Monthly Archives: October 2023

Family Consists Of A Safe Environment And A Loving Family

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Watercolor painting of my childhood home

As far back as I can remember, my parents had to struggle to get by. I’m talking about my entire life from my early childhood forward until I moved out when I was twenty-one. My parents were hard-working people. They never took a vacation or a day off, for that matter. We had a large family with a lot of mouths to feed. My mother would clean houses and do laundry for extra money.

My father worked the third shift as the Head Dispatcher at PTC, The Pennsylvania Transportation Company in Philadelphia, PA. On his days off, he worked at Johnny’s Auto Supply Store, which was located on Main Street in Maple Shade, NJ. The auto supply store was within walking distance from where we lived.

As a child, I was completely oblivious to my family’s financial situation. My siblings and I always attended Catholic Schools. I was the youngest, and as in most large families, the clothes were handed down from the oldest to the youngest. I didn’t really care about clothes that much, so it didn’t bother me. After school, I would change out of my uniform and get in my play clothes and go play with my friends, or ride my bike all over town.

On weekends my friends and I would go to to the Roxy Theater and watch the latest movies for a quarter or take a bus to the Riverside roller rink and spend the afternoon there roller skating. Or I would ride my bike all over town and visit my friend’s house. I would skate around the roller rink until my legs started hurting me or until I fell down one time too many. And I would sit on the floor next to the wall until it was time to take the bus home.

Roxy Theater in Maple Shade, NJ 1960’s

You may be curious about how I had money to go to the movies or the roller rink. I had money because, after school, I would take long walks downtown Maple Shade and look for lost coins and empty soda bottles that could be returned and get the deposit returned.

I would often go to the Roxy Movie Theater on Saturdays when there was a new movie playing., if I wasn’t going roller skating. It only costs twenty-five cents to see a movie. My friends and I would bring our lunches with us. In that way, we didn’t have to spend money on candy. I always brought Lebanon Bologna sandwiches, which was my favorite food at that time.

One time I asked my parents if I could get a bike for my birthday so I could ride around town with all my friends. And sure enough, my father gave me a bike. It was a used bike, but he cleaned it up, painted it, and put new tires on it. And I loved that bike and rode it for years. It didn’t matter to me that it was used.

Gerard College Philadelphia, PA, in the 1920-s

My father was a man who pinched a penny until it cried. He was born in 1911, the only son of a widowed mother. My father spent his childhood growing up in a residential school in Philadelphia called Gerard College. It wasn’t a college but was a live-in residence for boys who had lost their fathers. He lived there most of his childhood until he was about sixteen years old. He only saw his mother once a year at Christmas.

My father worked hard his whole life, and he spent most of his working years working for the Pennsylvania Transportation Company. He started out as a Trolley driver, but his mother decided it was more prestigious to work in an office. My father loved driving a trolley and the bus, but his mother insisted that he apply for an office job. And so he did. He spent the next forty years working as the head dispatcher until he retired.

As a child, I don’t recall ever feeling that I had less than any of my friends. That is until Christmas time. When my mother would ask me what I wanted. We were allowed to ask for one gift. And I would receive it and be content about it. Until I went over to my best girlfriend’s house, and under her Christmas tree was a mound of gifts two feet high or more. And then I would feel bad for a while, but I got over it. It made me realize that “things” are not as important as having a good home and caring family. And a dog, if possible. I always loved animals.

When I was in high school, my mother got a job cooking for an employee’s lunch room at the Wanamakers Department Store in Moorestown, NJ. She did this so that my sister and I could attend a private girls ’ school in Haddonfield, NJ. Many of the students who attended Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy came from wealthy families in Haddonfield, but as far as I was concerned, I fit right in and made friends there. It was a good experience for me.

My parents were examples of people who worked hard their entire lives and were role models for their children and grandchildren to follow. Nothing came easy for them, but they continued to do the best that they could for all of us. They were not perfect humans; they made mistakes, as we all do. My mother never complained about anything. She took one day at a time and put forth her best efforts. I never saw my mother lose her temper, no matter what happened. My father could and did show his anger at times and would say hurtful things. But, as I look back on my life with my family, I know I am the person that I am today because of their example. They taught me to work hard, not to complain, and to make good choices over the course of my lifetime.

I have made every effort to do good in my life and show kindness towards the people that have come into my life over my many years. I don’t know if I was as good and loving as my mother, but I know I did my best. My father, who was a highly intelligent man who was an example of someone who rose up from being an orphan living in a boy’s school, got a job in management for the PTC—and had a long-term marriage of over fifty years. He fathered six children and supported them in every way possible. And had seventeen grandchildren.

Because of my father’s setting such high standards as an adult and later as a parent, I hope my own children learn to have faith in their own abilities and work hard for what they want to achieve in their lives. And most of all, to do the right thing. That’s all a parent can hope for in their lives. Our children will ultimately make their own decisions. They will make mistakes, as we all have, and hopefully, they will learn and grow from them. And that they, too, will experience happiness, success, meaning, and live a life of integrity.

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A RUN OF BAD LUCK

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Did you ever have a run of bad luck, and no matter what you do, everything you touch goes wrong? Well, that is what is happening to me. It’s just one thing after another. I no sooner get one mess straightened out than something else happens. I’m at the end of my rope.

It all started about six months ago. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought, well, that didn’t go the way I had hoped, not even close. I had been recently laid off from my dream job. A job that I had worked hard for, one that I had planned over a long period of time. And then finally, I got the call it was my bosses boss that called me. He said, and I quote, “Jerry, this is Mort Thalman. We are considering you for the upper management position that just became available. Please come to my office for the corporate interview. It’s just a formality, but still, we would all like to have the opportunity to talk to you personally about what we have in mind for you. Are you interested?” 

I almost jumped up and down. I was so thrilled. And then I heard Mr. Thalman say,” Are you still there?” “Yes, yes, I’m here. I’m on my way up right now. “ And I practically flew out my office door and up three flights of stairs. When I arrived at his office, I knocked madly at the door about five times, and then I heard Thalman’s secretary say, “Come in, come in. For heaven’s sake.”

I tried to calm down a bit. I took a deep breath and tried to walk calmly into Thalman’s office, and I said, “Good morning, Mr. Thalman asked me to come up to his main office.”

“Yes, I know. Just go straight through the door right there. They are all waiting for you.” And then she put her head down and continued working on her computer. I headed towards the door. As I knocked on the door, I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I heard a gruff voice say, “Come in, come in. We’re waiting for you.”

I walked through the door and, low and behold, sat all the big wigs of the company, and they looked at me, and I said, “Good morning.” And one of the corporate bigwigs whose name I didn’t know said, “Please take a seat at the end of the table. We will try not to make this too difficult.”

And what followed was nothing short of an inquisition. I kid you not. They asked me about every job I ever had, starting with my high school job of delivering newspapers in the small town I grew up in, which was Mt. Ephraim, New Jersey. After at least forty minutes, they arrived at my current position of Account Executive for new accounts. And then Mr. Thalman said, “Let’s take a few minutes break. I had my assistant order some coffee and donuts.” “We will be discussing with you what opportunity we have in mind for you. Oh, here comes the coffee and donuts. Relax for a few minutes.” They all started eating the donuts as if they hadn’t eaten in a week, and gulping coffee like it was the last cup they were going to get. My mouth was dry, and my stomach was turning. I sure wasn’t going to eat donuts. I sat down and took a couple of deep breaths. And I waited for them to go forward. I took several drinks of water and tried to swallow it without choking. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous except when I was applying to Temple University, and I was interviewed by the Dean of the School.

I tried to maintain a calm demeanor. But, that couldn’t stop my hands and forehead from sweating. My throat felt dry and raspy. Finally, I asked if I could have a drink of water. I gulped it down so fast that I started choking. The secretary handed me a napkin and smiled down at me. Somehow, that smile did the trick, and I started breathing more normally and calming down. After all, I told myself this wasn’t the only job in the world. If I didn’t get this one, I had confidence that eventually, I would be hired, and I would excel at whatever I set my mind to.

After about twenty more minutes of questioning me, they asked me to step out of the office until they called me back. It seemed like a lifetime before that happened. Finally, the secretary said, “They’re ready for you now. Please follow me.” And so I did. When I reentered the office, I looked at each of their faces, but no one gave anything away. And then Mr. Thalman said, “Congratulations, we have all agreed that you are the man for the job. And he stood up and shook my hand. It was the best day of my life.

And so, I started my new position the following week. And for five years, I worked from morning until night. And I was successful. I received raises in my pay grade every year. And in the fifth year, I was offered a new position at the corporate headquarters. And I accepted it, thinking I’ve had the world at my feet, and that nothing was going to stand in my way to the top.

And then suddenly, without any warning that I can ascertain, little things started to go wrong. At first, it seemed inconsequential. My computer developed some weird glitches, and the IT department couldn’t find the problem. In the end, they decided to provide a new computer. So, for a little while, it was smooth sailing.

The next thing that happened was one morning, I was running late, and the traffic was heavy and unbelievably congested. It was bumper to bumper. And then, out of the blue, two cars ahead of me, a guy driving a Volva hit his brakes. And the car in front of me did the same, and I rear-ended him. It was awful. And just when I thought, oh, it’s not that bad, a car rear-ended me. Now, my car, one that I loved with all my heart, was ruined front and back. I started crying right then and there. I was still crying when the state trooper came over to my driver’s side window to see if I was injured. He found me crying like a baby. I couldn’t even manage to calm down enough to answer his question. I just sat there and cried as if I just lost my best friend. About a half hour later, a tow truck came by and towed my car, with me sitting in his front seat, crying the whole way. 

A couple of months after the CAR ACCIDENT, That’s how I always referred to it in all caps, THE CAR ACCIDENT. I was finally ready to buy a new car. I had been carpooling with a co-worker of mine. I was still somewhat trepiduous about driving, but I was somewhat confident in my ability to drive again. For the most part, I was right, but if anyone got too close, I would start hyperventilating and break out in a sweat, and my heart would start beating like a snare drum.

The next unexpected event was that my immediate boss quit because he found a better-paying position with a competing corporation. It took a while for my group to come together again and work as a team. I eventually was moved up to a higher position. Which was great, except I was now working twelve-hour days, and I was totally exhausted mentally and physically worn out.

As a result, my health started to fail, I started having asthma, and I hadn’t had any symptoms in years. It was just awful. I decided perhaps it might be psychosomatic and made an appointment to see a therapist. The therapist listened to my whole tale of woe and decided I had developed PTSD. He put me on Seratonin. It evens out my behavior, so I don’t overreact to any event that might occur.

There was a peaceful lull that lasted about four months. And I thought, oh thank god, that’s over. And things can finally go back to normal. And for a while, it did. And then, late one night, I received a call from my mother’s neighbor. She told me that my mother, who was in her mid-seventies, had taken a fall and was taken in an ambulance to the hospital. Either I come and take care of her, hire someone to stay at the house with her, or put her in a nursing home. She wouldn’t be able to live on her own anymore.

So, I had to take time off from my job and go down to Florida to take care of my mother. I hadn’t been there in over a year. My boss tried to be understanding, but he told me to please come back in a week’s time, or there was going to be a big problem.

I flew to Florida to save time. It was a short flight considering how far Florida is from where I live. I had called several Home Care companies in the area where my mother lived and arranged to meet four possible home caretakers. I was sure I could handle the whole issue and be back to work in less than a week. But, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I had contacted my mother’s physician to see if it was possible for my mother to go home two days after I arrived in Florida so I would have time to interview the possible caretakers. He said, “Yes, of course. We wouldn’t be able to release her unless there was going to be a family member or a skilled caretaker in her residence. I thanked him and gave him my contact information.

I interviewed two women and a young man. I was surprised when a man showed up because I guess I never really considered a man would want to care for an older woman. And when I put some deeper thought into it, I realized that there are men who are nurses and caretakers and doctors. So, of course, there would be men who would work as caretakers.

That afternoon I waited for the first woman to show up. I hoped that she would be willing to do some housekeeping and laundry because my mother’s house looked like a bomb had hit it, literally. There were clothes, dirty towels, filthy sinks, and food that was spoiled sitting on every surface from the kitchen to her bedroom. I kid you not. It was absolutely disgusting. My first impulse when I walked through the front door was to turn and run back into my rental car and back to the airport.

I spent the first several hours cleaning the kitchen from floor to ceiling, changing the filthy sheets and bedspread on my mother’s bed, but worst of all was her bathroom. It looked like the bathtub and the shower hadn’t been clean in, well, forever. The more I saw, the quiltier I felt my mother only had me, and obviously, she hadn’t been able to depend on me. I had failed her completely. She had been living in a pigsty. I cried for the first half-hour I was there. I had to stuff tissues in my nostrils to keep the stink out. Because the smell made me want to throw up, I vowed that I would never allow this to happen to my mother again, I was going to have to get a full-time caretaker or have her move into a facility for aged people who could no longer live independently. I knew my mother would hate it, but anything was better than how she had been living up until now.

That afternoon I interviewed three people for the caretaking position, two middle-aged women and one young man named Joseph, who looked to be about twenty years old, but told me he was twenty-nine and he had amazing references and had done this kind of work since he was twenty after he had taken care of his own mother who developed early onset Alzheimers. I hired him after checking all his credentials. He said he would arrive the morning of my mother’s release from the hospital and was even willing to go and pick her up from the hospital.

All that night, I tossed and turned in the hotel bed. I kept waking up and having flashes of the condition of my mother’s house when I first saw it. At one point I started crying. I felt so ashamed of myself for not keeping in contact with my mother and being completely unaware of her circumstances. I vowed once again that I would never allow such a thing to happen again.

The next morning I slowly rolled out of the fold-out bed and stood up. I felt hungover, even though I didn’t have anything to drink. I was just exhausted from no sleep and worry. I took a quick shower, threw on my clean clothes, turned on my GPS, and headed to the hospital to pick up my Mother. Steven, the new caretaker, promised that he would be at my mother’s house and make sure everything was in order. And I believed him.

I took a deep breath, and when I arrived at the hospital, I spoke to my mother’s physician. And he assured me that, luckily, my mother was not injured physically, but was quite frail, since it appeared as if she hadn’t been eating properly. And probably skipping meals since she stated that she didn’t like eating alone. I felt a tear run down my face, and many more followed. The doctor put his arm around me. And that made me cry even more. And I kept apologizing for the state my mother was in and what had happened to her. And I was lucky she hadn’t died. He kept saying,” Now, now, you’re here now. And I know you will do everything you can to make sure nothing further happens to your mother.”

The nurse followed me into my mother’s hospital room and said, “Mrs. Taylor, your son, Jerry is here to take you home. I’m sure you are more than ready to get out of this hospital bed and back in your own bed. You have my number, or you can call your personal physician if you have any problems or if you have questions. I hope you are back to your own self asap. And with that, he turned his back and was gone. I stood there next to my mother, who I hardly recognized since she had lost so much weight. I started to cry again. I tried to gain control of myself. I wasn’t a crier, but the guilt of my mother’s condition and the condition of her home was overwhelming. My mother said in a low tone, “Please, Jerry, it’s alright, you are here now. Please, please, can you get me out of here? I hate hospitals. I was so afraid I was going to die here alone in this room. I’m so happy to see your handsome face.”

These were the kindest words that my mother ever said to me, and once again, more tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I said, “Yes, yes, let’s get you home now. I want you to know that I hired a wonderful young man to help take care of you and your house until you have fully recovered. And maybe you will decide that you would like him to continue staying with you after you feel better. But, I let you decide.

About twenty minutes later, I had my mother checked out and taken in a wheelchair out to the car that I had waiting at the curb. We had a quiet ride home to her house—neither one of us knew what to say. Finally, my mother said, “Oh, Jerry, thank you so much for coming. I love you so much and have missed you with all my heart. I’m sorry the house looks so terrible, I just haven’t had any energy to keep up with it, and maybe I didn’t care anymore. I felt so alone in that house, and I couldn’t think of a reason to go on anymore.”

When we arrived at my mother’s house, my mother said, “Yeah! We’re home. I awkwardly helped my mother to the house, and when we got up to the door, Joseph was standing there with a wheelchair and said, “All aboard.” My mother looked at me and then looked at Joseph and laughed. And Joseph easily lifted her up and placed her gently onto the wheelchair. “Here we go, hold on, Madam.” My mother said, “Oh my, two young men taking care of me, how wonderful.”

And that, my friends, was a wonderful new beginning for my mother and me and an end to the “Bad Luck.”

 

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SO APPARENTLY, IT’S BACK TO SQUARE ONE

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About a month and a half ago, I received a notice “in the mail.” It was from my husband’s lawyer. My husband had filed for divorce. We had recently celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary. To say it was a shock is the understatement of all times. I had no idea, none, that he was unhappy or discontent. He was away on a business trip, and I had expected him to come home by the end of the week. He hadn’t contacted me since he left four days ago, which wasn’t unusual. He traveled quite often. He didn’t always know exactly when he would be getting home. 

I called him on his cell phone. He didn’t pick up. There was a message saying he would be unavailable for the next several weeks. Leave your number, and he will get in touch with you.

I slowly placed the phone back, I had an impulse to slam it down hard, but I didn’t since I could already feel the beginnings of a migraine headache in the top of my head. I felt a tear run down my cheek, followed by an avalanche of tears that followed it.

I sat there frozen in place, unable to think clearly. It felt like the end of the world to me. I could not comprehend that my husband, whom I loved dearly, did not love me anymore and wanted a divorce. This is the man I had intended on spending the rest of my life all the way to our golden years.

I kept going over in my head everything that had happened between us recently. I couldn’t think of a single word or event that would have given me some warning that Howard was discontent or unhappy in our life together. But, obviously, he was, and somehow I had remained blissfully unaware of his feelings and his intentions.

It just blew my mind. And even on the evening of our twenty-fifth-anniversary party, he never let on. It almost feels as if I’m living in some alternate reality. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Do I get a lawyer, should I ask my husband if he’s willing to see a marriage counselor? I don’t know. I talked to several of my woman friends who have experienced divorce, and they all gave me the name and number of the divorce lawyers they had used. Sally, my best friend, cried along with me. And told me she would be with me every step of the way. And she was. What would we do without our woman friends?

My husband’s lawyer and my lawyer scheduled a meeting for us all to get together and discuss the details of our divorce. Who gets what etc., etc. It was brutal. My husband sat across from me and never looked me in the face. It was like he was negotiating one of his real estate contracts with a total stranger. His face was without expression, and he never made eye contact with me. He looked through me as if I was invisible to him. I was having a difficult time paying attention to what was being said. I hoped my lawyer was doing his job because I felt like I was in some other dimension.

The next thing I knew, my lawyer touched my shoulder and said, “These are the papers you have to sign. You keep the house, and the two of you will evenly divide the investments and any monies that remain in your joint bank accounts.” I stared at him and shook my head up and down a couple of times. And then he shoved the contracts in front of me and held a pen up in front of my face. Since I wasn’t reacting to what he just stated. I took the pen, and my lawyer pointed at the decree and said,” Sign, here, here, and here. It’s final. We can be on our way.”

My husband got up from his seat, shook his lawyer’s right hand, and then turned and left the room without a word said to me at all. It was almost as if I didn’t exist in his reality anymore. And I guess I didn’t. It was surreal. I tried to take it all in. I guess it was going to take a long time for me to accept my new reality, even if that reality was a complete and unbelievable nightmare.

After we had signed all the papers, the lawyers shook each other’s hands. I stood up and immediately felt dizzy. I sat down again, and my lawyer gave me a glass of water to drink. He said, “This is a difficult experience. Many people have a negative reaction to divorce. I promise you that in time you will adapt to this change. You know how to contact me if you need to for any reason.”  He shook my hand, and I think I shook his as well, but I couldn’t sware to it. I felt lightheaded. I slowly rose from the table, picked up my purse, and headed out the door and into the foyer. I didn’t even bother to look back at my husband, I mean, my former husband. I didn’t know how I would take my next breath, let alone continue on with my life like nothing happened. When I couldn’t think of a single reason to keep breathing or living. I somehow made it home safely. I don’t know how. I don’t even remember driving home.

But, one good thing did happen I decided that I was going to get a dog as soon as possible. I couldn’t bear the idea of living alone. I wasn’t ready to think about selling my house. But, it was in there at the back of my mind. Selling the house I had lived in for the past twenty years with my “husband.” And starting over, somewhere new. I had always wanted a dog. But, my husband said, “What for?” Unfortunately, we were never able to have children, and doctors were never able to diagnose the fertility problem. It just never happened for us. He didn’t want any part of adopting. And he even rejected getting a dog.

So here I am at the husk of a new life. Where I alone determine what is right for me, it has given me hope that, under my own power will make myself happy and eventually content. I will bring myself to my ultimate goal. And that is happiness and contentment. Is this too much to ask, you may say? “No, no, it is not.”

After weeks of vacillating about what I should do to turn my life around, I finally made the decision to hire a realtor and sell the house. I no longer considered it to be “my” house. It was just “a house.”

At this point, I wanted a complete change of scenery. And the night I woke up from a dream and realized that what I wanted to do was buy a house on the beach and get a dog. And spend the rest of my days in a warm climate walking my dog or perhaps dogs on the beach. At some point, I would have to find a job to help pay the bills. But, not right away, I wanted to have to accustom myself to the new home and perhaps make a friend or two.

As soon as I found “my” house, I would get myself a dog. And then my new life would begin. In the next three weeks, I spent all my time going from one house to another with my realtor, looking for that perfect home. About three weeks in, my realtor took me to a two-story home in Wildwood, NJ. And I immediately fell in love with it. I realized that it was big enough that I could rent part of the house out to make some extra money and still have plenty of room. I would live on the lower floor. Once I went to the settlement, I started hitting the local shops looking for furniture and everything else I would need. And within a month, I thought it was absolutely perfect.

The following week I took a trip to the local pound to get a puppy. There were quite a few dogs to choose from. But once I saw the little ball of fluff, I knew I had found my dog. The woman who worked at the animal shelter told me that he was actually a grown dog and he wouldn’t get any bigger. He was a must, but she wasn’t sure what kind of mix he was. As soon as I met him, I fell in love. And I knew he was the dog for me. I took him home that day. I named him Buddy because he had quickly become my best buddy. It took him a few days to become accustomed to my house. But, soon enough, he felt at home. Oh, and he absolutely loved walking on the beach and letting the waves wash over his feet at the shoreline. We were a match made in heaven.

Every day we started the day with a walk to the beach and back, and then we had a light breakfast. I had fenced in the backyard and put a doggy door in the kitchen door so he could go out back to the yard when he needed to relieve himself. He soon befriended our neighbors, who all turned out to be friendly, but not too friendly, if you know what I mean.

As a matter of fact, I began to make friends with some of my neighbors who had befriended Buddy. I started planting a garden in the front yard. And my neighbors came over to admire my handiwork. Some of them even asked me for gardening advice. I was happy to advise them, although I informed them that I, too, was a novice gardener and just learning myself.

Before I knew it, I had been living there for six months. And I couldn’t remember a time when I had felt more content and relaxed. In my free time, I decided to start writing some short stories about what was going on in my local area. And one of my neighbors suggested I send some of my stories to the local newspaper. Believe it or not, the paper said they would pay me to write stories about what was going on in the local area. And I was a little reluctant at first, but then I thought, “Why not?” 

And so, now I am a paid writer for the local newspaper. I’m not making a lot of money, but every bit helps. Who knows what I will do next? The skies are the limit.  I am quite content living in my house with my Buddy and so happy to live in a neighborhood where people care about one another. So, I guess my divorce wasn’t all bad. And who knows what good things are coming my way? I look forward to the future and what it will bring.

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