Monthly Archives: September 2023

Tyler School of Art, the best experience of my life and the biggest challenge

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As I look back over my life, I realize that the best advice I was ever given was spoken by my mother. I had just lost my father to lung cancer. I asked my mother if she had any regrets in her life. And she said, “I never regretted anything I did, I’ve only regretted the things I didn’t do because I was afraid. I wished that I hadn’t let fear stop me.”

The Tyler School of Art in Elkins Park, Pa.

My mother passed away eight months after my father. She had a complete cardiac and respiratory arrest. From that moment on, I knew that I would no longer allow fear to hold me back from the things I wanted to accomplish in my life.

At the time, my children were seven and four. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that what I had always wanted to do was to go to college. When I graduated from high school, my parents did not have the means to send me to college, and I didn’t have the high grades in high school to attain any scholarships. Later, I found out that I could qualify for some financial assistance because of need. And so, I made a decision at that time that what I always wanted to do was to become an artist or a writer. I applied to all the local art schools in the Philadelphia area. I had to prepare a portfolio of my most recent artwork. I spent several months doing that.

I was contacted by Temple University, Tyler School of Art, the Hussian School of Art, and Moore College of Art. I was interviewed and eventually accepted by the Hussian and Tyler School of Art. I made the decision to attend Temple Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. It was located in Elkins Park in Pennsylvania, which was about a thirty-minute drive from where I was living in Pennsauken, NJ.

I started attending Tyler the following September. It turned out I was the only adult student in the Freshman Class. There were other adult students in the school, but they attended the graduate classes. I was thirty-six at the time. And although I looked young for my age, I certainly didn’t look eighteen years old, which was the age of all the other Freshman students.

Noah’s Last Voyage

Before I started school, I had to arrange childcare for my two daughters, who were six and three years old at the time. I talked to a friend of mine, and she said that if I took care of her daughter during the summer and on school holidays, then her husband would take care of my older daughter after school. I enrolled my youngest daughter in daycare at First Baptist Christian Day School. And so I started my new life as a college student at the grand old age of thirty-six. Saying that this was the greatest challenge I had taken is an understatement.

The Tyler campus was beautiful, and the buildings were older but full of character and ambiance. It was fourteen acres and had been donated to Temple University fifty years before I attended it. I have to admit that I was nervous that first week of school. That first morning I met an older man who was outside of the main building, and I asked him where the main office was located. He told me that he was the groundskeeper. He had an Irish accent which immediately drew me to him. Since my family originated in Ireland. We remained friends throughout the four years I attended Tyler. I walked over to the Main building and found the Main Office. I spoke to the office clerk, and she gave me a copy of the classes I would be taking this semester. And where the classes were located. I headed to my first class, which was a graphic design class.

Of course, I was the first student to arrive, as I have always been early for everything. I sat in the back of the classroom and waited for other students to arrive. Every student that came into the room asked me if I was the teacher. And I said, “No, I’m a student.” Apparently, I was going to be the only adult student, and I was. But, after a while, all the students accepted me as a fellow student, disregarding the age difference. I didn’t tell them I had two children for a long time. And so my art education began. To say it was challenging would be an understatement. It was more than challenging. It was like climbing a mountain every day. In my Freshman year, I had to take Drawing, Design, 3-D Design, Art History, and Intellectual Heritage.

The Race, one of my pencil drawings

The first year at Tyler was more than difficult, and it was time-consuming. I only got four to five hours of sleep during the school year. During the Spring Break and Summer, I took care of my kids, my house, and my friend’s daughter. I had no time for extracurricular activities. The teachers at Tyler had adult students in their graduate classes but were unaccustomed to one in their undergraduate classes. I’m sure teaching me was a challenge. I was the first student to raise my hand with a question if I didn’t understand whatever concept they were teaching. At first, this annoyed them, but at some point, they realized that if I didn’t fully comprehend some aspect of whatever concept they were teaching, then other students didn’t either.

I have to admit that I put every bit of energy I had into excelling in every area I was studying. But, I would have to admit there were many younger students who were naturally talented than I. I had to learn the hard way by repetition and mistakes.

One of the things I learned right off the bat was that if I didn’t put everything I had into my artwork and studying, I wasn’t going to make it. I had every intention of excelling. I have to admit that I was not the most talented student, but I was the one who worked the hardest, and through hard work and diligence, I finished the first year at the top of the class with a 4.0 average, which is comparable to an A plus.

The Trinity - one of my oil paintings

The Trinity

You may wonder how I assimilated into classes full of seventeen and eighteen-year-old students when I was thirty-six. Well, the absolute truth was I fit in just fine. I made many friends in the four years that I attended Tyler. Some of the students that I became friends with didn’t have driver’s licenses yet, and none of them owned a car. As a result, whenever one of our classes was visiting a museum or an artist studio, I would carry as many students as I could in my white Suburu wagon.

It was hard to believe how quickly the time went by while I was attending Tyler. I have to say that I enjoyed the experience tremendously. It was challenging, to say the least, but I came to love my fellow students and most of the teachers. And the sense of satisfaction that I was accomplishing something I always wanted to do my whole life but didn’t have the opportunity to do before this time.

In my junior year, I had to declare my major. I decided that I wanted to get a Bachelor of Arts and a teaching certificate. So, I had a double major. The final two years were exhausting. In addition, to the classes I took, I had to do student teaching. I ended up being placed at the Hancock Elementary School in North East Philadelphia and at the Conwell Middle School in Kensington, PA. I have to say that the students at these schools were challenging and lived in neighborhoods that were not altogether safe. But, overall, it was a rewarding experience for me. 

I graduated in 1992 with a B. F. A. Degree and teaching certificate with a 3.40 average Summa Cum Laude. I was forty-one years old. And I was offered a Membership to the Golden Key National Honor Society for four years.

I was recommended for Graduate School but decided I wasn’t interested at the time since I was somewhat burned out with attending school five days a week and taking care of my home and children.

As I look back, I can’t help but feel that going to college was one of the best decisions of my life. And I had excelled, and it was a great experience for me. And I knew that whatever challenges I faced in my future, I would be able to handle them, and I have. I don’t know what my future holds for me. But I know that I will do my best to excel at whatever I do in the time I have left on this planet. My only advice is to have faith in your ability to succeed in your life. And put all your energy into whatever you do, and don’t ever give up. No matter what anyone says to you. Believe in yourself. Because if you don’t have faith in your ability to succeed, who will?

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ONE TOOTH TOO MANY

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Throughout my lifetime, I have had many jobs. My first job out of high school was working as a dental assistant for Edward G. Wozniak in Haddon Township, NJ. In the second semester of my senior year of high school, I had enough credits to graduate early. So, the school allowed me to work part-time after school. The school found a position for me with Dr. Wozniak, a young man who practiced dentistry out of his home. His wife attended Saint Mary of the Angels Academy as a girl. That is why she called Saint Mary’s, asking if one of the students was looking for a job.

His practice had two patient rooms, a small lab where he repaired dentures and partial plates, and a very small room where I, as his dental assistant, developed xrays. Dr. Wozniak didn’t schedule patients on Wednesday as it was his day off. He went golfing which was apparently a traditional habit among dentists in the early 1970’s. 

Wednesday, I spent the majority of the day in the dark room developing xrays, cleaning the patient exam rooms and the lab, and typing notices to patients that they had overdue accounts and also reminders of their next appointments. The phone never stopped ringing all day. I would answer the phone and say, “Good morning, Dr. Wozniak’s office. How can I help you.”

Dr. Wozniak and I had a cordial relationship. We worked well together. He was a young man who was married and had two children during the time I was working there. I have to say, overall, I found that I enjoyed working and earning money. Since I was, for the first time, able to buy myself things that I wanted or needed. Before working there, the only way I had to earn money was by babysitting for my older sister’s young children. In fact, I liked taking care of their little kids, but the pay was not great.

On Wednesday, Dr. Wozinak was playing golf, or so I thought. I finished my work early and walked over through the office door exit to the Wozniak’s kitchen. I didn’t see Mrs. Wozniak, so I called out to her.

She didn’t answer, and then I heard a voice say,” What’s going on?” It was Dr. Wozniak, standing there in his underwear. I was so shocked to see him without his usual attire or any attire other than his underpants. I ran out of the house altogether and out to my car. And I went home. I lived about a twenty-minute drive from Oaklyn, NJ, in Maple Shade, NJ, and when I got home, my parents were surprised to see my home so early. They were sitting at the kitchen table. And my mother said, “Is everything alright, Susan? You’re home rather early.”

I stood there, unable to think of what I could tell my parents. I knew there was no way on earth that I could ever go back and face Dr. Wozniak again after seeing him practically naked. And then the phone rang, my mother answered it, she kept saying, “What? What? Over and over again?” Then she said hold on, she said, “Susan, it’s Mrs. Wozniak said that you ran out of the office. What happened to make you run out of the office.” I said,”

I saw Dr. Wozniak in his jockeys. I can’t go back, and I won’t be able to look at him.” My mother repeated to Mrs. Wozniak what I said. My mother said to me, “ Mrs. Wozniak said, “You have to go back. They need you.”

My father sat at the kitchen table, looking at me. And then he said, “You’re going back tomorrow.” My mother picked up the phone again and said, “She’ll be there tomorrow first thing. And I did when my father told you that you had to do something. You didn’t argue, you did it, and there weren’t any ifs and or buts. My first day back was awkward, but I forgot about the whole incident after a while. Dr. Wozniak and I continued to work together for years.

In fact, there weren’t any further incidents. But, occasionally, something odd or weird would occur. One day a new patient came in to have her teeth examined. She was the first patient that morning. As soon as I saw her, I realized that the day was going to have a rough beginning. The reason was that this woman was highly unusual-looking. Dr. Wozniak had a hair-triggered laugh, as did I. Plus, laughing is contagious sometimes. As I was saying, I accompanied our new patient into the room with the X-ray machine. I put the plastic bib around her neck. I asked if there were any problems she wanted to address today or if this was a check-up. And as I was talking to her, I couldn’t help but notice that she was not your everyday middle-aged woman. She was quite tall, so much so that her long legs extended past the footrest on the dental chair. She had high heels on her feet, which were quite large. Her fingernails were extremely long and painted bright, bright red. This was long before fake nails or extension nails were available. They were so long that they curled under at their tips. Her make-up was exotic and almost appeared somewhat like a mask. Since her own features were hidden, she was dressed to her teeth. I suggested that she wear a dental bib so that her clothes wouldn’t be damaged. And she agreed. Her hair was jet black and was parted in the middle, and she had her hair in two braids that extended to her waist. She had silver earrings hanging from her ear lobes that touched her shoulder blades. The longer I gazed at her, the more I realized that Dr. Wozniak would have difficulty keeping a straight face.

I told her that the doctor would be with her in a few moments. And I went back to the desk in the office and continued taking out the dental files for the patients that were going to come that day and the next. The phone rang, and I answered it. It was a patient canceling their appointment for the next day, so I rescheduled it for the next opening we had available. I was still talking on the phone when Doctor Wozniak came through the office from his house and continued into the front exam room. I hung up the phone, and the next thing I knew, Dr. Wozniak came out of the exam room and motioned to me to follow him into the dark room where I developed the x-ray. He closed the door behind us. I thought, “What in the world?” And then he started laughing, I knew he was laughing at the woman’s appearance. And unfortunately, I found laughter contagious. And then we were both laughing. Finally, we regained control of ourselves, and Dr. Wozniak regained control of himself and went back into the exam room. I waited outside the room until he was finished, and then I took the xrays and developed them. At the same time, he was cleaning her teeth. I brought the exams into the room and returned to the office. Then, the woman came out of the room, and I scheduled another appointment for her, and she was on her way. After she left, Dr. Wozniak came out of the exam room and acted like nothing unusual had happened.

Dr. Wozniak came into the office one day while I was typing renewal notices. He asked if I would park my car on the side street rather than in front of his office and house. At first, I thought he was concerned that I was taking up a parking space that a patient might need to use. But, as I thought about it, I realized that he was never that busy at any one time. However, he was busy all day. And I finally realized that he was embarrassed by the car I drove. My father had given me and my twin sister, who worked not too far from me, his old car when he bought a newer one. He had handpainted the car. There was a chain holding the back trunk in place, and he had collaged several pictures from magazines or books on the trunk since it was lacking paint. It was colorful, to say the least. My sister and I were so happy to have a car at all. Otherwise, we would have to take the bus back and forth to the town where we lived. And that would mean we would have to change buses in Camden, NJ, which is not a good place for two young women to go alone. So, needless to say, I, for one, was more than happy with the car, regardless of how it looked.

But then, one day, Elaine Wharton, a girl that we went to high school with, stopped by our house as she saw us sitting on our front step. She told us that she had bought a new car. She had saved a downpayment and took out a loan that was going to pay it off in five years. We were astonished. We had no idea that we could do that. And before you knew it, my sister and I had each bought and took out a loan to pay for the new cars. I bought a 1970 yellow Volkswagon. And I can not tell you how much I came to love that car. And all the trips I took to Atlantic City, Wildwood, and all over South Jersey and Philadelphia. And eventually, I decided to move to Florida and then several years later to California.

One day Dr. Wozniak had a patient, whose name was Mrs. Pinto come in to have an extraction. I didn’t know she was having all her teeth extracted on the same day. As I was assisting Dr. Wozniak, I realized that he was extracting ALL her teeth, one after the other. As I stood there, I started feeling lightheaded, and every time he took out a tooth, I felt worse and worse. The next thing I knew, I was waking up on the couch in Dr. Wozniak’s living room. Apparently, I had passed out. I’m not sure why I passed out since I had seen many extractions in the past. It seemed overwhelming to me to stand there and watch someone have all their teeth out at once. Apparently, Dr. Wozniak had to carry me while I was unconscious into his house. Yet, it is another experience I had to get over. I felt bad for Mrs. Pinto and Dr. Wozniak, but mostly for me since I was way past embarrassment to humiliation.

I worked for Dr. Wozniak for several more years until I decided that I would like to change jobs. The next job I took was working for Harry and Evie Ellis in Collingswood, NJ selling high-risk insurance. And that my friends I will write about in my next memoir story.

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I’d Rather Eat My Hat

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“There’s about as much chance of that happening as me eating my hat. Said, Stella.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Said her friend and neighbor, Helen.

“Not that bad, Well, I hate to know what could be worse.”Said, Stella

“OK, five things that could be worse than having to drive your beat-up old car that doesn’t have a working air conditioner all the way to Florida and back again. And then having to pick up your mother-in-law and bring her back to your house to live with you. Well, I can think of a hundred things. Have your teeth pulled out one at a time, all in one day. Or having burnt popcorn kernels stuck between your teeth permanently, falling down the cement steps at the Art Muzeum in Philadelphia with a whole crowd of people watching you. Going out to lunch with your boss, and he hits on you. I could go on all day. Your mother-in-law can not be all bad. I bet you could think of several positive attributes about her if you tried. 

“No, none of those experiences outdo living with my mother-in-law for the rest of my days. Absolutely nothing is worse than that. Dear god, I’m sure I will lose my mind. She will no doubt talk non-stop all the way home about how I should be making a lot more money, getting a better job, and living in a bigger house. And to top it off, she absolutely hates all my cats.”

“OK, so that doesn’t exactly scream you’re going to have a great time on the eleven hundred and eighteen-mile drive, which will take approximately seventeen hours if you go non-stop. But you never know; things could get better once you get used to living with her. Maybe she will mellow as she gets older. You never know. Maybe deep down, she is a decent person. Give her a chance, why don’t you?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve known her for over thirty years. I know her inside and out. And there is no way in hell that I’m going to suddenly realize that she’s not as bad as I thought. She criticizes everything I do and say. And beyond her god-awful personality, she is a cleptomaniac. I kid you not. Every time I went shopping with her, she stole everything she could get her hands on.

One time I took her food shopping. She opened food packages, bite big chunks out of them, and then put them back on the shelf. When we went to the department store, she once pocketed a one thousand dollar gold watch and stuck it in her purse. I wasn’t aware of it. As we were leaving the store, alarms went off, and five store security officers ran over to us and dragged us back to the security office. I had no idea what was going on. They made us strip and empty our pockets and our purses. And low and behold. They found the gold watch worth thousands of dollars in her purse, wrapped up in her hanky.

When they found it, she acted like an innocent little lamb. She said, “Oh my, how did that get in my purse? And then she said, “Helen did you put this in my purse? How could you?”

I said, “What? How dare you accuse me? Sir, my mother-in-law is a cleptomaniac. She could snatch the teeth right out of your head, and you wouldn’t notice it until you tried to eat a steak dinner. I kid you not.”

“Oh, Helen, how can you say that? I’m as innocent as a newborn baby.”
“A newborn baby what? “Peranna?”

“Look, officers, she’s an old lady. She’s out of her mind. She didn’t know what she was doing. Can you forget this happened? Since you retrieved the watch. She doesn’t have a clue. It’s all a game to her. She already has a watch. She’s nuts. That’s all I can say. She’s out of her god-forsaken mind. I promise I will keep her out of the store from now on. Can we please go?”

After the officers went back to speak to his boss, they came back in and said, “You can go, but you may never come into this store or any of our branch stores ever again, and if you do, you will both be arrested. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, we understand. Don’t we, Mom?”

My mother-in-law shook her head up and down. But I could see she had her fingers crossed behind her. I felt as if I might go to go out of my mind. The next day I took her back to the airport to send her back to Florida. I hoped never to see her again. When she was going through the security check, the alarms went off. She was surrounded like she was the Unabomber. They had their weapons drawn and were pointing them directly at her. I screamed at the top of my lungs,” What the hell is going on, Mom? What did you do now?

They took her into the security office, and she had to strip down to her skivvies. By the way, you won’t believe this, but she was wearing bikini underpants and a purple and gold bra. This woman is nearly eighty years old and dressed up like a Playboy Bunny from the 1970s. I have never been so humiliated in my whole life.

And here’s the kicker, she had a small revolver in a secret pocket of her purse. It was a pocket inside of another pocket. When she went through the scanner, it lit up like a Christmas tree. When they asked her why she would bring on board an airliner, she said, “Well, what do you think to protect me from hijackers? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“She was barred from ever using that airline again. I don’t know if she is just loco, or she has dementia, or she’s just plain stupid. Or, and this is what I really believe, she doesn’t think that rules and laws apply to her. Do you really believe that, at any level, I would be willing to spend the rest of my life with her??? I rather spend my life in a prison with hardened convicts and murderers. I kid you not. Why don’t you offer to pick her up and let her spend the rest of her life with you? Or better yet, why don’t you take her in for a couple of weeks? And if she doesn’t cause any problems like blowing up your house or robbing your neighbors blind, I’ll reconsider taking her in?”

“OK, I’ll do it. But what do I get out of it?”
“Well, you get to say, “I told you so. And I can’t think of anything else because I know in my heart of hearts that there is no upside with this woman. You will be pulling the hair out of your head in two” days, if not on the ride home.”

“OK, you’ve got a deal, but you have to pay for my expenses for picking her up and driving her back here. I’m not made of money, you know.”

“No problem, but I’m sure by the time you get home with her, you will be more than willing to give me your last dime just so you never have to see her again. When can you go get her?”

“ I can go this Friday, It’s a holiday, and I’ll be back late the next day.”

“ Take my advice and get plenty of rest the day before you go to Florida. You’re going to need it. And bring food with you. She eats like a horse, and she likes to stop at every restaurant she sees. And as little as she is, she eats like a starving horse.”

“Well, that’s fine, I love eating at roadside restaurants. I haven’t taken a road trip in years and years. It will be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”

I just stared at her and said, “I wish you all the luck in the world. You are going to need it. Let me give you her full name, address, and phone number. Whatever you do, do not give her your cell phone number. She will start calling you all night and day. “

“Oh, you always make a big deal out of everything. You have a tendency to exaggerate even the smallest thing. And blow it out of proportion.”

Two days later, Helen left me a message to let me know she was on her way to pick up my mother-in-law. I crossed my fingers and hoped that Helen wouldn’t murder my mother-in-law on the way back. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a little voice saying, “ I hope Helen doesn’t murder my mother-in-law, but then again, it would not be unheard of an old lady dying from a heart attack because my neighbor and friend, Helen is one of the worst drivers that I ever had the displeasure of riding in a car with. I only went on one trip with her driving, and I was praying the whole way that I would make it out alive. She rarely kept her eyes on the road, and she would fiddle with the radio and look in the mirror at her reflection over and over. She would eat a sandwich with one hand, drink a coffee with the other, and steer with her knee. I kid you not. It was truly a terrorizing experience—one which I will never repeat. Maybe the two of them were meant for each other.

So, I let my mother-in-law know that my friend Helen was coming to get her and that she was going to spend part of her time at Helen’s house since I was still working from home and needed quiet and isolation. I gave her the pertinent information about Helen, what she looked like, Cruella Deville. That might be a slight exaggeration. Because compared to my mother-in-law Helen was a raving beauty.

The next couple of weeks went by quickly, and before I knew it, I received a call from Helen telling me she was leaving tomorrow for Florida. And she would give me a call when she arrived. She was going to stay at my mother’s house overnight and leave early the next morning.

I didn’t hear from Helen or my mother for three days. I wondered if something bad happened or if Helen got lost or she tried to kill my mother or vice versa. A couple of days later, Helen called to let me know they were almost home and would call me again when they arrived at her house. She didn’t say anything about my mother, the long ride, or anything. I was gobsmacked to tell you the truth. Oh, gobsmacked is an Irish expression for shocked.

Helen called me the next morning and asked if I would like to come over and say hello to my mother. To tell you the truth, I had to think about it for a few minutes. Because, in all honesty, I had no real desire to see my “dear” mother any time soon. But, all the same, I changed out of my pajamas and into the cleanest clothes I owned. This doesn’t mean that they were actually clean, but they were the only clothes that didn’t have stains on them. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit of a slob. I hate cleaning, doing wash, yard work etc, etc. I love my stay-at-home job. That’s the one thing I like about my mother is that when she visits me, my house is immaculate. But the flip side of that coin is that she never stops nagging me about what a slob I am. But it’s my house, and if you don’t like it, you are welcome to leave any time.

I thought about running all around and straightening up the house, but I didn’t. About twenty minutes later, they arrived at my door, and they actually rang the doorbell. I walked over to the door nonchalantly and did my best to give them a big smile of welcome. But, to tell you the truth, my stomach was in turmoil. And then I saw my mother’s face pressed to my back door window, and she had a big smile on her face. And get this, she had a bunch of red roses in her hand. And what looked like a casserole dish with a cover on it. I could see steam rising out of it. She was holding it with oven mitts.

I opened the door and said,” Wow, you two look great, What have you been up to?”

“Well, we both went to the hairdresser this morning and had the works. And then, when we came back, I made this casserole for you so that we could make lunch. I knew you probably didn’t have time to cook. Since you are working from home, can we come in?” I looked at Helen, and she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. I looked at her like she must have lost her mind, and maybe a few days with my mother pushed her over the edge. I let them in.

“Why don’t you two have a seat, I’ll get you some iced tea and put out some dishes for lunch.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Mom. Have a seat.” I stared at Helen, and she still had that look of a cat that ate my canary.”So, how’s it going? How was the trip? What have you two been up to?”

Helen said the trip was fine. We stopped along the way, ate lunch and dinner, and stopped at a couple of local tourist places. And then we drove straight here to Helen’s house. We are having a great time together. We like the same food and the same TV Shows. And Helen is so neat her house is neat as a pin. She’s like the daughter I never had.” Helen looked at me after my mother said that, and what she saw was a tear running down my face. Because my mother still had the power to hurt me to my core. Helen said, “she doesn’t mean that. She did talk about you the whole way home, how much she missed you, how she was so proud of you. And she couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”

“Is that true, Mom?”

“Yes, it’s true. But I always thought that you didn’t love me. So, I guess I have always tried to protect myself from all the negative things you said to and about me while you were a teenager. And how you never wanted to visit me or rarely called me.”

“Mom, I always loved you. But I never felt loved by you. I guess we were never really good at understanding one another. It didn’t help that you lied and were a cleptomaniac etc, etc. “

“ Well, I have been seeing a therapist for the last year, and I feel like I have resolved most of those issues. I haven’t stoled anything for over eight months. And I stopped buying things I don’t need. In general, I’m trying to be a better person. And if you give me a second chance, I will try to be a better mother.”

I looked at my mother with disbelief. And then she came over and hugged me tight. And then we both started to cry. And Helen stood there with the biggest smile on her face that I have ever seen. And that my friends became the beginning for me, my mother, and my dear friend, Helen. We became a family. And that was the best day of my life, bar none…

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MY FIRST BEST FRIEND, MRS. MCFARLAND

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I grew up in a small town in New Jersey, South Jersey, to be more specific. The town I grew up in was called Maple Shade. I always assumed it was called Maple Shade because of the many Maple trees that grew there from one end of Maple Shade to another.

I believed that Maple Shade was a great place to grow up. Of course, my life experience at nine or ten was somewhat limited. But, as far as I was concerned, it was heaven on earth. Especially in the 1950s through the 1960s when I was growing up.

I clearly remember my mother standing on the street curb outside our house with me by her side, and she was teaching me how to cross the street safely. She said, “Before you cross the street, look to the right and then to the left, and then to the right again. If no cars are coming in either direction, it will be safe to cross the street. She practiced with me several times, and then she said, “You are on your own, be careful. Before you go anywhere, let me know where you are going. Understand?”

“Yes, Mom, I understand, right, left, right, then cross the street.”

“OK, now keep your eyes open, and most of all, don’t be late for lunch or dinner.” And then she went back into the house. I guess she was going to clean the house. That is what she did most of her days unless she was cooking. She did a lot of cooking. We had a big family.

After I crossed the street, I went directly across the street to Mrs McFarland’s yard. She was our neighbor, and I loved her so much. She was really, really old. She lived alone because her husband had died a long time ago. And if she had any children, they had all grown up and moved away. I never met them.

I walked up her path to her side door and knocked. I could hear her walking towards the door. When she opened the door, she said, “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise? Would you like to come in for a snack??? Or we can sit outside on the swing and have our snack?

“Oh, let’s eat on the swing.”

A couple of minutes later, she came out with a tray of milk and cookies. Oh, how I loved her cookies. I hope they were chocolate chip. Mrs. McFarland sat down on the swing and said, “Here we go, your favorite chocolate chip. I smiled from ear to ear. Mrs. McFarland had one whole arm and one-half arm. What I mean is her left arm only went down to her elbow, and the rest of her arm was missing. I was always amazed that she never let that bother her at all. She managed to do everything she had to do with one and a half arms. And her cookies were delicious. Sometimes, she brought her doll outside that she had since she was a kid. And She would let me change her clothes. She told me the doll was made from china, which I didn’t understand. When I asked my father what china was, he told me it was a country very far away. Sometimes, I would bring my doll over and play dolls together. Other times, my best girlfriend brought her doll, and we would all play with dolls.

But what I loved to do the most was walk around her yard, which had flowers growing all over it. But, my favorite flowers grew in the Spring, and she called them tulips. She had red tulips. And they were so beautiful. Sometimes, she let me cut a tulip and take it home to my mother.

While we sat and swung back and forth on the swing, she told me all about herself when she was little. I wished I was little when she was so I could play with her every day. But I guess I was lucky to have her as a friend now. The fact is I really loved Mrs. McFarland. And I didn’t care one bit about her only having one half of an arm. Anytime I saw Mrs. McFarland out in her yard, I went over and visited her. She was my best friend. One day, she said, “How about we walk out to the corner of my yard, and you can try climbing up the tree?”

I screamed at the top of my lungs,” Yes, yes, yes. Let’s”

“Well, I can’t climb the tree, but I’ll stand next to the tree and keep you safe.” And she did. After that, I took every opportunity to climb that tree and any other tree I saw around town. Sometimes, I fell, but I just got black and blue marks on my arms and legs. My mother would say, “What in the world have you been up to?”

“Nothing, Mom, just playing in the tree.”

My mother said, “Well, you have to be more careful. My father said, “Let her be. Kids will be kids.” And so, after that, she would say, be careful. When I was a kid, I would tell my mother that I was going out for a bike ride. She would say, be home in time for lunch. I would listen for the church bells to ring at noon time. We lived two doors down from the Catholic church, and then I would run as fast as I could home. Because if my father was home, it wasn’t a good idea to be late for lunch or dinner. When I got home, I would rush through the front door, and my mother would say, “Go wash your hands and face before you sit down. We almost always had the same thing for lunch every day: Lebanon Bologna sandwiches with chicking noodle soup or sometimes Alphabet soup. I loved making words in the soup with the noodles that were in the shape of the alphabet letters. My father would say,” Stop playing with your food. And my mother would say, “Oh, leave her alone. She’s just a little kid.

As time went by, I grew up and visited my friend Mrs. McFarland less and less. I was always busy with my neighborhood friends and my school friends, who came over after school. There was never a shortage of kids around town to play with after school and during the summer.

Eventually, I graduated from elementary school and went on to high school. We had to take an entrance exam to get into Catholic High Schools. I was sure that I failed, but as it turned out, I passed both tests, the one for St. Mary of the Angels Academy and Holy Cross High School. My parents decided that I would attend St. Mary of the Angels Academy. I had to take a bus to go back and forth to high school. As time went by, I didn’t see Mrs. McFarland anymore. She didn’t come outside since she was having difficulty walking, and I didn’t see her working in the garden anymore.

Then, one day, I was sitting at the kitchen table, and someone knocked at our front door. I got up and opened the door. It was an older man, and for some reason, he looked very upset. My mother came to the door and said, “Can I help you?” He said, “ I was just across the street at Mrs. McFarland’s house. I am her insurance man. And she had a heart attack and died right in front of me.” And then he started crying. I never saw a grown man cry before. My mother told him to please sit down. He did. The tears were streaming down his face. I looked at my mom, and she looked at me. And then we both started crying. I felt really bad because I hadn’t visited her for a long time. And I wish I had. I never saw Mrs. McFarland again. Someone else bought her house and rented out the top part of the house to someone else. They took Mrs. McFarland’s swing down, and about a year later, they cut down her Weeping Willow tree one day. I’ll never understand why. I cried all over again.

I will always remember Mrs. McFarland even though I am now the age she was when she became my first friend.

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REGRETS, I’VE HAD A FEW, BUT THEN AGAIN TOO FEW TO MENTION

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I grew up in an Irish Catholic family. There were six children in our family. My fraternal twin sister and I were the youngest, and then I had three older sisters; the oldest one was fifteen years older, and the next two were seven and eight years older than I was. My oldest sibling was my only brother, who was nineteen years older than me.

My childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ

One of the things that I experienced during my childhood was that my family was not big huggers. In fact, I recall very little physical affection from my parents or my siblings. For that matter, it was a rare occasion when my mother or my father told me that they loved me. As for my siblings, I don’t remember them ever showing any affection to me. I’m not saying that they didn’t love each other. I’m saying love and affection were not displayed. I believe at some level that we cared about each other, but we rarely expressed it. I believe that this was a trait that originated within the Irish Culture in Ireland. And since both of my grandparents originated in Ireland, you might say that this lack of showing love or affection was a trait that their parents and their parents and previous generations displayed. And it has occurred to me that if I had grown up in Ireland, this lack of affection might not have affected me so deeply because in Ireland, this is a trait of people in Ireland.

But, since I was born and grew up in America, I knew people and families whose families originated in many other countries. My oldest and best friend’s family was Italian. Her family were affectionate to one another and often expressed verbally their love for one another. I spent a great deal of my childhood at my best friend’s house, and I couldn’t help but notice how often my friend’s mother and father hugged her and told her they loved her. It made me feel sad. I recall asking my mother one day why she and my father didn’t hug me or tell me they loved me. She didn’t really respond to my question. So, for most of my life, I questioned whether my parents loved me.

As I grew up, I came to realize that both my father and mother loved me. And they demonstrated it with their concern and care for my well-being. My mother took care of me when I became ill or if I fell and was injured while playing. She worried about me when I went on bike rides and didn’t come back for hours. She worried when I went to visit my friends and didn’t come back on time for meals. My parents showed their love by enrolling me and my sister and my older sisters in Catholic School for twelve years, which was a financial burden for them. Not to mention that my mother cooked hot meals every day of the twenty years that I lived at my familial home, even when she worked a full-time job.

As I look back over the course of my life, I recognize that I have had difficulty showing my feelings. However, what I have also recognized about my nature is that I have a big heart. That I showed my care and love for people in different ways. Since I was a young girl, my older siblings married moved to their own homes, and started their own families. I found out that I loved being around their children. I enjoyed taking care of them and showing my love for them by hugging them and playing with them. I didn’t have any issues showing affection toward them I loved them as if they were my own younger siblings.

I looked forward to the time when I would fall in love, get married, and have children. And over time, all these events did take place. I had my first child when I was thirty and my second child when I was thirty-four. And I can say without a doubt that there were no two children who were loved more than I loved my daughters. They were not perfect children, and I know I was not the perfect mother. But I love them both with all my heart through the good times and the bad. I also recognize that when they were young, they received many more hugs and kisses than they received when they became adolescents. Adolescents can be like prickly pears.

It was never a matter of me loving them less, but they seemed less able to accept and respond to my affection. Adolescence is a difficult time for both the adolescent and the parents. They are moving forward and away from their families, and perhaps I, along with most parents, attempt to hold on more tightly, perhaps too tightly to them, which causes them to rebel and react negatively.

Parenting an adolescent is perhaps the most difficult challenge anyone can have in their life. Because during that time, adolescents are attempting to move away from childhood and move towards independence. Which is the natural order of things but still a painful time for parents. And a challenging time for adolescents.

I have to admit during my children’s adolescence, there weren’t a lot of hugs and kisses. I regret that, but it is hard to hug someone who makes it their life’s goal to move as far away from you physically and emotionally as they possibly can. And they are just as willing to leave with angry, hateful words.

When I left home at age twenty, I talked to my parents in advance. I was not angry, I still loved them both with my whole heart. I was just ready to move forward in my life and my independence. And that included having started working full-time by the time I was eighteen. I bought my own new car and found an apartment in a town thirty minutes drive from where I grew up. I became responsible for my own expenses, including car insurance, health insurance, rent, and food.

Everyone doesn’t take the same path in life. And life often offers us challenges that are difficult to overcome. Sometimes it is better to take one day at a time, one step at a time. And sometimes, it is better to make that leap of faith in yourself that you are capable of being independent.

On the other hand, growing up doesn’t have to mean growing apart. But sometimes it does. When I was twenty-three, I moved to Florida and got married. Then, my new husband and I moved to Santa Barbara, California, so that he could attend Brooks Institute of Photography. I did not move back to New Jersey for seven years. It was a time of growth, both mentally and emotionally. And I returned a much more independent, mature young woman.

After we arrived back in New Jersey, we stayed with my parent until my husband found a job, and then we decided to buy a small home in Pennsauken, NJ. It was only about a ten-minute drive to Maple Shade, where my parents lived. In fact, my father was one of our first visitors.

When I was thirty years old, I had our first child, and three years later, we had our second child. It was a challenging time for us, and we were so happy and blessed to have my parents in our lives. Becoming a new parent and a stay-at-home Mom for several years was challenging and rewarding. On the other hand, I often felt isolated because I spent most of my time alone with two young children.

When my oldest daughter was in the second grade, and my youngest daughter was in preschool, I made the decision to go to college, and I was accepted at three art schools: Hussian, Moore, and Temple Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia. I decided to attend Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. After the first year, I applied for student loans to continue my education.

The Tyler School of Art 1991

It was difficult balancing going to college and being a wife and mother. But, with the help of friends, I was able to do just that. I graduated at forty-one with a Bachelor of Arts and a teaching certificate. I was in the top ten percent of Temple University in 1991. It was a challenging four years for me, my children, and my family. My oldest daughter was in the fifth grade, and my youngest was in second grade when I graduated. I have to admit it was one of the hardest but most rewarding challenges I ever faced, both for me and my husband and two children. During my four years in college, I spent my time with my children when I was home. After they went to bed at night, I did my school work and studied sometimes long into the night. When I was on school break and during the summer, I spent all my time with my children. It was a growing experience for all of us.

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