Monthly Archives: January 2024

WITHOUT CHALLENGES YOUR LIFE IS AT A STANDSTILL

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It appeared to be an ordinary day, much unlike any other work day. I was sitting on the bench at the bus stop, waiting for my bus to Philadelphia to arrive. And it was late, really late. As far back as I can remember, that bus had never been late. I was getting nervous, I absolutely abhor being late. It just set my day off to a bad start. I began pacing up and down, looking for the bus. I thought I might go out of my mind. I hate being late for anything, let alone being late for a job I just started the previous day.  

And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was extraordinarily cold outside. There was a cold, almost frigid wind blowing, and the rain that had been steadily falling began to become hale and sleet. Everyone standing on the corner waiting for the bus let out a moan, seemingly all at once.

I heard one woman say,’ What’s next? Why does everything bad always happen to me?” I stared at her hard and said,” It’s not just happening to you. It’s happening to all of us.” She looked at me, and if looks could kill, I would be dead right now. I stared back at her. She looked away while mumbling curse words under her breath. I stood there thinking, good lord, if this is the way this day is starting, what will the rest of the day be like?

And just as I was considering going back home and calling out for work that day, I heard the woman say, “Well, it’s about damm time.” And then everyone clapped. Loudly. You would have thought they won the lottery. But no, it was just the 407 Bus that runs from Main Street in Maple Shade to Philadelphia. And we all let out a sigh of relief.

As the bus pulled over to the curb, it drove through the muck and cold water that had collected there. And low and behold, we all got a filthy, freezing cold shower. We looked at each other, and then almost as one, we sighed and got in line to board the bus. We were frozen, wet, and filthy. From head to toe. What better way to start the day, I thought. And I let out a sigh and found a relatively dry seat behind the bus driver. The bus driver was cursing under his breath. I guess he wasn’t too thrilled with all the wet, miserable, and grouchy passengers he was going to have to deal with that day.

As I sat there wet and miserable, I kept telling myself, Oh, things will get better; don’t lose hope, things will work out alright, don’t worry. This is what I tell myself every time something goes wrong first thing in the morning. It’s like I’m my own cheerleader or something. I try to be optimistic about life, but sometimes I get overwhelmed and depressed. Life is not a bowl of cherries. It is more like a bowl of jello.

Ben Franklin Bridge Philadelphia/ New Jersey

As we headed towards the Ben Franklin Bridge, I couldn’t help but notice that the traffic was slowing down to almost a snail’s pace. And that is when I noticed that the bridge was up, but I didn’t see any ships passing under the bridge at all. I wondered what the problem was. I heard the bus driver, and he was saying, “OK, folks, it looks like there’s going to be some delay on the bridge. It probably has something to do with the ice storm. So, everybody needs to settle down and calm down. There isn’t anything we can do but wait.”

At just that moment, a man who was somewhat rotund and was wearing a really worn-out-looking winter coat walked up to the driver and said, “I want to get out. I can’t sit here all day and wait. I have to get to work on time, or I’m going to lose my job.”

The bus driver looks at the man and says,” Look buddy, the bridge is all iced up, and not only that the bridge is iced up and even if the bridge were down, I wouldn’t recommend you getting out of the bus and walking across the bridge in this kind of weather. It’s virtual suicide. So, please sit down, try to keep warm, and accept what’s happening. There’s no point in going off the deep end, literally because you’re going to get seriously injured or worse. Return to your seat, now.”

The man looked at the driver as if he wanted to kill him, and then he looked out the front window of the bus and said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” And he returned to his seat, looking as if he had lost all hope.

Everyone on the bus looked at each other, and then there was a moment of silence and a loud sigh of acceptance from everyone on the bus who had accepted that this day they were going to be late for work and there was nothing they could do about it. And then one middle-aged guy said loudly, “Well, hell, when I was a kid, the snow would sometimes get three feet deep, and I would stay out all day until dinner time. And here I am, stuck on a bridge over the Walt Whitman Bridge because of a little snow. “And then a young guy in the front says, “Well, if you feel like swimming across the Delaware bridge in this freezing rain and snow, then go ahead. Otherwise, sit the hell down and stop moaning. Nobody, but nobody is going to get to work on time today. We should have all stayed home.” 

Everyone looked at one another, and then one guy said, “Well, I grew up in Pennsylvania in the 1950s. And I can vouch for the fact that back then, we got a hell of a lot more snow. That snow storm became known as “The Great Appalachian Storm of 1950,” the snow storm blanketed areas from western Pennsylvania southward deep into West Virginia with over 30 inches of snow. Several areas got more than 50 inches of snow, and in West Virginia, I remember my grandparents told us they got an unbelievable staggering 62 inches. So, we shouldn’t complain, Who knows what’s going to happen with this Climate Change. And that is when everyone on the bus started discussing Climate Chage. Some people didn’t believe in it at all, and other people explained in great detail exactly what was happening and what might happen in the future.

And just about that time, I heard the bus driver say,” OK folk, everybody go back to their seats and sit down. The bridge is closing, so it looks like we can be on our merry way; a little late is better than not at all. About twenty minutes later, we were on the other side of the bridge and only a few minutes away from downtown Philly as passengers began disembarking from the bus. Almost everyone was in a better mood and said thank you to our bus driver and waved to their fellow travelers as they stepped down from the bus.

I’m sure in the future, all the people who rode to work on this particular snow day will have tall tales to tell their children and grandchildren. We all arrived safely at our bus stop and hoped the ride home would be without any problems. We each stepped carefully down the steps and on our merry yet slippery way to our jobs.

As for myself, I felt a little lighter as I stepped down the bus steps. I know I will remember this experience for a long, long time. It would be a story that, no doubt, over the years, would grow and grow until it was unrecognizable. I let out a sigh as I stepped onto the sidewalk and hoped that my ride home would be a safe one. But who knows what challenges will come our way in the future? We have to take one step at a time, one day at a time.

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MEMOIRS OF A BABY BOOMER AND CATHOLIC SCHOOL

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Memoirs of a Baby Boomer and Catholic School

Dear Write On Followers,

For the next several weeks, I will be sharing some of the memoirs from my journals that I have kept over the many years of my life. I hope you will find them interesting to read. I am not and have never been a famous person. However, I do believe that I have led an interesting life, and I hope you will enjoy hearing about it. I have come to a point in my life when I have more years behind me than ahead. Last May, I turned seventy-two years old.

I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, but true nonetheless. {lol} And believe it or not, I’m still a highly active person. I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary called Animal Edventure in Coats, NC, for almost nine years, three mornings a week. I take care of parrots and pheasants. I have come to love every single one of them, even the ones that have delivered a bite every now and then.

In addition, I worked in the courts for the Guardian Ad Litem, representing at-risk kids for the first year we lived here in NC. It turned out it wasn’t a good fit for me, but it was an exciting and enlightening experience for me as a person to see the inner workings of the family court. And the dynamics of the family lives of children who lived under challenging conditions with families who were having serious difficulties.

In addition, I started this blog, Write On, seven years ago. Seven years, how time flies by. It’s hard to believe that I have reached this age, but it’s true nonetheless. I consider it a blessing because at one point in my life in 2007 I was I was told that I had a twenty-five percent chance to survive five more years. I was fifty-six at the time. I was diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. The left side of my heart was enlarged. But here I am, still alive and kicking at seventy-two—the magic of modern medicine. I have always had a stubborn streak and don’t give up easily. 

So, let us begin on my journey through life. I had a quiet early childhood. We were an Irish-American family living in Maple Shade, New Jersey, which is a small town about a half-hour bus ride from Philadelphia, PA. Where my parents originated. My father grew up at Gerard College, which was a facility that was devoted to the care of boys who only had one parent. My father’s mother was alive, but his father died early in my father’s life. His mother was a strong woman who worked as a seamstress. She saw her only son once a year at Christmas. Until he was discharged from Gerard College at sixteen and found employment with the PTC bus company, he started out as a driver and eventually, through his mother’s persistence, got an office job. He became the main dispatcher and spent the next forty years working there until he retired at sixty-two. He developed the accounting system that is still used to this day. My father passed away in 1986. He worked the four to twelve shift. And sometimes the twelve to eight AM shift. He slept during the day, and we had to keep the noise down unless we wanted to suffer waking “the old Bear.” The old bear was my father’s nickname.

I had four other older siblings and a fraternal twin. My brother was nineteen years older than me, and my oldest sister was fifteen years older than I was. My other two sisters were seven and eight years older. Our house was not big. There were four bedrooms. My twin and I shared the same bed until my older siblings grew up and moved out. We lived two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church and School. I have to admit that most of my childhood memories involve going to Catholic School for twelve years and going to church on Sundays.

And all the fun I had living in a small town with a whole lot of children to play with after school and on Summer vacations. And the unbelievable freedom we (the baby boomers} had as children. During the Summer we were allowed to go and do whatever we wanted as long as we were home in time for dinner and as soon as it got dark at night during the summer.

My earliest memories began with my first day of school at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary. St. Joseph’s nuns taught me for eight years. I had never seen a nun before I started school. I found them to look and be terrifying. They wore long black habits, and their heads, foreheads, and chins were covered as well. They seemed completely abnormal to me. In addition, they had these vast rosaries that hung from their waists almost to the bottom of their habits. Habits was the name of the “dresses” they wore. When the sisters walked, their long skirts would move with them, and the long rosaries around their waists would swing back and forth. I had St. Joseph nuns for eight years in elementary school. They were strict in every way possible. They had to be because of the overcrowded classrooms.

The Catholic church and the priests dominated my memories of elementary school and, of course, the “Sisters” that taught me for eight years. There were sometimes fifty or sixty students in each classroom. Sometimes, there weren’t enough seats for everyone, and kids had to sit on windowsills. Sometimes, we had to share books and supplies. The overcrowding of classrooms was a result of the “Baby Boomer” Generation. There were approximately 76 Million baby boomers born between 1946 and 1964.

They were strict and if a student was acting out or fooling around they would be punished, students could be put in the corner for the day, or have their knuckles hit with a metal edged ruler, or kept after school. One time, I was caught chewing gum in class and was forced to stand in front of the class with the gum stuck on my forehead. I was not allowed to sit down for the rest of the day. I kept raising my hand because I had to go to the bathroom. But I was ignored. And then I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I peed on the floor in front of the whole class. Who laughed at me. The teacher yelled at me.

Of course, not all my school memories were unhappy ones. I had a great many friends in school. Though I never belonged to the “popular group.” I was friends with the smart kids, and I was the comic relief because I was always telling funny stories and making my friends laugh.

And then I graduated from eighth grade. I had to take an entrance test to go to a Catholic High School. I did well on the test and was accepted at both Holy Cross High School and St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy. It was an all-girl school in Haddonfield, NJ, which was nothing short of a miracle since I did not prepare myself for the test in any way. My parents decided to send me to St. Mary of The Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield, NJ. It was an all-girls school. And many of the students were from wealthy families who lived in Haddonfield. I, of course, was not from a wealthy family.

In any case, the “nuns” certainly instilled a sense of discipline and didn’t allow students to be lazy. They kept us busy all day and gave us plenty of homework to keep us busy after school. They used to say,” Idle hands were the devil’s workshop.”

In fact, even during school holidays and summer vacations, my sister and I were kept busy. There was no escape from them. Karen had to iron, and I had to clean their storage room, where they kept all their dry goods.

As I look back on my childhood, I have to say it was not a perfect childhood. But who among us had that? My parents loved me and my siblings and provided for us in every way they could. I have to say that my parents rarely showed affection towards one another or to me or my sisters and my brother. But, it was clear to me and the rest of my siblings that my parent loved every one of us. Since, they worked night and day to provide for us in every way possible.

In any case, the nuns certainly did instill a sense of discipline and didn’t allow students to be lazy. They really put the fear of god and the devil in us. They believed that “idle hands were the devil’s workshop.”They kept us busy all day. And they gave us plenty of homework to keep us busy at home after school. My mother made sure that after school, we went outside and played with our friends. And after dinner, my mother would help me with my homework.

It took me years to overcome all the inhibitions they pounded into me. Looking back, it’s difficult to ascertain whether I had a good childhood or not. Certainly, it wasn’t perfect. My parents loved me in their own way. However, I was rarely on the receiving end of a hug or kiss. My parents were not demonstrative people. My father because he grew up in an orphanage, and my mother because she spent her childhood caring for her own mother, who was bed-bound with Lew Gerrigs’ Disease. In addition, my mother was expected to care for all her brothers.

Neither my mother nor my father were demonstrative in that they rarely showed any physical attention. And this lack of physical and verbal affection affected me in a negative and profound way. In that I grew up having a difficult time showing affection to the people I love, my sisters and my brother. I loved them dearly but never expressed it openly.

I guess from the outside, my family and childhood were typical of every other American family at the time. A mother who stayed at home, a father who worked and typical of Irish and Italian families, had large families. I had some friends who had between six to fourteen children in their immediate family.

The next chapter of this momoir will speak to my generations absolute freedom they experiences outside our homes growing up in a small town in Southern New Jersey.

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THE BIRDS IN MY LIFE, A BIRD”S EYE VIEW

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As long as I can remember, I have held a fascination and deep love for birds. I can remember sitting in my backyard in Maple Shade, New Jersey, under our Weeping Willow tree and quietly observing all the birds flying overhead. There were several birds nest in the Willow Tree. And I loved nothing more than to sit there for long stretches of time and listen to the baby birds squeaking for their mothers to feed them. Their hunger was all-encompassing. And it seemed that they didn’t care for anything except for being fed and having their mother sitting on their nest and keeping them warm. 

As the Spring transitioned into Summer, I continued to observe them quietly while I sat under our beautiful Willow Tree and by the time Summer came to an end, the baby birds had grown up, and before long, they flew away from their nest and headed south for the winter. I would miss their presence over the long, late Fall and cold winter days. But, I knew that come next Spring new birds would arrive and build their nests and create their own new baby birds. This experience would come and go, and over the years, I grew up as well. One of the last Springs that I remember watching for the arrival of the Spring Birds, our Willow Tree, and all the other Willow Trees on Fellowship Road, where I grew up, became infected by some disease that was called Willow Blight. It was a type of fungus that killed off all the Willow Trees where I lived and across the state of New Jersey. And eventually, my father had to cut down the now blighted tree.

After the tree was cut down and the trunk removed, I experienced a period of loss. Not only did I miss my beautiful Willow, but I missed the birds and the baby bird and the hatchlings that used to occupy the Willow in the Spring and early Summer. I missed sitting on the bench that my father had built where I used to sit and listen to the birds. And I often read one of my many library books during my Summer vacation,

As I grew older, I found other things to do during the Summer, like swimming in the community pool and digging in the clay pits, roller skating, riding my bike all over the place and playing with all my neighborhood friends, going swimming in my friend’s swimming pool next door and catching and releasing fireflies at night.

Strawbridge Lake, Moorestown.J

Sometimes, I and one of my friends would ride our bikes all the way to Moorestown and go to Strawbridge Lake. People used to go fishing here. My friends and I used to walk around in the shallow part of the lake and cross the dam where the waterfall was located to the other side and back. There were all kinds of trees and shrubs located at Strawbridge Lake. We often brought our lunches with us and sat on the edge of the lake and ate our bologna or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I used to save some of the scraps and give them to the ducks that swam on the lake. Birds would come from near and far to visit the lake and rest in the trees that shaded the park and the pond. Strawbridge Lake was an oasis for both children and adults and the many birds, squirrels, fish, and reptiles that lived in the area. I have so many beautiful memories of my experiences there as a child. So much so that when I grew up, married, and moved back to New Jersey, I brought my own children and some of my nieces and nephews to Strawbridge Lake to enjoy the lake, the sun, and the beautiful birds that lived there during the warmer months. In the winter, Strawbridge Lake would freeze over, and we would go ice skating there.

As time passed by, I left my childhood behind. But I never let my love of birds and animals slip away. My mother had a pet parakeet in a cage in our kitchen, and that little bird re-ignited my love of birds. And as a result I haunted my mother and father for years to have a pet. As a result, over the years, my family adopted and loved several dogs and all the neighborhood cats I befriended.

One cat in particular, whose name was Strottles, was a large orange cat that our next-door neighbor had owned. Who grew tired of him and put him out. I used to feed him on the sly because my father was not fond of cats. And then, one unfortunate day, my mother was taking the trash outside to put in the garbage, and she had inadvertently left the side door open. Strottles went into the kitchen, and he killed my mother’s beloved bird. And my mother was devastated by the loss, my father blamed me because I was friends with the cat. And he made me go down the cellar for several hours.  Strottles

My mother never wanted another bird after that. She was brokenhearted. So, once again, I was left to love the wild birds that populated our neighborhood and the wild geese and ducks at Strawbridge Lake. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that my father bought me several finches and a cage for them because I kept begging my parents to let me have a pet. He also let me have a hamster who turned out to be an escape artist—the last time he escaped into the heating ducts, my father had to cut a hole in one of the heating ducts in the cellar to get him out. This did not make my father a happy camper by any means. The finches were the last birds that I had while I was living at home with my parents. 

And it wasn’t until I married my now husband and moved to Florida and then California that we bought our first cockatiel. We named him Pepey. We had him for quite a long time. And over the many years, we had several more.

Jalepeno

Jalepeno

And here I am, ten years into my retirement. And we are living in North Carolina. As soon as we settled into our new home, which is in a small development, I decided that I wanted to volunteer to work with animals. And in fact, that is precisely what I did. I searched the internet, and voila’ I found a place called Animal Edventure located in Coats, NC.

I contacted them, and I told them I was looking for a part-time volunteer position taking care of animals of some kind. They made an appointment to come in and talk to them about a volunteer position. And that is just what I did. The first thing they told me was they needed a Bird Person to take care of their many birds. And I said, sure, I would love that. That was almost nine years ago, and I have been taking care of parrots, Macaws, and pheasants of every size and description.

In addition, I have adopted four parrots, six finches, and two dogs. I go to Animal Edventure on Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday morning and take care of these beautiful and, yes, loud birds. So, what can I say, “Some things are just meant to be.” Me and Birds, it’s a thing.

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THE BELLS OF ST. VINCENT’S

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The older I become, the more I find myself looking back on my past instead of looking forward to my future. I suppose that’s normal to some extent, given my present age. I will give you a hint: I retired at sixty-two. And that was ten years ago. I enjoyed working, but unfortunately, I developed a health issue. I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, and the left side of my heart was enlarged.

Apparently, this heart problem can be an inherited trait. My mother had the same heart issue and still lived to see seventy-seven. My mother was one of the most caring and unselfish people I have ever known. She always put everyone’s needs ahead of her own. I never heard her say a hurtful word to or about anyone. 

I am a person who has spent a large portiion of my working life working in Social Services. In my own way, I think I have always tried to emulate my mother. At the beginning of my work life, I was a dental assistant, and at one point, I was an oral surgeon assistant when I was living in California. I worked with Doctor Snyder. His office was a long distance from where I was living in Lompoc, and so I looked for employment that was closer to my residence. In 1977, I found a job working at Robinson’s Department Store in Santa Barbara. I have to admit it was not a job that I enjoyed, in point of fact I hated it. I was selling hats and wigs. It was by far the most tedious and isolating job I ever had. I had to stand in the middle of four long glass display cases, style the wigs, and keep the counters and hats free of dust. I had no place to sit down and no one to talk to.

However, I did meet several people who I befriended, and one of them told me about a residential school for mildly mentally handicapped children. It was within the Santa Barbara boundaries. I had talked to her about how much I enjoyed working with children. And that I had come from a big family and had many nieces and nephews. Who I always enjoyed spending time with when I was living in my home state of New Jersey. I contacted St. Vincent’s School to find out if they were hiring counselors. And they said that they were and I requested an appointment for a job interview.

The day I showed up for the interview, I was surprised to find out that Catholic nuns were running St. Vincent’s. They were the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent DePaul. It seemed to me at the time that no matter how old I was or where I lived, the “Sisters” and I would find our way to each other. I say this because I spent twelve years in Catholic Schools, first with St. Joseph’s Sisters and then with the Franciscans.

I grew up two houses away from Our Lady Of Perpetual Help Church and School in Maple Shade, NJ. So, not only did I attend eight years of elementary school there, but I was basically on-call along with my twin sister to come and work at the school. But also at the convent where the Sisters lived, which was about a ten-minute work down Main Street in Maple Shade. In the Summer, I had to cover all the students’ textbooks so that when School started in September, they would be ready for the students. The rest of the year I had to go up to the Convent at least once a week and clean the pantry that held all the canned goods and dry foods that the sister’s ate. My sister Karen had to iron the Altar Vestments for the church’s altar.

I was glad that I didn’t have to do the ironing.; I absolutely hated ironing. I saw my poor mother bent over an ironing board every day of her life. This was before permanent press clothes were invented. Everything had to be ironed back then. Unless you wanted to walk around looking like you slept in your clothes. My mother also had to hang our family’s clothing out on a clothesline. This was back in the day before there were dryers for clothes. My mother had an old washing machine that had a wringer on it. The clothes had to be pushed through the wringer and then hung out to dry. This was an all-day job. In fact, if it rained, you would have to go through the whole ordeal again.

So, here I was again, face to face with one of the dear sisters. Only this time I was an adult albeit a young one. I was volunteering to apply for a job as a counselor at a Catholic facility to work with children. Who came from many backgrounds. Some of the kids were mildly retarded or what is now called Intelectual Disability. The school had children of many age groups, and it housed both boys and girls. Luckily I was hired and as a “counselor’ in the Laboures Group. I worked a split shift, first shift where I woke up the “girls” and prepared them for the school day, they got dressed, and made their beds. And ate breakfast together in a small dining room. Then, I went home and came back when it was time for the kids to get out of school. I walked over to the school and gathered up my kids. It was all girls from twelve to sixteen. After school, I gave them a snack and helped them with their homework. I was relieved when a night proctor took over at 11 PM.

All the kids had chores after their homework was done. I, with the help of one of the girls, set the tables for dinner. After dinner the girls had free time and most often would watch TV. I always watched with them.

I can not express how much I came to love these girls. And how much they meant to me. Every weekend, Bob and I took one of the girls out for the day. Sometimes, we went hiking or swimming in the pool that was at the apartment where Bob and I lived. Once in a while, we went to the movies. They loved to go out clothes shopping just like any young girl would. At night, after dinner, I often helped them write letters to their families. In my heart of hearts I could not fathom why their parents didn’t want them living at home. Perhaps the schools in their area were not prepared to teach children with learning disabilities. I don’t know for sure. This was about 1978.

Bob was attending Brooks Institute ( a Photography School), and he also worked part-time at night. So, we did not spend a great deal of time together. When Bob finished school, we decided to move back to New Jersey with the hope that Bob would be able to find employment as a photographer.

It was tough to tell my kids at St. Vincent’s that Bob and I were leaving and moving far away. But, we couldn’t afford to live in California any longer since there weren’t many jobs available for photographers at the time. I left a big chunk of my heart with my kids at St. Vincents. It was so hard saying goodbye and knowing that it was highly unlikely that I was ever going to see them again. They wrote me for a couple of years after we moved. And then I didn’t hear from them from then on. As some of them had gotten jobs, or moved back with their families. And life moved on for them as it did for me.

Bob and I bought a small house in Pennsauken, and I proceeded to have a baby, who we named Jeanette, and three years later a second daughter, named Bridget. They filled in that big hole I had in my heart and then some.

Life throws us many curves, and we don’t always know which way to turn. We have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope for the best outcome.

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A NEW YEAR, A NEW BEGINNING

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Well, people, here it is again. New Year’s Day. Yet another year has flown swiftly by. As I look back upon the last three hundred and sixty-five days I can’t help but wonder where did all those days go? What did I accomplish? Although it is not a long list, I did manage to write and publish forty-eight short stories. And as far as I’m concerned, that is no small accomplishment.

In addition, I was informed by my heart doctor that my heart had shown improvement, and he took me off Entresto, a drug that not only saved my life but improved my heart health overall. I have been taking Entresto for many years, and it costs me $900.00 every three months, which is no small amount of money. So, that has benefited our finances; when I was first diagnosed with congestive heart disease fifteen years ago, I was told I might survive another five years if I was lucky. And yet here I am.

I am retired and living in North Carolina. We made the choice that once we retired, we would move South because the cost of living was so much lower than in the North East. It was not an easy decision to make because my extended family and my eldest daughter lived in the North East. The fact is that the real estate taxes in New Jersey are quite high. We managed to get by because we were both working full-time. But, I realized that once we retired, we wouldn’t be able to continue living in our home in Pitman any or anywhere in NJ. Upon selling our home, we packed up all our worldly belongings and moved to North Carolina to a three-bedroom home in a small development in Willow Springs, NC, which is about a forty-five-minute drive from Raleigh, NC.

Moving away from my family was not an easy decision to make, and we did not make it lightly. We thought about it for a long time. There were members of my extended family who were not happy about this decision—and made that fact clear. That was unfortunate, but we believed it was necessary. If we wanted to continue living the lifestyle we had been living. The somewhat peculiar fact is that one family member who will remain anonymous, one who was rarely seen over the years, was the one who seemed the most angry. Life is difficult. Sometimes, you have to make decisions that not everyone will appreciate. And they can accept it and try to understand your situation, or they won’t.

In the years that we have been living in North Carolina, I have kept myself quite busy. I became politically active and worked on the Elizabeth Warren campaign and was active in the protest marches. I went door to door, talking to people about the election and what was at stake. I had never been politically active before, save for voting in every election.

In addition, I took a college course that was required to volunteer in the Guardian Ad Litem. A Guardian ad Litem (GAL) is a trained volunteer who is appointed by the court to advocate for the best interest of children at risk who were abused or neglected.

Last but not least, I have been volunteering at an animal Sanctuary for almost nine years. I volunteer every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday morning. I take care of all the parrots, big and small, including five Macaws. I’ve come to love them dearly like my own feathered children. In addition, I have had the opportunity to be exposed to over two hundred exotic animals from every continent. In addition, I have come to love the eleven dogs and several cats that call Animal Edventure their home. As I look back at this experience, I know that the child that I had once been would absolutely have loved to be in the midst of so many different kinds of animals. When I was a child, I had a great love of all animals, big and small, furry or feathered. And for many years believed that I would eventually become a veteranarian.

As it turned out, as I was growing up from a small child to adolescence, I developed an interest in drawing, painting, and sewing. I was a highly creative child. In addition, there was nothing I enjoyed more than telling stories to anyone who would sit still or stand still and listen to me. It wasn’t until I was married and had two young children that I made the decision to go to Art School. I spent several months preparing an art portfolio that I would need to be accepted into an art school. at the grand old age of thirty-six, I applied to three different Art Schools in Philadelphia. I was accepted at all three. And I made the decision to attend The Tyler School of Art, which was a part of Temple University.

I was the only adult student in my Freshman Class. I have to say that the decision to go to college was the best decision of my life. Before starting college, I decided to introduce myself and become familiar with all the students in my classes. And I did just that.

Attending college full-time in Philadelphia was difficult because I also had the responsibility of taking care of my two young daughters and all the household responsibilities of cleaning, cooking, shopping, etc. That goes along with marriage and children. The only time I had off was in the summer. But somehow, out of sheer will and determination, I made it through four years of college and graduated at the top of my class Magnum Cum Laude. I received a standing ovation from the rest of the student body when my name was called out at our graduation.

But, of all the choices I made in the course of my life up to that point, my decision to go to college was the one that benifitted me on a personal level the most. However, it was extremely challenging to go to college full-time, raise my girls, and take care of my home and all the responsibilities that go along with it. And when I look back to that time, I often wonder how I did it all. I am proud of myself for not letting fear stand in the way. Whenever I have a difficult decision to make now, I think back to that time, and I realize that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to.

So here I am, living in the south. Although this is not the first time I lived down south. When I was twenty-three, I moved to Florida as I wanted to be with Bob, who is now my husband of forty-nine years. And here we are still together. Some people can not tolerate the heat and humidity. But, I grew up in New Jersey, which had its own brand of high humidity, and let us not forget the mosquitoes. And the long, cold, and snowy winter months.

I can not predict what I will be doing in the future. But, I do know this, that once I set a goal for myself whatever that may be, I will set upon a course to succeed as I have in the past. There may be a few rough spots along the way but fear not, I will make my way and reach my goal. And my best advice to anyone is that although you may be afraid to do something, don’t let that fear stand in your way. See past it into your future and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

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