Monthly Archives: January 2021

TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

1 Reply

I met someone so unique and so special. She changed me for the better. And it all began with her smile.

I met her by chance, really. If I had arrived at the park an hour earlier or an hour later, our paths might never have crossed. I recently moved to the area and didn’t know a soul. I had been unemployed for several months. And then finally, finally, I received a call asking if I was still interested in a job I had applied for two months before. 

I barely remember applying for the job. I could paper the walls with all the rejection letters I received for my job applications. Anyway, I think this job has something to do with selling high-risk auto insurance. Not my dream job, of course, but when you’re desperate and need to pay your rent and keep body and soul together, you can’t afford to be that picky.

The interview is scheduled for today at ten o’clock sharp. They told me not to come too early or late because they had interviews scheduled back to back. I decided it would be better to arrive early and wait than to arrive late and miss out on my job interview.

I had to take public transportation to get to the office for the job interview. My car broke down several weeks ago. It turned out that the transmission needed to be replaced. I don’t have the money in hand, nor did I have a credit card that isn’t maxed out.

I took the bus across town that would bring me closest to my destination. As I arrived,i t started to drizzle. I glanced at my watch and realized I was a half-hour early for my appointment. I didn’t bring my umbrella, so I just pulled my jacket hood up over my head.

As I stepped down from the bus, I noticed a park bench that was situated under a large flowering tree and thought it might offer some protection from the rain until it was time for my interview.

I walked across the grass towards the tree, and I noticed there was someone about to sit down on the bench. The rain started coming down harder, and I picked up my pace and ran toward the bench.

I was out of breath by the time I arrived and more than a little damp. I plopped down on the bench and took a deep breath. I kept thinking, why, oh why do I have such bad luck?

Apparently, I said it out loud without realizing it, and the girl sitting next to me turned toward me and said, “Hello, my name is April. How are you today?”

I was somewhat taken aback by her appearance at first. She had straight brown hair, parted in the middle, with bangs high above her eyebrows. Her eyes looked somewhat unusual. They were tilted up somewhat. At first, I thought she might be Asian. But I couldn’t put my finger on just what made her face so unusual.

I’m not the most socially outgoing person, and ordinarily, I don’t feel comfortable talking to strangers. But there was something about her face, her smile that is so welcoming, so endearing that I couldn’t imagine not answering her. She seems so open, so innocent somehow. Although I can see now as  I‘m looking at her more closely, she isn’t a child at all but a young adult. She has narrow shoulders. Her hands are small, almost like a child’s, and folded in her lap. And I can see that she’s petite, less than five feet tall.

She smiles again, a sweet smile. The smile reaches her eyes. I smile back at her. Her smile is contagious. I can’t remember the last time I smiled. I have been so distracted by my unemployment and lack of funds in the last months.

I have always been told I was reticent. In other words, I’m not the type of person that starts having conversations with people I don’t know. I realize now that’s probably the reason I haven’t made any friends since I moved here.

I say, “hello, April, my name is Jeanie.” At first, I’m so shocked by the fact that I’ve spoken to her that I laugh out loud. And then she laughs too. Then, we were both laughing at what I don’t know.

She says, “I have an umbrella.” And she picks up her umbrella that had been resting next to her feet. “Would you like to share it with me?”

“Really? Yes, I really would. I have a job interview across the street in about a half-hour.  I forgot my umbrella, and I really don’t want to go in there soaking wet.”

She smiles again and moves closer to me so I can share her umbrella. I hear her humming under her breath. It sounds like When April Showers Bring May Flowers. I can’t remember all the lyrics but I find myself humming along with her.

She looks over at me and says, “I hope you get the job.”

“Thank you, I hope I do too, I really need it.:

She says, “I will keep my fingers crossed for you.”

I smile at her again. I can’t remember the last time anyone said that to me. Probably when I was a kid. In fact, there’s something childlike about her. As if she hadn’t been tainted by the thousand negative experiences, we all have as we grow from children to adults.

I look over at her, and I can hear her still humming quietly to herself as she looks around the park. I look in the direction she’s staring, and I realize she’s watching three kids about eight or nine years old. They’re swinging on the swings and going up and down the sliding board, over and over again. They keep yelling out “yey” every time they slide down the sliding board.

I can see her mouthing “yey” when the girls yell. She seems to be enjoying it almost as much as they do. I watch her in wonder and think who is this young woman?

After about fifteen minutes of watching the kids, I realize I better be on my way to my interview. I stand up and say,” April, I just want to say thank you for sharing your umbrella with me. I enjoyed meeting you so much.”

“Oh, do you have to go?”

“Well, April I have to go on that job interview I was talking about earlier. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Jeanie. I  know for sure you’ll get that job.”

I headed toward my interview with a lighter heart than I had arrived and sat down on the bench in the park. I walk across the street to the office building through the swinging doors and up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello, my name is Jeanie Haskell. I have an appointment with Mr. Peabody for a job interview.”

“Oh, yes Ms. Haskell, I see a note here, it says you are to go straight to his office. His office is number 254. Just take the elevator up to the second floor and make a right and walk down the hall until you see office number 254.”

“Thanks so much. Wish me luck I’m applying for a job.”

She looks up at me and smiles, good luck Ms. Haskell, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

I wave at her and smile and walk toward the elevator across the room. As I walk over there, I start thinking what in the world is going on with me? Wish me luck.

And then I think, well, she was so friendly to me, maybe because I talked to her like she’s a person just like I am. Everyone wants to be treated with respect and kindness. In the past, I rarely talked to people unless I absolutely had to. I was always afraid that they would ignore me or reject me. Maybe I’m the one that has to change how I interact with people I meet.

I arrive on the second floor without any incident. I’ve always been somewhat frightened by elevators. I hate the closed space, and the possibility that it might fall and crash and I’ll be killed. And then I start laughing because even if it fell it would only go to the first floor or maybe the basement and I wouldn’t die.

The elevator doors open after the bell rings and I step out and look from right to left. I see an office marked 254 to my right and walk over to it. I take a deep breath and open the door. I walk over to the receptionist and say, “Good afternoon, my name is Jeanie Haskell. I have an appointment with Mr. Peabody.”

“Yes, we’re expecting you. You’re right on time. Do you have your resume with you?”

“Yes, I have it right here.” And I take it out of my purse and hand it to her.

“Well, Miss Haskell, have a seat it will just be a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” And then I sit down across the room from her desk. I take a deep breath. And I say to myself, so far, so good. At least the waiting room isn’t packed with twenty other people applying for the same job.

About five minutes later, the receptionist called out my name. “Ms. Haskell, Mr. Peabody will see you now.”

I walk up to Mr. Peabody’s door, and as I’m about to open it, I turn around and say, “thank you, Miss Turner.” I had noticed her nameplate sitting on her desk.

“Good luck, Ms. Haskell.”
I knock quietly on the door. And I hear a deep male voice call out, “Come right in.”

I take a deep breath and quietly pull the door open. There’s a thirty-something man sitting at his desk, which is piled high with folders. “Good morning you must be Ms. Haskell, have a seat.”

“So, thank you for coming in today. I see here in your resume that you have some experience that might be beneficial to my business. However, there has been a recent gap in your work history. Would you care to explain that?”

“Well, my mother was sick, and I had to take considerable time off to take care of her. And then I couldn’t find a job. Well, that’s not entirely true, I found quite a few openings but there was so much competition for the jobs. I had that big employment gap and that made it more difficult to get hired.”

“Yes, I can see how that would and does happen. Do you feel that you are able to be a reliable employee now? Or do you think you will still be missing work because of your mother’s health issues?”

“No, I don’t. My mother passed away. And that is when I began searching for a job full-time. But I haven’t had any luck. I promise you I will be a reliable and trustworthy employee. I’m a hard worker.”

“Yes, I can see that all your past employers said you had been a highly reliable and diligent worker. Have you ever sold high-risk auto insurance.? I don’t recall seeing that on your resume.”

“No, but I have had jobs with customer service and sales. And I don’t think that selling high-risk auto insurance would be that different from my past work experience.”

“I agree, are you able to start working immediately, say this coming Monday?”

“Yes, I can start today, if you like.”

“No, I think Monday would be just fine. Would you ask Ms. Turner to give you the forms that you will need to fill out before you leave? I look forward to working with you Ms. Haskell. I’ll see you at 9 am sharp on Monday.”

As I left his office I sighed with relief. I somehow feel lighter and less weighed down by worry. When I arrive at Ms. Turner’s desk, she said,” Well, Congratulations Ms. Haskell. “I had a good feeling about you. Here’s the paperwork. You can sit over at that desk and fill out the papers and then bring them back to me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Turner. I’ll take care of that right now.”

After I finished the paperwork, I brought it back to Ms. Turner with a big smile on my face. Thanks so much. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you too, by the way, my name is Kerry. I look forward to it.”

“See you then, Kerry.”

I take the elevator down to the first floor. Honestly, I feel twenty pounds lighter. As I walk across the street, I decide to talk to the young woman sitting on the bench. She waves at me as I came closer to her.

“Hi!” she says with that smile of hers that goes from ear to ear.

“Hello, I just wanted to let you know that I got the job. She smiles again and says, “I was about to eat my lunch. I have two peanut butter sandwiches; would you like one?”

“Well, I didn’t have any breakfast. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I always bring an extra one for a friend, just in case. You can sit here with me and eat it.”

“I would love that, April. I haven’t had lunch with a friend for a long time. Do you eat here often?”

“Well, yes I do, I come here for about an hour every day until it’s time for me to take the bus home. Here’s your sandwich, and you can share my drink too.”

I take the sandwich gratefully. ” Thanks, April. So tell me about yourself. How far do you live from here?”

I take the 424 bus until I get to my street and then I get off and walk a block to the second building on the left number 63 Harrington St.”

“Oh, this sandwich is great, I don’t remember the last time I had peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I used to eat it all the time when I was a kid. Thanks, April. Maybe we could eat together again sometime. I’ll bring lunch. What do you say?”
“I say great, I like cheese too, or peanut butter and jelly.”

“Well, how about next Monday at noontime? When  I have my lunch break?”

“Yes, I would like that. It’s good to make a new friend.”

“Yes, yes, it is April, and today was my lucky day when I met you and got a new job. I think you are my lucky charm from now on. I’ll see you then.”

As I walk toward my bus stop, I turn around and wave at April she’s watching the kids again, I wave at her and smile. I realize she’s the one who put a smile back on my face. I look forward to spending more time with her. I find myself humming When April Showers Bring May flowers and smiling from ear to ear.

To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

California Dreaming

1 Reply

It was in the Spring of 1976 when my husband Bob and I moved from Jupiter, Florida to California. Bob decided that he wanted to become a professional photographer. And to that end, he had applied to Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, California. We were living in Jupiter, Florida at the time. He was put on a waiting list for two years.

This is me and co-worker Stacy Smitter at St. Vincent’s in 1976

During the time that we waited to move to California, I worked at Colonnades Health Center on Singer Island. It was located in a hotel owned by John D. Mac Arthur. America’s second-richest man, owner of a $1 billion empire of insurance companies, land in eight states, including 100,000 acres in Florida, and investments as varied as Alamo car rental and MacArthur Scotch.

I was working at a spa, giving facials to wealthy people from all over the world. I often saw Mac Arthur while I was sitting at the reception desk in the Spa. There was a huge window on the wall facing the reception area. And an Olympic size pool just on the other side of the window and MacArthur would walk around the pool area or sitting at the poolside with his nurse. He was nearly eighty at the time and quite frail-looking. But he still admired the beautiful ladies lying out in the sun.

One day his nurse brought him into the spa for a massage and a facial. Luckily, I didn’t give massages only facials. I knew he was the owner of the hotel and a wealthy man. However, I treated him the same as any other client with respect and kindness.

I was paid about four dollars an hour while I worked at the Colonnades Health Center which was considered to be quite generous in 1976. As the minimum wage pay was $2.30 an hour at the time. So, I was able to save all the money I made during the two years that I worked there. And we had enough money for our trip to California and rent for a year. And in addition, I purchased a van for Bob and a tripod for his view camera that was required at Brooks Institute.

We were notified by Brooks Institute when Bob would be able to begin his classes. So, Bob gave his employers Pratt and Whitney United Technologies his notice. At that time, he was working as a New System Coordinator for IBM components.

These are some of my kids at St. Vincent’s during Special Olympics

I will always remember the trip across the country from Jupiter, Florida to Santa Barbara. The only other trip I took across the country was when I moved from New Jersey to West Palm Beach Florida. I took the Auto Train from Lorton, Virginia to Sanford, Florida by myself. I was twenty-two at the time. It was a twenty-four-hour train ride. I never traveled anywhere except to the shore in Southern New Jersey.

Bob and I enjoyed our trip across the country. It wasn’t until I took that trip, I realized how big America was and how beautiful. Bob drove his 1969 Ford Econoline van and towed my 1970 yellow VW behind us. There were great expanses of unoccupied, undeveloped open land from Florida to California at the time. It was amazingly beautiful and unspoiled. It took us about ten days to drive to Santa Barbara from Florida.

Bob and I ended up renting a duplex in Lompoc, which was located in the mountains.

We lived there for about a year and then we rented an apartment in Carpentaria. They raised the rent and we had to move again and we found a place in Santa Barbara.

Two of the children in my group at St. Vincents

I found a job in Santa Barbara at Robinson’s Department Store. I worked there for a year. I sold hats and wigs. And if there was a job more boring than that one, I don’t want to know about it. I met a young woman my age while I was working there she told me she volunteered at a school called St. Vincent’s. She worked with mentally handicapped children. The more she talked about it, the more I wanted to work there. I loved kids and it sounded like the perfect job for me.

I did not hear from St. Vincent’s. So, after a week I started calling them every day for a month. After a month, they called me in and hired me. About a week later I started working a split shift from 6 am until 9 am and then the 3-11 PM shift five days a week. My title was houseparent. I was in charge of eighteen girls ages twelve to seventeen. In the morning I woke them up, supervised them while they got dressed, ate breakfast, made their beds, and got ready for school. I had to dispense any meds that they were on as well. The school was on the grounds. When it was time for school, I escorted them to school and then went back to the dorms and cleaned the kitchen, and made sure the bathrooms and dining area were in order.

In the afternoon I returned and walked over to the school on the other side of the campus and brought the kids back to the dorms after they were dismissed from school. On the way back to the dooms the kids would all attempt to tell me about their day and what kind if any homework they had to do. When we got to the dorms, they would change to their play clothes and do chores. I would check in on them to see how they were doing. And if they completed their chores, I would put a star on their star charts. Star charts were used as a behavioral modification to reinforce good behavior rather than punishing bad behaviors. It was quite effective for most of the children.

Special Olympics at St. Vincent’s School

If all the chores were completed, I would go to the office downstairs and sign out a van, and take all the kids out to go hiking or some kind of outside activity. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how much I enjoyed spending time with these kids. How much fun I had with them. And how much I came to love them. When we returned from our outings the kids would set the table for dinner and then watch TV or play games. On my day off I would take one of the kids out for the day and they would spend it with them. Sometimes, my husband, Bob would go with us. It was great fun and truthfully, they became family to me.

After dinner, the kids that had homework would do it. And the rest would begin getting showers and then watch TV the rest of the night. I would watch TV with them and we would all lie on the floor with pillows. What stands out in my memory the most is that all the kids wanted to lie on the floor close enough to me so that they could touch my hand or my shoulder. I understood that they missed the loving touch of their mothers, fathers, and siblings. And I was the closest thing they had to a family now at St. Vincent’s school.

On Sundays, the kitchen at St. Vincent’s was closed and I had to prepare their breakfast, lunch and dinner, and dessert for them. I would take one of the vans and take the kids out for the day. If it was summertime, I would take them swimming at the pool at the apartment complex where I lived. It was only about a ten-minute drive. If it was wintertime, I would drive them up to the mountains to play in the snow. It was great fun. We would sing on the bus trip to and from wherever we were going.

Shawna Stutzman one of the kids in my group at St. Vincents

Sometimes I wonder how I wasn’t overwhelmed by the responsibility of taking care of eighteen teenagers. But really, I wasn’t. I loved them through and through. I didn’t see their physical or mental shortcomings. I saw wonderful young girls who wanted to have fun and friends just like any other kids would want.

Of all the jobs I’ve had over my lifetime, this was the one that I enjoyed the most and looked forward to going to every day that I worked there. I never had another job where I felt more needed, more appreciated, and more loved.

They are the ones whose faces I can still summon up from my memory of long ago. If there is a time in my life that I would like to live over again, it would be this time with those wonderful girls who loved unconditionally and put everything they could to do as well as they were capable of doing. I often wondered what became of those kids? What kind of adults they grew into, were they able to support themselves? Did any of them live independently, get married, and have children?

I wrote them for a year or two after I moved back to New Jersey and some of them were able to write me back. Although they needed assistance from the house parents that cared for them. My time at St. Vincent’s was one of the best experiences in my entire life. And California will always be a place that I loved more than any place I lived in before or since.

To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Taking A Week Off

Leave a reply

To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Hello Write On Followers,

I wanted to let you know that I am taking this week off and will be posting three of my most popular stories between Wednesday of this week and I will post a new story on Wednesday of next week.

Best Wishes, Susan A. Culver  Write ON 

To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Unexpected Surprises Often Come in Small Packages

1 Reply

 

I was just about to step into the shower when I hear the doorbell ring. I think about ignoring it, since I was already late getting ready for my luncheon date with my old friend Maryanne. Whoever was at the door is persistent and keeps pushing the doorbell over and over again.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I say to no one in particular.

Antique pocket watch- photo by Bob Culver

I grab my ancient chenille robe. It’s tattered and torn and stained in places. But it used to belong to my mother. I consider it a family heirloom. And I throw it on, tying it tightly around my waist. I push my feet roughly into my slippers that are also tattered and stained.

I take the steps two at a time. My left slipper comes off my foot and goes careening down the remaining steps. I almost go careening after them. But catch myself at the last minute when I manage to grab the rickety railing.

I can see through the four small windows in the door that the delivery guy is turning and about to leave. I jump down onto the floor at the bottom of the steps and all but pull the door off its hinges in an effort to open the door before he drives away.

The delivery guy has just turned his back on the door and is quick-stepping back to his delivery truck. I start screaming at the top of my lungs, and vigorously waving my arms back and forth.

“Hey buddy, wait, wait I’m here. I was in the bathroom upstairs.” When he turns around, he looks at me as if I’m a mirage or something. As if he can’t believe his eyes. I look down to see what he’s staring at and I realize that my robe has come untied and is flapping in the wind. Unfortunately, last night it was unbearably hot in my bedroom and I slept in the nude.

And that is when I notice my nosy neighbor, Cynthia is walking her dog, Alfred past my house. “Shit. Sorry, Cynthia. Sorry, sorry.” And I pull my robe together and retie the belt.

Cynthia’s face is bright red, she doesn’t say a word. But she keeps staring at me like I’m from another planet. Then she starts shaking her head vigorously from right to left. Alfred barks at me in a somewhat friendlier tone and off they go for their morning constitutional.

By then the delivery guy has made his way back to my doorstep. And he wears an expression on his face that can only be described as wolfish. All his teeth are showing and his eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. He leans towards me and I lean back. “Take it, easy lady, I just need you to sign this clipboard and I’ll be on my way.”

I grab the clipboard and the pen that’s hanging off of it and scribble my signature. And then I stick out my hand and he hands me a package that’s about the size of a napkin. “Thank you”, I say as I’m about to turn around and close the door.

He waits for a moment. I guess he thinks he might get a tip. But he isn’t going to get one from me today. I turn around and walk as nonchalantly as I can muster up. As if I didn’t just flash everyone that happen to be on the street this morning. I take my mother’s advice for once. She often said, “when you make a fool out of yourself just keep moving forward and don’t look back.” And that is exactly what I did, let it go and walk through my front door like it was any other day. And I forget about it.

When I get into my house, I firmly close the door and put the chain across it. And walk through the living room into my tiny kitchen. I put the small package on the kitchen counter and turn on the coffee pot. I open the refrigerator door and gaze inside. There isn’t much, I haven’t gone food shopping in two weeks and the cupboard is almost bare. I find a slightly stale piece of rye bread and stick it in the toaster and find I still had a dab of peanut butter in my giant economy size of Chunky Peanut Butter. I practically live on peanut butter; I like it with bananas but I don’t have any left.

I pour the coffee into my favorite mug, it used to belong to my Aunt Merry, which is short for Marilyn. It’s huge, yellow and round with a smiling face. In fact, it was called the Smiley Face Mug. She gave it to me when I moved to the city. It’s from the 1970s. And it is one of the few things I treasure in life. Because it reminds me of all the time I spent every summer with her when I was a kid. She lived within walking distance to the beach. And she grew all her own vegetables in her little garden.  We would take long walks across the beach and collect shells and stones. I still have some of the shells somewhere in a box in the back of my closet. Most of my childhood memories that I cherish are from the time I spent with my Aunt Merry.  I should have visited her more often.

My mom called me a couple of weeks ago and told me that my Aunt Merry quietly passed away in her sleep. That’s so like her, never wanted to cause anyone any trouble or worry. I should have gone to her funeral, but I didn’t because I didn’t have the money for a round trip bus ticket home. And my mother drinks up all her money. She didn’t even let me know until the day before the funeral.

I finish the last of my coffee and pick up the small package and I realize the return address is my mom’s. “Wow,” I say out loud. My mother never sends me anything. Occasionally she calls me and asks for money. And when I have any, I send it to her. She’s still my mother after all. And she did raise me all alone. And I guess she did the best she could. I should probably visit my mother more too. She’s no longer young. And I don’t know how much time she has left.

I make up my mind that I’m definitely going to go visit my mother, sometime soon. I start tearing the brown paper off the small package and then I shake it. Something is rattling inside. When I open the box, I see something that looks like gold. I pull it out and inside I see a pocket watch on a long, gold chain. I pick it up and look at it closely. It has flowers engraved on the back and my Aunt Merry’s initials and the year 1969. The year she graduated from high school. I remember seeing it in her jewelry box in her house down at the beach. She used to say, “someday this pocket watch will be yours. And it will remind you of all the good times we had together here at the beach.”

I feel a tear run down my cheek and more follow. I start crying and as I realize all the time that I could have spent with my Aunt Merry and I didn’t. I always made excuses not to go. I don’t know why. I put the pocket watch around my neck and go over to the mirror next to the front door and look at myself. As I stand there with the tears running down my face, I see my Aunt’s smiling face looking back at me.

As I’m standing there looking at myself the phone rings. I slowly walk over to the phone and pick it up. “Hello, Kathleen, it’s mom.”

“Yes Mom, I recognize your phone number. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, why did you hear something?”

“No, Mom I didn’t hear anything, you don’t call me often and when you do, it’s usually bad news.”

“Oh, Kathleen, you have always been so overly dramatic. I just called to see if you got the package, I sent you?”

“Yes, Mom, it was just delivered. I always loved that watch. Aunt Merry always promised me she would leave to me when she passed. I’ll cherish it.”

“Yes, she really did love you, Kathleen. I wished you had come and visited her more often you were her favorite niece.”

“You’re right Mom, I should have visited her more. In fact, I was just thinking that I haven’t seen you in quite a while. And I have a few vacation days left that I have to use up by the end of the year. So, how about if I come to see you at the end of next week.”

“Really, Kathleen? I would just love that.”

“Ok, Mom I have a lunch date with one of my friends and I have to get a shower and get dressed and drive across town. I’ll call you next week and let you know the details. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Kathleen.”

“Bye, Mom talk to you soon.”

As Kathleen hangs up the phone, she realizes that her Aunt Merry gave her a special gift and that was the realization that life is short. And you have to let the people you love know that you love them.

Kathleen takes the steps two at a time and gets ready to go out and meet her friend for lunch. Her heart felt light. And she hasn’t felt this good in years. It’s going to be a good day.

To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.