Alfrieda: Healthy Living, With a Dash of Spice

With a mischievous grin, Alfrieda Robinson, a lifelong resident of Quogue, intones, “I know all the secrets.”

At age 83, those are a lot of confidences she’s kept — all the while keeping the children at Quogue School safe, as a crossing guard. Earlier this month, she retired from her post at the corner of Old Depot Road, where, for 38 years, she’s guided generations of students across Montauk Highway.

“I like the people, I like the kids,” she says, explaining why she stayed on the job for so long.

Asked what might be responsible for her age-defying energy, Alfrieda answers quickly: “Good genes.”

Could the students be keeping her going? “No, they don’t give me any energy,” she deadpans.

Does she do anything special to take care of herself? “No!” is another rapid reply.

What about dating? Is romance what keeps her young? “No!” is the same adamant response. “I always said I can do bad by myself — I don’t need any help!”

When asked to describe her personality, she says, “I’m the biggest liar that ever was.” She bursts into a chortling laugh, one that surfaces repeatedly — quickly — through the interview. “People seem to like me. I guess I’ve got a pretty good personality.”

Dry humor an obvious trait, she adds, “My daughter says, ‘Ma, you don’t like people.’ And I say,” she continues, droll again, “I say, ‘I’m not crazy about them.’”

Pushed for an answer, Alfrieda admits to managing her health through lifestyle choices — weight loss for arthritis in her spine and knee, as well as healthy eating for her general wellbeing. Back in 1999, she had a bout with colon cancer and a subsequent surgery. “There are certain things I just can’t eat,” she acknowledges, adding that once or twice a year, she indulges regardless. “I know what it’s going to do with me and I know how to handle it.”

Generally, Alfrieda says that much doesn’t bother her. “No, I’m not feisty,” she says. “I’m very calm. I stay calm until you, as they say, piss me off.” And if they do? “You’ll see a whole side of me you wouldn’t believe,” she says.

When reflecting on her childhood in Quogue, she says it was great, pointing to the freedom she had.

“A bunch of us would get together and we’d walk down to the village, go to the ice cream parlor,” she recalls, adding, “You could walk around, even at night. If you wanted to walk around the corner to your friend’s house, you didn’t have to worry about somebody kidnapping you or knocking you out.”

Her class at Quogue School had six or seven kids, she remembered. Today, classes aren’t that much bigger, some 70 years later. Earlier this month, during one of the last days of her tenure, no kids came to cross the highway. Other days are busier, and over the nearly four decades on Quogue corners, “I never lost one,” she reports.

Later this month, Alfrieda will embark on a new chapter and move to Dallas, Texas, where her daughter, Gail, will live, too. And she’ll be sure to bring her laid-back calm, sprinkled with a soupcon of feisty attitude — despite her denial — along with her, not to mention that ever-present, self-deprecating humor.

“Dallas doesn’t know what’s coming!” Alfrieda says, laughing again.