Monthly Archives: May 2020

CORONA VIRUS-MAY 30,, 2020

Here in North Carolina this week, we have had more than our share of rain. It has rained nearly every day during the past week. I’m an avid gardener, so I realize that if I want to enjoy flowers and vegetables growing in my garden, rain is necessary. Today it rained so much that the ground in my back yard is sodden. In NC, if you dig down to about ten inches, you will find red clay.

Calla Lillies - photo by Bridget Culver

Calla Lillies- photo by Bridget Culver

The clay inhibits moisture from going deep into the soil. And the accumulated rainfall after a week of rain just sits on top of that clay. When I go to my back yard, I wear boots. The first Spring after we moved here, we planted several young trees. One week it rained so hard one of the young trees, a beautiful dogwood just floated up out of its soil and fell over. I’ve never seen that happen before. We replanted it, but it didn’t survive.

Some people love rain, the way it sounds on the roof as it falls, the fresh smell after the storm. I, too, enjoy these things. But still, I love a sunny day so much more. I feel so happy when I look out the window and see the sun shining. It lifts my spirit.

Jalapeno – Photo by Bob Culver

Today it started to drizzle on my way to Animal Edventure. A thunderstorm is predicted at about 10:30 AM. I arrive at about 7:15 AM. And so, I think I can accomplish my work done before the rain starts. But the rain starts early. The bird building I work in has a metal roof, and the sound that the rain makes on the roof is tremendous. The parrots and Macaws love noise, and they increase their volume as the rain hitting the roof becomes louder. I have to go out of the building several times, and I am thoroughly soaked.

By this time, I accept that it will probably rain all day. I stop letting it bother me. I turn the radio on in the building. The only station that I’m able to tune in is a Country Station, not my favorite kind of music. But I go with it. The birds, including three Macaws, three cockatoos, and twenty parrots, all begin to chime in. They love the rain. And would probably love nothing more than to be out in the rain taking a shower. So all and all we had a good morning in the bird building, singing, and some screaming, screeching and talking.

After I took care of my parrots in the bird building, I go outside to feed the pheasants, chickens, and doves. They don’t seem to mind the rain either. I cleaned out all their water dishes and checked who needed more feed. And I rake out the waste, and I’m finished. I put all my tools away and walk out to my car. The sun shows its face. I was happy to see it even if it is only for a little while.

I hit the country road and start home. When I ‘m about one-half mile from Animal Edventure, I notice a Red-Tailed Hawk sitting on a post of a split rail fence. And flying over the hawk’s head is a wren who is repeatedly dive-bombing the hawks head, hitting it over and over. I realize the wren wants the hawk out of his territory. Possibly she’s protecting her nearby nest. I want to stop and take a picture, but I realize they would both fly away if I did. So, I just slowly drive by them and watch the show. The hawk ignoring the wren as if were little more than a gnat. And the wren unafraid and unrelenting in her desire to protect her nest and babies.

Nature is continuing to do its job, rain upon the earth, offering us the occasional glimpse of the sun, the wren protecting the future generation of wrens.

When I arrive home, I fill up the bird feeders in my yard while the sun still shines. As long as we live upon this planet, nature will continue to provide for the cycle of life. About an hour later, the heavy rain returns, and I watch the storm from the safety of my porch.

As I sit there on my porch chair, my dog Douglas jumps up next to me, and I pet his head. He’s happy that I’m home and is content to lie next to me and continue his nap.

As I sit there, I contemplate all the things that occurred during the past five days, and some of it is heartbreaking. A man’s life was lost because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his skin was not white. The city he lived in is in turmoil, and his community is angry and reacting.

It is a heartbreaking event, one that we have all heard too many times. I can’t imagine how this will resolve. I wonder how much longer it will take for America to recognize that the color of one’s skin is one small aspect of that person. Would you define a person’s worth by their eye color? This man’s future is forever gone. His family and friends will miss him for the rest of their lives.

The number of people that have died from the virus in America has risen to over 100,000 people. A number so large it’s hard to comprehend. But every single digit represents a single person who is forever lost to their family, their friends. Anything that they could have contributed to our society, to our planet is forever lost.

Anyone who states that the “numbers” aren’t that bad, is a person who does not value human life. A person that values “things” more than life. The accumulated loss of all that this 101thousand lives could have accomplished and could have enriched our lives is incalculable ways and will forever remain unknown. But the loss will be deeply felt for generations to come.

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COMING OF AGE

In May of 1989 I turned 38 years old. In July of that same year I celebrated my 14th wedding anniversary to my husband, Bob. I had two young children Jeanette, who was seven years old, and my youngest daughter Bridget was almost four.

Susan Culver- Tyler School of Art ID

In September of 1989 I entered Temple University at Tyler School of Art as a full-time Freshman. I was the first and the only adult to begin undergraduate studies as an adult at the Tyler Campus. I looked young for my age, but by no stretch of the imagination did I look seventeen or eighteen years old.

In 1987 my mother passed away from congestive heart failure. My father died eight months before her from lung cancer. The years that my parents became ill and eventually succumbed to their illnesses were the most difficult and painful I had ever experienced. Their absence from my life was almost unbearable.

But I learned many lessons from those experiences and the most important one I learned from my mother. She revealed to me in the last year before she died that her biggest regrets were not the mistakes, she made. But the things she had not done in her life. I made a vow to myself that I would not make these same mistakes. I didn’t want to come to the end of my life regretting the things not accomplished. I wasn’t going to allow anything to stand in my way for any reason, including fear and money.

I also learned what a strong woman I had become in the years between eighteen and forty. I learned to trust myself as a person with strong values. I realized I had courage and intelligence. It took all those years to believe in myself. I made a conscious decision to not allow anyone to dissuade me for any reason. And that is exactly what I did. I did not listen when I was told I was too old or didn’t have an art background.

Once I made the decision to go to Art School, I spent almost a year building my portfolio. And ultimately, I was accepted into all the art schools I applied at including Temple University and Hussian School of Art and Moore College of Art which is a women’s college.

I chose to attend Temple Tyler School of Art, which was then located in Cheltenham, Pa. I felt this school offered me the opportunity to not only attend a prestigious art school but access to all the classes at the main campus in Philadelphia. Pa., I wanted to learn more than art but also history, science, women studies, and literature.

At one point before I decided to major in art, I also considered becoming a writer. The second reason I choose Temple Tyler School of art was the University offered me full financial aid for the entire Freshman year. This offer was based on my being a woman of a certain age. And the scores I attained in the University entrance exam. And I believed my determination to go to this school played a big part in my acceptance and financial aid.

The first week as a full-time student was a momentous one for me. Here I was in the mid-point of my life and I was a college Freshman.

The First Day

I leave Bridget in the car seat while I walk Jeanette up to the baby sitter’s front door. The baby sitter had a child had in Franklin Elementary School as well. Her daughter happens to be Jeanette’s best friend. She’s one year younger than Jeanette. I have been babysitting her during the summer months for years since she was a young child. They agreed to walk Jeanette to school along with their own child. The school was just down the street. “Bye Jeanette, I’ll see you after school. I love you.”  Jeanette was so happy to be spending time with her best friend Laura, she didn’t look back, she just yelled, “Bye Mom see you later.”

I jump back into the front seat behind the wheel. I look at Bridget. She’s smiling as usual, always a happy little girl. Her eyes were as big as saucers. “OK Bridget you’re going to the First Baptist Christian Day School. And you are going to make a lot of friends and have tons of fun. You’re so lucky.” She smiles at me. I have to admit I felt a little guilty. But I had spent seven years being a stay at home mom. And I thought they would benefit being with other children and adults. They both had a tendency to be somewhat reticent with people they didn’t know.

I held Bridget’s hand tightly as we walk into the school, and into her classroom. I met her teacher, Mrs. Miller. She looks as if she is about seventy-five years old. And I think, Oh how is she going to handle all these little kids?

“Hello, Mrs. Miller, I’m Susan Culver and this is my daughter, Bridget. She’s starting pre-school here today.”

“Well Mrs. Culver don’t you worry Bridget will be just fine here with me.”

“I’m sure she will, however, she has never been in school before or even had a babysitter before now.”

“Yes, yes Mrs. Culver not too worry, she’ll be just fine, be on your way now.”

“Oh yes of course, let me say goodbye first.”

“No, it’s better if mothers don’t make a big fuss when leaving their little ones here.”

“Oh, alright and I walk to the door and then turn back and took a final look at my little girl. Thinking, oh I hope I haven’t made a mistake doing this. “As I look across the room, I see Bridget sitting in a circle with the other little kids singing like she’s been coming here all of her life. She looks happy. I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a bit.

My first day at school was about to begin as well. And I was feeling equal amounts of excitement and fear. I had graduated from high school in 1969. And so, it had been a long, long time since I was in a classroom as a student. But this was the first time I wanted to go to school. I’m excited about learning and being challenged. All the teachers at Tyler wanted the students to learn and grow as an artist. They were all artists as well.

As I pull out into the street next to First Baptist Christian Day School. I am about to meet my first challenge. I have to drive from Merchantville, NJ to Pennsylvania.  And that meant I had to cross the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge to North East Philadelphia and then on to Cheltenham, Pa.

What challenge is that you may ask? Well, the challenge is my fear of bridges and heights. The Tacony Bridge is a drawbridge that allows large ships to go under the bridge to the port at Philadelphia. And I am terrified of bridges. Why, because one time when I was young, under five I was in the car sitting on my mother’s lap. And we were going over the Walt Whitman Bridge. I leaned against the door and the door swung open and I fell out onto the bridge. Luckily my father was at a standstill waiting until the drawbridge closed that was allowing a ship to pass under the bridge.

Tacony-Palmyra Bridge, NJby Arorlin 55 2009

I don’t remember much more than this. Except how angry my father was at me. Even though obviously it wasn’t my fault I was a child, the door wasn’t locked and I was sitting on my mother’s lap and not in my own seat in the back. Of course, back then there weren’t car seats or seat belts for that matter. And my father was mad because it scared him witless when I fell out. And ever since that day I was afraid of going over bridges.

I found out that the first day that I drove over the bridge was I wasn’t afraid anymore. Why, because I was the one doing the driving. Before this, I had always insisted that my husband drives to Philadelphia. Now I had control of my car, and I was safe. That’s the day I overcame my fear of bridges. And it was a good thing because for the next four years sometimes I had to go back and forth twice a day. So, I met that first challenge.

My second challenge was getting to the Tyler School without getting lost. One of my shortcomings is a complete lack of a sense of direction. Never had one, still don’t. My husband Bob wrote clear and precise directions to and from Tyler. And he drew a map. I taped the map to the dashboard to the right of the steering wheel. Thanks to him, I made my way to school and back without getting lost once. Of course, at some point I remembered the route without the map. Although for some reason my brain often has difficulty figuring out how to go home even though it is the same except for the direction I’m headed. It always takes me longer to learn the way back from just about anywhere I go.

As I made my final right turn into the stone walled parking lot of Tyler, I was torn between excitement and trepidation at making it this far in my dream of becoming an artist. Spending a year getting my portfolio prepared, applying to the art schools and participating in the portfolio reviews, and waiting for news of whether I was accepted or not. I was thrilled when I was accepted by all the schools where I applied. And even more thrilled to get financial aid and grants.

As I sat in my car in the parking lot, I look around I realize my car was the only one there. I look at my car clock and I realize that I was once again I would be the first one to arrive. This is a life-long habit, arriving early. After twelve years of Catholic School I was neurotic about being late. As this was practically considered a “Mortal Sin.” And for the next four years I was always the first student to arrive in every class. Which was of benefit to me because it gave me time to study. Time is valuable when you in college. I scheduled every minute of my day. Especially for me a Freshman student who was married and has a house and two small children to take care of. In addition, I made the decision to have two majors, graphic design and art education.

As I walk out of the parking lot, I realize I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I broke out in a sweat. Then I remembered I had a campus map in my backpack. My first class was the Freshman Graphic Design Class. I look on the map for the building and found my way there. I walked over to a man who was trimming some bushes and said,” Hello, my name is Susan Culver. I’m just starting here today. Can you tell me if this is the Graphic Arts Building?”

He said, “yes, it is right through that door at the top of the steps, but you may be a mite early.”
“Thanks so much, I’m a bit nervous this is my first day here. What’s your name?”

“My name is Patrick. I’m one of the groundskeepers here. I worked here for years.”

“Oh, really it’s nice to meet you. Thanks for your help.”

“Your welcome, good luck, Susan.”

After that morning I made it my business to say hello to Patrick every time I saw him. He was my first friend at Tyler. Always pleasant, kind, and welcoming to me and all the other students.

I made my way to the top of the steps and down the hall and found the right room number, no one else was there. Surprise. I sit in the first seat of the front row. I didn’t want to miss a thing. As the students start to arrive almost every one of them asked me if I was the teacher. And I responded, “No, I ‘m a student.”

And they each gave me a funny look and found a seat. One of the students came up to me and said, HI, y name is Lynette Brown.”

“HI Lynette, I’m Susan Culver. My mother’s name was Brown and she was born in Philadelphia. Maybe we’re related.”

She took a long look at me and said,” Somehow I doubt it.” We both laughed. She was a young black student. She was eighteen years old. We both laughed and we started talking. It turns out that we had almost identical class schedules and she was also majoring in Art and Art Education. We spent the better part of the next four years together. We became great friends despite the age difference. We even did our teaching practicums together in our junior and senior years. She was extremely talented, and intelligent. She even enjoyed my sarcastic sense of humor.

One of the promises I made to myself before I started my student career was to make friends with as many people as I could while I was a student. This was not an easy challenge for me since I spent my entire life up to that point being quiet and reticent with people I didn’t know. But starting from that first day of school I made it my business to introduce myself to every student I came into contact with and most of the staff at the campus.

When I went to the student lunchroom for break or lunch if there wasn’t an empty table, I would walk over to one of the tables with an empty seat and say,” Hi, I’m Susan Culver. Would you mind if I sit here and have lunch with you?’ They always said, “Yeah, sure.” And then I would ask everyone at the table, “what class are you taking?” And this is how I became acquainted with every student at the school.

The teachers kept it professional at all times. Even though quite a few of my teachers were about my age. They soon realized that I always had my assignments done on time. And they would call on me to put my artwork up to be critiqued first. And they showed me no pity. I believe all the other students benefited by these critiques because they didn’t want their work to be so harshly critiqued as mine was every day. They learned what not to do, and what was expected by my mistakes.

That first day was only a small taste at what I would experience as an art student. But by far Freshman Life Studies Drawing class was the most challenging for many reasons. It was four hours every day. You had to draw standing up at an easel and the models were mostly young people male and female. One time one of the maintenance workers modeled for our class and he was about fifty. I had a hard time talking to him when I met him in the hall after that. The models had to stand for hours in the same position and they were nude. About five of the Freshman students dropped out of class that first day because they were not prepared to draw nude models. After a time, I started looking at the models as just one more object to draw that reflected light and shadow. And it stopped bothering me altogether.

And so, ended my first day. It was a day that challenged me and changed me for the better.

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Corona Virus- May 23rd, 2020

Three and a half years ago when I was driving home from my volunteer job at Animal Edventure, I noticed a small abandoned farmhouse. Its clapboards had long ago lost any paint that had adorned them. The house stands back about thirty feet off the road. Behind the house are two outbuildings crumbling to the ground. The fields behind lie fallow.  On the edge of a road in front of the old house grows a large stand of Prickly Pear Cactus. Oh, I thought I would love to have one of those in my front yard where I get the sun all day.

Abandoned House with Cactus

I decide the next time I come to Animal Edventure on my way home, I’ll stop and cut a couple of pads off. It just so happen that my husband came with me that day to repair some equipment at the sanctuary. On our way home, we pull over in front of the house and park. I  brought some newspapers and a small serrated saw. We cut off two pads and were on our way.

When I arrive home I place the pads in our small greenhouse to heal over. In the meantime we prepare a berm with a mixture of sand, soil, and gravel.

Two weeks later I planted the pads in the berm and happily, they rooted. Over the next two years the cactus flourished. In the second year, several flowers bloom. This year it’s in full bloom.  It reminds me that we can start from a single seed, and in time we will have a fragrant flower or a flowering tree that bears fruit—given time care and effort. Nature can fill an empty space with life.

Flowering Cactus

Photo by Bob Culver

Nature has the ability to recover from catastrophic events. In Australia it has been observed that some of the forests are recovering after being ravaged by fire. There are signs of regrowth across much of eastern Australia. But, we know that if we do not change our ways and stop depleting our planet of all its’ resources. If we continue to pollute the land, the water, and the air. Climate change will continue and worsen. There will be more fires.

Right now at this moment we’re facing challenges that no one in the past one hundred years had to face.  A virus that seems to be intent on eliminating human life from the planet earth. We have the opportunity right now to make choices that protect our fellow man, woman, and child. If we all work together as one, we can and will find an anti-viral to protect any further people from becoming infected. It can limit the number of lives that are lost. People have been unable to work and earn a living. Some people are going hungry. Their basic needs are not being met. We are losing our loved ones, especially older people whose immune systems are unable to fight against this virus. We must acknowledge that all people’s lives have value. No matter their age or if they are rich or poor.

A single flower can bring joy to someone’s life, An older person brings wisdom and experience. All people are capable of making a contribution. Children are the future. We must protect everyone. Every single being is unique and they can not be replaced.

One day in the future humanity will look back at how we handled this experience. And hopefully, they will be able to say people did their best, we valued all people’s lives, they took care of the poor and disenfranchised. Everyone worked together for the benefit of all.

If you reflect on what is going on right now is this the behavior you are seeing? If not, why not? We can all take a step in the right direction. It is not too late. Do the right thing. We all know what it is, we have to make a choice. And you do have the ability to choose right over wrong. Generosity over selfishness. Love over hate.

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THE NIGHT IS STILL YOUNG

It’s February 14th, and believe it or not, I’m going on a blind date. I gave up long ago on finding Mr. Right. Now I’m willing to consider Mr. Not That Bad. I recently celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday. Please don’t try telling me I’m not that old. It’s true. I’m too young to apply for Social Security, and I wouldn’t qualify for the Senior Special at my favorite restaurant, that’s for sure. But when I walk into the room, I’m not turning anyone’s head anymore. Unless there trying to look at the twenty-something behind me.

My date asked me to meet him at his favorite restaurant. A Greek Restaurant called “Taziki’s.” I pull my 2003 Mitsubishi Galant into the last parking spot next to a pristine red sports car with wire wheels. I glance at the back of the car as I pass it. And it bore the legend of Alfa Romeo. I don’t know a whole lot about cars, but even I can recognize class and style. “Wow,” I said out loud. I wonder who owns such a car and would be eating at this place.

I’m ten minutes late because I changed my dress five times before I left my apartment. I want to look sexy but not cheap. Available but not free for the taking. If you know what I mean, I wore a touch of mascara and red lipstick. I’ve always thought my hair was my best feature. It’s black and hangs down to the middle of my back. I wearing it down. I finally decide to wear my sleeveless, turquoise silk tunic that hits just above my knees. My date asked me to look for someone who held a red flower; he didn’t say what kind.

As I pull open, the doorbell chimes announcing my arrival.  I notice everyone within hearing distance looks in my direction. For some reason, this makes me feel flustered, and I feel myself blushing—something I hadn’t done since high school. And then I see a man sitting in a booth next to the wall waving at me. I’m not sure how he knows I’m his date.

I walk towards him, and I see him stand and wait by the table. He’s over six and a half feet tall. His hair is jet black and slightly curly. His eyes are green. As I step up to the table, he extends his hand out to me. He’s holding a single red Amaryllis. It is enormous and fragrant. Up close, he looks like a Greek god.

I take the flower and put it up to my nose, and the smell is intoxicating. I feel slightly dizzy. “Thank you, how beautiful, I’ve never seen one as large before, and the fragrance is amazing.

He is not handsome in the traditional way. But he is the most attractive man I ever saw, nonetheless. “I’m hoping that you’re Alexander. I’m Maria Caledonia.”

“Yes, of course, I’m Alexander. Will you have a seat? I have so looked forward to this moment. I hope you don’t mind me ordering for us. It’s somewhat presumptuous, but I know this restaurant so well. I practically grew up here.”

Really, you like Greek food that much?”

“Well, yes, of course, but my family owns this restaurant and several others.”

“Really, I’m sure the food is delicious. I’m curious how my friend Elizabeth knows you. She told me you were old friends, but I don’t remember her mentioning you before.”

“That’s probably because we knew each other as children.  Then when I was about to start high school, my family decided that they wanted me to go back to Greece to continue my education until I was ready to go to University.  When I came back, I decided to continue my studies, and I lived in New York several years ago.

“Oh, and then you reconnected with Elizabeth? Did you and Elizabeth ever date?”

“No, we have always been close but more like brother and sister. I was talking to her about my desire to find that special woman to spend my life with. I know it’s too soon to talk about this. I just wanted you to know that I’m not interested in casual dating.”

“Well, I understand that I’ve dated my share of men. I know the kind of person I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Perhaps we should take this one step at a time. And get to know each other.

“Elizabeth, I see our dinner is about to arrive. I hope you enjoy it. I thought we might take a walk after dinner. If you like?”

“A walk, that would be fine. It’s a beautiful evening for a walk.”

“Sir, Madame, here is your meal. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Aleixo. I’m sure it is perfection.”

“Elizabeth, once again, I apologize for ordering for you, but I hope you will love this dish as much as I do. It’s called Spanakopita. It is a spinach pie.

“Try it first, and let me know what you think.”

“Alexander, it smells delicious. Elizabeth takes her first bite. “Oh, this is wonderful. I love the combination of onions and cheese, and seasoned perfectly. And this crust is so light. Wonderful.

“Oh, I’m so pleased. I hope you will enjoy it. And wait until you taste dessert. I ordered the Greek lemon cake.”

“Alexander, the cake was heaven. Thank you, I’m so full, I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

“Oh, would you like some coffee or anything else to drink?”

“Thank you, no. I’m full. But I wouldn’t mind just sitting for a bit before we take that walk. Just to let the meal settle.”

“So, Elizabeth, while we’re sitting here, would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“Well. I’m afraid it isn’t that exciting. I grew up in a small town in New Jersey called Merchantville. My father was the principal of the public high school. My mother was a stay-at-home mom. I have to admit it was somewhat awkward when I was in high school, my father being the principal. But sometimes, it came in handy.

I have a younger brother. He’s studying for his master’s in psychology. He wants to be a counselor for at-risk kids in the inner city. Probably in Camden or Philadelphia. He’s twelve years younger than I am, so we didn’t really grow up together. He’s really a remarkable young man. I’m proud of him. I don’t get to see him often since he’s busy with school and a part-time job. My parents are still married, happily, I think.

“After college, I got hired as an editor for a book publisher. Nothing glamourous. These weren’t best sellers. They’re scientific journals. I’ve always been interested in science but couldn’t really settle on a field of study. But I love learning about it, so it seemed like a good fit. Since I have a secondary degree in journalism.

“How about you, Alexander? Do you work in the restaurant business with your family?”

“Actually, I’m part-owner. And I did manage several of them in the past, but now I’m more in an advisor capacity. I decided to devote the rest of my working career to trying to promote the changes we need to make to protect our climate. I do spend a great deal of my time in Washington.”

“Really, that’s wonderful. There are a great many scientific journals written about climate change. I hope you are making some positive changes.”

“Right now, it is an uphill battle. But let’s continue this serious conversation for a later time.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you like to take that walk now? It’s really a beautiful evening.”

“New York is such a beautiful city. I can’t imagine moving to the suburbs. The art museums, the theater, the symphony. If I could, I would spend every day of my life listening to music, and I would be a happy and content woman.

“Elizabeth, I’m so happy you love the symphony. I hold season tickets. And as a matter of fact, I have two tickets to the Matinee on May 20 for the opening of “Singing in The Rain.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I would so love to attend that. I adore Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds in that movie. Such an extravaganza, the singing, the dancing. Just enthralling and so romantic, don’t you think, Alexander?”

“I do. I’m a romantic at heart. I would be thrilled if you would agree to go with me. I’m sorry it is a matinee, but in the evening, I’m often busy with one of the restaurants or In Washington.”

“Sorry, you have no need to be sorry. I accept. I would be overjoyed to attend the opening matinee concert. Over the moon, really, Alexander.”

“That’s wonderful, Elizabeth. How about we meet here on May 20th at noon for lunch, and then I will escort you to the matinee at 2 pm. Would you like to take that walk now? Would you rather take a walk here in this area, or can we go wherever you like?”

“Oh, you know where I love to walk at night in Times Square. I know it’s what most tourists do, but I love it, the excitement, the lights, people watching.”

“That’s a great idea. Let’s take my car, and when we are finished, I’ll bring you back here to your car. Instead of us taking both cars.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

As they walk out to the parking lot, Alexander walks towards Elizabeth’s car. She looks over at him and says,” how did you know that was my car.”

“Your car Elizabeth, I don’t know your car. This is my car right here, the Alpha Romeo.”

“You’re kidding. That’s my Mitsubishi right next to it. In fact, I was admiring your car before I came into the restaurant. It’s a classic beauty.”

“As are you, Elizabeth. Allow me to open the door for you.”

“Of course, thank you.”

Elizabeth gets comfortable and puts on her seat belt. Alexander says, “I hope that this day will mark the beginning of the rest of our lives, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth feels her face blushing once again. And touches her cheek.  And smiles her most radiant smile and looks straight into Alexander’s eyes. “I hope so too, Alexander. Let’s begin our journey now.”

THE EBB AND FLOW OF THE TIDE

Mathew hesitates momentarily before he throws his knapsack down. And steps onto the boat as it sways and gently bumps against the dock. He pushes the oars against the tide and takes his last look back at the house where he had spent his entire life. He stands up in the bow of

Leo Cardelli- Photographer

boat and cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “goodbye” to no one in particular.

There’s nothing keeping him here anymore since his father passed away four months ago from emphysema. Mathew’s family has lived on this island for over a century. His childhood was spent fishing and crabbing. As soon as he was big enough to hold a fishing rod and set a trap.

His father took him by motorboat every day from their small island to the school on the mainland. When Mathew was young, he believed that the island was paradise. As he waited for his father to pick him up on their dock with their small motorboat, Matthew would breathe in the salty sea air and the mist.

But over time, the island became a prison, and he dreamed of his escape. He imagines moving to New York City, of becoming invisible, unknown, and one of eight million.

Everyone in the little island community knows him by first and middle, and last name. They know who attended his birth. And the doctor that cut the cord. There was only one doctor on the island. Doctor Hartman. He had just passed away eight months ago at the age of eighty-eight. The islanders are still seeking a replacement. But so far, they have no takers.

They know when Mathew cut his first tooth, caught his first fish, and kissed his first girl. They have known his family history for over a century.

Mathew longs to be landlocked, with no pounding surf or cry of the seagull.
When Mathew arrives at the mainland, he ties the boat up at the dock. That he knows so well, strides by all the familiar faces, without saying hello or goodbye, he walks swiftly to the bus depot and takes the first bus he finds that will take him closer to New York City and as far away as possible from Harker Island.

As the bus pulls in at the first rest stop, he uses the restroom. And then grabs a sandwich and fries and a cup of coffee. It’ll take at least ten hours to reach his destination. He closes his eyes and thinks of all the new and exciting things he hopes to see and experience in his new life in the big city. He imagines all the strangers that will pass him on the street. They will not know his name or who his parents and grandparents were.

Mathew sleeps on and off until he hears the bus driver announces, “Port Authority, Grand Central Station.”   He rubs his eyes and slowly opens them to an unbelievably huge bus depot. He disembarks from the bus and grabs his backpack, and follows his fellow passengers off the bus. He walks out of the bus depot into a magnificent and huge room. In front of him are three of the largest windows he has ever seen. He’s amazed. He heads outside the Port Authority and onto the street.

There are groups of people standing along a railing, stepping over and between small piles of melting snow. He peers down to see what they’re looking at. Mathew sees the deep blue waters of what he will later learn is the Hudson River. It seems to him as if he can’t get away from the water.

He realizes that his stomach is growling and looks around for a restaurant to get something to eat. A restaurant sits right next door to the Port Authority. It’s a place to eat called Schnipper’s. He walks up to the counter and looks at the menu on the wall, and orders their best burger and fries and a Pepsi.

As he’s eating the last fry, he looks around the dining room for a bathroom. He sees the men’s room sign and walks toward it. As he’s about to walk in, a middle-aged man bumps into him and then walks off without even acknowledging him. Mathew stares at him. “Jerk,” Mathew says under his breath.

After he emerges from the bathroom, Mathew walks up to the cashier to pay for his check.” Hey, how are you doing?”  As he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. It’s not there. “What the…?” He pats all his other pockets. Nothing. He grabs his backpack and searches all through it and the pockets on the outside. Nothing. He starts hyperventilating. The cashier looks at him and says, “Sir, is there some sort of problem?”

“Yes, some guy bumped me as I was going into the men’s room. And I think he stole my wallet. I had it when I got off the bus at the Port Authority, and now it’s gone.”

“Oh dear, he must have been a pickpocket. That happens all the time around the Port Authority and the rest of the city, too, I guess. You can’t keep things in your back pocket around here. Or somebody will lift it. Do you want me to call the police, or can you do it with your cell phone?”

“The police. Well, I guess so. I don’t have any money since he stole every penny I had. Yes, please call the police. I’ll wait here.”

Mathew stands there, unsure of what his next move should be? He stares out the front window of the restaurant. “Oh my god, there’s the guy. I have to go get my money back.” And he hands the cashier his backpack and dashes out the door.

Mathew blasts out the door slamming the door. It rattles in its frame. He runs as fast as he can toward the pickpocket and tackles him. The guy is yelling, “Help, help. This guy is trying to kill me. Help.”

A few people start to gather and watch Mathew wrestle the man down to the ground. No one interferes. And the next thing Mathew is aware of is two police officers yelling at him. “Hey, buddy, you can stop pummeling this guy. We got you.”

Mathew gets off the guy as the other police officer snaps handcuffs on the pickpocket’s wrist behind his back. Mathew spits out all in one breath. “This guy stole my wallet with every penny I have. I just arrived here by bus. And this guy stole my money. I need it.”

“Alright, I called in for another squad car, and the guy in handcuffs will be on his way to be booked at our precinct. I’m going to need some information from you before you come to the police station.”

“What? I have to go? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ok, OK, buddy, we’re here to help you. The cashier at the restaurant called us. Try to calm down. You have to come downtown and give a report. And then you’ll get all your money back if it’s still in the wallet.”

“Alright, I’ll try to calm down. But no one ever stole anything from me before.”

“What, where have you been living anyway? Obviously, you aren’t a New Yorker.”

“No, I’m from Harker’s Island off the NC coast. I just arrived at the Port Authority less than an hour ago. And then I stopped at the restaurant next door to the depot, and I got robbed going into the bathroom.”

“Tell me exactly what happened, starting with your name.”

“What? Again? Ok, my name is Mathew Fegundus. I just came here to NYC by train from Harker’s Island off the NC coast. I came here to start over. My parents passed away, and I had no reason to stay there any longer. So, I sold my father’s fishing boat and our house, and I came here. I don’t know a living soul here. I’m starting over. A fresh start, I thought. And I ate at that restaurant right there next to the Port Authority.  Some guy bumped into me as I entered the bathroom. When I went to pay for my meal, my wallet was missing. I was staring out the front window of the restaurant, and I saw the guy that robbed me. I ran out and tackled him. And that’s all she wrote.”

“Ok, Mathew, you’ll have to come to the police station with us and sign an affidavit stating what happened, and then we can return your wallet after you make sure everything is still in. You will have to identify the thief in a line-up.”

“What? Can’t you give me my money now?”

“No, Mathew, it doesn’t work that way. If this goes to court, you will have to testify against him. Do you understand?”

“Understand? Yeah, I understand. I got here less than an hour ago. I got robbed, and now I have to go to the police station and make out a report and sign an affidavit, and then I’ll get my own wallet and money back. But later, I’ll have to testify in court.?”

“Ok, do you want to go with us in our vehicle?”

“Where is the police station?”

“It is in the Midtown South Precinct. Do you know where that is?”

“No. I don’t know where anything is, and I don’t know anyone here. I have to get my wallet back. I don’t have any other money with me. I have money in a bank account in my hometown. But I don’t have any ID, and it’s in my wallet. I guess I’ll have to come with you. I never rode in a police car before.”

“OK, buddy, let’s go. It’s not that long a ride. Sit in the back and keep quiet. I’m Officer Murdoc, by the way. Get in, sit down, and be quiet.”

As Mathew sits in the back seat, he looks out the window as the streets of New York City fly by. He has never seen such enormous buildings in his life. The biggest building on Harker’s Island was two stories. It was Kelly’s Fish and Tackle Shop, and the owner lived in an apartment upstairs. It also has a flat roof where Kelly, the owner, used to drink beer and bar-b-que fish and watch the ocean. He often asked Mathew to join him. They would eat and drink in silence while they watched the sun go down over the ocean.

Mathew can’t even see the tops of these skyscrapers from the back seat of the police car. He looks forward to walking all over the downtown section and seeing all the different people. People he never met and might not meet in the future. Who knows?

As they drive toward the police station, Mathew sees more people on one street than lived on the whole island where he grew up. More people than he had ever seen in his entire life. It was a sight he’ll never forget, no, matter how long he lives, even though this wasn’t a great beginning to his new life. He hopes that the future will hold many new adventures, new friends and happiness, and love if he’s lucky.

“Alright, Mathew, here we are. You can exit the car and wait for me. I will escort you inside, and we will get this business over as quickly and painlessly as possible. And you can be on your way.”

As Mathew gets out of the vehicle, he looks around, and he hears a man yelling at the top of his lungs. “Let me go. Get your hands off me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m being framed.”

Mathew glances over in that direction, and who does he see doing the yelling? The pickpocket. Mathew wants to go and punch him in the face. All this trouble because of this low-life thief. What a horrible beginning to his new life. Mathew stands there and glares at the guy. And he’s startled by the policeman saying to him,” OK, let’s go. Ignore what’s going on over there.”

“Alright, have a seat, and I will have to ask you the same questions for my report. Let’s get started.”

“Yes, alright, Officer Murdock. I hope this won’t take too long. I have to find a place to stay temporarily until I find a permanent residence.” Mathew puts down his backpack and takes a deep breath, and then exhales.

After fifteen minutes of questions. Another officer steps over to Murdock’s desk and says. “Alright, the lineup is ready. You can bring in the victim.”

“Victim? I never thought of myself as a victim. Jeez.”

“It’s OK, buddy. If you live in New York City long enough, you’re going to get mugged. That’s life in the big city. What can I say?”

“You are going to be behind a one-way mirror. You will be able to see the suspects, but they can’t see you. Take a good look. Did the guy say anything to you? Would you recognize his voice?”

“No, none when he bumped me. But when I saw him outside the restaurant window. I ran out there and jumped him and punched him, he yelled. “Help, help. This guy is trying to kill me. Help.” And that’s when you guys showed up.”

“Alright, we can go in now, and you take your time looking at the guys and if you are absolutely sure you recognize him. Then you tell me his number. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. Will I get my money then?”

“After you make a statement and sign it. Your property will be returned to you. We will need your contact information, full name, current address, and phone number.”

“I don’t have an address yet. I have a cell phone number. After I get a place to live, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, here comes number one. Number one, will you face forward, turn right and then left, and then shout, “Help, help this guy is trying to kill me. Help.”

Mathew stands in front of the two-way mirror and looks at the three guys standing up there. They look similar to each other. He listens intently while the three of them each shout,” Help, helps this guy is trying to kill me.”

Mathew stares at them and then remembers that his assailant had a facial scar that ran down the side of his cheek from his hairline down below his earlobe. Mathew tugs on the cop’s sleeve. “Hey, can you ask those guys to turn so I can see their left cheek?”

“What? Sure. Everyone, turn so we can see your left cheek.”

Number one and two turns, but number three hesitates and takes a step back. And shifts his weight back and forth nervously. “Number three, do as your told, now.”

Number three turns his face. “Yeah, that’s him, that’s him. He has a scar running down his cheek from his temple to his earlobe. That’s him.”

“Alright, number one and two, you can leave. Officer Drewitz take number three to the holding cell. He is under arrest. Read him his rights.”

“Alright, Mathew, go over to the Sargent’s desk, and you can claim your property and be on your way. This guy may get out on bail. We don’t know that right now. But he may. Make sure we have your contact information and inform the Sargent when you have an address. You will be informed if your assailant is out on bail. And also, when you’ll have to come to court to testify against him. Do you understand? “

“Yes, I understand. You or someone will inform me if the crook gets out on bail and let me know if there is a court date that I have to testify against him.”

“Ok, then go over there and get your belongings. You will have to sign an affidavit stating that you received all your property. Got it?”

“Yes, I got it, I got it. Good Bye. No offense, but I hope I don’t have to meet all of you anytime in the near future.”

As Mathew steps out the door of the police station, he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Well, that’s nice. How do you do.” What’s next? I get run down by a bus or something?” Then he realizes that he doesn’t have a clue exactly where he is or where he’s going. He sees a bench down the street next to a sign that says bus stop. He walks over to it and plops down.

He pulls out his cell phone and looks at the time. 11:45. Not even lunchtime, and he had breakfast and got robbed. Went to a police station in New York City. And identified the thief and sign an affidavit. And got his wallet and money back. He still doesn’t know where he should go.

He realizes he should have made more detailed plans before he arrived here. At least he should have found where to look for a place to live. And where he could find a job. He really didn’t put much thought into any of it. He was sick and tired of the same town and the same people. And knowing nothing different was ever going to happen there. And he would never meet anyone new. And the girls in town were like sisters to him. He couldn’t imagine marrying any of them. He needed a fresh start. But he realizes he should have put more thought into the where and the how of it all.

As he sits at the bus stop, an older woman walks over to the bench and sits down. She has two grocery bags in her arms. They look heavy. She sits down and sighs. “Oh, my feet are killing me.”

Mathew looks over at her and says, “are you alright, mam?”
She turns her head and looks at him from head to toe. “Mam, huh? Well, you are obviously not from around here, are you? I’m guessing somewhere down south? North or South Carolina?”

“North Carolina, Mam. I just arrived here today by bus.”

“Really, and how do you like it so far?”

“I haven’t seen too much of it except when I was in the police car. And I couldn’t believe how big the buildings were and how huge New York City was. Even though I’ve only seen a small part of it.”

The woman turns her head and looks at him from head to toe. “Police car, did you get arrested already. What happened?”

“What? No, I didn’t get arrested. I was robbed. When I was going into the bathroom at the restaurant where I ate lunch, some guy bumped into me. I didn’t really think anything about it. Until I went to pay for my lunch and my wallet was missing. Then as I was standing there, I looked out the window, and I saw the guy who bumped into me. I ran outside and tackled him. The cashier called the police, and they came and arrested him. Then, I had to go to the police station and make a statement and identify my assailant. And, here I am.”

“Woah, you have had quite an eventful morning. What are you going to do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t plan this move as well as I should have. I don’t know anyone here. I have some money with me. But I have to have my savings sent from my bank in NC. And I will have to open a bank account here, so my old bank can transfer it to my new account. And I don’t have a place to live or a job yet. I have no idea where to look for a place to live, either. I feel stupid right now. I didn’t really think any of this through.”

“What kind of work did you do before you came here?”

“I grew up on a small island off the coast of NC. My dad was a fisherman, and I became one too. There weren’t too many choices available there.”

“Alright, let me think about this for a few minutes. I don’t ordinarily trust people I just met. But for some reason, I trust you. Let me sit here and think about it for a few minutes. Relax a bit.”

“First of all, what’s your name, and how old are you?”

“Mam?” How old am I?”

“I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in two weeks. My name is Mathew Carberry. My father just passed away. I don’t have any other family. So, I thought I needed to make some changes. I hope I haven’t made a big mistake.”

“Well, Mathew, I think it was fate that brought you here. And that you and I have met at this moment in time. The fact is I think I can help you. My son and my grandson own a small tour boat company. They take tourists on trips to the Statue of Liberty. And one of his best Tour Boat Captains decided to retire. And he needs to be replaced. And I think that with your experience being a fisherman. It might just qualify as the experience that could land you this job. I can’t make you any promises. However, my son is just as good a judge of character as I am, and he trusts me. What do you think?”

“I think that although I had decided not to have anything to do with boats anymore that I would be a fool not to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“Alright then, let me give my son a call and see if he has time to meet you today. By the way, my name is Elizabeth Maguire. Now sit tight for a couple of minutes while I speak to my son, Richard.”

“Hello, Thomas, this is your mother.”

“Yes, mom, I recognize your voice. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Thomas, why do you always ask that? I’m fine, and I can take care of myself. The reason I called is that I met a young man here at the bus stop and he is looking for a job. He had just arrived here from an Island off the coast of North Carolina. And he worked all his life for his father, who was a fisherman.”

“Mother, stop. I know where this conversation is going. You found a lost puppy, and you want me to take him in and adopt him. This isn’t the first time I rode a bronco in the rodeo.”

“Thomas, what in the world are you talking about, lost puppies, and riding in a rodeo?”

“What I’m trying to say is, you can’t save every poor soul you run into every day of your life. Do you remember the homeless man you brought here? And, now, he is working for me as a night security guy.”

“Yes, Thomas, I do. And do you remember he has been working there for eight years and is one of your most trusted employees?

“Alright, alright, I give, I give. Send him here. I’ll talk to him and see if he is a good fit.”

“Thank you, Thomas. We will take the bus over there right now. We should be there shortly. Bye.”

“Alright, Mathew, I spoke to my son, Thomas. And he’s willing to meet and talk to you about a job. No promises. But I know he’ll like you just as I do. We have to get on the number 149 Bus and then change buses and get on the 430 bus to the peer. We should be there in less than an hour.

As they sit on the bench waiting for their bus to arrive, Mathew watches the unbelievable amount of traffic going by. The most extraordinary thing is the sheer amount of people walking in every direction. Women in business suits head to work. Men in hard hats working on girders thirty stories above the street level. People of every race and age. It’s extraordinary and overwhelming all at once.

And taxies that whizz by, the drivers leaning on their horns the whole way, not giving in to other cars or trucks just flying by at what seemed an unbelievable speed. But somehow, no cars crash and no one’s run over. It’s amazing and frightening at the same time. Just as Mathew is thinking about the traffic, a bus pulls up, and there is a tremendous swooshing sound emanates from under the bus.

“This is our bus, Mathew. Let’s go. As he steps up into the bus, he realizes that the young woman in front of him handed the bus driver a card, not cash. He begins to sweat a little. He thinks, oh, what am I going to do now? He clears his throat and says quietly, “Miss Maguire, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a ticket to get on this bus, and the sign says, No Cash.”

“Oh yes, but of course, you don’t have a Metro Ticket. Why would you? Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. You can pay me back when you have the money.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Maguire, that is generous of you. I have the money now. I‘ll give it to you as soon as we sit down. I do appreciate your help more than I can say.”

“Mathew, please call me Lizzie. All my friends do.”

“OK, Lizzie, thanks again.”

After they settle in their seats, Mathew sighs and stares out the window. And then he remembers he owes Miss Lizzie money. “Oh, Miss Lizzie, how much do I owe you for the bus ride?”

“Well, why don’t we settle up on the ride home. What do you say?”

“I say that’s just fine. He settles back into his seat and stares at the rushing traffic and the buildings as they whizz by his window. He looks around at all the people sitting near him on the bus. And is amazed again at the sheer variety of people sitting near him. On Harker’s Island, almost everyone was related to someone else who lived on the Island.

He doesn’t know anyone here at all. And then he remembers Miss Lizzy sitting beside him and thinks she’s my first friend. And that’s his last thought because he drifts off to sleep, and he doesn’t wake up until he hears Miss Lizzie say, “Mathew, wake up we here.”

As they pull up to the bus stop, Mathew looks around and sees the landscape, and the street is different from downtown New York City. The traffic isn’t as heavy, and there aren’t as many people in business suits. He waits for Miss Lizzie to step down to the last step, and then he reaches up to take her hand as she goes onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you, Mathew, you’re a gentleman. And that’s something I don’t often see anymore. We have to walk a short distance to the pier and then another five minutes to my son’s dock and his office.

As Mathew walks along the peer, he looks out over the water, and he sees the Statue of Liberty standing tall. “Oh my god, that’s the Statue of Liberty. I saw pictures of it when I was a kid. But I never thought I would ever see it. It’s huge. When I was young, my father used to tell me stories about how his family came to America from Ireland and landed at Ellis Island. They didn’t know a soul in America. But they were escaping the Potato Famine in Ireland. And they hoped to make a new life for themselves in America. And here I am back here again. And I’m hoping that I can make a new life for myself. And just maybe the new beginning for me will be here at the Statue of Liberty.”

“Mathew, it certainly seems as if this is your destiny. Everything that happened up until now has brought you to this moment in time—even being robbed and having to go to the police station. And then sitting down at the bus stop and meeting me. It’s fate, don’t you think?”

“Lizzie, I can’t help but feel it was all meant to be. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for having met you when I was feeling so low. And I began to think I had made a stupid mistake coming here where I didn’t know anyone let alone where to get a job or where I could live. Wait a minute, where am I going to live?”

“Alright, Mathew, calm down a bit. Let’s take this one minute at a time. It will all work out. Let’s go, my son will be waiting for us. And I think my grandson will be getting off for the day right about now. And you can meet him as well. He’s about your age. Let’s walk this way now.”

“Oh, you’re right. Sometimes I get carried away. My father was always telling me to take one thing at a time.”

“Your father gave you good advice. You should take it. Oh, there’s my son now. He must have been on the lookout for us. That’s him waving at us over there. Let’s not make him wait too long. Just be yourself and be honest, and you’ll be in like Flynn.”

“Like who?”

“Never mind, that’s just an old expression. It means everything is going to work out.”

“Oh, Thomas, it’s so nice for you to come out and meet us. This is Mathew Carberry, the young man I told you about.”

“Hello, Mathew. It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you come into my office and will have a conversation and you can tell me all about yourself? And you can tell me what you can bring to the table.”

“Table, what do you mean?”

“Mathew, don’t try and confuse the young man, he just got here today from North Carolina, and I was lucky enough to meet him. I’m sure you will feel the same way.”

“Alright, mother, let me decide how I’m going to feel.”

“Alright, son, you’re right, and I trust your judgment. Good luck, Mathew. I have a feeling that this will be the beginning of the first step into your new life. Good luck.”

As Mathew walked into the office, he turned back at Lizzie, and she was giving him the universal sign of good luck, thumbs up. He returned her gesture and walked through the door into his future.

Corona Virus- May 16th,2020

Corona Virus-May 16th, 2020

This week has brought equal parts of both good and bad. Reminders that life’s challenges help me to become a stronger person. This week I have observed that the Magnolia trees are in full bloom. I so look forward to seeing those majestic flowers every year. And it’s a reminder that life goes on despite what is happening now.
I look forward to the magnificent Crepe Myrtles blooming in a couple of months. We must allow ourselves these moments to enjoy the good things in life that are all around us.

Magnolia Flower- Photo by Bob Culver

One of the animals that I came to love at Animal Edventure met an untimely death. I will so miss her each day when I go there. She was the first one who greeted me, And I pet her from the top of her head to the end of her tail. I would bring her into the main building and feed her and give her something to drink. Such a beautiful animal. Such a short life.

I have faced many difficult times in my life. I believe I faced these times head-on. I look at each challenge and think about what will make this situation better or a least less painful. What can I do?

In 1985 my parents, who were then in their mid-seventies, became ill. My father developed lung cancer, he already had emphysema. He was a heavy smoker his whole life. My mother’s personality and behavior changed drastically. My mother was blind from glaucoma. She lost her vision slowly over time. She didn’t tell anyone what was happening. Her loss of vision affected her profoundly and she became frightened and paranoid. Perhaps it was dementia or as my brother who was a psychologist thought a psychosis. There aren’t words enough to explain how devastatingly painful to see my loving and caring mother change before my eyes to someone I didn’t recognize. I miss her still to this day. Not the person she became at the end of her life but the loving and devoted mother I knew for my whole life up until that time.

My children were only two and five at the time, and I was a stay at home mother for several years. And so, I was able to spend a great deal of time with my parents. My father gave me the power of attorney. I took over their finances and paid their bills and made medical decisions for them. When the time came, I bought their burial plots and their caskets, headstones, and flowers.

Lung cancer is an unforgiving disease and it progressed rapidly. By the time my father shared his symptoms with me, he had large inoperable lesions in his esophagus and right lung. At that time, there was no treatment for him, as the cancer was too advanced. My mother’s mental health deteriorated over this time. I have to admit I have never felt as low at any time in my life as I did during their illness and after their death. My entire family, which was a large one, stepped up to help take care of my parents. It was a sad time for us all.

After my father passed, it was apparent that my mother wouldn’t be able to live by herself. And I hired a woman whose name was Doris Cook to come in and stay with my mother during the week. My siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our homes on the weekends. It was painful seeing my dear mother’s sweet and loving personality disappear day by day. She passed eight months after my father.

I know every member of my family felt this loss deeply. As for myself, I woke up every day and felt that loss and waves of sorrow would wash over me. Until I felt I was drowning in it. I thought I’m an orphan now, I have no parents. It took a long, long time for me to overcome this sadness. And still, to this day, I feel a deep emptiness when I realize that I will never see my parents again. Despite the fact that it has been over thirty years.

I have realized that loss is just as big a part of life as is joy and happiness. Loss offers us the opportunity to grow and mature and become a stronger man or woman. If we stand up to those challenges if we face then instead of running away or denying their existence.

Right now, at this moment, at this time, we are all facing the biggest challenges on every front that we never imagined would come our way. Not in our wildest imagination. A pandemic never crossed my mind, not once, not ever. I knew there was a pandemic in 1918 when my parents were young. But I certainly never thought it would happen in the here and now. In fact, I never thought about it at all. It belonged to the distant past. But here it is. And we are in the middle of it. Not just here in American but every single place big and small across our planet. So far, 308,985 people have died from this disease. Over 80,000 in the United States alone.

By nature, I am a caretaker and a fixer of sorts. In one way or another throughout my life, I have striven to give assistance and care to the people I come in contact with me. If I see a need and I am able to mitigate it in some way, I have. There are so many people now that are not getting their basic needs met with food, shelter, and clothing. I help in my own limited way.

We are all in this together. And if I could just offer this bit of advice please, please wear masks when you are out and about. They are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign that you care about others, including your own family members’ health and well-being. They protect “other people” whose masks protect “you.” Even if you never did anything for anybody your whole life, you can do this small thing NOW. Wear the mask to protect others and they will do the same for you.

We are not able to reliably project when the pandemic will end. It could appear as if it is and then flair up again and more people will die. Or it could become a seasonal disease that returns again and again. We will not become safe again until there is an antiviral available to protect us from this disease. And when this happens, get inoculated. Please. Do the right thing. If you never made a good decision in your life, why not start with this.

As you go about your daily life, try to be kind. I know it is difficult considering all the stress we are all under, not enough money to live on, buy food, pay our bills. People want to go back to work and provide for their families and they can’t yet. We miss spending time with our friends and family. And going out for fun. And a million other little and big things too long a list to mention. But, somehow, sometime in the future those of us who are still here will look back on this time and think, “I’m stronger than I realized. I did the right thing for myself, my community, and the world. I survived this, so I certainly can meet any other challenge that comes my way. Please do the right thing, not just for you but for all of us. We are all in this together.

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OH WHAT A TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

I want a car more than anything I ever wanted in my entire life. Last month I turned seventeen, and I took the written driver’s test. I was so nervous that I failed the test the first two times I took it. My dad told me that if I didn’t pass the written test this time, I can’t retake it for a year.

I told him I would die if I couldn’t get my driver’s license. Just die. Can you imagine graduating from high school without their driver’s license? The humiliation alone would kill me. Absolutely everyone I know has their driver’s license. And their parents are buying them a new car for graduation. My father said, “you have to get a job and earn money to  pay one half of the cost of the car.” And can you imagine he said I have to get a used car? A used car, I will be devasted if I have to drive around a hoopty.

Girl learning to drive

I’ve made up my mind that I will pass my written driver’s test and my driving test. Whatever it takes. And by that, I mean WHATEVER. I will beg, bribe, or sleep with someone to get my license.

I have agreed to start looking for a part-time job to earn money. I have made a commitment to myself to accomplish this goal. And I will.

I spent the whole weekend studying the driver’s manual. My friend, Gina, ask me all the questions for the written test twenty times. I’m ready. Today I will be taking the written test for the third and last time. I’m stoked.

“Good news, I passed the test. I only had one question wrong. I couldn’t remember the shape of the road sign for Yield. And now I am going to get my mother to teach me how to drive.”

“Get this, my father said he will be the one teaching me to drive. Can I never catch a break? What’s next, water torture?”

Today my father took me out for my first driving lesson in the parking lot of the Mall. Can you say a living nightmare? So, I get behind the wheel, and the seat is so far back that my feet can’t even touch the peddles. Let’s just say that my father is somewhat “softig.” And by that, I mean he looks like he is going to give birth any day now.

First, he says,” Adjust the mirrors, the side mirrors, and the rear-view mirror.”

“I know Dad, I know. I did take driver’s ed.”

“Make sure your seat is adjusted too, Samantha.”

“I did that already, Dad.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.”

After that, I kept my mouth shut, because when my dad says, “don’t roll your eyes at me.” That means he’s not kidding around. And I keep my mouth shut. I just complain in my head.

“Alright, ease your foot off the brake and gently press on the gas pedal.”

I do just that, and the next thing I know, we are shooting forward, and I totally freak out and let go of the steering wheel. My father grabs the wheel and starts screaming at me like a maniac. “Have you lost your mind, never take your hands off the wheel. Are you trying to kill the both of us?”

I begin to silently weep. I have found that my father is very uncomfortable with crying females, and he immediately feels repented. I wipe my eyes repeatedly and then my father looks over at me.

“Alright, alright, stop crying. Take a deep breath. Let’s begin again. Samantha, you must always, always drive with great care. Your life and the other drivers on the road depend on that. A car can become a weapon of death and destruction if we do not learn how to drive responsibly. Our lives and the other driver’s lives on the road depend on responsible driving.”

“Ok, ok, dad I get it. I just freaked out momentarily. I’m a little nervous.”

“Let’s begin again. Take your foot off the brake and depress the gas pedal slowly. Look both ways to the right the left and the rear-view mirror.”

For the next half-hour, my dad has me drive in circles, practice parallel parking. Can you believe it he had two traffic cones in the trunk of the car, god knows where he got those?  Then he had me drive forward and backward.

“That’s it for today, Samantha. Next time we’ll go out on the back roads around town, and you can get some practice in the traffic where the traffic is not as congested as on Route 50 or 40.”

I look over at my dad, and he has sweat dripping down from his forehead. His face is red as a beet. I think he might be having a heart attack or something. “Are you alright, Dad? You look kind of sick.”

“What? Of course, I am. No problem. Let’s change seats.”

“Oh, please, dad, let me drive home.”

“What? NO. I mean not today, honey.”

I moved to the passenger seat; I notice that my dad seems a little unsteady on his feet as he gets out of the car and walks over to the driver’s side. I guess it’s tough getting old.

I start looking at part-time jobs online. I don’t have any work experience except baby-sitting. And god, how I hate taking care of little kids. Absolute torture. “I want this; I want that.” Annoying as hell. I could get a job at the mall, but I would have to take the bus. Taking the bus is so lame, nothing but old and poor people take the bus. What choice do I have? I’ll have to take the bus.

I see there’s an after-school job at the Shop and Stop, which is only about two blocks from my house. I can walk there. The hours are three days a week from 4 until 8 pm. I’ll have to talk to my mother about it. My dad says he wants me to earn money, but he won’t like it if my grades slip.

“Good news, my mom and dad said I can work that job I told you about, but if my grades fall, I’ll have to quit. My grades aren’t great. I can’t really afford my grades dropping, or I might not graduate. And I must get out of high school this year.

Today is my first day on the job. I have to admit I’m a little nervous. Here I go through the Stop and Shop entrance. I see a woman who looks like an employee standing in front of the store. She’s wearing an apron that says Stop and Shop. I walk over to her. “hello, my same is Samantha Miller. I supposed to start working here today.”

“Well, dear, I don’t know nothing about that. Go over to that door that says manager and knock.”

“Ok, thanks.” I knock at the door. It is a very small office. And the man that interviews me is apparently the manager. I don’t remember his name. He is talking on the phone and gestures for me to come in and sit and wait. I do.

After about five minutes, he hangs up.

“Your Samantha, correct?”

“Yes, I’m supposed t start working here today.”

“Well, I think we are going to start you out by teaching you how to restock the shelves. And after you are finished that I’ll have you work with Terri.”

I spent the next four hours stocking shelves. It isn’t hard, but it is boring. But I keep telling myself I will have my car soon. I can’t imagine doing this sort of job for the rest of my life. This makes me start thinking about school and how I need to improve my grades if I want to go to college or some type of technical school after I graduate. I hadn’t really put any thought into it before.

When I get home, I hear my mother calling me from the kitchen.” Samantha, is that you?”

“Yes, Mom, it’s me.”

“How was your first day?”

“Well, it was boring, but I guess it will be worth it. When I get a car.”

“Honey, we all have to work at boring jobs when we first start out and don’t have any experience. When I was in high school, I had a job in a factory where I had to do assembly. I attached one part to another part by soldering it. Over and over again, I thought I would go insane from boredom. But every Friday, when I got my paycheck, it all seemed worth it.”

“Yeah, Mom, you told me that before.”

“Well, I supposed I did, but it’s true none the less. You better get started on your homework. Oh, I put dinner in the oven for you. You’re probably starving.”

“I am starving. What did you make for dinner?”

“Your favorite, lasagna, and, meatballs. I knew you would be hungry.”

“Lasagna, Oh, really, thanks, Mom. You’re the greatest.” I gave my Mom a little hug. And I noticed a tear run down her cheek. It made me realize that sometimes I’m not very nice to her or my dad.

“You go on now, and eat up. I love you, honey.”

“I look at my mom and, I got a lump in my throat. I swallowed it hard. Can’t show weakness. As I turned and walk toward the kitchen, I said really quietly, I love you too. Mom.”

After I eat dinner, I walk into my bathroom and brush my teeth and wash my face and use the toilet. There is no way I’m ever going to use a public toilet and the Stop and Shop. Gross. I go back to my room and open up my laptop and spend about five minutes checking emails. Then I close the laptop and get busy with my homework.  I remember how boring stocking shelves are and how I don’t want to do it for the rest of my life. I make a promise to myself that I will pull up all my grades, even math. I have definitely made the decision today that I want to get Tech training. I’m not sure exactly what I will do, but it won’t be some boring and repetitive job like stocking shelves or cashier.

After I spent a good two hours finishing my homework, I start studying for my history final as I’m reading the history of and the Holocaust. It occurs to me how much I love learning about the past. And how we need to know the past and learn from it. As I’m sitting on the bed, I realize what I really would love doing is teaching. I would love to teach history. I’m going to teach history.

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Corona Virus- May 9th,2020

 

Susan A. Culver writing- photo by Bob Culver 2020

I noticed this week traveling from my house to Animal Edventure that there has been a definite uptick in the number of cars on the roads. And cars parked at the local bar-be-que place that is located on route 50 just before I get onto route 210. I noticed people were waiting in their cars for take out, but at least half of the vehicles were empty, indicating that they were inside the restaurant eating.  This restaurant delivers the take-out to the cars, this despite the state mandate that no one can eat inside of restaurants yet.

When my husband went to the drugstore to pick up an order, he told me he didn’t see any people wearing masks except the employees. This is concerning since yesterday at 5 o’clock began the first step in three steps to open up NC. And people do not appear to be keeping six feet apart. Few people are wearing masks in the stores in this area. I am afraid of the consequences of this behavior. I can’t understand why they just don’t take these easy steps to keep the infection down. The outcome will be a tremendous increase in the number of people infected and possibly dying. I find this disturbing.

In my little neighborhood of twenty houses, I have observed some changes in our neighbor’s behavior. There is a house across the street where a couple who appear to be in their early forties live with their two teenage daughters. The mother is a math teacher in middle school. Currently, she’s teaching remotely. Since we moved here almost four years ago, I ‘ve observed her running early in the morning before she leaves for work. However, since she’s been home in these past weeks, she has increased her exercise routine, and her young daughters are included. The girls do all sorts of gymnastics, I think,might be related to being cheerleaders. But the Mom is now including weight lifting, including carrying large barbells over her head and briskly walking up and down half the street and then back again to her driveway. For some reason, I’m not sure why I find this comical. I’m fairly certain I would be unable to lift up these barbells of the ground, let alone carry them over my head up and down the street.

The UPS man is making deliveries to almost everyone on the street during the week at some point. I have to say that in some ways, people have adapted quickly to our current way of life.

Some of our neighbors who are out of work right now are doing projects on their homes. Upkeep, they have put off for years. Three families have replaced their mailboxes that were falling over or the mailboxes fell off. Every time I take a walk down the block, I pick up their mail and shove into the back of their mailboxes. Two families had their septic tanks pumped out. I don’t think I can take too much more excitement.

Our next-door neighbor cleaned their front porch of all the things that have accumulated on it. He also began painting his porch railings that had little paint left on them. I thought, oh great; he’s painting his porch. But unfortunately, an unexpected visitor arrived, and that was the end of the painting. Now his porch is half painted, and the paint and brushes are sitting on the porch deck. That was disappointing. What can I say we live in a quiet neighborhood except for the dogs barking all night and not a whole lot going on? It’s not Mr. Rodger’s neighborhood. But it is the quietest place I have ever lived.

In our garden, the Irises and Flags and Peonies are finished blooming. And now the roses and Calla Lilies are coming into bloom. I have come to enjoy sitting on our little deck and looking at our small pond beneath it. We have one large Koi; he seems to be the boss. And there are about twenty other smaller fish who swim in circles all day and seem quite happy to do so. Not realizing how small their pond world is since it is the only world they know. If you know nothing else, can you miss it? I don’t know. I put up hummingbird feeders from the railing of our deck and have yet to see a single hummingbird. I live in hope that they will appear sooner or later.

As for myself, I finished a long-term project this week. About nine years ago I recorded oral family histories from anyone in my family who wanted to participate. After they were edited, they were transferred to disks. I included letters to each of my family and instructions for copying the disks for their children and grandchildren. I mailed them off to them since I now live in North Carolina. And they live in New Jersey.

I interviewed each family member about their lives, the high points, and the lows. I found out many things I didn’t know about them. Since I’m the youngest in my family of six and my older siblings are fifteen and twenty years my senior. My brother told me that when my mother went into labor with my twin sister and myself, he drove her to the hospital. He was almost twenty at the time.

Unfortunately, my older brother passed away two years ago. But I know that his children will love hearing his voice again relating stories about his childhood and his life up until the time when I spoke to him. He led a good life and an interesting one and a productive one. He was a psychologist; he specialized in family therapy. And my oldest sister, Jeanie, died at forty-one from emphysema in 1979. She was beautiful and intelligent and kept her sense of humor throughout her long illness. I still miss her.

About ten years ago, I finished a book I made, which included family history and pictures of both my mother and my father’s side of the family who came from Ireland. And a family health history and pictures of each part of my family and their early life, married life, and their children. Also, I included copies of letters that my mother and father wrote to me in the seven years that I lived in Florida and California in the early years of my marriage. It took me three years to complete, and I gave everyone a copy at Christmas.

I haven’t decided on my next project yet. I am considering writing a children’s book and illustrating it. For the last year, I’ve been writing and publishing my memoirs on my blog. I’m not a famous person, but I believe that every life has value, and we have lessons to share and truths to tell. And we can learn from other people’s mistakes.

In my middle years, all I read was autobiographies because I have found the lives of people to be fascinating no matter if they were rich and famous or ordinary people like myself not afraid to share their secrets, their fears, their hopes, and their dreams. I’m and you are a book worth writing and a book worth reading and sharing.

I hope this coming week that you will keep safe and healthy and keep your eyes open for all the interesting things that life brings to you, whether it is birds nesting in your yard or your neighbor jumping up and down with barbells above their head.

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HE’S THERE BY ALAN MAGILL

Alan Magill is a playwright, poet, short story writer, humorist, and columnist. Some of his writing has been used as a springboard to discuss effective means of relating to people with dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease.

Alan Magill will be a guest writer on my blog: WRITE ON

About nine years ago, I took a writing class taught by Jack Engelhard-He is a writer, known for Indecent Proposal (1993), Indecent Proposal (2007), and My Father, Joe (2010).

HE’S THEREBY- ALAN MAGILL

Anyway, I friended Jack Engelhard on Facebook, and I looked on his list of friends, and I noticed the name of Alan Magill and looked at his description, and he seemed to be an interesting person, and I sent him a friend’s request. And he accepted after asking how I knew about him. And I told him about taking the writing class with his friend Jack Engelhard. Alan asked if I liked to exchange stories based on word prompts, and I agree to do that. It seemed like an interesting activity. Since I love to write, we did this for years and became friends, although we have never met in person. I feel as if I know him well.

Highschool Reunion- picture by Pixabay

Totally out of place.  That’s how Robert felt, ginger ale in hand, as he listed to Jerry, working on his third gin and tonic, regale the crowd about his cross-country hitch-hiking escapade, the summer after college.  Laugh after laugh after laugh from people who had ignored him back in high school and were still ignoring him at this 25-year Sanquan Valley High School reunion.

There was Audrey, who had been class president, still surrounded by about 15 of her pack.  And Bobby, the star fullback, as always surrounded by the pretty ladies.  The only thing Robert was surrounded by was his own misery, made worse when Barry roared by him and knocked over his glass of ginger ale.  A soggy “I’m sorry” was followed by him filling in some of the details that a nearly inebriated Jerry had left out about how Joan had picked him up in Omaha, and by the time they got to Frisco they were engaged.

Nobody cared that Robert had carved out a respectable career as a CPA.  Nobody cared that he probably made more money than half the people in that room.   And no one cared more than Robert himself as we all alone in the world, and the socialization he had eschewed in High School had left him as full of life as a number on a ledger sheet.

Jerry wasn’t finished…not nearly.  He picked Joan up in the air and said, “I’ll always look up to you.”

Seeing all of the couples looking into each other’s eyes was enough for Robert.  How long could you nurse a ginger ale?  He put his drink down on a tray and realized that no one had noticed him come in, and no one would notice him leave.

Out the door, the surprisingly cool May night air mocked his need for any kind of warmth.  He found his Lexus, got in, and started the engine.  It didn’t engage.  He tried it again.  Nothing.  Was he meant to have the absolute worst night of his life?  He would call his service station that stayed open until 9.  No bars on his cell phone.  That’s right.  He had been in such a rush to get to this big social event of the year, that he had forgotten to charge it.

His mechanic’s shop was a mile up the road.   He could walk it….Yeah, that’s what he was going to do.  Then he saw them.  Two happily together, couples walking right toward him on their way to the reunion entrance.  He recognized two of them from 11th-grade science class.

They walked by him like he wasn’t there.

“I am here,” he thought to himself.  “I am here.”  And then he shouted, “I am here!” looking at nobody.  Stunned by his outburst, he knew what he had to do.

He walked up to the road and put his thumb out.  Never had done anything remotely similar to this in his life.  I had never picked up a hitchhiker.  Never had been one.

But nothing would stop him from being one now.

Car after car after car just passed him by, like he wasn’t there.

He kept his thumb out.

Ten minutes later, there was a broken-down car up ahead, so traffic inched forward to go around it.  To his utter shock, a car seemed to move over, and the driver was waving for him to get in.  Robert opened the door and was stunned when the lady behind the wheel said his name.

He looked over to her, and he immediately recognized her.  It was Shelly Radner.  THE Shelly Radner.  “Peter, how are you,” she asked.

“I’m fine, Shelly,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“My car broke down, and I’m going to my service station up the road.  Louie’s.”

“Oh yeah,” she said.

“My phone is out of power.”

“I’m glad that I could help you.”

At that moment, Peter thought of all the times that Shelly, one year younger than him, had helped him in the school library to find a book, to look up an article.  She was the only one he really talked within school.  Over time, he developed a crush on her, but nothing ever developed.

Peter started to shake. “Oh, you’re chilled,” she said.  “Cold, for May.”

“Yes.”

“There’s a coffee shop right before the service station.  Would you like to go in for a cup?”

“That would be nice,” he said.

What was even nicer, was a year later, Robert and Shelly got married.

Robert never hitchhiked again.  And he never thought that he wasn’t there again.

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LIFE IS SHORT, MAKE EACH DAY COUNT

Pitman Theater- Pitman, NJ Photo by Bob Culver

The man skipped, jumped, and ran for short distances as he made his way down the city street. He was on the main thoroughfare, but he could have been anywhere. He seemed to have no real destination in mind. But he was in an awful hurry to get there. Suddenly, he stopped cold and ran to the curb. An old bike was parked on the sidewalk. It was a vintage 1950’s red Schwinn Panther. A girl’s bike with a basket on the handlebars and a knee-action spring fork, whitewall tires, chrome-plated fenders, and a slightly rusty chrome-trimmed tank with a built-in horn that had an American Flag attached to it.

In addition to the Flag, the bike is covered with First Prize ribbons of every color and condition imaginable. It must have been a childhood collection of awards for spelling, penmanship, grammar, math, and art. They hung from every surface of the bike. It was quite a sight. He hopped on the bike with a grace that seemed impossible for a man his age. He had a gray scraggly beard down to his chest. His mustache was waxed and stood out four inches on either side of his rosy cheeks. His hair was long, and he wore it in two braids down his back. There was a tiny flag on each braid. The kind you saw years ago when you ordered a drink at a bar on the Fourth of July.

He continued down the street on the bike at breakneck speed. He started singing loudly. At first, it was difficult to understand because of his speed and his raspy voice. But once he got his momentum up, he sang in a deep baritone voice. He was singing The Fortunate Son by Credence Clearwater Revival. His voice grew louder, and stronger as he flew down the street on his two-wheeled chariot. He threw back his head and sang, “Some folks are born made to wave the flag. They’re red, white and blue. And when the band plays, Hail to the Chief, they point the cannon at you.”

Suddenly, a voice rang out,” Sam, what’s your hurry come on over here and let’s have breakfast. Sam pulled over to the curb with alacrity and skill. He put the kickstand down and said,” Long time no see you old goat.”

“Look who’s calling me an old goat, Walt. You look like you haven’t taken a good look in the mirror for about fifty years.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Well, so where’s this breakfast going to take place?”

“How about at The Sunny Side Up breakfast place down the street?”

“Can you believe it?

 I just found my bike after two days. Some kid must have grabbed it, drove downtown, and just ditched it.  I don’t know what I do without my Old Glory.

“I bet no one would recognize you without that old bike, Sam. It’s really a collector’s piece, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Walt, but it’s more than that. It’s my connection between the past and the present. That bike belonged to my wife when she was a little girl. God rest her soul.”

“Yes, Marie was a fantastic woman, I don’t know how you were so lucky to marry her, half the guys in town were in love with her.”

“We had a happy marriage I have no complaints other than she left me too soon. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of her.”

“So, Sam what have you been up to lately? I know you are always up to something?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I have been working pretty hard. I got a job repairing the organ in the theater. Well, I not just repairing it, I’m restoring it. You know the one that was used back in the day when Vaudeville used to come to the Pitman Theater. Did you know it’s a player piano as well?”

“No, I didn’t, Sam.”

“Well Walt, I just started working on it a couple of days ago. But I already found one of the problems. There were some letters hidden under the strings that were inhibiting the percussion of the instrument. The letters looked really old.  It’s possible they even predated the piano. I can’t figure out how they might have ended up where I found them. I believe they might have been deliberately placed there by someone.”

“You’re kidding me, Sam. I would love to take a look at them. Let’s talk about this when we’re eating breakfast.”

As they walked through the door of the Sunny Side Up restaurant, a bell chimed and Henry Decker the cook yelled out,” Sit anywhere you like, our waitress called out sick. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Hey, so what can I get you guys? What’s going on? It looks like you two both swallowed a canary or two.”

“Well, I’ll have the special, plus two biscuits and a black coffee straight up, thanks.”

“Hey, that sounds good to me, make that two. Henry.”

“Well, Sam here is about to tell me about some letters he found in the player piano that he’s repairing. I mean restoring for the theater. You know that old organ that was used back in the Vaudeville days.”

“You don’t say, what kind of letters?”

“To tell you the truth I’ve been so busy that I haven’t taken the time to look them over. But they’re all yellow. So, I know they’re old. I’ll let you know once I study them a bit.”

“Ok then Sam, do that. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your coffee, and then I’ll cook you up some fried eggs and ham, Sam. Get it, fried eggs and ham, Sam?”

“Yeah, ’cause I haven’t heard that a million times before. Get busy. And don’t give up your day job to be a comedian, Henry.”

“Sam, you have always been such a spoilsport, you were an old man before your time. I think you might have been born an old man. Lighten up already, won’t you? So, Sam tells me something about the history of the Theater and the organ.”

“Well, Walt, it’s really kind of interesting, I’d be happy to. The Broadway Theater opened up in 1926. Movies but also Vaudeville shows were shown. There were about one thousand seats. Some of the most famous acts and performers played there. Would you believe that Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Abbot and Costello? Not to mention Jerry Lee Lewis and George Carlin. I really loved George Carlin. And a lot more, real stars.

“That’s really something, right here in our little town of Pitman. I guess people came from all over to see it.”

“I imagine they did. Wouldn’t that be something if we saw all those great performers back in the day.”

“I’ll tell you something, Walt, I really consider it an honor to be repairing that organ. It really is a thing of beauty. Stop by and I’ll show you what I’ve been doing, it’s not everybody that has the skill to work on a vintage organ like this one. And you can take a look at those letters I was telling you about.”

“Here ya go fellas, enjoy. I have to keep moving since I’m the staff today. Talk to you later.”

“Come on Walt, let’s go, that was a great meal. Times a wasting.”

As they walk down Main Street, they run into the editor of the town newspaper. She stops them on their way into the theater. “Hey, guys, what’s happening?”

“Hello Constance, I’m just going to show Walt the Kimball Organ that I’m restoring. Would you like to come along?”

“Sure, I have about a half-hour to kill before my next meeting with the Pitman Historical Society. We are trying to find ways of funding the repairs on the Grove Building, especially the old Methodist Meeting Hall.”

As they step into the main hall, they all stop and look around. Constance exclaims, “Wow, I’m always surprised when I come in here. It’s really something, isn’t it a grand place? Those chandeliers are just breathtaking. You know I really ought to do another pictorial about this place. It’s really coming together. It looks great.”

“Here it is. Oh, Constance, I was telling Walt that one of the reasons the organ wasn’t operating was that there were some old letters preventing the organ from working properly.”

“Really, Sam? Well, let’s have a look at it.”

The three gazed down at the organ. “Yep, just how I remember it. This will be a real centerpiece when you finished, Sam. You are doing a great job here. We all appreciate your time and talent. I bet there aren’t too many people left who would know how to work on this instrument.”

“Thanks, Constance, oh, here are those letters I was telling you about.”

Constance picks up the letters and begins scanning the top one. “What the? Hey, this sounds like a love letter. It’s signed, your Raymond. Let me see that envelope, Sam. What the… This is Raymond Goldstone Sr. Well, I’ll be dammed Raymond Goldstone, the magician. Wait, who is he writing to? Let me see the first page again. It says, Dear Madeleine. Do you know who that is?”

“No, not offhand I don’t, but I would guess it is someone that worked in the theater in the late 1920 and early 1930s. I bet you could find out Constance. Don’t you have copies of all the old newspapers from back then?”

“You’re right. We do. Let me see a couple more of the letters, Sam.”

“Sure, here you can take them. They might get lost in here with all the construction that is going on.”

“Sam, Walt, I  have an inspiration. We can publish these letters in The Pitman News and World Report once a month like a serial. People would eat this up, it would get more people from out of town to read and subscribe to the paper. And maybe even bring people to the Theater to see the scene of the crime so to speak. But I’m going to have to do a lot of research first. This is so exciting, I’m so happy I ran into you two days. I’m really psyched.”

“Hey, do you really think this will work, Constance?”

“You bet I do, and I think we could get this to go national. And then we’re talking big time. Pitman is really going to become famous. Raymond Goldstone, one of the world’s most talented and famous magicians in love with a hometown Pitman lady. I have to go and start doing some research. I’ll let you two know what I found out. Let’s meet again on Monday morning at Sunny Side Up for coffee and I’ll let you know what or if I found out who our mysterious Madeleine is.”

“Alright, great Sam, Walt, I’m excited about this. It could be the answer to our prayers.”

On Monday morning Sam and Walt are waiting patiently on the bench outside Sunny Side Up when they see her heading in their direction.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late. Something always happens at the last minute when I’m about to go out the door. Oh well, forget about all that. I have some news. I think I have a candidate for our mysterious Madeleine. And perhaps a picture of her. There was Madeleine Summers who was the costume designer for all the Vaudeville Shows back in the day. Apparently, she was the daughter of one of the founding fathers of Pitman. So, all of this must have been kept under wraps. Her family was very much involved in the Methodist Church.”

 

“You gotta be kidding me. Can you imagine the stink if anyone back then found out about her and Raymond? So, hand it over, I want to see the picture of this femme fatal.”

Wait a minute, and I want to see it too?” Sam chimes in.

Alright, Sam, you too, Walt, take a gander. I imagine she was considered quite the looker back in the day. Was she married?”

“Not that I could find any evidence of, I guess she would have been considered an Old Maid. Of course, people got married young back then. Usually, the man was quite a bit older than the bride.”

“Wow, Connie, she was a looker—the face of an angel. Well, I guess a fallen angel. But still quite a beauty. Those eyes are mesmerizing, indeed quite the looker. Do any of her family live in Pitman live here any longer?”

“Not that I can find any evidence of Walt which is good since we wouldn’t want any descendants causing any trouble. Well. I guess she didn’t have any children, or it would be in the census. At least none that I could find.

“From what I have been able to glean, the last family member was a sibling of Madeleine. One Matilda, who was a few years younger than Madeleine and she never married either. Which is a little weird, but nonetheless? Neither one ever married. So says the court documents I spent three days perusing. Oh, one more thing I found some pictures of Raymond doing his famous cutting a woman in half with a buzz saw. And it looks like she must have filled in a couple of times for his assistant. Take a gander at this.”

“Look at her. That costume must have caused a real stir back then. Weren’t most women still wearing wool bathing suits down to the knees back then?”

“No, I think by the early 1930, ’s Latex was invented, and women wore one-piece latex form-fitting bathing suits. But nothing like this outfit. Walt.”

“Hey, Walt, let me have a look already.”

“Take it easy, Sam, you don’t want to have a stroke or something. It might be more than you can take.”

“Woah, she was a looker, all right.”

“OK, you guys settle down. She passed away in the early 1970s. Apparently, never married. No kids, as I told you before. I don’t know what happened between them.  Or when it ended but I do know that Goldstone toured all over the country for a while and he did some spots on TV. He retired in the early 1950s. He was married and, of course, had a son named after him. Raymond Goldstone Jr., was a magician as well. I guess you could call it a family business.”

“Connie, is there any indication in the letters that his wife knew about what was going on between Harry Sr. and Madeleine?”

“No, Walt, not in any of the letters. But I did find out that Goldstone Sr. was married three times. So, I don’t know the timeline of these marriages. But back then, three times was not all that common. But if you are a famous magician and you travel all the time. Well, you get lonely. And women are sometimes attracted to famous and glamorous people. And a magician, you can expect many women would be flattered by his attention.”

“Well, Connie, what do you think about publishing one of the letters?”

“Walt, I think we could do that without revealing the names of the Blackstone and Madeleine. See if we get any response from the readers. Let me get one of the first letters, and you can publish it. See what happens. Here’s one that I think will get some attention and not too risqué.”

Dear Ray, I miss you so much. Each moment without you feels like an eternity. I feel like I have known you all my life. You understand me like no other person I’ve ever known. You brought such magic and light into my life. And without you, there is only darkness. I miss your magical touch. I miss your breath against my skin. I have never trusted anyone as I trust you with my heart, my soul. Every part of me yearns for you. Every minute of my life is a moment wasted without you in it. The distance between us might as well be the distance between the Earth and the sun. There is only a void where you once lie next to me. Please, my love, tell me when I can see you again. Where can we meet? Just say the word, and I will be there.  Love, Maddy.

“Walt, what do you think? How about you, Sam? Should I go ahead and print it? No names; maybe we could give some hints about the time and circumstances surrounding this affair. And let people guess their identities. What do you two think?”

“Go for it. Connie.”

“Yeah, as Walt says, go for it.”

“Connie, let me and Sam know what kind of feedback you have about the story. “

“Alright, I will, and if I have any news between now and our next meeting, I’ll contact you.”

“Great, Connie, we’ll see you next week, same place, same time. Take Care.”

“Bye Walt, bye Sam, see you soon.”

The following Friday night, Connie gives Walt a call. “Hello, Walt, this is Connie. I’m glad I caught you at home. I don’t know if you read the Pitman News and World Report this past week, but I published the article. And I included the love letter. And my phone hasn’t stopped ringing all week. You know what a sleepy town Pitman is? Well, get ready because things are going to get exciting really soon.”

“Exciting, in what way, Connie?”

“Walt, well, get this; one of the former residents of Pitman still gets the Pitman News, and World Report sent to her in the mail. And she has been living in New York City for the past five years. She happens to work on Fifth Avenue, and she is an actress. And she’s doing a play on 42nd Street. She knows a lot of famous people in the City.

“Yeah, so what?

“So, she contacted a writer for the New York Times that she dated for a while. And, he loved the story, and he’s going to be coming here to talk to guess who?”

“OK, Connie, I’ll bite. Who does he want to talk to?”

“Oh, Walt, us. What do you think? You, me, and Sam.”

“And if he likes what he hears and sees, the story could go national. And then, who knows what will happen? It could really put Pitman on the map. And our theater will really get some attention then. How about we meet for breakfast in the middle of the week? Say on Thursday and discuss any new possibilities. And Walt, we can then go with you to the theater and see how the renovations are coming along.”

 On Thursday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Sam arrives on his bike, and Walt pulls up to the curb in his 1957 mint condition Cherry-red Chevy Bel Air two-door hardtop. “Hey, guys and gals. I’m really enjoying getting out and eating breakfast with you two. Since I usually spend most of the day alone working in the theater on the piano.”

“Hello Sam, I must say I’m enjoying the break too. I rarely get to sit down and eat. I usually eat takeout on my way from one place to another. So, Sam, how are the renovations on the piano going anyway?”

“Connie, things are going along swimmingly. In fact, I will soon be finished. You were so wired about Raymond Goldstone and the woman. You haven’t asked about the player piano in a while. I have made some real headway. I believe I will have it back in working condition in a couple of weeks. It has been really challenging too. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but this piano is unique. It is actually a 3/8 Kimball theatre pipe organ. A unique instrument considering its size. Did you know there is a pipe organ blower room in the basement? I had to replace some of the pipes.”

 “That’s fantastic, Sam; I’m proud of you. Not too many people with your skills around anymore, pretty much a lost art.”

“Thanks, Connie, and I have enjoyed every minute of it. Hey, my stomach is growling.”

“Speaking of which, you two, I already ordered breakfast for the three of us. Since we always get the same thing. It should be ready in a moment or two. Let’s go in.

 “Connie, maybe you should get the newspaper’s photographer out to the theater and take some pictures of the theater and the player piano. It would be great publicity. And everyone should be informed of the great work our hometown boy here, Sam, has done.”

“You’re right, Walt, that’s a great idea. But do you really think there is a photographer on the Pitman News and World Report’s staff?”

“Isn’t there?”

“Oh, you got to be kidding me, Walt? I’m the writer and the editor and the publisher and the photographer. I run the whole thing from top to bottom.”

“You’re kidding, I didn’t realize that. You are a walking, talking dynamo. Aren’t you, Connie?”

“Yeah, Walt, that’s me, the human dynamo.”

“Oh wait, less talk and more eating; here comes our food. I’m starved.” Sam interjects.

“Well, that really hit the spot. Do you want to split the bill or what?”

“Sam, Connie, let me take care of this. And I think we should see how your piano is coming and the restoration of the theater. It might be possible that we’ll be holding a celebration in the theater. If everything goes the way, I hope it will. Let’s go.”

“I’ll take care of the tip, Sam and Walt. Let’s hit the road.”

 “So, here we are, times a waste. Well, Connie and Walt, do you notice anything different about the front of the Theater? No, well, why don’t you cross the other side of Broadway and take a look at the Marquee? Alright, do you see anything different from over there?”

“Wow, this is fantastic. It says, “Grand Reopening on May 18th.” Wait, isn’t that the day the Spring Craft Fair begins this year? What a great idea, at least 10,000 people come to the fair.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Walt, that was my idea because I knew the piano would be ready and the renovations will be completed this week. Can you believe it? Come on, let’s go in, and you can take a gander. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

As they walk into the vestibule, Walt and Connie stand in awe staring at the chandeliers. The lights are sparkling through the crystals and sending rays of light on the ceiling and the walls. The plaster molding is intact and painted in the original colors.

“Sam, it really looks gorgeous. Is this new carpet on the floor?”

“Nope, we had a specialty company that cleans vintage rugs come in and clean all the carpets and made a few repairs. They really did an amazing job. And the best thing is that they didn’t charge anything because we are going to set up a table for them at the craft fair.

You know there are a lot of people here in Pitman living in Victorian Houses that have vintage carpets and can use their service. Plus, they are going to advertise in the newspaper and on the internet and use pictures of the Theater.”

“Well, what about the molding? It looks new?”

“Connie, I think I mentioned before they found the original molds in the basement of the theater. And we hired a plasterer in Mullica Hill to make molding from the original molds to replace the damaged ones. Don’t they look great?”

“Ok, so let’s go look inside the theater. I left the lights on so you would get the full effect of the Victorian lighting and the stage lit up around the piano and the orchestra pit.”

“Tada, kind of magical, isn’t it?”

“Yes, you can say that again Sam. It is absolutely magical. Just the effect we wanted it to have when it is shown to the public.”

“Alright, take a seat, and I’ll turn down the lights and turn on the piano. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when I want you to look.”

Sam makes his way behind the stage and hits the lights on the orchestra pit, and then comes on stage and turns on the player piano. As Walt and Connie look about in awe, they hear. “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” soundtrack. And they start clapping. And then they see a movie screen descends, and There is Judy Garland singing her heart out.

“Oh, Sam, I am so impressed. The theater looks amazing. And Judy Garland up there on the screen, who could top her?”

“Here’s my baby, and the surprise is, she’s finished, completely restored to her grand self. Here’s a little background information just in case you don’t realize how awesome this piano is. First of all, it is a self-playing piano. It has a mechanism that operates and controls the piano with pre-recorded music on this perforated paper called rolls. And this beauty here is also a pipe organ. And as I mentioned before, there is a blower room in the basement. It’s now in excellent condition, and the piano had no vacuum leaks. I was able to contact The QRS Company out of Buffalo, New York, and I ordered all new rolls.”

“Congratulations, Sam, you have really surpassed our expectations.”

“Thanks, Connie it was challenging, and I’m proud of myself. I have already received two calls from prospective clients who would like me to see if I can get their player pianos in working order.”

“Oh Sam, let me get some pictures of you and this beautiful player piano that’s also a pipe organ. Why don’t you stand next to the piano? And that way, we get the piano in all of its beauty next to one of the few people who could have resurrected it. Wonderful, I have some great shots to choose from for the paper this week.

—–“Great job, Sam. I knew you had it in you. Let’s go take a look at the rest of the theater. And see how much progress has been made.”

“I have to make a stop in the ladies’ room, guys. I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes. And then I have some news to tell you.”

“Sure, Connie, take your time; we’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks, guy. I won’t be long.”

Walt and Sam are walking around the lobby, looking at all the subtle changes that have occurred since the renovation began. “Oh, Walt, look over here at the snack counter. They found an original popcorn popper from the early 1920s and get this a cotton candy machine.”

“Oh, Sam, they are really awesome. They are going to blow people away and look at all that candy. Including some of my favorites, red hot dollars, candy buttons, watermelon slices, green leaves, licorice whips, and my very favorite sugar daddies. I feel a sugar rush just looking at all this candy.”

“Oh, hey guys, sorry to take so long. Well, it really looks great. Look at all that candy. You know, when I was a kid, I practically ruined my teeth with all the candy I ate. At Halloween, I used to go out Trick or Treating until ten o’clock at night. I had a pillowcase, and I would fill it to the top. Then the next day I would eat so much of it. I would feel sick.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You can add my name to that list to Connie and Walt. I was a candyholic. So, what’s the big surprise, Connie?”

“OK, hold on, this is going to make the top of your head blow off. Ready…”

“Yeah, we’re ready. Tell us already, Connie.”

“Well, a few weeks back, I mentioned that I knew a guy who knew a guy who worked on the NY Times, and he wrote an article about what we are doing here in Pitman Theater. And he mentioned all the famous people that played in our little town. And guess what???”

“What already? What do you want a drum roll?” asked Walt.

“Couldn’t hurt Walt. Well, one of his readers is distantly related to our own Raymond Goldstone, and he has agreed to come to Pitman the day of the grand reopening, and he inherited all that remains of the Goldstone’s magic box, including the buzz saw. And get this, he is a magician, and he is willing to perform some of his magic in our own little Pitman Theater. That’s right here in person the day of the Grand Reopening and the Pitman Craft Show. Ta Da.”

“Holy Mackerel, this is absolutely awesome. This is going to put our town on the map.”

“Yeah, it will, and I am going to advertise this event from now until the Big Day—all thanks to our buddy here, Sam. Who has turned out to be quite the magician himself. Take a bow, buddy. You are our hero. Take a bow, Sam, you deserve it.”

And with that, Sam took a deep bow. His face is as red as a beet. He never felt this good in his whole life. His smile reaches from ear to ear. And the day of the Craft Fair, people come from far and wide and had to be bussed from all the small towns around Pitman. There isn’t a single parking spot left for miles. Over forty thousand people showed up. And it did indeed put the little town of Pitman on the map.