STICKY FINGERS

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As far back as I can remember, I had an uncontrollable impulse to steal. And I’m talking about when I was young, perhaps seven or eight years old. At first, it was nickels and dimes. If my mother, father, sisters, or brothers left their wallet or purse in sight, I would shove nickels, dimes, and quarters in my pockets. Then I would walk down to the 5+10 store and buy cheap toys, like puzzles, crayons, or barrettes for my hair. I didn’t buy them because I didn’t have any. It was because I wanted more. I never seemed to be satisfied with what I already had; I always wanted more and more. And that wasn’t just cheap toys; it also included going to the candy store and buying candy. I was just never satisfied. I always wanted more. I’m surprised that I have most of my teeth after all the candy I ate when I was six or up.

I used to walk up and down Main Street and search for coins or dollar bills that someone had carelessly dropped on the sidewalk. I almost always found some. If I didn’t see any coins on the sidewalk downtown, I would go to our church, go up and down the pews, and pick up all the loose change I found. And I never felt an ounce of guilt.

I also had other expenses that I had to consider. And going to the movies every Saturday afternoon was one of those. It was called the Roxy Theater, and almost every Saturday, there was a new movie. But, even if I had seen the film before, I would have gone to see it again. I just loved going to the movies. All the kids in our small town went to the Saturday Matinee. We would all bring our lunches, which always included a dessert. My mother made a different cake every Saturday. I can not tell you how much I loved my mother’s homemade cakes. They were so delicious. I would have been as big as a house if I wasn’t such an active kid. But I was very active; I roller skated, and I rode my bike from one town to another. I walked to Strawbridge Lake at least once a week when the weather was good. And it was a good three miles away from my hometown. And then, I was out playing with my friends every day until dark at night during the summer. And, of course, while I was riding or walking all over town, I looked for lost coins. I was more than willing to do chores for our neighbors if they paid me.  My father- 1960's

Once I could earn money, I stopped looking for lost money or someone else’s lost coins. And when the time came when I was old enough to babysit my nieces and nephews, I was paid for my time, and I didn’t resort to looking for lost coins on my mother’s change. What ultimately stopped me from looking for lost change and searching the church for coins happened when I was in the fifth grade, and I developed a toothache while in school. And it wasn’t just an ache that hurt once in a while; it was a god-awful abscess due to my constant candy addiction and not brushing my teeth every day. My mother told me to brush my teeth, but I rarely did.

As a result, one day, in the fourth grade, I developed a horrible toothache. In fact, it was an abscessed tooth; I failed to tell my mother or father about it because I was afraid of going to the dentist. However, this abscess was so painful that I started to cry in my classroom, and I told Sister Joseph Catherine, my teacher, that I had a horrible toothache. She didn’t believe me right away, but eventually, she decided I was telling the truth, and the school called my parents and told them that I needed to see a dentist. We only lived two houses from the school, so it was a short walk home. When I got home, I found that my mother and father had contacted a dentist in Philadelphia, and they had made an appointment for me that day. And off we went to the dentist. Well, it turned out that that m tooth was abscessed and had to be pulled. My parents were distraught. They blamed themselves. But it was my fault for eating all the sweets and not brushing my teeth. I was a very stubborn kid. And didn’t always do what I was told or what was good for me. I was quiet for the most part, and I don’t think my parents realized how stubborn and mule-headed I was.

So, we were off to the dentist, who informed my parents that not only did I have an abscessed tooth, but many of my teeth had cavities. And I need a lot of work done. My parents were informed that they needed to observe me brushing my teeth three times daily and cut out all the candy and cakes I ate. And suggested that fruit would be a better snack for me. And I needed to brush my teeth three times a day and go to the dentist at least once a year.

Mom, sitting at the kitchen table,

After that, my mother would come into the bathroom with me after every meal and observe me brush my teeth. Both of my parents had dentures, and they didn’t want me to end up the way they did without teeth. When they were kids, they did not have the opportunity to go to the dentist. My father grew up in an orphanage called “Gerard College.” Where boys with no living fathers grew up, my mother was the youngest of many siblings, and there was no money to pay a dentist. It was a challenge to feed all the members of her family. My mother was born in 1910. My father was born in 1911. his father had passed away, and his mother had to work, so she put him in “Gerard College, and he didn’t leave until he was age. He only saw his mother once a year. He had a difficult and lovely childhood. My father became a bus driver, and my mother met him when she took the bus, and he was the driver.  They proceeded to have six children, and two that didn’t survive. They were married in 1929.

My parents did not have an easy life or marriage. My mother was one of the kindest people I ever knew, and my father cared in his own way, although he could be difficult. I loved my parents deeply and couldn’t imagine having any other parents. And the only regret I ever had was that my parents didn’t live longer lives. My father died in 1986 from lung cancer, he was a long-time smoker, My mother died one year later, from congestive heart failure, I believe her heart broke when my father passed away. They didn’t have a perfect life, but they did the best they could. They died almost forty years ago, and I still miss them to this day. I would give anything to see them one more time. I do not know if there is heaven, but I hope there is one because I would love to see my dear mother and dad again. Even if it was for just a minute. I feel I was blessed with the parents I had and the life they gave me. They worked hard every day and were a blessing to me. And there isn’t a day when I don’t miss them. As for my sticky fingers, once I stopped eating candy and sweets, I no longer had the sticky fingers, and to this day. And I made it a practice to work hard, earn my own money, and never take anything that wasn’t mine. The fact is, I found that working hard and paying my way in life had been bigger blessings than any amount of money or sweets I had ever eaten. And I have to say that my parents were the best example of hard-working and honest people. And I believe they would be proud of my accomplishments if they were still living, including attending Temple University when I was thirty-six and graduating at the top of my class at forty-one years old with two degrees.

My husband, Bob, and myself with my two adult children when we lived in Pitman, NJ

I have been married for fifty years and raised two intelligent and gifted children. I went to college when I was thirty-six and graduated with two degrees and teaching credentials when I was forty-one,. I started my own” The Art Room” business and taught art to children and adults for many years.  Here I am, retired and living in North Carolina. I am far from the shy girl I was as a child, and I do not let anything or anyone stand in the way of the things I want to accomplish. I don’t know how much longer I will be in this life, but I promise you this: I will always do my best, work as hard as I can, and accomplish every challenge that comes my way.

 

 

YOU NEVER KNOW WHERE LIFE WILL TAKE YOU

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At the end of May, I celebrated my seventy-third birthday. That’s right, I’m seventy-three years old. It is almost impossible to believe that many years have flown by so quickly. Nonetheless, that is the reality that I’m facing at this time of my life.

I remember quite clearly when my parents were that age. I recall when my father retired from his long-time job at PTC or SEPTA, which stands for the Pennsylvania Transportation Company. He was the head dispatcher for over forty years. He had started out as a bus driver. And he often mentioned to me how much he loved that job. However, his mother, Elizabeth, insisted that he apply for an office position at SEPTA since she believed it was a position where he could move up the Corporate Ladder. He apparently didn’t feel like he had much choice since his mother was a strong-willed woman who would always get her way. As it turned out, he did as she requested, and he ended up working in that office position for the rest of his working career. His mother ended up living in a nursing home in the last years of her life.

I have a vague memory of meeting my paternal grandmother when she was living in that nursing home. My sister and I were given a long strip of tape with pennies stuck on it. I was thrilled because I looked forward to spending all those pennies at Shucks (a candy store) on Main Street in the town I grew up in, Maple Shade. That was the only time I ever saw her.

I was thirty-six when my father passed away, and a year later, my mother passed. She was seventy-six, and I was thirty-seven when my dear mother passed away from congestive heart failure. I always believed her heart broke when my father died. I spent the last few years of my parent’s lives taking care of them and taking care of my two young children, who were then five and two. My father died of lung cancer. My mother had congestive heart failure.

I can not put into words how deeply I missed my parents and how I grieved for their loss for many years. In fact, it has been thirty-four years since they died, and I still think about them almost every day since then. My parents worked hard and tried to give their children the best life possible. There were six of us. There was a significant age gap between us; my brother, Harry, was twenty years older than me, and my sister, Karen. My oldest sister, Jeanette, was nineteen years older, and Eileen and Liz were eight and seven years older than Karen and I.

So here I am, seventy-three years old, retired, and living in North Carolina. At some point after my mother passed away, I decided that I was going to experience a life that was challenging and interesting. But I also decided I wanted children. At the grand old age of thirty, I had my oldest daughter, Jeanette, and three years later, my daughter, Bridget.

When I was thirty-six, I decided to go to college. I applied to several universities in Philadelphia. I had to write a resume and prepare an art portfolio with my work, paintings, and drawings. I was accepted at all the Universities I applied to. I decided to attend Temple University because they offered me a scholarship for the first year.

This was a challenging decision for me to make, not only was I married, and had a home to take care of but, I had two small children who were six and three years old. And the only money I had was the $900.00 my parents left me after they passed. Each of my siblings received the same amount. And the remainder of my parent’s money went to the cost of their funerals when they passed away.

Tyler School of Art

Before my mother passed away, she told me that I should not put my own needs and ambitions before everyone else’s. If I had a desire to do something, no matter how challenging, I should go for it. And that is exactly what I did.

And so, at the ripe old age of thirty-six, I entered The Tyler School of Art as a Freshman. I can not tell you how many of the students mistook me for a teacher since there was almost twenty years difference between them and myself. Over time, all the students realized that although I was older than them, I was committed to learning as much as I could, and I dedicated every free moment of my life to learning all I could. I always had my assignment on time, I never missed a day of class in four years. And I made it my business to get to know every student I came in contact with a friend.

The professors and teachers at Tyler made it a habit of always calling on me first. In a short time, they realized that I always read the required reading, and my assignments were always completed and handed in on the day they were due. Since my work was always done on time, all the teachers used my artwork, be it outstanding or not, which was the subject of criticism by both the teachers and the students.

I have to say that my decision to go to college at the ripe old age of thirty-six was a good one. And I’ve never regretted it for a moment. I made many friends at Tyler, including some of the teachers. It was the biggest challenge I took in my life, aside from becoming a parent to two children. I didn’t take any summer classes since my children were not in school during the summer. So, I spent all my free time with them. I even babysat my friend and neighbor’s child, who lived several blocks away from us. And she worked full-time.

When I finally completed college and graduated at the top of my class with a 4.0 average and Magnum cum laude and teaching credentials. I have to admit it was one of the most challenging things I ever accomplished. After graduating, I spent many months looking for an art teacher’s position in public and private schools. At some point, I realized that art was being removed from the elementary and high school curriculum, and there weren’t any jobs. This was after I sent my resume to every public and private school in Philadelphia and New Jersey area. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was at the time. I had spent four years of my life in art school at Temple University, only to realize that art classes were no longer taught at the elementary, middle, and high school levels. It appeared as if these programs were no longer funded.

Our Home in Pitman, NJ, and The Art Room, where I taught art for many years to children and adults

After a time, I decided that somehow, somehow, I was going to create my opportunity to teach art. And I did, At the time, were owned a small home in Pennsauken, NJ. I decided to start looking for a larger home, an older home where I could teach art. One day, I found an advertisement for a house for sale in Pitman, NJ. And my husband and I went to the open house. And I knew in a moment that this was the answer to my prayers. It was a big house with three floors and a separate section used by its previous owner as an office. The house had been unoccupied for eight years. And so far noone had made an offer on it.

The day that we went to the open house, I knew this house was the answer to my prayers. The section of the house that had been used for an office had three rooms and two large storage areas. My husband and I talked to the realtor and found out that the house had been unoccupied for at least eight years. And it needed a new roof asap. I didn’t let this stop me. We sold our house in Pennsauken with a rent-to-buy option. And then we made an offer on the house in Pitman, and it was accepted. We moved to the Pitman house in mid-winter. And we spent the next several years improving, painting, and putting a new roof on the house when the weather allowed. I can’t tell you how much work this involved, but it took years. After we setteled in I started advertising all of the town of Pitman, and nearby towns about about Art classed being available for children during the day, and adults in the earling evening. It was slow in the beginning, but over time, it picked up momentum, and I taught art to children, adolescents, and adults for many years. We lived there for twenty-four years. I cannot tell you how much I came to love Pitman, our home, and the people who lived there. Unfortunately, at one point, we could no longer obtain insurance to cover our house and the students who attended my classes, and we had to close down The Art Room. So, at this point, we decided to put up our house for sale and retire.

Our home in NC.

Our home in NC.

And that, my friends, is when my husband and I retired and moved to North Carolina, and we have been there ever since. You never know what challenges you will face in life. But my advice is never to lose faith in yourself and never be afraid to accept a challenge, no matter how difficult it may seem. Keep moving forward in life, and don’t let anyone or anything keep you from accomplishing what you want to achieve in life. Don’t ever lose faith in yourself. At my age, seventy- three I get up first thing in the morning, put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving forward. I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary for eight almost nine years, and I have been writing this blog for eight years, writing short fictional stories and memoirs. I don’t know what I’ll do next, but I have no fear: I will be doing something exciting and challenging from this moment in my life to my last breath. Never give up on yourself or your ability to accomplish every challenge that comes your way.

THE LUCK OF THE DRAW

An older couple kept their life savings in the pages of the books in their home. At first, they put their savings in the Bible. They didn’t think anyone would think to look in the Holy Bible. They were about to look for a retirement home when they won the Jack Pot, $1,280,196. They were over the moon. This is what happened. They were really feeling lucky, so they made a decision to go to Atlantic City.

They were about to leave the casino because they only had a hundred dollars left, but they thought, why not try one more time? It could be their lucky break. The Borgata was the only casino they hadn’t hit, so they double-stepped it down the boardwalk. It was a beautiful sunny day, warm but not humid. There were a whole lot of senior citizens walking up and down the boardwalk.

The beach was crowded with families, with little kids running back and forth and laughing. They looked at one another, remembering the days long ago when they would bring their young children to the beach. Oh, those were the good old days. Now, they rarely saw their grown children. They were too busy with their own lives and young children. They were too busy to visit their parents. They barely knew their own grandchildren.

Just as they were reminiscing about their children’s childhood, they reached the Borgata Casino. Howard and Margie gave each other a hug and went through the Borgata’s double doors. The place was packed. Every slot machine was clinging and clanging, and the overall noise level was overwhelming. The machines were percussive, with high bells and bubbly sounds. The sound tended to wake people up. They were all convinced that they would be the lucky ones to win big.

Howard and Margie had considered going to the casinos for years, but they never did. That is until today. When Margie woke up from a dream about winning big at the Borgata. And now, here they were, chomping at the bit. I’m certain that they would win BIG. They couldn’t wait to get started. They looked all around to find a slot machine that wasn’t occupied. Finally, Margie saw one and was off to try her luck. Howard decided to play cards. Howard was determined that he was going to win big at poker. He played with his friends all the time, and he always won. Of course, his friends played with small change and one-dollar bills, and he won all the time. But, the most he won was fifty dollars.

But today, he was absolutely certain that he was going to win “BIG.” Margie said, “Good luck. I’ll see you in a while. It turned out that there were over 6,000 slot machines at the Borgota, and she was overwhelmed. She didn’t know where to begin. The whole atmosphere was overwhelming, the wall to wall people, the smoke, and the noise level was almost overwhelming. There was even a band playing Heavy Metal. Margie thought she might go mad. She approached Howard and said, “I’m going for a walk on the boardwalk. I’ll be back in an hour. “Ok, see you then.” She waved him goodbye and headed for the front exit to the casino. And then she decided at the last moment to play her lucky coin in the next slot machine she saw before she left. And low and behold, she dropped several coins into the Ugga Bugga Multi-Spin Slot.

And the next thing that happened was all kinds of flashing lights and crazy noise. Everyone in the immediate area looked at her and began gathering around her. She had won the Ugga Bugga Multi-Spin Slot. Margie stood there in a trance, unable to move one way or another. Then, she heard someone yell. “You won, you won.” And everyone started clapping. Maggie looked all around. And she was so overwhelmed and surprised she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She did a little of both. Howard came running towards her about that time and said, “What’s going on?’

“What’s going on? I won the the jackpot.”

“You’re kidding, how much?”

“I won $1,280,196..”

“You have got to be kidding.”

Then everyone started clapping and laughing. One of the casino employees asked them to follow him to receive their winnings. The rest of the day was a big blur. They were now, at home, finally able to take a deep breath, sit down, and calm down. They still couldn’t believe their luck.
On the other hand, their phone hadn’t stopped ringing since the big win was announced on their local news. From that time forward, their phone hadn’t stopped ringing between their friends, family, and people they didn’t know from Adam calling and asking for money. It was a miracle and a nightmare all at once.

It was about this time that they realized they needed to get a new phone number and perhaps move to another neighborhood. Neighbors who barely waved at them in the last twenty years were knocking at their door and asking for help. It was a nightmare.. It wasn’t that they were selfish; all of these people who rarely spoke to them felt they had the right to ask them for money, even if they had never spoken to them. That’s when they realized they would have to move if they ever had a moment’s peace. They considered changing their last names. It was becoming a nightmare, not a blessing. The phone that never stopped ringing, the strangers that came knocking at their door. It was relentless.

Finally, they decided the only thing they could do was move far, far away. And never tell anyone they meet about the money they have won. For a long while, they discussed where they would move to, and finally, they decided to move to Singer Island, Florida. They had vacationed there once at the Colonades Hotel and loved it. There was a place called the Collonades Health Center, where a chiropractor was located and a place to get massages and facials. It was wonderful. It was a gorgeous place. Right next to the beach. It became their paradise. One they hope would be their forever home.

They found that many people their age lived on Singer Island. And for the most part, they were well-off. So, they didn’t have to worry about anyone coming to their door asking for money since they had plenty of their own money. People came to Singer Island from as far away as Canada. It was indeed paradise—that is if you had plenty of money. They missed their families but not as much as they thought they might. Life was good.

They began to meet new, welcoming people who lived on Singer Island. It was the best possible outcome for them. They looked forward to many years of sitting on the beach, swimming in the surf, and going out with their new friends. Life can be good.

You never know what or when your circumstances will change. No one knows what their future holds. You have to take one day at a time. You keep your fingers crossed and hope for the best. Life can be a crapshoot. You never know when some unforeseen good fortune will come your way. Or you will suffer some downfall that you could not predict. Howard and Margie decided to take one day at a time and be as happy as possible. Because they knew better than anyone that you could have happened in their lives, they took one day at a time and looked forward to the remainder of their lives would be happy. Yet, they understood that anything good or bad could happen and would do their best to do what they could one day at a time. We can tilt the odds in our favor of living happily to a ripe old age, but we must have a high degree of awareness and exercise self-control. We must show pride in our lives by claiming responsibility for ourselves and all the choices we make during our lives, both the good and the bad. And then move forward with resolve to do their very best.

BETWEEN A ROCK A HARD PLACE

Life has a way of teaching people right from wrong and the consequences of choosing wrongdoing. Now, I’ve never described myself as any kind of saint or do-gooder. But, on the other hand, I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone. Although I know I have hurt people. It was not my intention. After all, I had to look out for my own best interest, didn’t I? 

“ I mean, we all have to look out for our best interest, don’t we? Just recently, I was up for a promotion at my workplace. I have been working there for almost five years and haven’t had a raise or a promotion. And to tell you the truth, I know damm well, I deserve it. I worked hours of overtime every week, and many times, I wasn’t even paid for the overtime. I sat by and watched several fellow employees get promoted and paid higher pay even though I’ve worked at this company for several years longer than they have. And to tell you the truth, I’ve had enough; it’s unfair. And I intend to make some changes somewhere, somehow.

Just last week I was about to leave for the day, when my boss, Mr. Conway called me into his office and asked me to close out the customer file I was working on before I left that day, since it was Friday night. I stared blankly at him for a minute or two. And I stammered, ‘but, this is Friday night, I have plans tonight, I promised my wife dinner and a movie. I haven’t been home before nine O’clock for the past month.”

My boss looked at me like I was out of my mind. ” Your wife wants you home early? Well, that’s unfortunate. I suggest you take her out on Saturday night. If you don’t finish this file tonight, we will lose this contract, and then, unfortunately, you will most likely lose your job. It’s your choice.”

I stared at my boss for at least five minutes before I responded. “I just can’t stay late tonight. I will make it up next week. Today is our tenth wedding aniversary. And I can’t disappoint her again; you understand that, don’t you?”

“I understand. I have my own family as well, but my job has to come first, or I won’t be able to take care of my family, and you won’t either if you don’t go back to your desk and finish this tonight.”

I took a deep breath and said,” Finish the file; yes, I understand. I’ll get to it.” I grabbed the file, turned, and returned to my workstation without another word. I felt like my head was going to explode. I could feel my pulse racing, I hoped I didn’t have a stroke or something, then where would my family be. I picked up the phone to let my wife know I wouldn’t be home until late again. I knew she was going to be angry. I was between a rock and a hard place, as my father used to say.

As soon as my wife picked up the phone, she said,” Let me guess, you’ll be late. Do you realize the kids haven’t seen you in almost a week? When are you going to make your family a priority?”

“Helen, you and the kids are my only priority, but how will I pay the mortgage, all the bills, and the tuition for the private schools if I don’t have a job? What can I say?”

“Ok, Ok, I understand, but I don’t like it. But I know you don’t have a choice. Be careful coming home. I’ll explain to the kids why you won’t see them until Saturday.”

“Ok, Helen, let’s make plans to take the kids hiking, to the zoo, or to something fun they like to do. I promise you I’ll make it up to you and them. Maybe your mother can babysit Saturday night, and you and I could go to dinner together? What do you say?”

“That sounds great, Bill. Be careful driving home. I put some dinner in the fridge for you in case I’m in bed when you get home. Drive carefully.”

“I will, Helen; you know you and the kids are my priority, even if it doesn’t seem that way now. I’ll see you later, love you. And then I saw my boss staring at me from across the room. “I thought I clarified that you were to get to work and finish that file. If I can’t depend on you, I will have to start looking for someone who can keep up and make their jog their priority.”

I stared at him momentarily and said,’ You know I have been working overtime for the past several years. I rarely see my kids or my wife. I work more overtime than anyone in this office, including you.’

“Is that right? Well, maybe you should start looking for another position somewhere else. If your family is more important than your job?”

“You’re right. I should start looking for another job, but I’ve been offered several positions in the last several months. And I turned them down because I felt loyalty towards this company. But I can see that doesn’t swing both ways. You always threaten my job if I don’t work twenty-four-seven. I haven’t had a vacation in three years. I hardly ever see my family. Frankly, I’ve had several job offers from our competitors in the past several months. So, let me put this another way: I quit. Good luck replaciing me. I know very few people in this business will work at the company because you have a reputation for treating employees like you own them. So, goodbye, and good luck.”

With that, I walked over to my desk, packed my belongings, and grabbed my keys. And went on my merry way. My “former boss” looked at me with eyes so wide, I thought they might fall out of their sockets.’ And then he said, “ wait, wait don’t decide this without and forethought. You will have a hard time getting a job like this again. I won’t give you any recommendation. You’ll regret it. “

“I feel a weight lifted off my back already, and I won’t regret it.” You will regret it because I’m the only employee with a good relationship with our customers.” None of them ever want to interact with the upper echelon.” With that, I grabbed all my personal property off my desk and out of the desk drawers, turned my back, and walked out of the employee’s exit without looking back. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders and could finally take a deep breath again.

“And that, my friends, was the beginning of my new life. I was offered executive positions with several companies I had dealt with over the past decade, and they all offered me benefits like higher pay, paid vacation time, and no late Friday nights. My wife was overjoyed, and my kids were so happy to be able to spend more time with their “dear dad.” And I was in hog heaven, a job I loved, and I didn’t have to work overtime every night. I had four weeks of vacation each year. And bosses that believed their employees had the right to a personal life with their family. From that day forward, I looked forward to going to work and interacting with people who had respect for their fellow employees. “

Over time, I got to know my fellow workers, and they all told me how much they loved this company and the owners. We were all owners of this company because we could buy stock if we chose to do so. So, don’t let anyone tell you to stick to your job no matter what. There is always another path you can take in your life. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. And by the way, my wife and I are going on a second honeymoon for a week on our anniversary to Bermuda, where we spent our first honeymoon. My kids will be spoiled for a week by their grandparents, who promised to take them to an amusement park. So, whatever you do in life, don’t give up. You can always take another path; don’t let anyone tell you differently.

LIFE GOES ON, EVEN WHEN WE LOSE ONE OF OUR LOVED ONES OUR LOVED ONES

The longer I live, the more I realize that what you do in life and put out there will return to you in some form. If you are a caring and generous person, you will be on the receiving end of generosity and love. But you must be aware that people will no doubt try to take advantage of your generous heart. If you are a self-absorbed and selfish person who takes advantage of people, that will come back on you. Karma does exist, have no doubt.

This is a lesson I have learned over my lifetime. When I was younger, I was naive and believed all people were decent, kind, and generous. But, over the years, I learned that this isn’t true. Some people are selfish and self-absorbed, and some have a generous and caring nature and will give you the shirt off their back if needed. My mother was the kindest and most caring person I have ever had. She worked hard every day. She was a loving mother who always put her children’s needs before her own. And if need be, she would get a job to help with my family finances. And not once did I ever hear her complain. Not once.

My mother was a role model in other ways. She was a deeply spiritual woman. She attended Mass at the OLPH Church every morning, said the rosary every afternoon, and prayed for all her children and grandchildren. We lived two houses down from the Catholic church. She was a member of the Altar and Rosary Society. She never said an unkind word against anyone.

When I was about to graduate from the eight grade my mother started cleaning at the public school in our town, in addition she began to clean other people’s houses to make money to help pay for our school tuition. Eventually, she got a job when I was about to enter high school, cooking in the employee’s kitchen at Wanamaker’s at the Moorestown Mall in New Jersey. She took the bus back and forth to work. I can’t remember a single complaint ever from my mother. Regardless of the weather. Be it the unbearable heat of the summer, or a snowy day when there was oftern three or feet of snow.

My oldest sister, Jeanie who died from emphysema

My oldest sister, Jeanie, died from emphysema when she was forty-one.

She worried about each of her children and grandchildren. I believe she worried the most about my oldest sister, Jeanie. Who became ill when she was twenty-eight. She was diagnosed with Alpha One Antitripsin Deficiency, which is a genetic form of emphysema. This disease affects the liver, the heart, and breathing. At that time, there was no cure. However, my sister agreed to try any treatment that the medical professionals believed might extend my sister’s life. And help other people who also developed emphysema.

My mother began to dedicate her prayers to the belief that god would cure my dear sister, Jeanie.

My sister passed away when she was forty-one. I was living in California at the time. When my husband, Bob, was attending college. To say that my mother and my father were devastated would be an understatement of all time. Losing one of your children, no matter what their age, is a devasting loss for any parent.

Jeanie, my oldest sister, was never anything but kind and loving towards me as was her dear husband Patrick Kernan. Pat kept in touch with my family and myself long after my dear sister passed away. Patrick and Jeanie had two children, Jennifer and Patrick Jr. I can not imagine the loss they felt when their dear mother passed away or the suffering they endured during the years when Jeanie was ill.

It was a long time before I could stop crying whenever my dear sister Jeanie’s name was mentioned or she came into my thoughts. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten over the loss of my sister. She was intelligent and funny. I still miss her to this day. I don’t know if there is a heaven, but if there is, I look forward to seeing my dear sister there.

For many years I tried to comprehend why my sister, Jeanie developed emphysema and I could never really understand why she did. I wondered how my sister’s illness and ultimate loss of life affected her two young children, Patrick and Jennifer. I can not imagine that watching their dear mother become increasingly ill as she was with emphysema must have been devastating and unbelievably painful for them. Jeanie’s husband Pat was one of the most caring and loving husbands. He took care of Jeanie to the end. He will always hold a special place in my heart.

Jeanie taught me many things over my lifetime, such as real love and not giving up on somebody when things get really bad. You stand behind them and continue to care for them until the end. That human beings have a strong inner core and withstand and overcome many things without giving in, they lose their loved ones, and keep going one day at a time.

And now, here I am at the ripe old age of seventy-three. I don’t know how much longer I will live, but I know I intend to live every moment to its fullest. And someday, if there is a heaven or an afterlife, I hope to meet my dear mother and father, my sister, Jeanie, my brother, Harry, and his wonderful wife, Maryanne, again.

Life is a gift, and we try to embrace every moment of it. Keep in mind how time passes by quickly, and so do the people we have known and loved all our lives. Keep them in your heart and your thoughts. Don’t forget them.

DOUBLE THE TROUBLE AND DOUBLE THE BLESSINGS

I chanced upon an article written about twins, both fraternal and identical. This intrigued me because I am a fraternal twin. My sister and I were born seven minutes apart in 1951. My mother was forty-one when we were born. She had already given birth to four children. My brother, Hugh, was the oldest. He was born nineteen years before my twin in 1932. My oldest sister, Jeanie, was born in 1936. My sister, Eileen, was born in 1943, and my sister, Elizabeth, was born in 1944.

Susan and Karen -1951

Susan and Karen-born 1951

My mother had a second set of twins, Stephen and Girard. Unfortunately, they did not survive. When my twin and I were growing up, my following oldest sisters, Eileen and Liz, lived at home. My brother and oldest sister were married and living in their own homes with children.

I don’t remember too much of my early years. I recall going to my first day of grade school. We lived two houses down from the Catholic Church, and the Catholic elementary school was next to the church. The Catholic Church significantly impacted our lives since we lived so close to it; my twin and I also attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary School for eight years. My sister and I stayed after school to help clean up the classrooms and sometimes the bathrooms. I never questioned it at the time. It was just another chore for the dear Sisters. It wasn’t until I was out of school that I realized why my sister and I had to do chores at the school and the convent. A convent was the name of the residence where the Sisters lived. It was a payment and supplied the tuition my parents paid for our eight years of attending Catholic elementary school.

On Friday after school, my sister and I would walk to the convent to do our chores. My sister, Karen, was tasked with ironing some of the nun’s vestments and ironing the altar silks that protected the altar. I was glad I didn’t have to do the ironing because I wouldn’t say I liked it. I saw my poor mother ironing every day when I came home from school, and I didn’t want to end up doing that. So, my job was to clean the storage room where the sisters had their canned goods. In addition, I had to clean the shelves. It was an easy but tedious job. I did this for eight years. I never questioned it; I just did it as a matter of course.

Because my sister and I were twins and always in the same classroom, my sister and I didn’t get along. Because we shared the same bedroom for most of our lives and then had to share the same classroom for eight years, Karen often would not acknowledge that I was her twin sister. Our classmates knew there were two sets of twins in our class. One was Marie and Martin Mc Cale. Who were fraternal twins since they were a boy and a girl? And Karen and I looked no more alike than Marie and Martin McCale. Whenever Karen could, she would ignore my presence. Many people in my elementary school believed my twin was Helen Hartman, one of my best friends, and we looked somewhat alike.

When Karen and I were about to graduate from elementary school, we had to take entrance exams to attend Catholic High Schools, Holy Cross High School, and St. Mary of the Angels Academy. My parents wanted us to attend St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield. We both passed the entrance exams because it was an all-girl high school. And so, we attended St. Mary of the Angels Academy for four years and graduated in 1969. I was happy when I graduated since I had twelve years of Catholic School, which was enough for me.

St. Mary of The Angels Academy 1969

St. Mary of the Angels Academy Graduation 1969

St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy found jobs for Karen and me since we wouldn’t go to college as my parents could not afford it. And my grades weren’t good enough to get a scholarship. I missed my high school friends, who were all going away to college. And I didn’t see them again until I was invited to a twentieth reunion. Looking back on my high school experience, I realize I benefited from it in many ways. One reason was that it was an all-girls school, unlike Catholic Elementary School, which showed favoritism towards boys. St. Mary’s geared its education to benefit girls. The employment position Saint Mary of the Angels Academy found for me was working as a dental assistant for a dentist, Dr. Edward G. Wozniak, in Haddon Township, New Jersey. Dr. Wozniak taught me everything I needed to learn to be his assistant. He was a kind and decent man. And I worked for him for many years. I decided to look for a different job because I had to work all day, four nights a week, and Saturday mornings at the dental office. And I could only take a vacation for the five days he and his family took their vacation. This prevented me from going out with friends, having fun, or going on a summer vacation. So, eventually, I decided to look for a different type of employment. And that is when I ended up working for the Ellis Brothers. And that, my friends, was the beginning of a whole other kind of experience.

By this time, my sister had been working for several years and found she had a business head. She was promoted to manager in a short time. She worked in the auto business for many years and was quite successful.

During the time I was working at the Ellis Brothers, my oldest girlfriend they told me that her cousin, Bobby, was coming to visit them in New Jersey. She asked me if I wanted to come over while he was staying since I had a crush on him. And I said, “Yes, I did.” And that was the beginning of a significant change in my life. Bob and I went out, and then he had to return to Florida, where his parents lived. Bob and I kept in touch with each other for many months, and eventually, I decided that I was going to move to Florida. My parents were not happy. But it didn’t try to stop me from moving there. But it was clear they were upset. And so I took an auto-train to Florida, about a twelve-hour trip. And that was the beginning of a new life for me. I found employment at an insurance company, and soon after that, Bob and I were married. This was 1974, and I had just turned twenty-three years old.

That was fifty years ago, and we have two grown children and have been retired to North Carolina for eight years. I’m not saying everything was perfect all those years; we had ups and downs. We take one day at a time now. Although I never had the pleasure of any grandchildren, I do have two dogs, four parrots, and six finches.

I have volunteered at an animal sanctuary for the last eight years, caring for parrots and pheasants. I have also continued writing short stories and memoirs for the past eight years and working in my garden. Who could ask for anything more?

 

 

 

MY CHILDHOOD AS I REMEMBER IT

As I look back over the many years of my life, I realize that the times I enjoyed the most were Summer vacations during my grade school years. My generation, the Baby Boomers, had complete freedom during the summer. Our parents would tell us that we had to be home once it got dark out. They never asked us where we went or what we were doing. However, we often stayed out long after it got dark. If we didn’t come home when it was dark, our mothers would call us out the front door to go home. I grew up in a small town in New Jersey called Maple Shade. Everyone in the neighborhood knew all their neighbors. And they would watch out for their neighbor’s kids.

After dinner, all the neighborhood kids were allowed to go outside and play. We would play hide and seek. The only problem was that the mosquitoes would eat you alive during the summer in South Jersey. But we didn’t let that stop us. Regardless of the mosquitoes, we played outside until our parents called us to come in. The first thing my mother would say when I came in the front door was, “Susan, close the door before all the mosquitoes come in.” Often by the time she said that there were mosquitoes already in the house.

We didn’t have air conditioners back then, but there was always a big, electric fan in the window that would circulate the air and hopefully cool the bedroom out a little. And let me tell you, it was hot and humid. We were under constant attack by mosquitoes all day and all night. The worst thing was the mosquitoes buzzing in your face all night.

When I was young, I shared a room with my twin sister, and my two older sisters slept in a bed beside ours. My brother had a bedroom of his own. My older sister had a room of her own as well. My brother, Harry, was twenty years older than me, and my oldest sister, Jeanie, was fifteen years older. My next older siblings were seven and eight years older than my twin sister and I.

We were an Irish Catholic family. We lived two houses away from the Catholic church and the elementary school I attended for eight years. Our neighbors were Catholic, either Irish or Italian, and had large families. Some of my elementary school friends had as many as ten or twelve kids. It wasn’t unheard of for some families to have ten or more children. They did not have large homes. For the most part, most of the homes in Maple Shade were two stories but only had three bedrooms, an eat-in kitchen, and one bathroom. We only had one bathroom and six siblings. So, as you can imagine, we didn’t get to spend too much time in the bathroom.

As time went by, my older siblings got married and moved away. My oldest sister, Jeanie, moved to New York, and I rarely saw her unless she came home to visit my parents. After several years, my older sibling and their spouses began having children. I was happy when they visited my parents since I could spend time with my nieces and nephews. And I loved spending time with little kids. I was so proud to be their aunt. And I used to take them all over my neighborhood to show them off.

When I got a little older, I babysat my sister’s kids. I couldn’t wait until I grew up and could have my own children; until then, I had to be satisfied by my animal menagerie. We had a dog and birds, and I had hamsters and gerbils. I loved animals almost as much as I loved little kids.

Strawbridge Lake

As I was saying, Summer during my childhood was the best time. The older I got, the more I used to roam all over Maple Shade and nearby parks and lakes—especially Strawbridge Lake, which was several miles away from where I lived. I used to ride my bike there every chance I had. There was a bridge and a waterfall there. And I just loved to walk across the bridge. I used to take all my best friends with me. Our parents never asked where we were going, and they just told us to be on time for lunch and dinner. Sometimes, we would take a picnic lunch and a blanket with us and eat our lunch by the lake. It wasn’t a lake you could swim in; it had fish. But, we would take our shoes off and walk in the shallow end of the lake.

There were always a lot of kids around, and we would play with them as well. We would go on the swings and the sliding board. I never told my parents where we went, and they didn’t ask. But if we were late coming home, my mother would be upset. I never had a watch when I was a kid, so I’m not sure how I was supposed to know what time it was.

And one of our neighbors. The Phiefers had a built-in pool in their backyard. All the kids in the neighborhood would go swimming in their pool every Summer. The deepest part of the pool was four feet. I never learned how to swim, and as a result, I nearly drowned a couple of times. One day, I found myself at the deep end, grabbed onto Denny Pheiffer, and almost drowned him as well. And that was the end of my swimming in the Pheiffers’ pool.

Luckily, I had a lot of girlfriends in Maple Shade, and they also had pools. On Saturdays, we would all visit the Roxy Theater in downtown Maple Shade and see two movies for twenty-five cents. Sometimes, we would see the same movie again and again. If we got tired, we would take a bus to the roller skating rink and roller skate for hours.

But the best holiday was Halloween. Everyone in town celebrated it. All the kids would go from house to house to get candy. My friends and I went to every house. I’m not exaggerating. We would take an empty pillow case, and it would be filled up with candy. We would take it home, drop the candy off at our houses, and then go out again and fill the pillowcase with candy again. The whole downtown was decorated for Halloween, and the movie theater would have a spooky movie playing, and all the kids would go to see it for twenty-five cents.

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

By the night’s end, I was always sick when it was time to go home. I’m surprised I have any teeth in my head after many years of celebrating Halloween. Although, I have to admit that by the time I was ten or eleven, I had a great many cavities. And I had to go to the dentist to have them all filled. At some point, my parents decided that I wasn’t going to go out trick or treating anymore. So, we would just watch a spooky movie instead.

And then there was Christmas. I can not describe how much I looked forward to Christmas. Where I was sure I would find a Christmas tree loaded with presents with my name on them. But, Alas, I usually only received two presents. But, somehow, the anticipation of Christmas and the one or two presents I did receive made me happy enough. That was until I went to my best girlfriend’s house after Christmas Mass, and she showed me the presents she had received. There were only two children in her family at that time. And I had five siblings. But I was still happy with the Christmas gifts I received.

And then there was the joy of the first heavy snow that came down on Maple Shade. My friends and I would stay out for hours and hours. We would slip and slide on the frozen snow or shovel the snow and make large snow mountains to climb and slide down. We would all stay out until we were practically pop cycles. There aren’t words to describe the fun we had on a cold and snowy day with all our neighborhood friends.

I’m not saying that my childhood was perfect, but it was when I had a great deal of freedom, no responsibilities, and many friends to play with all year round. My parents did not discuss family matters, good or bad, before me or my twin sister. I don’t recall my parents ever disagreeing when I was around. If my parents had financial problems, I never knew about them. We always had our needs met, never went hungry, and got new clothes if we needed them.

I have many happy memories of my childhood. I believe my childhood overall was a good one. My parents protected us from difficulties they encountered during my early years. My mother was the kindest and most caring person I have ever known in my long lifetime. My father worked hard to take care of our family. We never lacked anything. My two older sisters, myself, and my twin Karen all attended private Catholic schools. We were given every opportunity to succeed in our lives. My parents did everything they could. Were they perfect? No, they were not, but I can not imagine having other parents. And although my father passed away from lung cancer in 1986, and my dear mother passed away a year later in 1987, I still miss them and think of them nearly every day.

 

I don’t know if there is a heaven but it there is I hope my mother and my father will be waiting patiently for me to arrive at heaven’s door some time in the future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE YELLOW BUG

It was the summer of 1970. I worked as a dental assistant for Doctor Edward G. Wozniak for about a year and a half. I started working for him when I was a senior in high school. My title was dental assistant, but actually, I was the entire office staff.

1970 Yellow Volkswagon

1970 Yellow Volkswagon

I was his chairside assistant and was responsible for developing dental X-rays decades before digital X-rays. I answered the phone, handled the billing and confirmed appointments, cleaned the dental office and the waiting room, sterilized dental tools, and sometimes babysat his two young children. It wasn’t unknown for me to take his car for a tune-up.

I worked a split shift. I didn’t get home until 9:30 at night, and then I would have to be back first thing in the morning by 8 a.m. I worked five and a half days a week. I made a minimum wage of $1.45 an hour for 40 hours. I didn’t get paid overtime.

I worked from eight to twelve hours, then drove home and had lunch with my parents. After lunch, I went back to work. My mother always had lunch waiting for me: a buttered bagel and lemon yogurt. Once my mother found out you liked something, she gave it to you long after you were sick. She was funny like that. Finally, I begged, “Please, Mom, no more bagels and yogurt.”

It was a vigorous work schedule, but looking back at it, I realize I enjoyed working there. Dr. Wozniak was a decent man who worked as hard and long hours as I did. He was about thirty-eight when I started to work for him, and I was almost eighteen. Even though there was a twenty-year age gap, we worked well together.

He was patient with me while I learned the job. I was quick to study and loved the fast pace and meeting new people. I enjoyed keeping the office spic and span and keeping everything orderly. I was my father’s daughter, intelligent, quiet, organized, and always on time.

I decided I needed to buy a vehicle of my own. My sister, Karen, and I had been sharing a car our father had given us. Did I mention we are Fraternal Twins? It was a beat-up Edsel, about ten years old at the time. It was my father’s car before it became ours.

Now that I think about it, my father was very generous in giving us his car. He had to purchase another car for himself. My dad had recently retired and was living on Social Security, so he must not have had much money. I guess I never really thought about that until now.

My sister and I were somewhat embarrassed driving this car because it was in pretty rough shape—let’s say it had seen better days. The trunk was banged up, and a chain held it closed. My father had glued a picture of a strawberry on it in a misguided attempt to cover up the enormous dent. He was something of a folk artist. But that is a story for another time.

The driver’s seat tended to collapse backward unexpectedly. We had to anticipate this and keep our backs straight at all times. You couldn’t lean all your weight against the back seat. You had to keep your back straight and somehow suspend it that way unless you wanted to end up in the back seat with no one driving.

At some point, I had the brilliant idea to prop an umbrella behind the seat to prevent the seatback from collapsing backward.  The umbrella worked for some time until it would vibrate and, over time, fall to the right or left. I realize now that this was a dangerous and possible suicidal driving problem. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought. My sister and I never talked about it.

The other problem was that my sister and I were inexperienced at both driving and being responsible. As a result, we would often forget to turn the headlights off on our shared automobile when we arrived home. And during that first cold winter night, we repeatedly killed the battery by leaving the headlights on overnight. In 1970, lights didn’t turn off automatically when you took the keys out of the ignition.

Unfortunately, we would have to wake my father to jump the car battery. This happened quite frequently and made for some very tense mornings. My father, who worked nights, would be sleeping, and we had to wake him up. He would yell and holler and give us hell. We would promise not to do it again. But we did, and then we would have to wake him up again. It was a long learning curve for my sister and me.

We lived closer to my sister’s job than mine, and I had that two-hour break in the middle of the day. So, I would drop her off at the Mailing Services where she worked. Then, I went to my job, another ten minutes away from Collingswood, to Oaklyn, NJ.

My sister endlessly complained that I had the car more often than her. She said it was unfair and that I had always been the favorite. And sometimes she had to take customers out. I never fully understood where she took these customers and for what purpose. I probably never asked.

About this time, a friend of hers, Elaine Wharton, stopped by to visit. We went to grade school together. She taught Karen how to drive even though she had just gotten her driver’s license a few weeks before.

Elaine was driving her new car, and Karen and I were sitting on our front steps. She told us that she had just purchased a brand-new automobile. She informed us that she didn’t have to put out any money. She had financed the whole thing. We had no idea that this was possible.

My sister went to the car dealer and purchased a new car within a couple of weeks. She bought a Maverick. It turned out to be a lemon, breaking down more than it ran.

I decided to get a 1970 Volkswagen. My sister went with me to the VW Dealer since she already knew the ropes. She did all the talking. She was imbued with confidence at an early age. Confidence I didn’t develop until much later in life. The car salesman asked me, “Is she your Philadelphia lawyer?”

It turned out that I was making less money than Karen, and I had to get a co-signer. I don’t think my sister and I ever discussed our salaries. I asked my older brother, Hugh. He was a clinical psychologist, twenty years older than us. He was married, had three kids, and had two jobs. He wasn’t too thrilled about co-signing, but he did it.

The car was a 1970 lemon-yellow VW, and it was love at first sight. It had an automatic stick shift, which I had to learn how to use on the drive home from the dealer.

The car cost $2,300.00. My payments were $65.54 a month for three years. I paid it off in eighteen months because I couldn’t tolerate the idea that my brother had to co-sign for me and seemed ticked off about it.

I was so excited about this beautiful car; it was all mine. I used to get up early every day and hose it down before I went to work. My father swore that I would wash the paint off it.

My Dad was annoyed that Karen and I were only nineteen and had brand-new vehicles. And here he was, sixty-three, and never purchased a new car.  That year, he bought his first new car, a Ford.

I had my yellow bug for ten years. I drove it out of NJ  to Florida when I moved there. I drove that car all over Florida. And to California when we moved there when Bob attended Brooks Institute, a photography school.

I loved that car up to the day my husband, Bob, and I was involved in an accident while driving in the rain on the way to San Diego. We were going to spend Thanksgiving with his best friend, Ronnie.

We didn’t have any extra money because we were living hand to mouth. And unfortunately, the car had bald tires. There was an accident in front of us. And we skidded into the median strip. My VW was crushed in the front by the car we hit and a car in the rear. The trunk was in the front of those early VWs, and it was totaled.

When my car was towed away, I never saw it again. I cried like a baby. I cried the whole time we were visiting Bob’s friends and refused to eat anything for the three days we visited them. I’m sure he and his wife were glad when we left.

It’s a true axiom that you never truly get over your first love. Although it has been over fifty years since I lost my beautiful VW, and I have owned many cars since I have never loved one as much as I loved that yellow VW.