My Irish Ancestry

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Dublin, Ireland

     As I have been writing this blog for eight years, I thought you might be interested in hearing about my family history. My family of origin was Carberry. Our family name was originally O’Cabri, and we were from Ireland. My family originated in Northern Ireland, in County Down Patrick, in the parish of Grossgar and Killyleach, Bally Patrick.

     Elizabeth McMullen (my paternal grandmother) was twenty-eight when she married Patrick Joseph Carberry on April 2nd, 1899. He had just turned eighteen years old. Patrick had a seventh-grade education. Elizabeth had a fifth-grade education. Frances McMullen witnessed the Marriage. They had a first child, John Henry Carberry. He was born on January 26th, 1901. The child was stillborn or died soon after birth from unknown causes. Patrick J. Carberry emigrated to the USA on May 18th, 1905, on the oceanline, The Baltic.” It landed at Ellis Island, NYC. His name is engraved on the wall of immigrants.

     At that time, thousands upon thousands of Irish emigrated to all parts of the world, including Britain, Australia, Canada, South America, and the USA. They left to escape the repercussions of the potato famine and the widespread poverty and unemployment that prevailed in Ireland and the potato famine and the widespread poverty and unemployment that prevailed since then.

     They were given $12.00, the cost of the trip to America, by the landowners and the taxpayers who were hard put to feed all the starving people in Ireland. The Irish immigrants often had to endure extremely crowded conditions in the steerage section of these ships. The majority of these passengers could described as laborers or servants without occupation. They depend upon the weather, the prevailing winds, and the quality of the ship. It was a dangerous trip. There was always a possibility of shipwreck, but disease was the greatest danger. Outbreaks of disease, especially typhus, are not uncommon. Of whom 20,000 people had died.

This is a picture of me when we were in Dublin, Ireland.

     The voyage took two months, depending on the weather, the prevailing winds, and the quality of the ship. After their arrival, they did not know if they would be allowed to stay. They often arrived only owning the clothes on their backs and what they could carry. And then they were sent on their way.

     I have not been able to establish if Elizabeth McMullen(Carberry)traveled with Patrick or came at some later date. In 1911, Patrick and Elizabeth had a second child. Hugh Henry Patrick was born on February 11th at their home at 803 North 43rd Street. His baptism was witnessed by Mary McMullen) a relative of Elizabeth.

     Patrick found employment at SEPTA as a trolley mechanic. SEPTA is the South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority, and he was a trolley mechanic. Unfortunately, Patrick died suddenly of uremic poisoning, which he had contracted as a complication of dysentery. He died on August 11, 1915, after an eleven-day hospitalization after an eleven-day at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Philadelphia. He was thirty-four years old at the time. He had no relatives in the USA. He is interred at Calvary Cemetery on 48th Street and Lancaster Avenue in Philadelphia, PA.

     Patrick was an only child with no relatives in the USA or Ireland. Hug was four years old at the time of his father’s death, and Elizabeth was forty-two. Elizabeth and Patrick had purchased a home described as small but cozy, kept clean, and well-cared for.

     Elizabeth Carberry was left a widow and a single parent. She had to provide for herself and her son. For the first year after her husband’s death, Elizabeth kept body and soul together by renting rooms to boarders but found there was little profit in it. She found employment at Horstmann’s, where she was a seamstress. She earned $10.00 a week. She kept one border. By then, her son Hugh was in second grade and was described by his teacher, Sister Leonida of St. Ignatius School, a private school, as a good boy who was especially good at math.

     Elizabeth decided that the best place for her son to receive a good education would be Girard College, a residential school for orphans or boys with one parent. This school was established in 1848. It was established by Stephen Girard, considered the richest man in America at the time of his death. The School is located on College Avenue in Philadelphia, on forty-three acres. It still exists to this day, but there are both girls and boys there at present.

Small village in Ireland

Small Village in Ireland

     My father, Hugh Carberry, passed away in 1986 at the age of 75 from lung cancer. He was one of the most intelligent people I ever knew. My parents were married in 1929. I was born in 1951. I have a twin sister and four older siblings, all older than I was. Of the remaining four, there are four of us.

     I feel blessed to have been a part of the Carberry family. My father was stricken, but I always knew he loved me. I still miss him to this day, my dear mother died one year later, in 1987 from congestive heart failure. She was the kindest and loving person I have ever known. I still miss her to this day. I couldn’t have asked for better parents. I was blessed by their presence in my life.

Adventure One, Moving to Florida and Onward

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     It was 1974, and Bob and I married on July 13th, 1974. I was twenty-three years old and recently moved to Florida to be near Bob. I had never visited Florida before and was thrilled to live in such a beautiful environment. It was so lovely, save for the overwhelming heat and humidity. It’s not that I was never exposed to humid heat; I was born and raised in Southern New Jersey. The winters were bitter and cold. Icicles hung from the roof of our house; you could ice skate on the sidewalks or the church parking lot behind our house in Maple Shade, where I grew up. I lived in it until I was twenty and decided I wanted to be independent from my parents. This is me with my first child , Jeanette

So, I decided to rent a small, one-bedroom apartment in Haddonfield, NJ. Haddonfield is a prestigious and beautiful town. I attended Saint Mary of the Angels Academy high school there. So, I was familiar with the city, and I loved it. My apartment was located two blocks from the public library. And two blocks away from downtown Haddonfield. There was only one other apartment in the building. An older woman lived there alone. I rarely saw her. Beneath the two flats was a knitting shop where the woman who rented the other apartment sold supplies for knitting, I suppose, since I never went into the shop.

One day, the woman who lived in the apartment next to me knocked at my door and told me to be on the lookout for the dentist who practiced next door to our apartment/knitting shop. I thought she was paranoid, but low and behold, she wasn’t paranoid. She told me to keep curtains on all the windows and to lock my car doors.

The next day, I sat at my tiny kitchen window and had a creepy feeling that someone was staring at me. I looked out the kitchen window, and sure enough, the creepy dentist was looking up at my window, where he could see me standing in my pajamas. Since I was from a small town, I had no idea anyone would try to steal a peak of me when I was in my abode. But, sure enough, there he was, big as life. I flashed him the one-finger salute, which I had never done before. He made a weird smile at me. I opened up the window, which was almost impossible since I nearly killed myself, trying to yank the window and yelling, “You are a freak; I’m going to call the Haddonfield police if I see you looking up here again. And I flashed him the one-finger salute again. And that was the last time I saw that freak, my friends.

Around that time, my oldest childhood friend informed me that her cousin Bob would visit her family soon. She asked me if I wanted to come and see him while he was there. I said, “Yes since I always thought he was “cute.” I went to Joan’s parent’s house, and Bob was there. The next thing I knew, Bob and I went to eat with his other cousin and girlfriend. They lived in Philadelphia. We went out a couple more times, and then he had to return to Florida, where his family lived. I wrote him letters for several months, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Florida. My friend Joanie (Bob’s cousin.) told me about an auto-train. I packed all my clothes and sewing machine and headed toward Lorton, Virginia. It was quite an experience since I had never driven farther than Philadelphia. When I arrived at the train station in Lorton, I found a public telephone and called my parents to let them know that I had arrived safely at the auto-train depot and wouldn’t arrive in Florida until early the following day.

And then I would have to follow, Bob. We arrived hours later, and I stayed overnight at his parent’s house. The next day, I went to the apartment that Bob had found for me. It was a small apartment with one bedroom, a small bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room. Only one other tenant and the husband and wife’s apartment owned the building. They were friendly people that I only saw when my rent was due.
Meanwhile, I had to seek out employment. Bob’s cousin Margie recommended an insurance company for high-risk clients and said she would give me a reference. Sure enough, I was once again working in an insurance company. My immediate co-worker was supposed to train me, but she never got around to that. But she was a decent person. She was old, at least that’s what I thought then. Because I was only twenty-two, it was a company called B.D Cole. I worked there for a short time. I had to start looking for another job because they laid off any older or new employees. And that, my friends, was the beginning of a new peas can. So, I began searching for another job. This was when I discovered that companies in Florida at the time would only hire new employees who had lived in Florida for at least three years. So, that was a kettle of fish after looking for employment unsuccessfully. I decided to attend the West Palm Beach Beauty School. And I was accepted. It was a ten-month course. And so, I completed the course. I’m not sure why I wanted to go to a hairdressing Academy. Since I had never previously had any interest in hairstyling,

But, as push came to shove, I applied to the Beauty Academy and was accepted. It was an engaging experience. I met many lovely young people and some middle-aged students. I made a lot of friends. I had difficulty finding a job at a hair salon because of Florida law, which requires you to be a resident for three years to be hired again. This is ridiculous since most of the residents of Florida didn’t originate from Florida but from some other state.

After a month, I found a job opening on Singer Island in Florida at the Collonades Hotel. It was owned by a millionaire named McArthur—a couple named Zimmerman. I did facials. The customers were primarily wealthy visitors from Canada. And some of the wealthy occupants of the Cononades Hotel. They were friendly people. It was a good experience for me, and I made many friends. I was putting Bob through the Brooks Institute for Photography. When He graduated, we decided to move back to New Jersey. So, we began our long trek back to New Jersey and Philadelphia, where we believed there would be more job opportunities. My parents were so happy we were returning since I hadn’t seen them in five years.

Bob and I stayed at my parent’s house, my childhood home, until Bob could find a job. It turned out there weren’t any jobs in photography in the Philadelphia, New Jersey, area. So Bob found employment doing electronics at RCA in Princeton, NJ, which was a relatively long haul from Maple Shade, New Jersey. Nonetheless, he accepted the position and began working. Meanwhile, we stayed at my parent’s house until we decided we had enough money saved to put a downpayment on a small house in Pennsauken, NJ, which was only about a twenty-minute drive from Maple Shade. It was a three-bedroom house with a small kitchen, a dining room, a decent-sized living room, and a basement. We ended up living there for fourteen years. In the meantime, I had two children, three years apart. And I was busy taking care of them. Pennsauken Elementary School was only a ten-minute walk from our house when they were old enough to attend elementary school.

Temple University Philadelphia

Temple University, when I was thirty-six and graduated at 41.

When I was thirty-five, I decided I needed a higher education to make decent money, so I applied at the Hussian School of Art and Temple University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I had to prepare a portfolio of my work and take an exam to be accepted at any higher education university. I was accepted at both schools. Temple University offered me a scholarship for the first year, so I decided to go there.

And so began my higher education. I was the only student in the first-year class of a non-traditional age; I was thirty-six, and the rest were seventeen or eighteen. I never had any problems with the students because of my age. I made many close friends over the four years that I attended Temple. I won’t lie. It wasn’t easy attending a university and juggling caring for my children, the house, the yard, etc. But I took one day at a time. I didn’t get much sleep since I had to care for my kids, clean the house, pay our bills, and take care of our front and back yard. And believe it or not, I excelled, and four years later, I graduated Suma Cum Laude with a BA with teaching credentials. Overall, it was an excellent experience, but it wasn’t easy. The day I graduated, I received a standing ovation from my fellow students. I won’t lie; I was proud of my accomplishments and looked forward to the next chapter in my life: teaching art.

After graduating from college, the next chapter in my life was finding a position teaching Art. And that was a more significant challenge than going to school. I look forward to the next chapter in my life next week, “what I had to do when I couldn’t find a teaching position in a public or private school in New Jersey or Philadelphia.

GROWING UP CATHOLIC IN THE 1950’S AND 1960’S

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     I was born in 1951; I have a fraternal twin sister. We came from a large Irish Catholic family, of which my twin sister and I were the youngest. I had four older siblings. My brother, Hugh, was twenty years older than me, and my eldest sister, Jeanette, was nineteen. My sister Eileen was eight years older than me, and my sister Elizabeth was seven years older. My mother gave birth to my twin brother several years after my twin Karen and I. Unfortunately, they were premature and didn’t survive. When I was in my late teens, my mother and father took me to the cemetery where my younger brothers were buried. I hadn’t been told about them before, and I was upset to find out my little brothers had passed away.

It wasn’t unusual for children of my generation from Catholic homes to have large families. I do not know whether this was by choice or because no birth control adequately protected mothers in those early years from unplanned or unwanted pregnancies.

My mother in the 1950’s.

However, I didn’t feel out of place since I lived in a neighborhood where most of the families were large. My parents were married in 1929, which explains why there was such a lengthy age gab between my older siblings and my twin and I. We were born in 1951, during a time when we were referred to as the Baby Boomers. After the war, there was tremendous growth in the birth of children and larger families, so large communities were formed, and small towns grew and expanded.

When I was old enough to attend elementary school in 1958, there were over sixty students in my class and three first-grade classes. My teacher was a Sister John Michael, she belonged to the Sister’s of St. Joseph. And let me tell you, she ran that first-grade class with its sixty-plus students like we were in the military. The classrooms were overcrowded and stifling in the warmer months and cold in the winter. When I was in the third grade, my classroom was situated right next to the boiler room. And let me tell you, it was hot as hell. It wasn’t easy to concentrate when you felt like you were going to pass out at any moment.

House I grew up in.

Our home in the early 1950s in Maple Shade, NJ.

In addition, since all the classrooms were overcrowded, everything was routine. We have an assigned time to go to the bathroom, and woe is the child who had problems with holding it in or intestinal issues. I was one of those unfortunate children. One day, I kept raising my hand because I had to go to the bathroom. Dear Sister John Michael ignored me as usual. So, on that particular day, I was in distress, to say the least. I was called up to the front of the class to work out a problem on the blackboard; I tried to explain to Sister John Michael that I had to go. But she ignored me completely, so while I was trying to complete the math problem, I had an accident and peed my pants. I forgot to mention that Catholic School Uniforms were made of heavy wool: winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall. As I stood in my puddle, all the students laughed as they observed my accident. Sister John Michael smacked me hard, and yelled at me in front of the whole class. I tried not to cry, which would only call more attention to myself, and Sister John Michael told me to go to the girl’s laboratory and clean myself up. When the lunch bell rang. I was the first one in line. Students living nearby were allowed to go home for lunch and then return to school to finish the day off.

When I arrived home for lunch, we lived only two houses away from the school, and my mother could see I was crying. It took a while for my mother to get me to tell her what happened in school. She said she was going up to the school and giving Sister John Michael a piece of her mind. My mother rarely lost her temper or raised her voice, so I kept begging her not to go to school since I believed Sister John Michael would be angry if my mother criticized her for anything.

After that unfortunate event, I refused to drink anything at breakfast before I went to school. Since, I couldn’t bare a repeat of the previous event. Although this must seem such a meaningless event that was soon forgotten, I can tell you I never forgot it, Or I wouldn’t be able to tell you about this unfortunate event. The nuns left their mark on me for sure; that made a big impression. By the luck of the Irish, my third-grade teacher was a lay female teacher, whose name was Miss Norris, and she turned out to be the polar opposite of the “dear nuns” that I had up to that point in my academic career. Under her tutelage, I bloomed. She never yelled at the students, called them stupid, or smacked the student’s palms with metal-edged rulers. She was calm and never said a harsh word Or called any student a mean name. As a result, the classroom and the students in it maintained themselves and didn’t fight, argue, or carry on.

As for me, I began feeling more confident in myself and my ability to do better in school. I opened up to the other students and made many friends during that year and the ensuing years through eighth grade. At this point, the students in the eighth grade, which included me, had to decide what Catholic high school we wanted to attend. We all had to take entrance exams before we were accepted into High School. By some miracle, I passed both exams and was accepted into both Catholic High Schools. My parents decided for my sister and me to attend Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy, which coincidentally was an all-girl high school and was located in Haddonfield, New Jersey and was a town where most of the residents were wealthy, which was a whole different environment from Maple Shade where I lived. There weren’t wealthy people living there. My parents struggled to have their children attend private Catholic Schools.

St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy was a different kettle of fish from Our Lady Of Perpetual Elementary School. Everyone in Maple Shade was working, living in smaller homes, and not having much money. Most parents both worked full-time. My mother worked and cared for the house, as did my siblings and me. I never heard a word of complaint from her, not ever. My mother was the kindest, most decent woman I ever knew. I feel blessed to have such a wonderful mother. My father worked hard and often had two jobs to make ends meet. I feel blessed that I had two such wonderful souls for my parents. I never went without. We had homemade dinners every night of the week. And there was always food in the fridge. I never lacked anything. We had all our needs met throughout my childhood and my adolescence.

St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy- All girl highschool

When I graduated from St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy, I found employment at a dentist’s office in Haddon Township, New Jersey. I had no experience working in an office, let alone a dentist’s office, but Dr. Wozniak trained me. His office was part of his house. And so I came t know his decent and kind wife, Connie. I worked there for five years until I met my now husband when he was visiting his cousins in New Jersey. He was living in Florida. And that, my friends, is a whole new story about my experiences living in Florida and then, later, California.

You Never Know Where Life Will Take You, But You Must Keep Putting One Foot In Front Of The Other

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So, here I am in my senior year. It’s hard for me to believe, but it’s true. It seems like just yesterday, I was a young mother with two children. I still have two children, but they are grown and no longer need me to watch over them or direct them.

For that matter, it seems like recently I was a kid riding my bike all over, playing jump rope and rollerskating in the summer and ice-skating in the winter at Strawbridge Lake in a town a bike ride a half-hour away from my house. My childhood as a baby boomer was somewhat idyllic to some extent. I attended twelve years of Catholic School taught by nuns. There were rules and structures in place. And if you didn’t follow the rules, you could look forward to unpleasant consequences. Which included having your hands rapped with a wooden ruler with a metal edge. You would have to stay after school and write many pages of apologies for your negative behavior. Then you would be sent home with a note from your teacher informing your parents of your misbehavior, a double whammy because both your mother and your father would give you further negative consequences for getting into trouble at school. Mainly because my parents paid high tuition to have us be educated in a private Catholic school.

Reflecting on my life, I find that I have few regrets. Yes, I made the occasional bad choice, but who doesn’t? I have led an interesting and challenging life. After I had two children, I decided to go to college when they were grade-school age. I applied and was accepted at Temple University in Philadelphia and the Hussian School of Art. Also, in Phildadelphia. At the age of thirty-six, I began my college education. For the first several months, the other seventeen- or eighteen-year-old Freshman students mistook me for their teacher. They were somewhat shocked when I explained that I was a Freshman, too. But, over time, they all came to know me, and believe it or not, I was a popular student with the student population. As for the teachers, they seemed to make a unilateral decision that I was the first student to be called on in class, and since I always had my work done on time, be it artwork or written work, My work was used as either a good example or a poor example, either way, the students would learn from my completed work. Although it was difficult at times to balance my home life with a husband and two children and going to college full-time, somehow, through pure determination. I graduated at forty-one with magnum cum-laude and art teaching credentials at the top of my class. At the grand old age of forty-one, with a standing ovation from my whole class and the professors.

Tyler School of Art

After graduation, I searched for an art teaching position in New Jersey. I found that the public schools in New Jersey were no longer funding art teaching. I can not express how devastated I was when I discovered that there were no jobs for me at all.

After some long nights and consideration for my future, I decided that since the public schools were no longer teaching art, I would start my own art school. The house we were living in at the time was too small, and over time, I found an older home in Pitman, New Jersey, that was large and also empty, as the previous owners had passed away years before. Until now, no one had the desire or the funds to buy and renovate the house.

Pitman home and Art Room

The realtor made a last-ditch effort to sell the house and had an open house. And we went to the open house and checked it out. The home was large, 5,500 square feet, and had been unoccupied for many years. It needed a great deal of work. But I was determined to make it ours. And so we made an offer, and they eventually accepted it. We sold our smaller home, moved into our new home, and began to renovate it from top to bottom. The previous owner had been a therapist and had two rooms and an office where he treated his patients. It also had a small bathroom. I was convinced this would make my perfect art room where I could teach my students drawing, painting, and sculpture. I immediately began renovating those rooms. And the two storage rooms. I will slowly purchase all the materials I need for myself and my students.

After I had The Art Room prepared for teaching art, I went downtown Pitman and talked to the editor of the local paper, The Pitman World News and Report, and had a one-page advertisement about my school and the classes I would be teaching. And that my friends were the beginning of my art teaching career. I taught children of different ages in the afternoons and adults in the evenings during the week. Over time, all my classes were filled. I also taught drawing, painting, pottery, and three-dimensional art for many years. I also had the privilege of getting to know my neighbors and many of the residents of Pitamn. We lived there for twenty-five years until we were ready to retire. It was hard to leave Pitman and all the great people we had come to love, but we knew we couldn’t afford to live there once we retired. And so, after my husband retired, we sold our house. And started seriously making decisions about where we would be living next. And our final decision was to move South to North Carolina as it became clear that the taxes were much cheaper there. It was tough for us to move away from our Pitman home and the friends we made, but we did. And so, I sit in my bedroom in our house in North Carolina, having been retired for nine years. I have kept myself busy volunteering three mornings a week at an animal sanctuary and writing this blog for the past nine years.

I don’t know what or if our circumstances will change, but I do know that I will keep putting one foot in front of the other into the future.

All The Days Of My Life-Part One of Work experiences

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ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE-

     I grew up in the 1950s in Maple Shade, New Jersey, about a thirty-minute drive from Philadelphia, PA. My experiences as a baby boomer greatly impacted the adult I eventually became. Some of the experiences that impacted me the most were related to the fact that I grew up two houses away from the Catholic Church, called Our Lady of Perpetual Help or OLPH. My mother was a devout woman and attended church seven days a week. And was a member of the Altar-Rosary Society that would gather each day after Mass and say the Rosary. As a result, most of my siblings (six of us) and I attended Catholic School. I went to a Catholic elementary school for eight years. And I attended Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield, New Jersey. This was an all-girl high school. My twin sister and I attended St. Mary’s of The Angell’s Academy.

I have to admit I was somewhat immature in high school and had no interest in boys. The only boys that I had any contact with during my high school years were attending Bishop Eustace High School. And we girls who attended St. Mary’s of the Angels Academy were informed that all the boys were studying to become priests. So, we never bothered to get to know any of the boys. Of course, that wasn’t the truth. Few of the boys attending Bishop Eustace became priests for St. Mary’s of the Angel’s Academy. I only knew one of my classmates who became nuns. So, much for that.

When I turned eighteen, I decided I wouldn’t attend church. And I haven’t, except for weddings and funerals. The reason I made this decision was because my mother spent years and years praying for my oldest sister, Jeanie, who was diagnosed with alpha-one deficiency. A genetic form of emphysema. She passed away when she was a mere forty-one years old. She was such a wonderful, funny, and intelligent person, and she had two children who were left motherless at a young age. I lost my faith in god, and that was the end of going to masses and going to confession as far as I was concerned. If there was a god, he had left my sister to die from a long and painful death. And I didn’t want to pray to him again if he existed.

When I was a child, I was shy and quiet. I hated having to talk in the classroom. Probably because the nuns showed no mercy to quiet and shy children, they had no difficulty saying harmful and hurtful things and embarrassing students by making them stand in the corner or not allowing them to go to the bathroom unless it was when all the students in the class stood in the hallway and waited their turn. Unfortunately, I was blessed with intestinal problems and IBS, which was a relatively unknown illness in the 1950’s and 1960’s. This caused me to have accidents in the classroom, Which ultimately caused me to hate Catholic School even more.

Not everything about elementary school was bad. I made a lot of friends during my eight years of elementary school and four years at St. Mary of the Angels Academy in Haddonfield, NJ. I have to admit I didn’t put forth much effort in my twelve years of school, possibly because I was constantly told how stupid I was during those twelve years.

My experiences after I graduated from high school by the skin of my teeth proved to me that I was certainly not stupid but quite intelligent. Right out of high school, I found employment as a dental assistant for Dr. E. G. Wozniak in Haddon Township, where I worked for five years. Then, I worked at Ellis Insurance for Evie and Harry Ellis for several years until I met and married my now husband, Robert. We have been married for fifty years and have two adult daughters.

Over the years, I have had many jobs, including selling high-risk auto insurance and hairdressing, as well as being a counselor at St. Vincent’s School for Exceptional Children in Santa Barbara, CA.

How, you may ask, did I end up in California? After Bob and I married in 1974, Bob moved to California so he could attend Brooks Institute to study photography. We lived there for three years. And I loved every minute of it—such a glorious and beautiful place to live. And I made many friends while we lived there. The first year I was there, I got a job selling hats and wigs at Robinso, which isn’t a department store. I worked with a decent and kind boss but hated the job. Standing eight hours a day trying to sell hats and wigs. A friend who worked part-time at Robinson’s school told me about St. Vincent’s School, and I immediately went there and applied for a job as a counselor.

      I called them several times a week for a month until they gave in and interviewed me for a full-time job. I immediately said, ‘Yes.” For the next three years, I worked as a counselor at St. Vincent’s School in the cottages where the girls lived. And I supervised teenage girls. I can honestly say that this position was my favorite job ever. That’s saying a lot because, throughout my long life, I have had many, many different jobs and employment opportunities. My father always had difficulty understanding why I ended up working with nuns( they taught in the school where the kids attended.) since I always detested them when I was in elementary and Catholic high school. I had minimal contact with the dear sisiter’s since I only interacted with them when I picked up the kids from school, a short distance from the building where they lived.

     As I sit here contemplating my life, I feel blessed to have had all the experiences throughout my lifetime. I have learned from each one of them, and I met wonderful people. I will be writing memoirs in the not-too-distant future. Going to college when I was thirty-six next was a challenging and positive experience for me. Since I was the only adult student to enter Freshman year at my “advanced age of thirty-six,” I attended and excelled at Temple University, Tyler School of Art. They were at once the most challenging four years of my life and the most rewarding..  Not only was I, not your typical college freshman, as I was thirty-six years old, and I had two children, seven and four. And so began my life as a college student. More to come in Part Two.

YOU NEVER KNOW WHERE LIFE IS GOING TO TAKE YOU

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Looking back over my life, I find it difficult to believe that so many years have passed by so quickly. And here I sit, realizing that I have come too close to the end of my years on this planet. For the most part, I have few regrets.

I have led a fascinating life for the most part. I was born into a family of two parents and five siblings. My parents were hard-working people who did everything they could for their children. For over forty years, my father was the head dispatcher for SEPTA Bus Company in Philadelphia. He devised the system that is still used. His nickname was Smiley. It was some joke because my father rarely smiled. There were members of our family who referred to him as “THE BIG BEAR.” Because he was somewhat of a grouch.  House I grew up in.

My brother, Harry, was twenty years older than me. He was married and moved into his apartment when I was pretty young. He was a psychologist, and very well-known in his field, In fact, for many years he was head of the Psychological Society. My sister, Jeanie, was nineteen years older than me. She was one of the kindest people I ever knew. And she was beautiful. I have two sisters, seven and eight years older than I am. They both married when they were young. When I was in grade school, their names were Eileen and Elizabeth. Then, my sister Karen and I came into the picture when my mother was forty-one.

Our first home in Pitman, NJ

We are fraternal twins. This means that although we were born at the same time, we don’t look alike, act alike, and have few things in common other than we have the same birthday. As children we did not play together, we each had our own friends. My mother, Marie, had two babies a year after Karen and I. They were named Steven and Girard; unfortunately, they did not survive. I didn’t learn about their existence until I was about ten or eleven. My father took my twin sister and me to the cemetery and showed us where they were buried. I was young then and don’t think I understood what my parents told us.

Life in the Carberry Family was typical for the most part for families that lived in Maple Shade, New Jersey, where I was raised. We lived two houses down from the Catholic Church, Our Lady of Perpetual Help. We were Catholic, so we attended Sunday Mass when we were young. And then when we were old enough, seven years old.” We were enrolled at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary School for eight long years. I say eight long years because we were taught by Saint Joseph Nuns who were very strict and thought nothing of putting you in the corner, smacking your open palm with a ruler with a metal edge. Or, in my case, putting me in the heater room if I misbehaved. I don’t recall what I was doing wrong, but I spent quite a lot of time in the corner with my back to the rest of the class.

When I graduated from grade school, by the skin of my teeth, we had to take an entrance exam to attend Catholic High School. Parents had to pay tuition for Catholic Schools. There was a public elementary school at the end of our block. But I believed we would benefit from a Catholic School. And so my twin, my two older sisters, and I attended Catholic High School.I graduated by the skin of my teeth in 1969 from Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield, NJ. Haddonfield is an upscale town where most of the residents are pretty wealthy. My parents enrolled us there because it was an all-girls school.

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

I can’t say I missed having boys in school with me since I was always quite shy around them. I didn’t go out on a date until I was twenty-one. So, you may wonder what I did do next. You probably think I went to college. No, I did not. My parents told St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy that they could not afford to send us to college. However, the school did find employment for both my sister and I. My twin got a job at a mailing service. She did pretty well there and made good money. I got a job through the school as a dental assistant at a dentist’s office for Dr. Edward Wozniak. He was a decent young dentist with two small children. His office was attached to his home. I worked for him for five years. It was an interesting position, and I was pretty good at it. I trained two people to do the job. When I was twenty-one, I went on a date with my best childhood girlfriend’s boy cousin. And the rest, my friends, was history. Her cousin lived in Florida then and was visiting his cousins in New Jersey and Philadelphia on his way back home to Florida. I had met him when I was pretty young. Anyway, after he (Bob) went back to Florida. We started writing letters to each other. The next thing that happened was that I decided to move to Florida to be with Bob. That is precisely what I did; I was about twenty-two then. My parents were heartbroken when I left since I was their last child living at home. All the other siblings had married, moved to their own homes, and started having children. My parents ended up with seventeen grandchildren. I loved those kids. And I was looking forward to having my children at some point.

After I arrived in Florida, I took an auto-train. This is a means of transportation where your car and the people in another train car are loaded on the train. It took eight hours. When I got to the end of the ride, I waited until Bob got off from his job and met me at the parking lot where the auto-train left me and my car off. It was hot, hot, hot. I had no idea any state could be hotter than New Jersey’s summer. But, boy, boy, were they. It felt like an oven to me. Bob finally arrived, and I followed him behind his car to the apartment he had rented for me. (I paid for it.) It was a lovely one-bedroom apartment with a living room, small kitchen, and small bathroom. It was nice. I had lived in my apartment in Haddonfield, New Jersey, for a year before I moved to Florida. So, to some degree, I was used to living alone. I found a job in the first month I arrived in Florida selling high-risk insurance, I had held a simlar position in New Jersey. And I liked it. The fact is, I enjoyed working in general. I like being busy, accomplishing things and doing it well. I liked earning my own money. It’s a good feeling.

So, what’s next, you might ask. Well, we got married. I decided to look for a different job. Why, you may ask. Because when I came back from our honeymoon and went back to work. I was called into the office and informed that, unfortunately, I was being laid off. Sorry about that. After several weeks of looking for a new job, I decided to go to hairdressing school because employers in Florida were reluctant to hire people from out of state. Yes, hairdressing school. Why? You may ask. You only had to attend for eight months, and you got a license to do hair. Now, I never had any interest in hairdressing. I didn’t do much with my hair. But hairdressing is what I learned to do. And sure enough, I completed the training and got a job doing what? Not hairdressing, I had also been trained in doing facials, nails, and hair. So, I applied for and was hired to do facials at the Collanides Hotel on Singer Island. (where the rich to play) And actually, I was pretty good at facials. I worked there for several years until my now husband, Bob, decided he wanted to attend Brooks Institute in California to learn photography. And that is how I lived in beautiful California for several years until he graduated.
I got a job working at St. Vincent’s School as a counselor. Once again, I had never done this type of job, but I was more than willing to give it the old college try. And as it turned out, I loved this job and all the children. I came to love them like my own children, and I stayed there for several years until Bob graduated from Brooks Institute. After Bob graduated, Bob and I decided to move back to New Jersey. Bob believed there were more photography jobs in Philadelphia than in the South. And so, we were returning to New Jersey and Philadelphia. And thus began another chapter of our life.

Stay tuned for the next chapter of my life next Wednesday.

Life Is Not Always A Bowl Of Cherries

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My dear mother, passed away in 1987

My dear mother passed away in 1987

Life Isn’t Always A Bowl Of Cherries. I’ve heard this expression throughout my life many times. And I get it. No one’s life is perfect all the time. As we go through life, we will occasionally face difficult times. We can face health issues that we never would have thought would affect us. This has happened to me. When I was in my early 50s, I started experiencing angina pains up and down my right arm. Then, I began getting short of breath when going up and down steps or sometimes just walking too fast. I tried to ignore it, but it didn’t go away. So, I decided I would make an appointment to see my regular doctor.

The doctor listened to my heart and took my blood pressure. I was asked multiple questions about what I was doing at the time. I noticed changes in my ability to walk without shortness of breath, etc. My primary physician gave me a referral to a cardiologist. I was shaken up about the whole thing. I had just turned fifty, and in general, I had good health. I rarely got sick, I didn’t drink, I didn’t eat meat. I exercised every day. Nonetheless, it seemed as if I had a cardiac condition.

As I was leaving the doctor’s office, tears started running down my face. All I could think about was my mother. She had congestive heart failure, and ultimately, she died from it. Even though she was being treated for it. I was thirty-six when she passed away. My children were six and three at the time. They never really got to know either of my parents since my father had died the year before my mother died from lung cancer. He had been a long-time smoker;, sometimes, he smoked two packs a day. I never smoked. My mother smoked, but she only smoked two cigarettes a day. As it turns out, congestive heart failure is an inherited trait. And unfortunately, I inherited that trait.

Life is full of challenges. We have to face them and deal with them the best we can. We do not get out of life alive. Eventually, we will all pass away from something. I grew up in a family with six siblings. I had an older brother, Hugh who was twenty years older thatn I was, and my sister,, Jeanie who was ninteen years older than I was. Unfortunately, my sister, Jeanie, developed Emphysema; It was called Alpha-1 antitrypsin (AAT) deficiency. It is a genetic disorder that causes low levels of AAT, a protein that protects the lungs and liver. It’s also known as “genetic COPD” or “genetic emphysema.” It is an inherited trait. When she was forty-one, she passed away. She was among the kindest, generous, funniest people I ever knew. And she was absolutely beautiful. It has been almost fifty years since she passed away.

I still have three siblings, including my twin sister. My oldest sister, Eileen, was diagnosed with cancer a year ago and has spent the last year being treated with Chemotherapy and radiation. After a year, the doctors believe she is cancer-free. I can not tell you how much I admire my sister, who followed the doctor’s orders, endured the treatment, and never complained. She is my hero. My only wish for her is that in her remaining years, she remains cancer-free and healthy. My oldest sibling, who was twenty years older than me, passed away five years ago. My sister, who is my fraternal twin, has diabetes, but other than that, she seems healthy, and my sister, Liz, is well, as far as I know.

I know we have no guarantees in life, so I made a decision years ago after I was diagnosed with left heart failure that I was going to live my life to the fullest, for whatever time I had left. It has been twenty years since I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. And I feel fine at this time, I try to eat healthy food (no meat, no sweets, no junk foord.} And so far, I am doing well. I’ve never had a heart attack, and I haven’t had angina pain in years. I believe I will live out whatever years I have left feeling well and making the most of each day of my life. Who could ask for more than that? As the French say, “ vivre la vie pleinement” Live life to the fullest. And that, my friends, is my advice. Live life, be happy.

 

 

 

The Time Just flew by

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Looking back over my lifetime, I realize that some of my best memories were my childhood experiences. I’m a baby boomer, meaning I was born between 1946 and 1964. They’re currently between 57-75 years old. I was born in 1951, and although I find it difficult to believe, I am presently seventy-three years old. I know I am 73, but I don’t feel that old. I still look forward to each new day, and I am busy from six-thirty in the morning until I go to bed at 8:45 at night.

My husband and I retired nine years ago and moved to North Carolina. Before that, we had lived in New Jersey for thirty-one years. We have also lived in Florida and California during our early years of marriage. I have had an interesting life and met many interesting and famous people. I have worked as a dental assistant and an oral surgeon assistant. When we lived in California and Bob, my husband, was attending Brooks Institute for Photography in Santa Barbara, I worked as a counselor at St. Vincent’s School and a live-in facility for mildly retarded children. I must admit that of all the jobs I had over my lifetime, St. Vincent’s School was my favorite. I came to love those children with my whole heart. 

After my husband had completed his education, we returned to New Jersey and Philadelphia. We lived with my parents for several months. Bob found employment as an engineering tech. And we decided that we would buy a house. Since Bob had served in the Military, he could buy a house without a downpayment. And that is precisely what we did. We found a house for sale in Pennsauken, New Jersey, in a nice middle-class neighborhood. We made an offer for the house, and it was accepted. It was a 1950’s house. It had three bedrooms, a small kitchen and dining room, and a half bath. It is a big yard, front and back. And then we proceeded to have two children, both daughters. I had been looking forward to having kids since I always loved playing and caring for my many nieces and nephews as a teenager. And I had also come to love the kids at St. Vincent’s. We spent the time before our first child was born updating our little house. We lived there for fourteen years. Our kids attended school at Pennsauken Elementary School.

Temple University, Tyler School of Art

When my oldest daughter was six, and my youngest was three, I decided to attend college. I was thirty-six at the time. I applied to three art schools and was accepted by all of them. I decided to participate in Temple University, Tyler School of Art, and Hussian School of Art. However, I decided to attend Tyler School of Art because they offered me financial assistance and a scholarship for the first year.

I’m not going to lie. It was difficult attending college full-time with two small children. Luckily, one of my neighborhood friends offered to babysit my kids after school and on holidays. I babysat her daughter, who was about my oldest daughter’s age, during the Summer since I didn’t take Summer classes.

I did not get much sleep during those four years, but it was one of the best experiences of my life. I was the only adult student in all my classes. And often, the other students thought I was a teacher. However, as time passed, I befriended all the students in my classes. By the end of my four years at the Tyler School of Art, I was known to almost everyone in the school, Mainly because on our lunch break, I would go down to the student cafeteria and ask if I could eat lunch at their table if there were an empty seat and they always said yes. In this way, I befriended every student in the school. And some of the teachers who were about my age. It was challenging to go to college at my age, but I loved every minute of it, and never regretted it for a minute. The day my class graduated from school. I got a standing ovation from everyone. I have to say it was one of the best experiences of my life. When I think back on it, I don’t know how I did it. But, overall, I think that once I am determined to accomplish something, I will do it, no matter how difficult or complicated. When I attended Tyler, I was the only adult student, but more and more adult students attend college. And to tell you the truth, the day I graduated was one of the proudest moments of my life.

After I graduated from Tyler, I applied for every art teacher position I could find. As I started sending out my resumes to different public schools in other areas of New Jersey, I became aware that the schools were no longer teaching art. They decided it was necessary. But, of course, it is. Anything that teaches children how to think creatively has excellent value for their whole lives due to not finding employment. I decided that I was going to start an Art School of my own. And then, I started looking for a house in the South Jersey area. One day, I received a newsletter with an advertisement on the front page for a big, old Victorian home in Pitman, NJ. That was for sale. And my husband and I attended the Open House. And it was exactly what I envisioned, except that it had been unoccupied for the past eight years. It was in need of repair, a new roof, right off the bat since the roof was leaking, it had wood floors throughout, but it was in bad repair, it was covered in wall paper from decades ago that was glued to the walls. It was a house with four bedrooms, two and a half baths, two cellars, and a third floor that was immense. In addition, the previous owner had a business in which he dedicated two rooms and a bathroom. And this, my friends, was perfect for my “ Art Room.“ After several months of cleaning and remodeling these rooms, I posted an advertisement in the “Pitman News and World News Report.” Within two months, children and adolescents came to my art room for classes, and adults arrived at night.

It was a great experience, and I became friends with all of my neighbors and many of the people who lived in Pitman. This is an old saying, but none-the-less truth. “Never give up. Just try, try again. And that is precisely what I did.

And so, we lived in Pitman, New Jersey, for twenty-four years. And I loved every minute of it. We stayed there until it was time for us to retire. And so here I am some eight years later in North Carolina. Believe it or not, I volunteer at an animal sanctuary, caring for birds, Parrots, Macaws, finches, pheasants, and doves. I have always been a great lover of all animals. Presently, I have two dogs, ten birds, and a cat that resides in our house. And we have a Koi pond in our backyard, and I feed all the wild birds in our yard. I have seven bird feeders. I don’t know my future, but I assure you it will be interesting and challenging.

It All Began With My Neighbors Cats

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Strottles on a bad day

I grew up in the small town of Maple Shade, New Jersey, in the 1950s and lived there until I was twenty. There were a great many children my age living in Maple Shade, so there were always friends to play with me. But, occasionally, I would find myself alone and go over to my neighbor’s house and visit her cats. Her cats lived in her house, but they had access to a cellar window where they could go outside in a large fenced area in her backyard to spend the day outside for as long as they wished. I loved to go over and talk to the cats and often spent most of the day there. Mrs. Collins lived two houses down from my house. So, my mother never had to go far to find me. Suppose it was time for lunch or dinner. She just called out,” Time for lunch, Susan.”

I also befriended all my neighbor’s dogs. I constantly begged my parents to get a dog. My neighbor, the Lombardi’s, had a cat they fed but were not allowed to live in their house. His name was Strottles, And I made it my business to spend a good part of my day talking to him and feeding him snacks that I would get out of our refrigerator. I was careful not to take any of my father’s favorite foods, or he would have “a bird,” as my mother used to say.

Strottles spent much time coming to our kitchen door and meowing when hungry. One day, my mother was taking the trash out to the garbage can, inadvertently leaving the side kitchen door open. And Strottles came into the kitchen. I suppose he was looking for something to eat. Unfortunately, my mother had left her pet parakeet out of the cage, and he was walking across the kitchen table, knocking the knives and forks off the table, Which was his daily habit. And Strottles managed to jump on the table, and he killed my mother’s pet, whom she loved dearly. This broke my mother’s heart. And my father blamed me because I had befriended the cat that killed my mother’s birdy. I ended up getting a spanking, and my father made me go down into the cellar until he told me I could come up to the kitchen again. I was broken-hearted. I love my mother’s little bird, too, and I never wanted it to be harmed in any way. I felt bad about my mom’s bird being killed. The guilt was overwhelming at times. And although it has been over sixty years, I never forgot it.

Somehow, this event did not deter my love of animals, but I did become aware of keeping all my feathered and furry friends safe from harm. And that remains true to this day. And here I am in the last years of my life, and over the years, I have owned and loved many cats and birds, mostly cocktails, and several dogs.

Presently, I have two dogs and ten birds. And one cat. For the last nine years since I retired, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary. And I have been taking care of parrots, doves, and occasionally pheasants. Over two hundred animals live at the sanctuary, and it feels like my childhood dream has come true. At one point in my life, I considered attending school to become a veterinarian. But realized it would take many years since I was thirty-six. Instead, I applied to Tyler School of Art at Temple University in Philadelphia, PA. I was the only adult student in the Freshman Class. But, honestly, that never bothered me. I befriended all the students who attended Tyler with me. And some of the teachers who were my age. It wasn’t easy because I had two young children at the time, a house, and a husband to care for. But, somehow, I got through those four years. And graduated at the top of my class Magnum Cum Laude. I taught Art to children and adults for many years in a school I opened up in our new Pitman, New Jersey home.

But I had a house with eight cats and a couple of birds, not to mention all the wild birds I fed and the neighbor’s cats. Who somehow found out about me and came crying at my back door. I realized over time that these outside cats were propagating like crazy, so I bought a couple of large traps, captured them, and took them to the vet’s to have them altered so they wouldn’t have any further kittens. I found homes for the kittens that had already been born, and I kept several of them myself.

Life offers us many opportunities to do good in the world and make the most of our time here.

After I graduated from college at the top of my class with two degrees and teaching credentials. I worked in Social Service positions in Camden, NJ. I worked at the Center for Family Service with Wilson Goode. We matched at-risk kids in Camden with mentors from the five churches with mentors from churches. In this capacity, I had to visit the parents of some of these children who were incarcerated in prison for reasons I didn’t always know. I had to explain to the parents that I needed their permission to match their child or children with mentors from the churches in the hope of preventing their children from repeating their parent’s mistakes and ending up in prison. Most parents were more than willing to help their children in any way they could. The Center for Family Services, which employed me, would match these children with church members. It was not an easy job, but it is one that I feel provided a better life for the children who lived in Camden, NJ. After that, I worked at Ranch Hope in Alloway, NJ, as a counselor with at-risk adolescent boys adjudicated by the court for various infractions with the police. These boys had grown up under difficult circumstances and didn’t always have good role models; most lived in poverty. I worked at Ranch Hope for five years, a complex and challenging position. I do feel that I succeeded with these boys to some degree and that some did manage to change their behavior so that when they were released from their time at Ranch Hope, there was a strong possibility that they could go out in the world and keep out of trouble and hopefully make some positive contributions.

I look back at that time and wonder how I had gotten through those years. They were not easy ones. But I do feel that I did give those boys an opportunity to create a better life for themselves. I knew that there were some adults in their lives who wanted them to move forward, succeed in life, and hopefully do better than their parents had done.

I’ve had many jobs over my long life, and I believe I have learned as much from the children I’ve taught as they have learned from me. I have no regrets about my life at all. I have lived all over the country in New Jersey, Florida, and California and now retired in North Carolina. I no longer work with at-risk kids. I work with animals, who have also been one of the great loves of my life. I don’t know my future since I am now seventy-three years old. But I know that as long as I have breath in my body, I will continue to do good for as long as possible.

WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT THE ANGELS THAT COME INTO OUR LIVES

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It all began one rainy Spring morning. I kept hoping the rain would stop since it had rained daily for the last two weeks. I know that April showers bring May flowers, but could we please have at least one day when the sun is shining? I was expecting a package in the mail, so I knew I would have to make a run for the mailbox sooner or later since there were at least five days of mail in my mailbox. I know it’s mostly crap, but still, I was hoping I would get a surprise package from my Aunt Betty since today was my birthday. And she always sent me a birthday card and a gift.

I decided to put on my old raincoat and run for the mailbox. Lo and behold, my dear aunt had not left me down. When I opened the mailbox, a package was shoved way back in it, along with a whole big pile of junk mail. I have no idea how my name got on every junk mail list. 

I grabbed the mail and the package and ran for the side door as quickly as possible. And just as I was about to grab the door handle, I lost my footing and fell flat on my face. The mail was scattered in every direction. I groaned and moaned. It felt like I chipped my front tooth. The one I just had capped recently cost me almost five hundred dollars since they had to do a root canal and the crown. If I weren’t lying on the cold, wet cement driveway, I would have started crying.

I made it to the door, pulled it open as quickly as possible, and smacked myself. I felt a tear, and then another ran down my cheek. I realized that it was raining even harder in addition to my tears. I gingerly picked myself up and slowly went through the door. Luckily, the package was in one piece, but the mail was scattered everywhere and was getting wetter by the minute. I wiped away the tears and ran for my life. Well, that could be a slight exaggeration. But, most likely, I would get a cold or pneumonia from the soaking rain. Or, once again, I may be exaggerating.

I made it into the house without any further drama. I put the mail on the kitchen table and then moved it to the top of the kitchen heating vent to dry. Most likely, It was all junk mail, and it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. I decided I would do the laundry and then vacuum all the rugs. Before I knew it, I cleaned the bathrooms, including the tub, shower, and toilet. Suddenly, I had a burst of energy and decided to vacuum all the bedrooms and clean the windows on the inside. I tend to get carried away with whatever I’m doing. And this, my friends, is why I’m not married and never will be. I drive everyone away with my manic behavior. What can I say, like Popeye used to say, “I am who I am.”

After I finished cleaning the whole house, I considered going out and looking at my garden, but then I remembered it was pouring outside, and the plants would be delicate without me today or whenever it stopped raining. I made myself a cup of hot tea and peanut butter on toast. This has been my favorite breakfast since I was a kid. I love peanut butter. After finishing my breakfast and cleaning up my mess, I decided to examine the mail and see if any of it was worth looking at or if it was all junk mail, as expected.

Then I realized that two letters were stuck together, and the letter on the bottom was from my Aunt Betty. I was so happy that she wrote to me. She is my favorite person on the planet. She raised me when my father and mother divorced, and neither wanted to raise me. I was heartbroken for many years after that. If it weren’t for my Aunt Betty, I would have been put into foster care since my parents didn’t want me.

I slowly opened the envelope, and my Aunt Betty said, “Dear Marie, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. Do you remember the old commercial on TV where the old woman said, “I’ve fallen and can’t get up?” Well, I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up. I know you are busy with your work, but is there any way you can come and take care of me while I recover? I broke one of my legs and will have to use a walker for a while. I have been assured that I will be up and walking, but it will take a while, and I will need to go and get physical therapy until my leg heals. If you can’t come, I understand, and I will have to go to a nursing home until I heal. Please call me as soon as you know if you can come. Love, Aunt Betty.

I picked up my cell phone and called my Aunt Betty. I waited and waited while the phone rang. Then I heard someone pick up and, in a very low voice, say,” Hello, is someone there? Is someone there?”

“Yes, Aunt Betty, it’s me, Marie. Of course, I can come. I have some vacation time left, or I could do my online work. Do you have the internet, Aunt Betty?”

“ Well, you probably won’t believe this, but I recently installed the internet in my house. All my neighbors kept haunting me day and night to get it installed, and I did. It took a while, but it’s working now.”

“Aunt Betty, I will have to inform my employer what I will be doing, but there shouldn’t be any problem at all. I will give you a call tomorrow when I am about to leave and call you when I’m an hour away. I’m so sorry you got hurt, I love you Aunt Betty, I’ll see you seen. She said, “Oh, you are such an angel, “I love you too. I can’t wait to see you again. Bye, see you tomorrow.” And then she hung up.

I contacted my employers and let them know what I was doing. They didn’t have a problem as long as I continued to complete my work on time. Thank God for the internet; that’s all I can say. I spent the rest of the day packing my stuff, including my laptop and printer. I made some sandwiches and iced tea for the long trip and decided to go to bed early since tomorrow would be a long day.

I had a somewhat restless night. I kept waking up and looking at the clock, afraid I would oversleep. But the alarm woke me up right on time. I took a quick shower and got dressed. I left a note in the mailbox and asked the mailman to tell the post office to hold my mail until I called them and let them know when I would be back from my Aunt’s house.

I put my suitcases in the trunk. I hoped all my plants wouldn’t die, but if they did, they did. My aunt was more important than any plant. The whole time I was driving to my aunt’s house, I thought of all the good memories of my aunt and the childhood I spent with her. She is truly the most loving and caring person I have ever known. And I would do anything I could for her, as she had done for me. I do not remember a single complaint from my Aunt when I was living with her, even during those teenage years when I must have been difficult at times. It took me a long time to make friends at the school I attended while I lived with my aunt. Every day, she made me breakfast, packed my lunch, and met me where the bus let me out. She was never late, she gave me a big hug when she saw me, as if she hadn’t seen me in days or even weeks. And oh, how I loved her hugs,

My parents were not big on showing affection. Nor did they ever seem that interested in my experiences in school or who my friends were. And once their marital problems appeared, things just went downhill from there. First, my father moved out, and then my mother informed me that I would be living with my Aunt Betty since she would have to work full-time now. She would have to live in a small one-bedroom apartment in the city, and there wouldn’t be any room for me anymore. As soon as my mother told me that, it felt like my heart broke in two. My father, said, “you be a good girl, I hope to see you soon sometimg. And he was out the door and he never looked back, I never heard from him again. I’ve only seen my mother once a year at Christmas since then. Sometimes, she didn’t come at all and just sent me a Christmas Card with ten dollars in it. I wrote long, long letters to my father and mother. Telling them how much I missed them. And asking them when they were coming to get me. Over time, it became clear to me that they would never get me. And if a heart can break in two, I believe my heart did, or maybe it was shattered altogether. And I would never be able to feel whole again.

My Aunt Betty was the kindest, most loving person I ever knew in my entire life. It is only because of her that I learned there are caring and loving people in the world. I was a person of value who could do anything I wanted to do in life if I set my mind to it. And they never never lost faith in me because of her. And if I had to spend the rest of my life caring for her, I would do it. As I recalled all these memories, I realized how much I missed my Aunt Betty, not just her wonderful cooking, but everything about her, her hugs, her kisses. Every day I spent with her was a good day, living where she loved me and would do anything for me if I needed it.

Before I realized it, I was within three miles of my aunt, and I gave her a call to let her know. She didn’t answer the phone, I realized it must be the nurse or caregiver that was talking, I explained, this is Marie, Aunt Betty’s niece, I will be at the house in about fifteen minutes. Would you please let my aunt know I’ll be there soon? She said, “Yes, I will. She has been so looking forward to you. She will be so happy. See you soon.”
The last fifteen minutes of the drive flew by, and before I knew it, I was at my aunt’s home. And so many good memories came flying back to my mind. It looked the same. To tell the truth, it looked like heaven to me. I parked the car under the Willow tree and grabbed my bags out of the trunk. And before I knew it, I was knocking on the door. One of the caretakers came to the door with a big smile on her face and said. “Miss Betty has been so looking forward to you. Oh, I forgot my name, Teresa. Could I take those bags for you? Miss Betty will be so happy.”

I handed over my bags and I said, “ I have a few other bags, but I’ll bring them in later, don’t worry about it. And I ran up the steps two at a time. I looked around the house, and it didn’t look any different from the last time I was here. I couldn’t imagine coming here without my aunt living here. The very thought of the rest of my life without her loving presence in my life would be hard to endure. But, somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew my Aunt Betty didn’t have much time in her life. And I also realized that I would be staying here with my dear aunt for whatever time she had left on this planet. When I quietly knocked on her door, I heard her sweet voice say: “Marie, is that you? Oh, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life. Please come over and give me a hug.” I didn’t know it at the time, but it would be the last hug I gave my dear aunt.

I pulled up a rocking chair next to her bed and quietly watched her as she closed her eyes, and then about five minutes later, I saw my dear aunt take her last breath and close her eyes. And I knew that my dear aunt had left this world, and I would miss her for the rest of my days. But I know she will always live in my heart and memories. And that someday, when my life would come to an end. We would meet again. I felt warm tears run down my face as I held her wrinkled hands and heard her take her last breath. This is the person who had loved me unconditionally my entire life. And I knew that someday we would meet again. But, until then, I would keep her in my heart and in my thoughts.