Monthly Archives: November 2023

I HAD A DREAM WHEN I WAS A KID, THAT I WOULD BECOME AN INVESTIGATOR

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For as far back as I remember, I loved going to the library. The day I was old enough to get a library card, I rushed home from school and ran through our red front door. And I begged my mother to let me go to the library and get my very own library card so that I could borrow books on my very own library card.. I finished reading my last book on Sunday afternoon, so I was really looking forward to finding a new book to read.

As I walked through the swinging doors of the library. One of my school friends was on her way out, and she said, “Hi, Terry. How are things going?” I said, “OK, I just finished reading my last Nancy Drew novel, and I wanted to find a new one. I absolutely loved mysteries. “

“Me too. My mother keeps telling me to go outside and get some fresh air. But, once I get started on a new book, I have to finish it. Or, I have trouble sleeping at night. Of course, while I’m reading a new book, I have trouble sleeping at night because I want to find out what’s going to happen.” 

“That’s weird. That’s exactly how I feel. Oh well, I better get into the library, so I have time to find a new book, and I won’t be late for dinner. I’ll talk to you later, bye.”

I walk through the doors and head towards the children’s fiction section. I wave at the librarians at the front desk. And they both wave back at me and say, “Well, we were wondering where our little bookworm, Terry, was today. LOL.”

“Oh, I was a little late getting out of school. And when I got home, my mother had made some cookies. And well, I didn’t want to miss having some because I knew my sisters would eat them all before I came home from the library.” The librarians all laughed and said, “Well, you better get busy finding a good book before they’re all taken.”

For a moment, I was terrified, and then all the librarians started laughing. And I realized that they were joking. I said, “Oh, that’s so funny. Ha, ha, ha…

I had a couple of books picked out and was looking for a third one when I looked up at the big clock on the library’s wall and realized that it was time to leave. Or I would be late for dinner. And that would make my parents mad. I decided I better check out my books and get home. Because tonight was one of the nights when I had to set the table for dinner. So, I grabbed my books and headed toward the check-out desk. All the librarians smiled at me because they told me they really loved all the bookworms. I didn’t tell them that I hated being called a bookworm because they were always nice to me when I came to the library.

I handed over my library card, which had my name on it, and the code MA236. And the tall, thin librarian asked for my books. I always thought she looked like Popeye’s girlfriend, Olive Oil. But my mother said, “Don’t call her Olive Oil. You’ll hurt her feelings.” I just said thank you, I’ll see you later after she handed me my books and my library card. I head off to the book stacks, and I begin my search for my next book is the Mystery section of the library. Even though I’m not an adult yet, the librarians know I have read all the books in the children’s sections and let me borrow adult books.

After perusing most of the mystery books, I finally found ‘the one.” It’s a mystery story about stolen jewels and a jewel thief, whose name is Larry Lawton, who apparently was a famous Jewel thief at one time. Terry took the book over to one of the tables in the adult section and began to skim the description of the book and the names of the chapters. Oh, she couldn’t wait to read. It was probably one of those books that she would read all the way through in a couple of days. It sounded so exciting. Terry took the book up to the check-out table and handed the librarian my card. She said, “Wow, I can see you are a big reader. Your library card has really had a workout.” Terry didn’t realize that the librarian was kidding. And she just said, Yeah.”

On her way home from the library, she ran into a couple of her classmates. They said in unison, “Oh, here comes the bookworm and laughed. Terry just ignored them and kept walking and then she started walking faster and then started running. By the time she arrived home, she was out of breath. When she arrived at her front door, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She never understood why kids were mean to her, especially when all she did was keep to herself and read books. Why would they care?

She made her way into their kitchen, and her mother said, “What happened to you? Why is your face all red? Were you running? Was someone chasing you again? Terry said, “No, Mom, I just decided to see how fast I could run home. That’s all.

“Well, I see you got a new book. What kind of book is it?”

“It’s a mystery, just like all the other books I read. You know, I like to figure out what is going to happen in the story by myself and then read the ending. It’s fun.”

“Terry, you are an interesting and intelligent young girl. I know you are going to do great things in your life. And you won’t let anyone or anything stand in your way. I think you are awesome.”

“Oh, Mothers always say things like that to their kids. It’s part of their job as a parent to help their children feel confident about themselves.”

“Terry, what you just said is an example of how intelligent you are. Few kids would even think to say anything like you just did. You are going to go far in life.”

Terry felt her face blush, and she said, “Oh, Mom. I guess I’m going to go into my room and read until dinner time.”

“OK, Terry, it will be at least one hour from now.”

Terry went into her room, pulled her chair next to the lamp, plopped down onto the rocking chair, and immediately opened the book. She opened the book and rocked forward on the rocking chair, and a slip of paper fluttered to the ground.

Terry didn’t notice it right away because she was already engrossed in the first chapter of the book. And the next thing she knew she heard her mother yelling up the steps that dinner was ready. Terry looked at her clock, and sure enough, it was dinner time. She reluctantly put a bookmark on the page she was reading and closed it. And then she put it on her bedside table. She was about to head down for dinner when she saw the slip of paper on the floor.

It said, “For whoever finds this note, please contact me as soon as possible. I desperately need help. Terry thought it must be some kind of prank that the last person who checked out the book must have left the note as a joke, for the next person that read the mystery book. Or maybe the librarians put the note in the book as a surprise for her. But, then she noticed at the bottom of the small note was a phone number. She decided to hide the note inside the book cover until she decided what to do about it. And she went back to reading her later mystery story. It was called, “ When the bell tolls, could it be ringing for you?”

Terry loved the title because it promised the story would be kind of scary and mysterious at the same time. Terry loved solving mysteries. She planned on being a detective when she grew up. She couldn’t think of anything she would rather do than solve mysteries and save lives. She wanted to make a difference in the world and fight evil. She knew she was a young girl, but somewhere deep inside resided the heart of a courageous heroine. And she looked forward to the day everyone else would recognize her as a true crime fighter. She truly believed that she would be a real fighter of crime and evil in the real world, as Nancy Drew was in the books Terry read.

The following day, after Terry arrived home from school, Terry remembered that her mother said she might be a little late and she would leave a snack out for her. And that she would be home in time for dinner. And sure enough, Terry found her favorite snack, Fig Newtons, and she dropped her school bag down on the kitchen floor and kicked her shoes off. Then she got a clean glass and poured herself a cold glass of milk. And retrieved her latest book from her room and sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy her snack. But, as she was sitting there it occurred to her that it was the perfect time to call the phone number from the note that dropped out of the library book she took out yesterday.

Terry decided to make the call out on the back porch, just in case her mother came home early for some reason. As she settled herself on the porch chair, she quickly called the phone number on the note. The phone rang several times, and Terry was about to give up when she heard someone say,” Hello, hello.” Terry finally got the courage to respond; she said, “Hello, my name is Terry. I found your note inside a library book that I checked out. Are you alright? Are you in trouble? Is Somebody hurting you? Do you want me to call the police? Tell me where you live.”

There was silence for several long minutes. And then Terry heard a young girl’s voice saying,” Can you meet me today at four o’clock? I need your help.

Terry took a deep breath and swallowed, and then she said, “that depends on where you are at. I will have to ride over there on my bike. Is someone trying to hurt you or won’t let you go outside? Do you want me to call the police to help you? Were you kidnapped?”

“No, I haven’t been kidnapped. I need you to come to my location to talk to me. It’s a secret location, so you can’t bring anyone else with you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. My mother has warned me to talk to strangers or go alone to a place I’ve never been before. How far are you from where I live? Do you know where I live?

“I know where you live, and I don’t live too far from you. I’ve seen you at school. I am in a different grade than you are. But I’ve seen you around. Do you want to come here or not?”

“What is this all about?”
“Terry, it is a test to see if you are ready to become an “investigator” isn’t that what you always wanted to be? We do not accept just anybody, and we have been watching you for quite a while. Only a few qualified people are invited to join. Are you interested or not?”

“Yes, I do want to be an investigator, but I’m just a kid. Did you know that?”

“Yes, of course, we have been watching you for a while. I am going to leave a note for you in your mailbox tomorrow after school. And there will be directions to my location. If you decide to participate, be there by 4:15 pm. We won’t wait passed that time. And then the voice gave Terry precise directions. Terry thought about it for several minutes and said, “OK, I’ll come tomorrow to your location. This better not be some kind of prank on me.”

“I promise this is not a prank I’ll see you tomorrow by 4:15.” And then Terry heard a dial tone. And she hung up. Terry didn’t know if she was scared or excited. She didn’t have any intention of telling her mother what she was up to. She had trouble sleeping that night. And the next day she had even more difficulty paying any attention at school. She probably failed her Math test because she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She kept thinking about what might happen the next day.

Terry all but flew home the next afternoon after school let out. She ran up to her mailbox and pulled open the door with such force that she almost broke the door off. And there it was, a note. Terry pulled out the note, and it was typed so that she couldn’t recognize any handwriting. It said, “You must arrive at the following address today by 4 PM. The address is 26 South Forklanding Rd. It is a white house with a red door. There are Holly Trees on either side of the front entrance. Go to the backyard. You will see a shed with a bell over the door. Ring the bell three times and then say your name. We will be waiting for you. Say the secret password, investigator.”

Terry followed the instructions to the letter. After she rang the bell three times, she said, “Investigator.” And then someone said, “You may come in.”

Terry’s heart was beating like a snare drum, but she stepped forward and pushed the door open. And when she looked inside she saw a whole group of kids from school huddled in there. She was afraid that this was some kind of prank that was going to backfire on her. But what happened next was a complete surprise. She heard them say, “Terry, you are now a member of the Investigator Squad. We solve all the crimes big and small that occur in our schools and our neighborhoods. You will be a great addition to our team. What say you?”

“What say me? I say yes, yes, yes. And then they all shook her hand and made her promise to keep the club and what they were doing to stop crime a secret. And Terry smiled so wide that you could almost see her tonsils. And that was the beginning of Terry’s secret life as an investigator. And who knew where that would take her in her life? She believed she would be the new investigator that would take Inspector Clouseau’s place someday in the French Sure’te.

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JUST ANOTHER BORING MORNING IN MAYBERRY

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     Monday was an ordinary day like any other. I woke up early and lay in my bed for another twenty minutes or so. And then, I finally managed to gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed and throw my legs over the side. I slowly walked over to my bedroom window and gazed out across our yard and at my neighbor’s front yard. Suddenly, I heard a weird sound, and It sounded like a high-pitched moaning.

I couldn’t see what was causing the ruckus, so I opened my window even further and hung out as far as I could. My heart was beating like a snare drum. I could hear my heartbeat wildly. I felt somewhat lightheaded, and I feared I might pass out. or accidentally fall out of my window. I felt sick to my stomach. I have a tendency to be somewhat of a drama queen. At least, that is what my mother always says about me. I am afraid of everything, including bugs, snakes, mice, and big dogs. You name it, and I’m afraid of it. 

Ever so slowly, I pulled myself back into my bedroom window and flopped down on my unmade bed. I lay there until I felt my heart beating normally, and I was breathing in and out, in and out. And my head stopped spinning. Sometimes, I have the feeling that I must be one of the most neurotic people in the world. In my mind, every little thing can become a catastrophe.

I decided to go downstairs and out my front door to see what the heck was going on. As I exited my front door, I heard one of my neighbors scream stop, stop, stop, my son is in that coach. I thought, what in the world is going on? So, against my better judgment, I ran out the door in my pajamas and across my front yard to the curb where my neighbor, Mrs. Rice, was yelling, “Stop, stop, stop. For the love of god, stop.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, “What’s going on, Mrs. Rice?” And she said, “ Oh, Jennifer, my son was sleeping in his coach, and I turned my back for a moment because I heard my husband calling me.” And when I turned back around, my baby was gone. And the car that was parked next to it was driving down the street like a maniac.

“Mrs. Rice, “call the police, call the police.” And she did. She was yelling on the phone that someone who was driving a lime green pickup truck grabbed her baby out of his coach when she turned her back for a moment. That she only looked away for a moment to pick up his bottle. That she had dropped out of the coach accidentally.

She described the man driving the vehicle. He looked middle-aged and had a balding head and a mustache. And he was smoking a big cigar. His car looked like it had seen better days. And it looked as if it had been used for target practice. It had bullet holes on it on the front hood and the back window. The car was headed toward Fork Landing Road at a high rate of speed toward Route 38. Then she told the police her address. She explained where she was standing on the sidewalk next to the street, and “Please hurry.’

I stood next to her and held her hand because she had begun crying her eyes out. And she kept saying over and over, “Oh please bring back my baby, please bring back my baby.” The police finally arrived about fifteen minutes later. One of the police cruisers came down the street and pulled up next to the curb where we were standing. What looked like a giant got out of the police car and said, “ Mrs. Rice? I’m Officer Brown. One of my officers has cited the car that you described. And no doubt he will be able to stop the car and retrieve your son as quickly and safely as possible. Please calm down.

And then he looked down at me, “Well, was that your brother that the man took? “No, I only have a little sister. She’s a pest. She’s in my house watching cartoons. I saw this Mrs. Rice out here screaming and crying, “Stop, stop, stop.” And she told me that someone had grabbed her baby. And that he drove away in a car. And I told her to “Call the police.”

“Well, that was a good thing for you to do. Otherwise, the stranger could get far, far away.”

I looked at the police officer and smiled, and I thought, maybe someday I could become a police officer and save someone’s life.

The police officer said, “Hold on I’m getting a call from the officer that is chasing the get-a-way car.”

I looked at Mrs. Rice. Her face was pale but had big blotches of red all over it. She looked as if she was going to be sick to her stomach any minute. I took her hand again. It was all sweaty, but I didn’t let go of it until I heard another officer speaking to Officer Brown on his walky-talky. At least, that’s what I think they are called. And then he hung up. And looked at Mrs. Rice right in the face and said,” Good news. The kidnapper has been apprehended, and Officer McMullen is bringing your baby back. And he is perfectly fine and slept through the whole ordeal. They’ll be here any minute.”

And then Mrs. Rice started crying again. Big tears ran down her face. I couldn’t figure out why she started crying again. But I squeezed her hand and said, “Now, now, it’s going to be alright.” My mother always says that to me when I’m upset. And for some reason, she cried even harder. The officer looked at me and said, “You did a good thing telling her to call the police and staying with her until she got her baby back.

“Oh, here comes the squad car. Everything will be alright. You will need to come to the police headquarters first thing tomorrow to make a statement. Can you do that?”

Mrs. Rice shook her head up and down, and tears continued running down her cheeks and onto her coat. A moment later, another police car turned onto our street and slowly drove next to the curb where we were all standing. After parking the police car, the officer came out of his driver’s seat. He swung open the door, and we could see a baby that was lying in a blanket with a seat belt across it. The baby woke up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Rice reached in and picked up her baby, and tears rolled down her cheeks again. But, in that exact moment, a smile appeared across her face. “Thank you, officers, for saving my baby. I will be at the police station first thing tomorrow morning. And thank you so much.

“You’re welcome mam. I’m happy that everything turned out alright. It’s good that you kept calm and that you called the police right after it happened. Mrs. Rice still had tears running down her face, but a smile was on her face. Too. She said, “Thank you again, Jennifer, you saved the day.” What? No, I didn’t do anything. I just happened to be here right after it happened. The police were the heroes. I’m glad everything turned out alright. I have to be going now, I’m going to be late. Jennifer didn’t really have any place she had to be. She just felt uncomfortable getting all that attention. She wasn’t even going to mention anything to her Mom. She would make a big deal about it even though she knew that Jennifer didn’t like to be the center of attention.

Jennifer was about to head home when she saw what appeared to be a small dog or puppy running out into the street. Jennifer looked toward the house where the dog came from and didn’t see anybody outside looking for the puppy. But, the door was wide open. For a moment, she considered continuing on her way. But then she saw a car coming down the street in the direction of the puppy. So, she ran as fast as she could, grabbed the puppy, and ran out of the street to the sidewalk. She was slightly out of breath, and the puppy was whining and squirming in her arms. And she almost dropped him. “Good grief, puppy,  hold still. I’ll take you back home where you’ll be safe.

So Jennifer carried the puppy back to the house that the puppy came out of and yelled into the front door of the house that the puppy came out of a few moments ago. “Hello, hello, is anyone home? I found your puppy running across the street. And then she yelled as loud as she could,” HELLO, HELLO, ANYBODY HOME?”

After what seemed a long, long time, she saw an old lady walk towards her from the back of the house. She said, “Can I help you, young lady?”

Jennifer said, “I was across the street, and your puppy ran outside into the street because the front door was wide open. So, I grabbed her and brought her back here. The old woman said,” Oh my, thank you so much. I must have forgotten to close the door after I got my mail. Sometimes I get forgetful. Thank you so much. I am puppy-sitting this week for my granddaughter. She went on vacation with some friends of hers. She is supposed to come back today. Oh, she would have been so upset if something happened to Arnold. Jennifer stared at the woman and said, “Oh? Whose Arnold?” That’s the dog’s name, Arnold. Thanks so much. Would you like to come in and have a piece of cake? I just took it out of the oven. That’s why I was preoccupied. And I’ll give you a big, cold glass of milk. What do you say?”

“Well, I would love that, but I’m not supposed to go into strangers’ houses.”

“Of course, you’re not. How thoughtless of me. How about I cut you a piece, and you can take it home with you and eat it after you eat lunch?”
“Yes, I would love that. I hope it’s a chocolate cake. That’s my favorite.”

“It is chocolate cake. This is your lucky day. Wait here. I’ll take the puppy and be right back. I’m going to put him in the front bedroom for a little while. Maybe he’ll take a nap. He has way too much energy for me to keep up with him. A couple of minutes later, the old woman slowly returned to her front door. I’m sorry for being so rude. I didn’t even ask what your name is.

“Oh, that’s OK. My name is Jennifer. I live down the street. I’m going to save this cake for after lunch because my mother doesn’t like me to eat sweets until after lunch. It looks delicious, and chocolate is my favorite.”

“Well, Jennifer, thank you for saving the puppy. Please feel free to stop by for a visit anytime. I would love to have you visit once in a while.”

“ Really, I would like to visit sometime too. I hardly ever see my grandmom.” Jennifer continued her walk down the street, wondering what was going to happen next. She couldn’t wait until dinner to tell her family about all her adventures today. In fact, every day, something interesting or exciting happens to Jennifer. And she would come home at lunch or dinner and share her exciting experiences. But nobody in her family believed her stories. They thought she just had an active imagination. But Jennifer didn’t make things up. She was sure her family wouldn’t believe her this time either.

Sure enough, when Jennifer’s mother called her to come home for dinner, and after everyone sat down to eat, Jennifer began telling of her adventures that day and how she was a heroine. But, once again, no one believed her. That is until the next day when their local newspaper arrived early that morning. And on the first page of the World News and Daily Report, which was the name of their local small-town newspaper. There was a story on the first page relating to Jennifer’s experiences helping save the baby and the puppy.

Jennifer’s family was flabbergasted. But they all stood up and clapped for her heroism. And Jennifer was so happy and proud that she almost started crying. Her mother gave her a big hug and said, “You’re a hero. We are so proud of you. Jennifer blushed and bowed and said, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” her family all grew as one, and then they laughed when the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, first of all, I saw an eight-foot-tall man getting an icecream at the Custard Stand and then I saw an old man riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
Her whole family laughed, and then they clapped. One thing is for sure: there was never a dull moment in their house when Jennifer was around. And they all gave her a big hug.

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LOVEY

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Lovey is exhausted and anxious. She’s been cooped up in the hot, dirty van for almost two days. Her legs are restless; she’s so thirsty that she begins to tremble. She trumpets her fear, and discomfort for all to hear if anyone bothers to listen. She’s angry. She hasn’t felt anything for a long time, but she feels red-hot anger now. She rocks back and forth hitting the sides of the van so violently that the van sways and rocks with her.

The driver of the van yells, “Stop Lovey, stop” to no avail. He calls his boss on his cell phone. “You have to stop, so I can let Lovey out, or she’s going to cause herself and the van untold damage.” The owner agrees to stop in the next empty lot he sees. And stay for the night, take care of the animals, and let everyone rest before their next performance.

The last caravan pulls into the deserted parking lot well past midnight. Time and the sun have faded the painting of the bearded lady on the side of the van. But you can still clearly see her glamorous figure clad in a red, white and blue ballerina tutu. Her glorious red beard is there for all to admire.

They had driven almost six hundred miles in the last two days. Everyone in the Three Ringed Circus is extremely tired, hot and sweaty. It was getting harder and harder to find new venues. The public wants to see the glamour and amazing feats of courage and flying acrobats, doing death-defying acts. They want their animals wild, but safe, looking healthy and happy.

But they weren’t getting that from Three-Ring Circus. It’s on the last leg of a journey that began its’ history in the early 1950s. Most of the famous performers have retired or moved on, or just disappeared from sight altogether.

When Gaucho pulls open the sliding doors to the van, Lovey trumpets as loud as she can. The only thing keeping her in the van is the shackles on her ankles. Gaucho has the bullock in his hand and shows it to Lovey. Usually, this is enough to calm her down.

She knows from many years of experience that if it slaps against her sensitive skin, it will sting for a very long time and might well cut her. If the cut becomes infected the circus doesn’t have a veterinarian on staff. And certainly, the little towns that they frequent don’t have a wild animal vet. She would be a very sick elephant and might die from a simple injury.

The circus often only had outdated medications and no money to spend on the care that these animals need. In the wild elephants often walk up to fifty miles a day across the savanna and live as long as fifty years. Animals kept in circuses even the famous, moneyed ones lived an average of twelve years.

Gaucho steps back, he knows this animal has great power and weight behind her, but he’s never seen her like this. He has been her trainer for five years. He knows from talking to the other carnies that Lovey and has been with the circus for a long time.

And that at one time, she had a mate, named Ganesha a huge elephant from India. He had sickened and died before a large animal vet could be found. Lovey had been very attached to him and mourned his death for many years. He was told that she was never the same after his death.

She had refused to perform and sometimes refused to eat or drink. She has a big heart, and it had been broken by the loss of her mate. Elephants are herd animals, and she was here alone with no other elephants. She was near animals that would have been a threat to her if she were still living in the wild. Her life with the circus was unnatural and very stressful for her and all the other wild creatures that are captive here.

Gaucho walks over to the supply truck and pulls out a wagon that contains water. Luckily, they had filled all the containers on their last stop. He grabs a bucket and puts it in the wagon. He pulls down the ramp and hurriedly pulls the wagon down the ramp, and over to the terrified, and terrifying Lovey.

He carefully slides the bucket next to her and fills it with water. Lovey’s about to kick the bucket away then she realizes it’s water. She puts her trunk down into the bucket and sprays the water across her back and then again into the bucket and quenches her thirst.

She feels momentarily relieved and quiets. Gaucho slowly and carefully unchains her ankles. By this time many of the circus performers and all of the grunts are standing behind Gaucho. “Stay back, fools, get away from here while I take care of Lovey. Unless you want to be pummeled into the earth.”

Gaucho waits for a few moments then gives Lovey the trunk-up signal. Lovey becomes enraged and begins trumpeting loudly and stamps her feet. There’s a look of fire in her eyes and it’s at that moment that Gaucho knows to get the hell out of the way and shouts.” Run, run.”

He follows his own good advice just in time, Lovey charges out of the van and begins running, running for her life. In her mind, she sees before her the golden savanna grasses being blown by the soft breeze and the cool water of the elephant water hole of her youth in the distance.

She’s determined to reach it at any cost. She will run down anything that tries to prevent her from arriving there. She’s saving her life. Her instinct for self-preservation kicks in and she runs full tilt, there’s no stopping her. Everyone who has been watching her now disappears into the wind, not wanting to be trampled by this behemoth that has lost her mind.

Someone has called the coffer and he arrives just in time to see the elephant charging his jeep. He quickly reaches behind him to get his rifle and aims it at her head and pulls the trigger, and then again for good measure. Lovey keeps moving momentarily before the message gets to her brain that she’s dead. And then she drops to the ground, finally free, free to travel to the land of her birth, among her tribe. She sees her beloved Ganesha, she feels love fill her huge heart, and then peace.

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SOMETIMES TO LIVE IS AN ACT OF COURAGE

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I have to admit I have a unique personality—one which many people take an immediate dislike. What, you may ask, is the problem? Am I hideous, racist, stupid? Or any of a million other negative personality traits I could have?

At first blush, I appear to be a self-confident, intelligent, normal-looking person. But, after meeting me for the first time, you may have thought, wow, she is really a cool, intelligent person. Not only that, she has an amazing sense of humor.

But then, after spending some time with me, you start to notice some odd quirks. I overreact to ordinary events. For instance, one day, we were out walking in the park. It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. There was even a light breeze. It was early in the morning, and the only people in the park were older people, most of whom looked old enough to be my grandparents. They often said good morning and said, “What a beautiful day.”

Outwardly, I appear to be a friendly and confident person. But as you well know, things aren’t always the way they appear at first blush, so to speak. I do not like talking to strangers. I’m not all that comfortable talking to people I’ve known for years. I’m terrified that if I talk too much, I will reveal who I really am. And that will be the end of our somewhat tenuous friendship. You will realize exactly who and what I am.

And here’s the god’s honest truth: I am without a doubt the most phobic, fearful, anxiety-ridden person that you ever had or ever will meet. Let me explain how this came to pass. It all began one day when I was quite young. I believe I had just turned ten years old. My family lived in a small row home in North East Philadelphia.  One time in the late evening, one of my neighbors had a fire that started in her kitchen. Apparently, she had left the gas stove on and a pan sitting on top of the burner that had oil in it. She had fried some potatoes for dinner that night.

Anyway, at some point, she decided to lie down on the living couch and take a nap. She had a tall glass of wine with her dinner. The wine had a tendency to make her sleepy. And within ten minutes, she had fallen fast asleep. One of her neighbors smelled something burning. She rushed over to her next-door neighbor’s house and banged on the front door. No one answered. She tried to break the door down to no avail. She grabbed her cell phone, dialed 911, and told the operator to send the fire department.

By the time the fire company and the police arrived, most of the neighbors who lived in the apartment building and were at home managed to get out of the building. And warn all of their neighbors about the fire. Unfortunately, not everyone made it out safely. The neighbor who had inadvertently started the fire had died from smoke inhalation. I was standing outside along with my family when my neighbor who started the fire was brought out on a stretcher. She was covered from head to toe with a white sheet.

I looked at my mother, and I could see tears running down her cheek. I grabbed my mother’s hand and said, “Mommy, is Gammy alright?” That’s what I called her, Gammy, because I didn’t have a grandmother, and Gammy had asked if she could be my grandmom since she didn’t have any grandchildren of her own. At least once a day, I would go over to her house to talk to her, and sometimes, my mom would give me some cookies or cake to share with her.

Gammy would give me some cold milk, and she would drink green tea., We would keep eating until all the cookies or cake were eaten up. Gammy told me stories about her childhood. She grew up on a farm in New Jersey a long, long time ago. Her family raised peach trees and blueberries. And sometimes pumpkins and corn in the Fall. I loved hearing her stories. It sounded like she had such fun on her farm. She used to help by feeding the chickens and the cows. I asked her if she could take me with her to visit the farm. And I saw tears in her eyes. And she said, “I’m sorry, I can’t. My family’s farm isn’t there anymore. There are apartments there now.” I could tell she was still sad about it. So, I took her hand and held it, and she hugged me tight.

Some of her stories were about the animals on her farm, and I loved to hear about them. I wanted to have a dog or a cat so bad. But my mother said, “We are not allowed to have pets in this apartment building. So, that was that. Even when I begged just to get a pet hamster, she said,” No, they will stink the place up, and people will complain about the smell, and we’ll get thrown out.” And that was the end of that conversation.

The next day, my mother called the hospital where Grammy was taken yesterday and was told, “I’m sorry she didn’t make it. She inhaled too much smoke and passed away during the night.” My mother didn’t tell me what happened right away. Even though I kept asking her over and over if we could go to the hospital and see Grammy. And finally, the next day, my mom held my hand and said, “I’m sorry, Kimmy, Grammy passed away last night. Try to remember that she lived a long and happy life. I’m sure she will be looking down from heaven and watching over you.

I stared at my mother for a long, long time, and then I started crying and whaling like I lost my best friend. Because that is exactly what happened. I had lost my best and only friend. And that was the beginning of me being afraid of every little thing. Because I never knew when or what would happen. And something could steal my mother away. And I didn’t think I could bear that.

I missed Grammy for a long, long time. I didn’t talk about her anymore, but I thought about her every day for years. I became afraid to make new friends because I couldn’t imagine ever losing my best new friend again. I just couldn’t take it. From there on out, I felt so alone in the world. And I watched over my mother like a hawk. I followed her everywhere she went up until I started school. All day in school, I was afraid that the principal would come and tell me something terrible happened to my mom. I felt sick all the time with fear.

The more fearful I became, the quieter I became. I started biting my fingernails and pulling my eyelashes out. I was afraid to answer the phone for fear of bad news. I wouldn’t look at the mail for the same reason. The bad news was all I thought about. I wouldn’t talk to strangers at first, and then I stopped talking to other kids in my school, including my friends. I decided it was easier not to have friends and family. Then, I could avoid their loss.

At one point, the school counselor contacted my family. So they could discuss my behavior. My parents thought I was acting out in class. They hadn’t realized how withdrawn I had become. I couldn’t help but believe that they didn’t care about me anymore. They should have noticed how thin I had become and how little I ate, but they didn’t. And things only got worse from that point forward. I develop twitches and tics. Kids at school started making fun of me all the time. Which only made me even more upset and obsessed.

Every morning, it took me a long, long time to get ready to go to school. I had to go through a whole series of behaviors before I could go out the front door. And then, once I did go out the front door, I had to hop, skip, and jump all the way. I didn’t know why I was doing all of this. I just knew I had to, or something terrible would happen to someone I loved. And I could not tolerate another loss.

By that time, my parents realized I was in a bad way. Every time they noticed me behaving strangely, they would sternly say, “Stop doing that now. That’s enough.” Of course, their lack of understanding and their negative reaction toward my tics just made it worse. I didn’t want to attend school anymore. All the kids made fun of me all day long, from the time I got on the bus to go to school and throughout the school day. It wasn’t just my schoolmates. All the kids from kindergarten up. I felt like I was running a gauntlet from the bus ride all through the day and then again on the bus ride home.

My parents took me to one therapist after another. None of them were able to help me. Because I wasn’t able to tell them why I was acting the way I was. I didn’t really understand what was happening to me either. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like the tics were taking over my body and my life. I was always depressed. I didn’t know how to be happy again. This particular doctor believed in talk therapy. He kept asking me how I was feeling today. What are you thinking about? It will help you to express your fears with me.

After many years, I went to the therapist, and I made slow progress in returning to acting like a “normal” person. I was able to finish school and get a job. I had difficulty keeping jobs even though I was intelligent and learned quickly. The main problem was my inability to interact with people and hold up my end of the conversation. My employers decided it would be best if I worked alone in one of the back offices. I was able to do any job they asked me to do up until I had to talk to people. Although, I had no problems talking on the phone or by correspondence. I did well. In fact, I excelled at any task they set before me.

I could have moved up in the corporation, except for my inability to interact directly with customers. Then there were my personal problems, in that I had great difficulty making and keeping friends. I was living a lonely and isolated life. And then, one day, it all changed. The company hired an employee, and they told me that he was going to work with me. I freaked out. I started feeling overwhelmed and terrified. I thought for sure I was going to lose my job as soon as this person started working with me.

As it turned out, it was a young man about my age. Just an ordinary guy. Someone you wouldn’t notice on the street. He wasn’t particularly good-looking or ugly. As soon as he walked into my office, he came over and introduced himself. He tried to shake my hand. I tried to pull it away. He held onto it for a couple of minutes. He said, “My name is Henry Fitzpatrick. I’m going to be working with you from now on. I’ve heard great things about you. I think I will learn a great deal from one another.’

I looked at him for a moment and then looked away. I started twitching and blinking my eyes rapidly. He continued talking to me as if nothing unusual was happening. He kept up his quiet dialogue. He never mentioned that I was acting weirdly. I started to relax. After a few weeks of working with him, I felt more at peace with myself than I ever had. One day, he asked me if I would like to go out to lunch with him. I said, ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m not very good in public situations. I don’t really feel comfortable in the public. I start twitching. “ I know all about that, and I think you will do fine. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking. Just try to relax and have a nice lunch. I would really enjoy going out with you.”

When it was time to go out to lunch, I started feeling nervous. But he took my hand and said, “How about we walk to the restaurant? It’s just down the street.” He kept up a quiet dialogue the whole time. In fact, he managed to eat his lunch and still talk. He told me some interesting stories about his childhood. I sat there eating my tuna salad sandwich and listened to him. He had a calming demeanor, and I listened to him quietly at first. And then I asked him a question or two, and before I knew it, we finished our lunch, and we were on the way back to our office. He looked over at me when we were within a few feet of our office building and said,” I had a great time. How about we go out to dinner sometime soon?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Of course you do. It will be fine. And we can go out to a movie after if you like. What do you say?”

I looked at him, and I thought, “Why not?” And that is exactly what we did. And the next time, he asked me to come to his house for dinner. He said I’m a great cook. How do you feel about Italian food?” I said, “ I love Italian food.”

Now, I’m not saying that from that point forward, I acted like a normal person. But I was a whole lot calmer, and I tried not to focus on my own behavior when I was interacting with other people. I focused on what they were saying instead. And over time, my tics all but disappeared unless I got upset. And now, my co-worker and I are the best of friends, and I think I may be falling in love for the first time. Life has never been better. And the best thing that has happened is that I have begun to feel more comfortable in my own skin, and I feel confident. I don’t know what is going to happen between Joe, my co-worker, and me, but I look forward to a happy life no matter what happens.

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LIFE ISN’T ALWAYS A BED OF ROSES

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Did you ever hear the expression that life is not always a bed of roses? Well, I did throughout most of my childhood. Anytime that I complained about something, it didn’t matter what it was, my father would say, “Life is not a bed of roses, so you better get used to it.”

Somehow, I never felt that this was helpful advice. Obviously, I already knew that life was not a bed of roses since I had already encountered many obstacles in my way. Often, I had the impulse to respond to my father. “Dad, a bed of roses is full of thorns, so isn’t it what life is about? Beauty with hidden dangers?”

Camden, NJ

But I never said that because my father did not like anyone expressing an opinion that was oppositional to his point of view. In fact, woe to anyone who had the nerve or the temerity to argue with my father about anything. His response would be how would you like a Fat Lip? One day, I said, “No thanks, no fat lip for me today.” That was a mistake because he sat up straight and leaned forward as if he were going to grab me by the neck. And that was my cue, to say I said, “I’m finished, I’m going out for a bike ride.” Then, I took off on my bike ride until I knew my father would have left for work. He worked the second shift and didn’t get home until after midnight.

Time went by as time does, and I eventually grew up and decided to move out on my own. My parents were not happy. But I was over twenty-one and earning my own living, and I didn’t have to live at home anymore. One of the lessons I learned when I started working full-time was that although my father wasn’t telling me what to do, my boss was filling in for him. Although he cared about me one way or the other, he was looking out for his business and how well I fulfilled my job.

One of my first jobs was working at a high-risk auto insurance company. There were two bosses, they were brothers, Harry and Evie Ellis. I have to say they weren’t good role models. They came from a wealthy family and, didn’t feel any real ambition and didn’t need to work. There were three young women working in the office. And if truth be told, we did all the work.

The brothers went out for breakfast and lunch. Sometimes, they invited us along, too. I have to admit I loved going out for breakfast and sometimes lunch as well. One of the brothers was married and had children, but he had a girlfriend on the side. And several days a week, he would take off from work and visit her for most of the afternoon. He was quite open about it. I had never experienced any older adult telling me about their sex life. And if I knew that what was good for me, I should keep my mouth shut. But I have to admit I disapproved of what he was doing. But it didn’t bother me that much. I didn’t think it was any of my business. This wasn’t surprising, considering I spent twelve years in Catholic School. And didn’t have a great deal of life experience up to that time.

It was an interesting place to work for several reasons. The first, of course, was the brothers, and the second reason was that because the Insurance Company sold only high-risk auto insurance, I met a great many people that I had never interacted with before. After twelve years of Catholic School, where my interactions with people were highly scrutinized and controlled, I found it refreshing to meet people who grew up in different neighborhoods than I did and who had different views of life than I did. I experienced a broadening of my life experiences. And I learned that regardless of how much money people had or how little money people had, they were still human beings. Who had their own experiences and beliefs that were just as valid as my own. It opened my mind up and allowed me to think in a more global mindset.

I realized that for these people, life had never been a rose garden. They had to struggle to survive from the get-go. Their families were living in poverty. They didn’t always have the money or the means to survive from one day to the next, let alone be able to afford luxuries in their lives. And it was not long before I had the opportunity to find out what real struggle was about.

After working at 101 Haddon Avenue Corporation for several years, I decided to try something different. I always wanted to help people in some way. So, I found a job that fit the criteria for the kind of work I was looking for at that time.

I applied to and was interviewed for a job in Camden, NJ. It was a non-profit called The Center for Family Services. The office that I worked in was at the Antioch Church on Ferry Avenue in Camden, NJ. They were partnering with Big Brothers and Big Sister and five of the churches in Camden. I would be the contact person who would go out to the at-risk children’s homes who had a parent or parents who were incarcerated in prison and match the children up with volunteers from the five churches. In addition, I visited all the prisons in New Jersey and the Philadelphia, PA area. And spoke to the female prisoners who were from Camden and were interested in having a Big Brother or Big Sister matched with their children.

At first, I was somewhat concerned for my safety going into some of the worst neighborhoods in Camden, but as it turned out, I never had any difficulty with the families or in the low-income areas in Camden. The families and the neighbors were always welcoming and friendly. The children looked forward to having the opportunity to go out with mentors, have fun, and participate in different activities in the area.

St. Mary of the Angels Academy in Haddonfield, NJ

My own experience growing up was in a middle-class neighborhood in South Jersey. It was located two houses down from the Catholic Church and the Catholic Elementary School that I attended for eight years. When I went to Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield for four years. So, my experiences up until then did not include going into high-risk areas with gang activity, murders, or drugs. At first, I was somewhat trepidacious going into the Camden neighborhoods. But as I became more familiar with the neighborhoods and the people, I felt more at ease. I always treated everyone I met with respect. And they treated me the same way. Regardless of their economic level, these parents wanted the best for their children. And did the best they could with their limited resources.

Working at the Center of Family Service was a valuable experience for me, and I learned a great deal from it. I learned that all people, regardless of their race, ethnicity, religious affiliation, or their economic standing, want the best for their children and community. And in general, people attempt to do their best in their lives.

But, sometimes, there are so many barriers in their way that it is almost impossible at times to move forward. Sometimes,  people need assistance. People who have been fortunate and whose families had more resources have to step up and step out of their comfort zones. And lend a helping hand to those who are struggling from one day to the next.

And I have made every effort in my life to assist people I met along the way. It has been a long time since I worked for the Ellis brothers’ company and the non-profits I worked for after Center for Family Services. I learned a great deal through these experiences and the people I met over the years. And I am a better person because of it.

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