, I was with my sensei’s dojo. He didn’t care if you were a man or a woman. You train the same way. You work just as hard. My goal was to be a brown belt and be able to defend myself. But somewhere along the line I kept training, became a black belt, and then it continued with different levels.

“In 1978, sensei and I opened Smithtown Karate Academy together. It was hard because I never planned to teach or own a school, but I was able to manage to get through it. I had to learn confidence. The only goal that I had after teaching was sandan, which is a third-degree black belt and in the U.S. a teaching level. And since I was teaching, I wanted to be a sandan. And that happened when I won first place in the all-men’s weapons division — they didn’t have it for women — at my sensei’s teacher Don Nagle’s tournament.

“So, I had two special people there when I got that. I had a lot of insecurities growing up and was not confident. And what shocked me is, 10 years ago, I went to visit my best friend that I grew up with, and she pulled out her high school journal and we went over it. She had put under my name, ‘Most Likely to Succeed.’. I’m like, ‘You saw that then? I never saw any of that.’ I want to tell people to follow their heart. Be open to possibilities. We never know where life will lead!”

Interviewed by Jay Max

‘You need to have a sense of humor and you need to set goals. I’m plugging along.’

Kings Park

“I was hiking in Hither Hills in Montauk in 2011; it’s wonderful and I highly recommend it. They call it the poor man’s Hamptons, and you can camp there for next to nothing. That day, I was bit on my arm by a brown recluse spider, and later I became partially paralyzed from the chest down. I was diagnosed with idiopathic acute transverse myelitis. My diagnosis is idiopathic, meaning they’re not exactly sure how I got it, although it did happen after the spider bite.

“I’m a fighter. I need so much baclofen, a muscle relaxant that I have a pump installed next to my appendix. I have a brace on one leg. I still have problems breathing. Transverse myelitis is akin to MS [multiple sclerosis] in that you become paralyzed; you’re not in control of your body. I didn’t become paralyzed right after the spider bite; it took a period of time. I got weaker and I was walking with leg braces, and then I thought, what’s the point?

I worked with my legislator and made June 6th Suffolk County Transverse Myelitis Awareness Day.

“Now I ambulate with the wheelchair. My mind is still there, except some people would debate that. I like to think I have a sense of humor because life is too short. Becoming paralyzed was devastating; it changed my life for the worse. I lost my job and I had to move. I bounced around from four different nursing homes, and I created havoc in all of them. Nursing homes weren’t used to something like this. It wasn’t like I had a stroke; my diagnosis just prevented me from walking. I try to get active in all the events at my nursing home.

“Before this event, I was completely healthy. One of my goals this year is to go kayaking, which I can do with my upper body. I worked with my legislator and made June 6th Suffolk County Transverse Myelitis Awareness Day. So that’s my claim to fame, and I’m proud of that. I wanted to do a walk, run and roll to raise money for transverse myelitis and other neurological conditions, but I couldn’t do it on my own. Everything happens for a reason. Like I said, you need to have a sense of humor and you need to set goals. I’m plugging along. It’s been a long time.”

Interviewed by Hannah Fusaro

‘I said I was either going to be the second baseman for the New York Mets or I was going to be a Broadway performer. I got it 50 percent right!’

Kings Park

“I got the bug for it when I was 5 or 6 years old; I would be singing around town, and I got a lot of attention for it. My first real memory of performing is when we would take our record player and put the speakers up in the windows.

“In 1977, I was performing ‘Grease’ out on the front lawn for all the neighbors. I was generally a normal child who got into sports and continued singing.

“My bar mitzvah was themed ‘David on Broadway.’ I said I was either going to be the second baseman for the New York Mets or I was going to be a Broadway performer. I got it 50 percent right! Later, there was an audition for ‘Oliver!’ on Broadway. I got down to the last three. The first guy got the Artful Dodger, the second guy got the understudy and I got nothing. But I got my name in The New York Times and I thought, ‘Maybe I am OK at this.’

“In high school. I went to the Cultural Arts Center in Syosset for half the day, and I met some great people who had done Broadway shows. They had a great theater, and they taught me a lot. I did all of the shows at my regular high school, too.

“From there, I went to NYU, and I loved every minute of it. I got my [Actors’] Equity card by doing a show with Martin Charnin and was then a waiter after I finished school.

“A few years later, I got my first call to be in the ensemble of Broadway’s ‘Les Misérables.’ Later came ‘Grease’ and ‘The Wedding Singer,’ amongst others.

“Performing always felt right, like something I was meant to do. I felt connected and joy while doing it. I feel like I lose myself in a good way when I am performing, like it’s supposed to be happening. My favorite thing to do is cry and feel the emotions.

“When I played Max in ‘Lend Me a Tenor,’ or Adam Maitland in ‘Beetlejuice,’ or Ogie in ‘Waitress,’ I got to feel so much. You get to experience things that feel real to you. I also love the comedy and figuring out the mathematics to get the best laugh, even if you’re not the one delivering the punch line. I’m so grateful to be back on Broadway with ‘Beetlejuice.’”

I’ve learned to be in the moment, and I think I’m doing that in every moment on stage, too. It’s making performances even better.

“My journey as Adam Maitland in ‘Beetlejuice’ began when I auditioned for it when it went to Washington, D.C. The great part is that I didn’t get it! Kids looking to get into the business should know that there is a lot of that involved.

“The best thing to do is enjoy auditioning and classes, because that’s what you’ll spend most of your time doing. I did ‘The Prom’ on Broadway instead.

“Great things come from other things! I called my agent and asked if we could get me in to take over Rob McClure’s role in “Beetlejuice,” which I also auditioned for after D.C. and didn’t get. I was brought in, I screwed up all five auditions, and they still gave me the part!

“Coming back after two years of being closed down has been so joyful. COVID changed my life, and losing my friend [actor] Nick [Cordero] changed the way I see life. He was the kindest, gentle giant you would ever meet.

“He came down with COVID early on, and his wife, Amanda [Kloots], asked us to get together and send energy their way. I made a very serious video telling him he were rooting for him, and then realized that’s not what she wanted. The next day, I started wearing my Elvis suit and singing Elvis. Somehow it became a thing where for three months, I would put on my Elvis suit and make funny videos to send her positive vibes and energy.

“Many people in the Broadway community came out to do it with us. Nick’s song is called ‘Live Your Life.’ It’s about seizing the day and not taking a moment for granted. I was starting to get nervous doing Broadway shows, but coming back from these two years, I have been thinking, ‘I get to do this!’ instead of ‘I have to do this’ — even with things as mundane as cleaning the house.

“I’ve learned to be in the moment, and I think I’m doing that in every moment on stage, too. It’s making performances even better. Throughout my career I have learned that if at first you don’t succeed, keep going. This happened to me with ‘Beetlejuice’ when they said, ‘I don’t think you’re right for it.’

“If it’s something you want, don’t be afraid to try and fail. The show’s story is sort of the same story I’m finding in my own life: The want for connection and then seizing the day.”

Interviewed by Iris Wiener

‘I was a 14-year-old girl with $10,000 to $15,000 worth of gold in my backpack.’

Kings Park

“When I was a girl, my dad owned a jewelry- and watch-repair shop in Brentwood. Gold was big then. He would buy any scrap gold people would want to get rid of, melt it down, and I would take these little bricks of gold with me on the train to Penn Station.

“I was a 14-year-old girl with $10,000 to $15,000 worth of gold in my backpack. I would go into the Diamond District, where everybody knew who I was, sell the gold, and get back on the train with thousands in cash in my little bookbag.

“Part of me is still grounded in that humble Brentwood shop where I learned everything I know about business. I had immigrated with my mother from Honduras to the United States when I was 6 and a half years old. When we landed at LaGuardia Airport, coming from a Third World country, I was starstruck, thinking the United States would be all castles in the sand.

“My dad, who was already living on Long Island, bought the Brentwood house where I grew up. I didn’t play sports or do extracurricular activities after school; I was my dad’s gofer. I learned street smarts, negotiation and my work ethic from him.

“Though successful, he was very mentally abusive, typical macho. The concept of a business owner in my father’s eyes meant sacrificing everything for the sake of a buck.

“I graduated from Brentwood High School at age 16; my guidance counselor had told me it couldn’t be done. I took additional summer school and school courses to graduate as a junior. I was studying business management. Then, I decided college wasn’t for me. I dropped out and went to massage school, graduating at age 17.

“I started my career as a massage therapist in 2002 in Florida, but my heart is in New York, where I returned in 2007. I was 22 and seven months pregnant. Everybody was saying that having a child when I was so young would interfere with my goals. But my first son, born in January 2008, became my biggest motivation.

“Four months after he was born, I opened my practice in Kings Park. I became a licensed esthetician a year later. I evolved the concept of a spa that is less like a factory, more like a family. We grew and grew. Then, five years ago, I almost lost everything when my livelihood and business were seriously threatened.”

After years of soul searching, I had to self-heal for my own sanity.

“I met my sons’ father when I was 17. We moved in together when I was 21. He was a hard worker – he owned an auto shop – but also a tortured soul and brought those demons into our relationship. First it was mental and verbal abuse, then it got physical.

“Initially, I thought, no matter what, he was my boyfriend, we had two boys together. By the beginning of eight years together, I asked him to go. He had to be physically removed by the police.

“Then he began stalking and harassing me. It got so bad I tried to commit suicide. I was 29 at the time, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. I sent my kids to live with family in Honduras. I told my clientele I had to leave, but that I’d keep coming back to New York to see them.

“I packed my car and drove to California. I found a place for us, brought my kids back to live with me, and traveled back and forth between New York and L.A., where I also built up a good reputation. One of my clients is a former U.S. ambassador.

“I specialize in Swedish, Ashiatsu and yoga Thai massage. When the pandemic hit, I was overbooked because everybody was so stressed. I got a bigger space in downtown L.A., about 1,000 square feet with single and couples massage rooms, break room and reception-retail area.

“As a woman and single mother, after years of soul searching, I decided I had to self-heal for my own sanity. Part of that was to allow my sons to also partake in that self-healing and create closure for them with their dad.

“In December, we met in a public space, and they spent four hours together. I’ve never seen my children so happy. Pursuing a doctorate in natural medicine, I’m learning how our emotions can make us sick if we don’t let go of resentment.

“I’ve employed a few women while they were going through spousal abuse, and because of my own experience, I was able to help them to navigate their exit out of their situation. As a survivor, it’s important to be the voice for other women who didn’t survive.”

Interviewed by Jim Merritt

‘One of the things I always say to people is you can never make a person sadder than the day that they were notified that their child died. Ever.’

Kings Park

“On the morning I lost my 20-year-old daughter, Laura Lee Snyder, to suicide by train, Oct. 27, 2010, everyone in the house woke up at 4:50. I looked in the bedroom that two of my sons shared and they were awake. Then I went to the room Laura shared with her sister. She wasn’t there but her sister was awake, and I thought she had left for school. I heard sirens in the background but didn’t think much of it and went back to bed. When I got everybody up for school, I noticed Laura had left her books, iPod and some papers in a pile. I put it on her bed and sent my kids off at 7:40.

“At 7:50, two men from the railroad knocked on the door and told me she’d been hit by a train and passed. I didn’t understand she had done it on purpose. Strangely, the time we all woke up was the time of her death. The sirens I heard were people attending to her. I found out from the funeral parlor that she laid prone on the tracks.

“We were completely blindsided. We loved her for who she was, a little quirky. She was a gentle kid. In her note to us, she said she didn’t fit into this world. That she’d been battling a mental illness since she was a child and couldn’t deal with it anymore. We’ve since learned that for someone dealing with mental illness it’s mentally exhausting to keep this mask on all the time, trying to `fit into’ the world. None of them want to die; they just want their pain to end. But she was carrying that around for so long.

“She had planned this for eight months. A week before she had started cleaning her room out, which I was so happy about. We later found out the only thing she left was an outfit she wanted to be laid out in, which she had shown me the week before and asked me if I liked it. Now I see the signs as clear as day, but then I didn’t.

“After the funeral, a strange thing started happening. I got messages from people all over the country about, `I think my son is suicidal’ or `my neighbor’s daughter just committed suicide, can they call you?’ I was working with the Joe’s Project with the Family Service League. I sat at wakes for children that I didn’t know to be a source of support for the parents. I don’t want them to feel like they’re alone.”

If a parent has a gut feeling that something is wrong, something is wrong.

“It would’ve have been nice to have somebody there with me at Laura’s funeral because nobody really understands what you’re experiencing. A child’s death by suicide is a parent’s worst nightmare because you go through a lot of second guessing your entire parenthood with that child and there’s a lot of regret and guilt. Suicide is unlike another death. There’s no closure. You’re in a group where you’re all floundering and there’s a lot of should have, could have, would haves. We started to raise money through Laura’s Voice to donate anonymously to help others bury their child. I still get phone calls from all over the country.

“Laura’s suicide completely changed me. I think I’m a better parent than I was back then. I don’t think I was a bad parent, but it sure puts your life into perspective. As her mom, I don’t know why she never said anything to me. I don’t know why she never asked for help. I have no idea. I wish she did. And I wish I didn’t chalk everything up to being a kid. I want all parents to know the signs.

“If a parent has a gut feeling that something is wrong, something is wrong. It’s not normal for them to be in their rooms all day. If you think your kid should be in therapy and it makes them angry with you, bring them to therapy; they’ll get over it. I also don’t believe in privacy with teenagers. Parents need to dig a little. My kid Googled everything she did. I did not know that checking her history was even an option.

“The trauma of her passing brought out a multitude of illnesses. I was diagnosed with primary progressive multiple sclerosis, type 2 diabetes, hypothyroidism, fibromyalgia, IBD and recurring pneumonia. All of our children rebounded. They’re all doing really well. You don’t get over it; you learn how to deal with it.

“I’ve also done a lot of lectures and one of the things I always say to people is you can never make a person sadder than the day that they were notified that their child died. Ever. If you want to talk to them about their daughter or son, they would love it because that means you didn’t forget them. Bringing up a child that has passed on will never make a parent sadder. It’s impossible for it to happen. So, we talk about Laura all the time.”

Interviewed by Liza Burby

‘My advice is: Just go out and film, learn by doing, don’t wait for somebody to throw a lot of money at you. On an independent film, you’re your own boss.’

Kings Park

“As an independent filmmaker for 42 years, my career has had crazy highs and lows. One of my films was shown in 2017 at the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan, as part of an exhibit on the Lower East Side.

“I became fascinated with filmmaking when I was 8 or 9, growing up in East Northport, watching “Dark Shadows” on television. My parents explained that the people who died from vampire bites or being torn apart by a werewolf were play acting for a living, and that the old creepy mansion was not really a house, but a set. I thought, that is so cool!

“I got my father’s home movie camera and started shooting my first movies. In Northport High School, I made more elaborate films in Super 8, one period at a time. You’d set up all your equipment, corral everyone, shoot and wrap the scene – all in 45 minutes.

“When the teacher showed my 30-minute thriller to a class, there was this one shock moment – an axe murder – when the students screamed and clapped. I said to myself, ‘If I can do that to an audience, then this is what I should be doing.’

I show my films to teach and encourage new independent filmmakers.

“I’ve made nine films, both features and documentaries, worked in 16 mm and now in digital. You do everything as an independent filmmaker. I write the script, direct actors, do cinematography, edit, and even do crowd control. I work with very low budgets, use Long Island actors including friends and family. We shoot scenes on location, sometimes without permits, often on the run, a technique called guerilla filmmaking.

“Early in my career, I filmed a foot chase through La Guardia Airport until a security guard made us leave. In 1998, we utilized a lot of LI Revolutionary War locations for a period drama about a vigilante attacking a British soldier camp. We got this beautiful shot of a Revolutionary War battle reenactment – it looked like a multimillion-dollar film.

“We started “Deed to Hell” in 2007 while in Europe. We filmed a chase scene in the Coliseum in Rome. I plan to make another horror film next spring and summer. I show my films to teach and encourage new independent filmmakers.

“My advice is: Just go out and film, learn by doing, don’t wait for somebody to throw a lot of money at you. On an independent film, you’re your own boss. Experiment!”

‘When I was incarcerated, I was shocked to see that I was surrounded by Black and brown women who had survived tremendous trauma similar to what I had survived.’

Kings Park

“I was incarcerated at 19 due to a family member’s mental health crisis, a serious family violence tragedy. Before that, I was this college student with a very sheltered upbringing in a Christian home.

“When I was incarcerated, I was shocked to see that I was surrounded by Black and brown women who had survived tremendous trauma similar to what I had survived.

“I came home from prison and worked in the city as a policy director for the nonprofit Correctional Association of NY. During that time, I realized there was a whole population of women who had been voiceless for many years. After having my son, it was really clear that Long Island was a desert for folks to take social justice seriously.

“So, six years ago, we founded New Hour for Women and Children. We empower women, children and families impacted by the criminal justice system. We provide workshops, a leadership and advocacy training program, and parenting programming in the Nassau and Suffolk jails for women.

If you can stabilize a woman with housing and help her see herself as more than just her crime, it becomes this huge ability to create change.

“We actively engage women in advocating for laws that create equity and fairness for women who have been incarcerated. Thinking about my time in jail, I thought, ‘It was 15 years later, and if I could do something for those women in that jail now, maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do.’

“A major issue when women get out is housing. Pretty much every week I speak to a woman who’s in tears and doesn’t have enough money for rent. We’re fundraising for a house where 4-6 women can live together at the beginning of their re-entry, repair relationships, get enough money for housing and come up with a plan. These women are set up for failure because there’s no clear re-entry path. A lot of these women can’t drive. There are all these barriers.

“Three-quarters of our women are moms, and the goal is to get these kids back to their mothers. The other major piece of that is a woman’s self-esteem and self-worth. If you can stabilize a woman with housing and help her see herself as more than just her crime, it becomes this huge ability to create change.”

Interviewed by Liza Burby