Author Archives: Susan

My Guardian Angel

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I grew up in Maple Shade, New Jersey. Our house was located two doors down from the Catholic Church. I attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary School. Maple Shade is a working-class town, which is located an hours drive from Philadelphia, Pa. The elementary school is right next door to the church. So, we were within shouting distance from the school and the church. Needless to say, going to Catholic School for twelve years had a profound and long-lasting effect on me as I was growing up.

The high school I attended was Saint Mary of the Angels Academy. It’s an all-girls college prep school. It was located in Haddonfield, New Jersey, which is a town that, for the most part, was inhabited by wealthy families. 

St. Joseph nuns taught me all through grade school except for third grade when I had a lay teacher Miss Norris, and the fifth grade when I had Mr. Mc Elliot. He was the only male teacher I had through twelve years of school. The St. Joseph sisters had a reputation as being strict. And not adverse to using physical punishment if you got out of line or disobeyed their instructions. I had my head knocked against the blackboard more than once. And my hand whacked with a ruler that had a sharp metal edge. Most often, I was caught whispering to one of my friends.

For the most part, I was a quiet child and kept out of trouble. But, occasionally, my mischievous nature would get the best of me, and I would act out. For instance, we had to attend Mass on Sunday at nine o’clock, and all the students sat in the same seats every Sunday.

I thought it was funny to get my girlfriends to start laughing about halfway through Mass which usually lasted about an hour. One Sunday, there happened to be an older woman sitting in front of me, and she had a coat hanger sticking out of her winter coat on the back of her neck. And every time she had to sit down, the hook of the hanger would poke her in the back of her neck. It was just out of reach of her hand, and so she was tortured by the hanger poking her for well over an hour. I thought this was hilarious, and so I pointed at the lady to all my friends sitting next to me in the aisle. And we would all laugh every time the hanger mauled her. We tried to keep the laughter down to a low roar, but we weren’t always successful.

Soon Sister St. Joseph would come sweeping down the aisle to admonish me with her giant rosery that would swing back and forth from her waist to admonish me. And she would warn us that if we better quiet down. And we would someday be punished for our sins. Hell, was the place she assured us would be the place we would end up in for all eternity.

I always felt this was a somewhat extreme punishment for children. And besides, it was a well-known fact taught to us by these self-same St. Joseph nuns that we all had a guardian angel assigned to us after we were baptized. And the guardian angel would protect us for all time. He would be sitting over our right shoulders. And it was his job to protect us from the slings and arrows that life threw at us, and that included Sister Saint Joseph and the threat of eternal fires of hell.

At the time I reached the eighth grade, my class was informed that we would have to take entrance exams if we wanted to continue with our Catholic education. There were two Catholic High Schools in the area. Holy Cross High School and St. Mary of the Angels Academy, an all-girl high school.

After we took the entrance exams, I was flabbergasted to find out that I not had not only passed the entrance exam but did quite well. I was sure that I had failed them. Since almost on a daily basis, one of the dear nuns would inform me of how stupid I was. It took many years for me to overcome my self-doubt regarding my intelligence and start to believe in myself and my intelligence, and rebuild my self-confidence.

Outside of the classroom and when I was on my own or with my friends, I felt confident in myself. It didn’t really occur to me that there was anything I couldn’t do. Even though it wasn’t true, I would often take chances and do things that were unsafe. During the summer, I wanted to go swimming. But the fact was I had never been in a pool or lake where the water was over my head. No one had ever taught me to swim. And yet, when our neighbors down the street had a built-in swimming pool installed. And I was determined that I was going to go swimming in that pool.

The Pheiffers were the only family that had a pool, and I was certain that they were rich beyond my wildest dreams. Of course, that wasn’t true. They were working-class people, the same as my parents. They just had fewer kids in their families. I would often walk down the street and knock at their door. And ask if I could go swimming. I guess I made somewhat of a pest, and eventually, they gave in. And they invited my best friend and me to go swimming in their pool on one of the hottest summer days. I was wearing one of my sister’s hand-me-down swimming suits that were a size too big for me. But that didn’t stop me from going swimming. And the fact that I had no clue how to swim didn’t dissuade me in the least. Mrs. Pheiffer informed me that I should not go into the pool by myself because she didn’t want anything untoward to happen to me or any of the other neighborhood kids.

And so, on that beautiful summer day, I walked down to the deep end of the swimming pool, counted to ten, and jumped in a while, holding my nose into water that was over six feet deep. The water wasn’t heated. And it was a shock when I hit the cold water and sank like a rock to the bottom, which was well over my head. I had no clue what to do. But it was clear to me that I was going to drown. I began flailing my arms and legs, trying to propel my head and shoulders out of the water. I was swallowing the water and gasping for air at the same time.

I started praying for my guardian angel to come and rescue me. I couldn’t imagine what he was waiting for. It was clear I wasn’t going to last much longer. So, I opened up my eyes, and I saw one of the other bigger kids nearby. It looked like Denny Pheiffer. He was several years older than me. And quite a bit bigger. When he got closer to me, I propelled myself toward him with whatever remaining strength I had left. And low and behold, I got close enough to him to grab hold of him around his stomach. He tried to push me off since I was pulling him down. But he soon realized that I wasn’t going to let go of him. And he started swimming toward the side of the pool that was a few feet away.

And after what seemed like an eternity, Denny managed to get the two of us to safety with no help from me. But, I got plenty of help from my guardian angel, who I had been praying two the whole time. It seemed like a lifetime but probably was only a few minutes. I grabbed ahold of the side of the pool, and Denny swam away. I started crying, and Denny’s older brother Joey was yelling for his mother to come outside. Mrs. Pheiffer demanded to know what had happened, and Denny said, “she grabbed ahold of me at the deep end and pulled us both under the water. She almost drowned us both.”

Mrs. Pheiffer said, “are you alright, Susie?”

“Yes, I am. My guardian angel saved me.”

And then Denny just snorted at me and said,” Oh yeah, right. So, how come you were hanging on me and almost drowned us both?”

“She saved us both. And I folded my arms in front of me, which is what I did when I had no desire to discuss something further. In other words, I was done talking. You could believe me or not.”

Mrs. Pheiffer said, “alright, I think it is a good time for all of you to go home. And Susie, you need to learn how to swim before you go into the deep end again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.” And I grabbed my towel and headed home and headed for my house, which was at the other end of the street, two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help church. I decided that after I got changed, I was going to go up to the church and say a few prayers to thank my guardian angel for saving my life.

And that night, before I went to sleep, I said a prayer to my guardian angel. Angel of God, my guardian dear, To whom God’s love commits me here, Ever this day, be at my side, To light and guard, Rule and guide.

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CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

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Christmas time is here again. At my age, it seems difficult to summon up the Christmas spirit.

Maple Shade, NJ Christmas 1960’s

But when I was a child, it was a different story. I remember the days leading up to Christmas seemed to go by at a snail’s pace. I would ask my mother every day, “how many more days until Christmas, Mom?

She answered, “one less than when you asked me yesterday. Now, why don’t you go find something to do and keep yourself busy.”

I know if I kept bugging her, she would find something for me to do. “Ok, Mom, I think I’ll take a walk. I’ll be back in a little while.”

I decide to walk downtown and look in the windows of the stores. We live in a little town in Southern New Jersey called Maple Shade. And all the stores are decorated for Christmas. We even have a Christmas parade. And Santa Clause takes a ride all over town in the fire truck. And he throws candy to all the kids that are lined up on the sidewalks. All my friends and I walked down the pike on Main Street to see it yesterday. We had such fun. It was really cold outside, so we all had our winter coats on and hats and gloves and snow boots. Because the day before yesterday, we got over a foot of snow.

As I walked down the street, I noticed that the repair shop had a TV in the window, and it was playing It’s A Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart. I’ve seen this story before, but all the same, I stand there and watch it for quite a while. I can’t hear the sound, of course, but I know most of the dialogue anyway since I’ve seen it so many times. I decide to walk down to the Five & Dime Store to look at all the cool toys in the window. I ask Santa for a Barbie doll. I hope I get one.

The Christmas Lights along Main Street are beautiful. Of course, they look better when it’s dark out. The volunteer firemen drove up and down Main Street in their Fire Trucks and put up the lights and the Christmas Wreaths with big red bows on them the week before Thanksgiving. I watched them. The Rexall Drug Store is next to the Five & Dime Store. They have a display with a train set riding around on the train tracks with little houses and churches and trees and tiny little people walking around. There is even a little dog in the front yard of one of the little houses. At least, I think it’s a dog, but it’s hard to tell because it is so little. Above the houses, Santa is flying through the air with his reindeer, including Rudolph with his red nose. There’s a little stream of smoke coming out of the smokestack of the train engine. I wish we had one of those going around our tree.

I walk down to the bakery and look in their window. There are so many delicious-looking cakes in the window. My stomach starts growling really loud. My mother says I have a sweet tooth. I’m not sure what that means. But I really do love candy and cake. I hope I get some candy canes in my Christmas stocking and some chocolate kisses with red and green foil wrapped around them. Oh, how I would love to have an éclair too. My mother is making a cake for Christmas. She is a really good baker. I hope she makes a vanilla cake with shredded coconut on it. I really do love coconut. Oh, I almost forgot that every Christmas, my mother makes a giant tin of Christmas cookies. She puts the cookie dough in a cookie press and squeezes out these cookies in all kinds of shapes, and puts different colored sprinkles on them. I always find where she hides the cookie tin in the cellar, and I eat a whole bunch of them before Christmas gets here.

As I’m walking down Main Street, I see a police car coming in my direction. The car pulls over, and I hear the policeman calling out my name and saying, “Merry Christmas, Susie.”

I walk over to the curb, and I see it is Mr. Lombardi, our next-door neighbor. He is a policeman in our town. “Merry Christmas, Officer Lombardi,” I scream at the top of my voice. And then he waves again and drives away.

I continue walking down the street, and I see a couple of kids from school. I hear them yelling, “hey Susie do you want to go and play behind the church?”

“Sure,” I say. When I caught up to them, I saw it was my friend Helen and Ann Marie.

“What were you up to, Susie?”

“Nothing, just walking downtown and looking in all the store windows. What do you guys want to do?’

“We were just going behind the church and seeing who is playing in the snow out there. Are you getting anything good for Christmas, Susie?”

“I don’t know what I’ll get, but I asked for a Barbie doll and some art supplies. How about you guys? What did you ask for Christmas?”

“I ask for two games, Operation and Twister. I love games, said Ann Marie. “

“I ask for an Easy-Bake oven. said Helen.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

We rounded the corner at Main Street and Fellowship Road, and I said, “let’s have a race to the pump house behind the church. Ready, set, go.”

And we all ran as fast as we could. And at the last minute, I slipped on an icy spot and fell flat on my back. Ann Marie and Helen ran up to me and said all at once,” are you alright?”

“Yes.” I manage to say, even though the wind really got knocked out of me.

“Ok, then I bet I can beat you to the pump house Helen yells.” And before I even got up from the icy sidewalk, they were running at top speed to the pump house. I scramble up and start running as fast as I can. I was just about to catch up with them when I heard them yelling, “we beat you; we beat you.”

All the same, I kept running, and before you knew it, I was scrambling up the side of the pump tower to the top along with them. There were a whole lot of kids from Our Lady of Perpetual Help school there and some of the public-school kids too. And they were climbing up hills of snow and sledding across the parking lot. We laughed hard, and the air was so cold I could hardly breathe. I don’t know how long I stayed out there. But I know by the time I heard my mother yelling, “Susie, it’s time to come home. It was starting to get dark outside. What a day it was, what a day!

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Millie’s Bench

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Millie anxiously pushes her cart toward the park. The gates will be opening in a few minutes. She’s always afraid someone will claim her bench before she gets there.  No one ever has. She’s been coming to Fairmount Park for many years. She thinks of it as her home.

Well, if the truth is told, she doesn’t have a home anymore. She has been homeless since she lost her mother, her job, and her childhood home. She did live in her car for over a year until it stopped working. Millie parked it on the street, and after a month, it was towed away. It’s hard to believe, but that was over thirty years ago.

But Millie survives. It’s difficult not to sleep in the same place for more than a few days. She knows her way around the city. She knows every nook and cranny. She knows where it’s safe and where the police will leave you alone as long as you don’t cause any trouble, as long as you don’t act too crazy or smell too bad.

It’s impossible to stay clean when you live on the street. Few places have open bathrooms during the day. She would go in when it wasn’t too busy. And clean her face and all the places people can see and some of the ones they can’t. But would start smelling after a while.

Several times a year, she would go to one of the shelters for a couple of days just so she could take a shower, wash her hair and sleep in a clean bed. The shelters aren’t safe. People will steal the fillings out of your teeth if you aren’t careful. You can’t trust anyone, especially the ones who act like they’re your friends.

She tries not to call attention to herself in any way. She tries her best to be invisible. Millie gets a small check from the government. It’s delivered to a postal box. There’s a guy she knows who will cash the checks for a small fee. She’s cautious with her money and never wastes anything.

She knows where to get free food when she runs out of food stamps. Sometimes it’s a soup kitchen. Millie knows when the restaurants put leftovers in the dumpsters. It’s a crime how much food is wasted.

She keeps all her worldly belongings in her cart. She never goes anywhere without it. She brings the memories of her past with her wherever she goes. In that cart are the remnants of the life and person she used to be before she became invisible.

Oh, the gates are opening. Millie nods her head at the guard and heads toward her bench. Good, no one is there. Millie spends her day here, from first thing in the morning until they lock the gates at night.

This is her life now. She imagines nothing, nothing beyond sitting on this bench every day for the rest of her life. One day someone will find her still body. But Millie’s soul will have finally soared away, or perhaps just slipped away into oblivion. Who knows, Millie doesn’t.

She moves her cart next to the bench and looks at her belongings and sighs. But then she sits down, takes a deep breath, and looks all around. She feels blessed, that’s right blessed, lucky to spend all her waking hours here in this beautiful and serene place.

Spring is her favorite time in the park, breathing in the fragrance of the flowering trees and the Lilac bushes. The perfume wafts through the air, surrounding her, and lifting her spirit with it.

She watches young mothers with their babies and toddlers running around the fountain. She watches the children grow up and become adults bringing their babies to the park. It’s in this way she still feels connected to the life that goes on around her. Although she doesn’t participate in the pageantry of life, she observes it and remembers it.

She feels as if she plays the most essential part of all. She is the witness to everything beautiful and everything that isn’t. She’s a historian that stands outside and looks in on everything that goes on and makes a note of it.

Where would the world be without the keepers of the history of the world? Why it would be forgotten, unnoticed. It gives her life meaning and purpose, and value. Yes, she is invisible to those around her, but she is essential, just as the air is invisible, but nothing would survive without it.

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ALL I EVER DREAMED OF IS A GOOD NIGHT’S REST

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The alarm clock rang incessantly, and its annoying screams eventually awakened me. I’m a heavy sleeper because each night before I go to bed, I drink a glass of wine. It never fails to put me to sleep. Unfortunately, it hasn’t put an end to my nightmares. In fact, they are even more vivid than the nightmares I suffered from when I was a child. The only difference is now I can remember the dreams after I wake up. And when I was a child, my dreams would be forgotten once I woke up each morning.

My dreams are often vivid and filled with events that wake me up, sometimes screaming out loud in terror. When I woke up, I could not remember what the nightmare was about. And I thank god for that because if I remembered any of my dreams, no amount of alcohol before I went to bed would be able to lull me to sleep ever again.

Tired woman in the office sleeping

 

My nightmares have been haunting me all of my life as far back as I remember. When I was a child, my mother took me to the pediatrician and explained how these nightmares would wake me up every night and wake up everyone who lived in our house. He told my mother that I had night terrors, which were a common occurrence with young children whose brains were still developing. And over time, the nightmares would cease. But mine never did. It is an everyday occurrence for me.

I never tell people I know I suffer from nightmares because I’m a grown woman. And I’m sure they would tell me that I’m not a child anymore and shouldn’t be having these nightmares anymore. As a result, during the day, I often have vivid flashbacks from my most recent nightmares without any warning.

Occasionally the flashback is so vivid that I will shout out with fear or run screaming out of whatever room. This has happened so often at my workplace that my coworkers started complaining to our boss that I was disrupting their concentration. I was called into his office because of these complaints. I explained the problem to my boss. I told him that I was unaware of my behavior when it was occurring since I was asleep. And the night terror only lasts a minute or two. And there was no treatment for it. I informed him I had been to a sleep specialist, psychologist, and psychiatrist. They all said there was no real cure. That they could put me on heavy-duty sleep aides. But the side effect was that in the morning, when I woke up, I had a hangover from the medication for several hours and had difficulty concentrating. I have lost several jobs because of this problem.

Most recently, my boss said that he could only think of two solutions. The first was letting me go, which he didn’t want to do because, aside from these sleep episodes, I was a valuable employee. So, his only recourse was for me to work at home. And then to come into my office once a week and play catch-up with my boss. And he thought that was the best solution for me and my fellow employees.

My response was to stare blankly at my boss. I really didn’t want to spend my whole work life at home working at my desk in my bedroom. I was sure this would lead me to develop even more problems, including loneliness, and becoming even more inhibited and neurotic than I already was.

My boss waited several moments, and then he said, “so Amelia, what do you think? Work from home sound good?”

“Well, I don’t know. But I guess I will have to give it a go. I will miss seeing all my workmates. But I guess I don’t really have any other choice. When will this change in venue happen?”

“Well, there is no time like the present. Why don’t you go in and start packing up your desk? Please take your work computer and anything else you need home with you. And let’s say that after you get settled in your new home office, you contact personnel and let them know how things are going. And if you need anything else. Let’s try this for the next month, and then you can let us know how you are doing. And we will see if we have to make any further adjustments.

And then he stood up and walked me to the door, and said, “please keep in touch. Let me know if you encounter any problem that we haven’t foreseen. And let me know, and we will put our brains together and devise a solution. Talk to you soon, Amelia. Sorry, but I have to go right now. There is a big meeting that I’m about to be late for if I don’t get moving immediately.”

And that was the beginning of the end for me. Of course, it didn’t happen right away. It happened slowly over time. In fact, it happened so painfully slowly that I didn’t realize what was happening. I slowly began to unravel.

After about a week of working alone at my desk in my bedroom, I began to lose time. And by that, I mean while I was working on my computer, I would drift slowly into a deep sleep. But, somehow, during these short naps, I kept working away. But, when I woke up, I had no memory of the work I had done. None at all. I would look down at my computer and not recollect completing the work. I would then spend the rest of the day going over all the work to see if it was complete bologna or acceptable.

And to my surprise, the work I completed at home was perfection. Even better than the work I did when I worked in the office. I was doing so well, in fact, that I decided that each afternoon I would take a break and go for a walk, go out to lunch, or do some shopping so that I could reconnect with my fellow human and not turn into some hermit.

But to my utter surprise, the first time I went out for lunch to one of my favorite Mexican restaurants, the owner came over to my booth and said, “oh, what a wonderful surprise. It’s such a pleasure to see you so soon again.”

I stared at him and said, “so soon again, Jose?” I don’t even remember the last time I was here. Maybe you are mixing me up with one of your other customers?”

“Mixing you up? No, for the past three weeks, you have come here every Monday and Thursday for lunch, and now here you are on Wednesday.”

“What? Well, I must be overtired or something. I don’t really recall that at all. I recently started working from home and haven’t been going out. And I started feeling claustrophobic from being alone all day and all night.”

Jose stared at me with a perplexed look on his face. And then he said, “wait a minute, I can prove it. I’ll show you a picture of you and several other customers when you pulled all your tables together and ate lunch. And then you all started dancing after eating. You have to remember that, Amelia?”

I sat there looking at him like he had lost his mind. And then he returned with a large picture of a group of people laughing and dancing in the middle of the room with all the tables pushed against the wall. And then Jose’ pointed his finger at a woman wearing a bright skirt and a flowered shirt and a sombrero on her head. I picked up the picture and put it as close to her eyes as possible and still distinguish the people. And sure enough, there was a woman that bore an unbelievable resemblance to herself. “Well, I’ll admit she does look like me. But it can’t be. It just can’t. I don’t remember that at all.”

Jose’ said, wait a minute, I’ll bring over the staff, and they can reassure you.”

“What, on no, don’t do that. But, before I even finished his sentence, Jose called all the staff into the dining area. And they all reassured her that she had indeed been coming there often, and on that particular night, she had been the life of the party.

“I guess I will have to believe you. But, I don’t really understand why I don’t have any memory of any of this at all.” Jose came over and said, “ well, I hope you will keep coming as often as possible because we will all miss you if you don’t. And he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

My face blushed all the way up to the roots of my hair. And then, I sat back in her chair and waited for my lunch to be brought out. By now, her stomach was growling and churning. A few minutes later, Jose’ brought her lunch to her table and said, “enjoy. Please let me know if you would like anything else. How about some Sangria?”

“I would love that, but I think I am confused enough as it is. Maybe next time. It all looked delicious as I sat there eating a burrito. It occurred to me that perhaps the reason I didn’t remember coming here was that I had been sleepwalking. It seemed far-fetched. But what else would explain not having a memory when of the events? When it was clear that I had been coming there. The only other possibility was that I had completely lost my mind. And at this point in time, she had no desire to believe she was bonkers. Perhaps I should go back into therapy?

As I swallowed the last delicious bite of my meal. I had decided that whatever was happening was out of my control. And I would continue on with my life and see what happened. It was clear that part of me wanted to be happy and so why shouldn’t I ?

And so that is how I began living my life to the fullest, and although I don’t remember all of it, at some level, I was having the time of my life. And I was going to go for it.

One morning I woke up and felt like I might be hungover, although I didn’t remember what had happened to me the night before. At least, I thought it was one night. But when I rolled over, I realized I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t in her bed. “Good grief, I said out loud.” I leaned over and looked at the man lying beside me. I couldn’t imagine who it was. I was afraid to know, and then I saw Jose’s handsome face and mustache. “Wake up, wake up, Jose.”

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THE HOME THAT MARIE AND HUGH BUILT

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This is a painting I did of my childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ in1987.

This is a painting I did of my childhood home in Maple Shade, Nj, in 1987.

It had been a long sixteen months since my parents passed away. My father died from lung cancer. I was certain my mother had died from a broken heart. Their marriage had been a difficult one at times. But nonetheless, my mother never recovered from his death. She seemed to be diminished in some way by her loss. They had married when she was nineteen years old. She didn’t know how to go on without him after he passed away.

When he was alive, his presence in the room, in the house, overshadowed her. It was as if his very presence diminished her. And yet, after he passed away, it seemed as if each day her energy, her presence, faded.

They had been married for fifty-seven years. She really didn’t have a life of her own before her marriage, and during their marriage, he orchestrated every moment of their lives. He decided where they would live and picked out the house without her ever seeing it. He chose all the furniture, the curtains, and the color each room was painted. He never asked her opinion. He was the man of the house. He used to refer to her as Mom. Rarely would he call her Marie.

Some days felt as if they would go on forever. At the same time, it felt like time had passed too quickly. It was hard to think about what the future held without my parents. I couldn’t imagine going through the rest of my life without their presence. My mother’s unquestioning love, my father’s energy, and intelligence, and his powerful presence.

But nonetheless, within eight months, they had both passed away. The house seemed so empty without them that I could hardly bare stepping inside the front door. After I cleaned out the house of all my parents’ belongings, including the well-worn furniture, it echoed when I walked in the front door and closed it behind me.

The last thing  I looked at before I closed the front door for the last time was the black telephone that had hung on the kitchen wall for as long as I could remember. As I stood there, I remembered all the phone calls I had made on it when I was a teenager. And how I called my best friend, Joanie, every day as soon as I got home from school. And I would ask if she would like to go for a ride on their bikes or go ice skating at Strawbridge lake.

And after my husband Bob and I moved back to New Jersey, we bought a small house in Pennsauken, a town fifteen minutes away from Maple Shade, where my parents still lived. I would call my mom and dad every morning to see how they were doing and tell them I would stop by later in the day.

My father would answer the phone and say, “hello, Susan, here’s your mother.” For some reason, he hated talking on the phone. And then he would hand over the phone to my Mother. My mom would say, “Hello, Susie.” I would say, “Hi, Mom, I was just wondering how you and daddy are doing. Is everything alright?”

My mother always said the same thing. “your father is reading the newspaper, and we just ate breakfast. I just got back from church. Are you coming over today?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be over in a little while. Do you need anything?” “No, your father went to the store yesterday. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Later that day after I would come over with my two children and spend some time with my parents. My mother loved to let my youngest daughter sit on her lap. My daughter would play with my mother’s rosary while she sat there, or sometimes she would play with the scapular that hung from my mother’s neck.

Sometimes I would bring my haircutting scissors over to my parent’s house and give my parents a haircut. After I trimmed my mother’s hair, I would set it in bobby pins, and before I left, I would comb it out for her.

My father would sit at the table and read his newspaper silently. My mother would get up several times and refill his coffee cup while he smoked one cigarette after another. He would often tell me what all the neighbors were up to. Since he spent a greater part of the day watching them from the front kitchen window. And he would observe all the activity of any of the neighbors that were out and about. He often commented on how much trash they would put out on the curb.

After my father developed lung cancer, life changed drastically. He rarely got out of bed, and he had little, if anything, to say. If I went into his room, he would say, “leave me now.” Seeing my father looking so pale, thin, and quiet was heartbreaking. It seemed like he was just waiting for the end of his life to come so he could finally have peace.

After he passed away, my mother was never the same. I realized she couldn’t be left alone. So, I hired a woman named Doris Cook to stay with her during the week. And then, my siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our houses. It was difficult for my mother because she had glaucoma and was unfamiliar with homes other than her own. She began to seem somewhat confused. However, Doris was a godsend, and my mother seemed to be comfortable with her. She was a kind and gentle person.

One night in August, I received a call from Doris that she thought my mother had had a heart attack. I told her to call an ambulance to take my mother to the hospital, and I would be there as quickly as I could. I only lived a few minutes away. My mother never recovered from the heart attack. It is so difficult to lose one’s parents. Until it happens to you can not imagine the sense of loss and emptiness you feel when your parents pass away. It’s almost like a part of you is missing.

As I looked over the house for the last time, I thought back to all the years that I lived there and then all the years afterward. I realized that every lesson I learned in life was a result of my parents. My father taught me to keep learning and growing as a person. And my love taught me how to love and be loved in return. She surely had a heart of gold. And that I was lucky enough to have them for as long as I did.

There aren’t words enough to say how much I loved them, my gratitude for all they did for me, the love, the caring, the sacrifice. I know that I will miss them for the rest of my life. And there hasn’t been a day that has gone by when I don’t think about them.

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LIFE AS I KNOW IT

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Did you spend most of your working life looking forward to the years that you would be able to retire and spend all your time doing things that you loved? And put behind you the humdrum, repetitious decades of working for a living? Working nine to five every week, week after week, month after month, and year after year? 

I have had many different types of jobs over my lifetime. When I was in my senior year of high school, I was offered a part-time job that would transition to a full-time dental assistant when I graduated from high school.

I hadn’t given too much thought to what I would do after my high school graduation, so I said, “yes, I would like to do that. And that is how I began my working life. I worked for Dr. Edward G. Wozniak for almost five years. After that, I sold high-risk auto insurance with the Ellis Brothers in Collingswood, NJ. This was a great job because the owners of the insurance firm, Evie and Harry Ellis, didn’t like working and would take my two workmates and me out to breakfast every morning. And they looked for any opportunity to skip work.

But then I started seeing a young man who I eventually married, and I moved to Florida. I was twenty-two. I decided to go to hairdressing school at the Florida Beauty Academy in West Palm Beach because I was laid off from an insurance company that I worked for in West Palm Beach after it went bankrupt. At the time, Florida businesses would only hire people who lived in Florida for at least six months.

I had difficulty getting a job at a hair salon. So I started looking for a job that required a license to do hair and facials. And luckily, I found out about a position at the Collonaides Hotel from a friend who attended hairdressing school with me, Maggie Waisanen. She was a woman in her early fifties, but we just hit it off, despite a thirty-year age difference. She was hired at the Collonades as well. She was giving massages.

I was hired to do facials at the Collonaides Health Center at the Collonaides Hotel on Singer Island. The hotel was owned by John D MacArthur, a well-known developer, and hotel owner. Whose wealth is better known today by the John D. and Katherine T. MacArthur Foundation, still a major holder of Palm Beach. He was about eighty-five years old at the time I met him. I used to see him sitting out by the built-in pool with his nurse. He was one of the wealthiest men in Florida at that time. After several years my husband Bob decided that he wanted to attend Brooks Institute for Photography in Santa Barbara, California.

And so Bob and I packed up our belongings, and we were on our way across the country from Florida to Santa Barbara, California. It was a ten-day drive, but it was a beautiful and scenic trip that I will never forget. Bob attended Brooks for three years. I worked at St. Vincent’s School as a counselor and as the assistant Supervisor. I took care of twelve adolescent girls who were mildly retarded. I have to say that this was my favorite job that I have had so far. I came to love those children with my whole heart, and it was difficult to say goodbye when Bob finished school at Brooks.

We decided to move back to New Jersey. I hadn’t lived in New Jersey for seven years, and I missed my family. Bob found employment, and after a short time, Bob decided he wanted to buy a house. Bob had served in the Navy during the Viet Nam war, so he was eligible to use Veteran’s benefits to purchase a house. And we were able to buy the house with no downpayment. It was located in Pennsauken, New Jersey, a short drive from Maple Shade, NJ. Where I grew up, and my parents still lived.

I found out I was pregnant within a year after we moved to our new house. Bob was working in Pennsylvania at the time. We had two children in four years. I stayed home with my children for seven years until they were in school. I was thirty-six by then, and I decided to go to college since I never had the opportunity to do that when I graduated from St. Mary of the Angels high school.

I applied to Temple University in Philadelphia, Pa, at the Tyler School of Art. I also applied to the Hussian School of Art and Moore College of Art. Which was an art school for women only. I was accepted at all the schools. I decided to attend Temple because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. I was the only adult student in the Freshman Class. The rest of the class were straight out of high school and were seventeen or eighteen years old. It was a unique and challenging experience for me. I graduated four years later with a 4.0-grade point average and a BA and Art teaching certification. Later I earned a degree to teach exceptional children. (handicapped) 

I decided, after spending several months trying to get an art teaching job in public schools with no success, to open up my own art classes. At the time, the public schools had stopped funding Art Education in the Public Schools. We purchased a large home in Pitman, Nj. The house had formerly belonged to a neuropsychologist. He saw his patients in the home. After he passed away, the house was empty for eight years. I used his offices to teach art. The students were aged five and up to eighteen. And I taught adults in the evening. And that is what I did for many years.

The years seemed to fly by as my children grew up and attended college. My oldest daughter moved out and was married. Before I knew it, Bob and I were of retirement age, and we started planning on selling our home of twenty-four years and looking for a place to retire. We decided on North Carolina because of the temperate climate and the low real estate taxes.

And here I sit, fifty-plus years later, retired. Or my version of retired. And by that, I mean I retired and started collecting Social Security.

I hadn’t been living in North Carolina longer than a month when I decided that I wanted to start doing some type of volunteer work. I investigated all the opportunities available in the area. And I finally decided that I would volunteer for the Guardian Ad Litem. Which is a volunteer citizen to represent at-risk children in the court. I had to take a college course and be certified in order to serve as a Guardian Ad Litem in the court.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the volunteer position with the Guardian ad Litem took a great deal more of my time than I realized it would. And after a year, I decided that it wasn’t for me. Although I respected the work they did to be outstanding and to be highly beneficial to children at risk of abuse and neglect.

At the same time, I decided I would like to volunteer at an Animal Sanctuary as I have always loved animals as far back as I can remember. I found an animal sanctuary, Animal Edventure, that Is in Coats, NC, and was only a fifteen-minute drive from where I live. I have been working there for six years, three mornings a week, taking care of Parrots, Macaws, and pheasants.

In addition, I started writing a blog online that includes short stories and memoirs. I have been writing all my life, but this was the first time that I ever had anyone read my stories. It took courage to put my writing out there. But here I am, almost five years later.

I have no regrets about my life or my experiences. I never let fear stop me. I always had faith in my ability to be a success in whatever I did. I look back over my life and have good memories of the places I have lived and the people I have met and befriended. And the accomplishments that grew from hard work and perseverance, and keeping faith in myself and my abilities.

I know that I will continue to create both my artwork and my writing for as long as I have breath in my body. I can not imagine a life without expressing my creativity in some way. Who knows where life will take me next? I look forward to many more challenges. Life is short so be sure to live every day to the fullest.

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A DREAM COME TRUE

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When I retired from work at sixty-two, I thought now I could finally relax and enjoy the good life. I will spend all my time reading, painting, writing, and all of my other hobbies. That had I put off all of my working years.

But it didn’t take long before I realized that although I was retired from working forty hours a week, I still had to take care of cleaning and maintaining my home and my garden. I still had to pay the bills. I still had to go food shopping etc, etc, etc.

But what I did make time for was going to estate sales and yard sales. Because I decided that Saturday was going to be my day off. I’m not sure why I loved this activity so much, but I did. Perhaps because it always felt like it was a treasure hunt. And I came to look forward to Saturday mornings with great anticipation. Oh, the thrill of the hunt. 

And so, every Friday morning, I would take a walk down to the local store and buy the newspaper and read the garage sale ads in the classified section of the newspaper. And then, I would write a list of all the local estate and yard sales and their locations and write the directions down so I could drive from one sale to the next.

One of the interesting things that I found out after a short period of time was that there were so many like-minded people going to estate sales, especially in the well-to-do locations. Because there was always a possibility that I might find a real treasure that I recognized their true value and others wouldn’t.

Most estate sale buyers had particular items that they collected. Anything was possible, and they might collect comic books or cookbooks, jewelry, antiques or cameras, and teapots. Really there was no end to the objects that people collected.

Oh, and there was always excitement in the air as the shoppers waited in line outside as the time got closer to open the doors to the public. Most often, there was a limit to how many people could enter the house at any given time. If the house was located in an exclusive high-end home, people really became impatient waiting outside for their chance to enter the home. God forbid anyone cut into line the crowd because they could really get rowdy. You were always afraid that someone would find that perfect treasure. The one you have been hunting for all along.

I looked for anything that was out of the ordinary or unusual. Anything from a chandelier to original art. As people slowly entered the house, the first few people who went in would emerge. Sometimes they would have a triumphant look on their faces or sometimes disappointed. But, you always held out hope that you would finally get that one special object that would complete your collection, no matter what you collected. Or even better, something that was worth a great deal of money, and you could sell it and make a profit.

Then finally, I was number one in line outside the front door. The house was a big, old Victorian home. I just loved the Victorian houses. They were so interesting, and they were all unique. People walked around examining each item that was for sale. It was a treasure hunt for us all.

I had been searching for a Victorian chandelier for my dining room for quite a while. And the moment I entered the living room and I saw the double doors that led to the formal dining room, I saw it. And it was the most beautiful crystal chandelier hanging from the dining room ceiling. And it was perfect. I looked for one of the people running the sale. As I wanted to buy the chandelier before anyone else did. I saw someone in the dining room looking up at the chandelier and checking out the price, and then they whistled and walked away.

I hurried through the double doors to the dining room. The dining room table and chairs were definitely original and almost in perfect condition. On the center of the table, there was a circular burn. It looked like someone had placed a hot dish or container directly on the table. I was standing there shaking my head when I heard someone say, “oh, what a shame. I wonder if it would be possible to have that burn repaired?” I said, “I don’t know, but I would definitely offer a lower price than their asking for it. And then possibly you could have it repaired. It really is a beautiful table, and the chairs look like they have the original seat covers. And they are in excellent shape.” 

“Yes, yes, they do. I love them. I think I might make an offer and see what happens. Good luck. I hope you find something you love as well.”

“Thank you, and I see quite a few things that I would love to get. But my budget is limited. Good luck, I hope you are able to buy the dining room set.”

I saw a woman that looked like she was in charge of the sale, and I walked over to her. “Hello, I’m interested in the crystal chandelier. “Can I make an offer on it?”

“Yes, of course. But you will have to wait until the end of the day to see if your offer has been accepted. If someone makes a higher offer. You could lose it. That would be a shame, and it is a one-of-a-kind chandelier. It is original to the house.”

“Really, well, I definitely will make an offer.”

“Well, there is a woman in the office through that door. She will take your contact information and cell phone number and let you know the outcome. Good luck.”

So, I went through the door. I walked over to the woman at the desk and told her I wanted to make an offer on the crystal chandelier. She handed me a paper, and I wrote down my offer and my cellphone number. She said, “It is a beautiful piece, good luck. There are two more floors. Maybe you’ll find something else that you like.”

I nodded and headed toward the kitchen. There was a small pantry with a table and chair. I was starting to fall in love with this house. It certainly was unique. I wondered how much they were asking for it. And if there was any way I could win the lottery and buy this home.

I walked back to the front door and headed up the stairs to the second floor. At the top of the steps, there was a long hallway with three opened doors. Wow, this house was amazing. The first door opened to a small bedroom that was illuminated by the morning sun. Unfortunately, it had horrible wallpaper throughout the whole room. Aside from that, it was empty. But, I was able to see the possibilities of the room. There was a large closet in the room. And the floor throughout the house had the original wood floors. And I believed that with hard work, they could be restored.

I walked down to the next door and I pushed it open it was the biggest bathroom I had ever seen, but unfortunately, one of my fellow shoppers was sitting on the toilet and going to the bathroom. Before I backed out of the room, I noticed a beautiful tub and shower. The room was black and white with even more hideous wallpaper on the walls. I said, “good lord, who picked out all the hideous wallpaper.?”It looked like it was from the turn of the nineteenth century.

At the end of the hallway, there stood a set of black, wrought iron gates that reached from the floor to the ceiling. I couldn’t imagine what might be behind them. At one end of the hallway to the right a closet that had a door on it and a window. It was empty save for an iron radiator. I gazed out the window and saw a side garden with huge overgrown evergreens and what looked like a balcony on the facing wall.

I left the closet and returned to the hallway and the next closed door. I heard people milling about behind the door. I walked through the entrance, and there was yet another bedroom. It was large and empty. There were about ten people looking around and peeping into the large, empty closet. I couldn’t understand why they were holding an estate sale since there didn’t seem to be anything for sale. And it occurred to me at that moment that they were trying to sell this huge, empty house. As I walked across the room, there was a set of double doors and a balcony. The doors were locked. But I could see the backyard from the balcony. There was a large garage beyond the small backyard.

I saw another door in the bedroom, and it led to a small bathroom. This house certainly had no shortage of doors, rooms, and bathrooms. It was the largest house I had ever been in. And that’s saying a lot because I had gone to a hundred estate sales over the years. All the people who had been standing in line outside were now in the house. And it didn’t seem crowded at all. That’s how big this house was.

There was a wooden door to the right I opened the door, and at least fifty people stood inside the room. It was absolutely the largest room I had ever seen in my life. There was a huge black chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. And there was a fireplace on the back wall. The walls appeared to have a surface that looked like spackled cement or something similar to that. The window on the far wall was unbelievably big, and the rest of the wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I felt small in this room. The view outside the huge window was blocked by two tall trees. But I could see the neighbor’s house across the street.

I walked to the middle of the room and stood there simply amazed by the sheer size of the room and the number of people milling about. Who all had the same amazed look on their faces as I did. I decided to walk back down the hall and go up to what I believed was a door to the third floor. And it turned out that there was indeed a third floor that ran the length of the house. And above that was an attic. I couldn’t believe how huge this house was. I wondered who lived here before and what they did with all the rooms.

And the longer I stood in the middle of this room, the more I realized that this house, this magnificent house, was going to be my house; somehow, some way, I was going to make it happen. And as I stood there and imagined living here, I imagined all the beautiful and unusual artifacts I would be able to find at estate sales and all the fun I would have finding them. And that, my friends, is how I came to find and buy the home of my dreams.

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TO SLEEP OR NOT TO SLEEP THAT IS THE QUESTION

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For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from insomnia. Please don’t suggest that having insomnia is not suffering. I can assure you that not getting adequate sleep over long periods of time is exquisitely painful.

WOMAN WITH INSOMNIA

WOMAN WITH INSOMNIA

I do not recall a time when I didn’t have difficulty sleeping. My mother often complained that I would almost nightly come into her bedroom when I was a child and tell her I couldn’t sleep. I would beg to sleep with my parents. They always said, “no, go back to your own bed. And as a result, I would lie awake for the rest of the night with her eyes wide open and unable to fall asleep. I would finally drift off to sleep in the middle of the night. My mother said, “after you wake me up, I’m would unable to fall asleep for hours. And she would get up at six AM clutching her rosary in her hands.

Over the course of my lifetime, my insomnia did not resolve. It evolved. There were times when I would fall asleep but wake up after an hour or two and then be unable to fall back to sleep. I tried reading, praying, and staring out the window into the dark of the night. I would listen to cats fighting, or dogs barking or listen to my next-door neighbors’ knock-down brawls. I often wondered why they didn’t get a divorce. And even though I was a child, I knew it couldn’t be healthy to remain in a marriage where you hated your mate and your children grew up in a home full of anger and resentment.

As I grew into adulthood and moved out of my parent’s house and into my own apartment. Insomnia remained my companion. Although it was an unwelcome companion. Over the years, I tried various sleeping aids in my search for six hours of an uninterrupted night’s sleep. And then, finally, I found Ambien. A new medication that promised six to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was a dream come true.

It wasn’t until several months of taking Ambien that I realized there were some unexpected side effects from taking it. And I, unfortunately, suffered the consequences of every one of these side effects. The first side effect I became aware of was that, over several months, I started putting on weight. I was always self-conscious about my weight and being fit. As I exercised every single day. I was extremely careful about what I ate, especially sweets and carbs. I stopped eating animal protein and became a vegetarian.

And so, when I began noticing that my clothes were starting to feel tight. I couldn’t understand why or how this was happening. I decided to get an appointment with my doctor to see if I had developed a thyroid problem. But I found out I didn’t have a hypothyroid problem. The doctor stated that he couldn’t find any organic or biological reason for my weight gain. And he insisted that I must be eating more or eating high-calorie foods and that I wasn’t getting enough exercise. I told him that was certainly not the case since I hadn’t changed my diet or exercise routine in the least.

And finally, I made an appointment with a psychologist to determine if there was a psychological reason why I couldn’t sleep. The doctor felt that one of the reasons I had sleeping problems was that I had depression because of unresolved childhood issues. After several months of talk therapy, the therapist suggested that I set up video cameras in my bedroom and my house and find out what I was doing at night to cause the weight gain.

In addition, as I was leaving his office, he mentioned in passing that some early research indicated that Ambien could cause sleepwalking, sleep eating, and even more, terrifying sleep driving. Why, why, why do doctors wait until you are walking out the door to tell you the most pertinent facts about your health? He told me I should consider going off them.

I just couldn’t bring myself to stop taking Ambien because after I started using them, I was able to fall asleep within fifteen minutes of taking one and sleep throughout the night with no hangover like previous sleeping pills I had taken. I said, “alright, Doctor, I’ll give that suggestion some thought. But I will definitely get the video camera’s set up and see if I am sleepwalking at night. I’ll keep in touch. Thank you for your time.”

So, two days later, I had a guy come to my home and install the video cameras around my home. And he put one in my car. They were all sensitive to movement and would turn on automatically. He told me to wait a few days before checking the cameras. So, I waited and waited, and five days later, I checked all the cameras.

I thought I would find videos of me raiding the kitchen. But no, that isn’t what I saw. What I saw was me wearing my pajamas and slippers and my winter chenille robe. And unbelievably, I was going out the door of my apartment and heading in the direction of the apartment parking garage. And then, I saw myself getting into my car and driving to several fast food restaurants, including McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Domino’s Pizza, and the local all-night family restaurant.

I could hardly believe my eyes. The kind of food I was eating and the amount of food I was eating were unbelievable. I was eating junk food for hours every night, and all the while, I was asleep. Although my eyes were open, I was ordering the food and paying for it and then either gobbling it down while I was driving to the next fast food place or sitting in my car all alone, stuffing my face with one disgusting thing after another.

My final stop was always the all-night family restaurant, where I apparently ate a full breakfast of bacon, eggs, scrapple, and buckets of hot coffee. No wonder I was getting as round as a beach ball. I’m surprised I haven’t had a heart attack yet. Just from the sheer amount of fried foods and calories.

And the fact that I was eating meat made me sick to my stomach and sick at heart. I love animals and gave up eating meat twenty years ago. How could I be doing this? It was so hard to believe. But, obviously true.

And then I considered the obvious I was driving all over town asleep. I could have killed myself or other innocent people. It was worse than driving drunk. It was altogether a nightmare. And the irony of it all was hard to swallow. I was finally sleeping after all these years. But, I did not feel rejuvenated or refreshed, or healthier. I was fat and apparently addicted to Ambien and junk food.

It was clear to me that I needed to go back to the shrink and find out why my subconscious was driving me to undermine my health and my well-being. And making me a danger to myself and all the other people on the road, and highways, and byways where I lived.

After waiting three weeks to get another appointment with my shrink. I had accomplished several important things. I weaned myself off of Ambien. I won’t lie. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I got rid of all the junk foods. I started exercising twice a day, once before I went to bed and first thing in the morning.

I lost about ten pounds in those few weeks before I saw my shrink’s appointment. I felt better because I wasn’t gaining any more weight. And the exercise, including walking five miles a day and working, made me so tired and often fell immediately fell asleep and stayed asleep for six hours. Which was a big improvement for me.

And the talk therapy with my shrink helped me to start resolving the reasons for my ongoing depression and unresolved problems with my family and some of my friends. I found out it was better to talk about problems with my family and friends instead of stuffing it all down with food. After six months, I lost thirty pounds with ten more to go. I feel like a new woman, and that has helped me to stop being so self-critical. My family and I are communicating with one another, and I don’t feel so fueled with anger all the time.

So, I still do have the occasional sleepless night. But, I stay away from Ambien and instead consider what kind of emotional issues I am having at any given time. And I talk with my therapist, and she helps me see what is in plain view. And that I have to make an effort to solve these issues instead of feeding them or obsessing about them all day and into the night. So, with that, I’ll say good day, and I hope you have a good night’s sleep.

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YOU CAN’T ALWAYS TELL A BOOK BY IT’S COVER

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It was 1975, and I had recently graduated from the Palm Beach Beauty Academy in West Palm Beach, Florida. I was looking for a job in one of the local hairdressers and was having difficulty getting hired because of the recent influx of newly graduated from beauty school. I had been living in Florida for just over a year and had not found employment. Apparently, if you weren’t a Floridian resident for a least six months, it was difficult to get hired.

Mansion on Palm Beach Blvd. Florida

Mansion of Palm Beach Blvd. Florida

So, I made the decision to go to a hairdressing school. I’m not entirely sure what made me think that I would be a candidate for hairdressing school since I had no previous experience styling or cutting hair. But all the same, I decided to give it a go.

I decided that it might help if I became acquainted with some of the local residents who might want to hire me or knew someone who was looking for newly licensed hairdressers. One day I was reading through the local newspaper and saw an ad for a family who was looking for someone to spend time with their two sons, who were about ten and twelve years old at that time. I thought, what a great job. I loved kids and had previous experiences with my seventeen nieces and nephews when they were young.

So, the next morning I called the phone number of the Palm Beach family and made an appointment to be interviewed for the job. The woman who answered the phone told me to come over the following morning at ten AM shart, and she gave me directions to their home. She told me it was on Palm Beach Blvd. Directly across from the ocean. I was psyched. Because this was one of the most beautiful and affluent neighborhoods in Palm Beach.

When I arrived at the address I was given, I was shocked. This was not just a big house. It was an absolute mansion. As I was parking across the street, I noticed a limousine pulling into their driveway and disappearing from view behind the house. I locked the car door, and as I was walking across the street, it occurred to me that no one was going to steal my ten-year-old Volkswagon when there were BMWs and Mercedes, and Lamborghinis parked along the sidewalk next to the entrance to the beach. But I loved my car and wasn’t taking any chances.

I walked up the front sidewalk and knocked at the front door. I used the door knocker that looked like it was made out of solid gold. And as I waited, I glanced around the front yard and couldn’t help but admire their front garden, which had absolutely stunning landscaping. The flowers, the palm trees, banana trees. It was a tropical paradise.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and a woman who looked about sixty said, “Yes, can I help you? Do you have an appointment with Madam?”

“An appointment? Yes, I do. I am here to be interviewed by the homeowner as a nanny for her two sons.”

“And you are?”

“Oh, yes, of course, my name is Sarah Carlisle. I spoke to her yesterday. And she told me to come here a three PM sharp. So, here I am.”

“I shall advise Madam that you are here. You may come in and wait in the vestibule. Please wipe your feet on the mat before you come in.”

“The vestibule?” I’m not sure where that is. Can you point the way?”

“What? The vestibule is the entryway of the house. Follow me and wait, and I shall advise Madam that you have arrived, and then I will come and escort you to Madam’s office. Please do not touch anything. It is all priceless antiques.”

“Touch anything, and I wasn’t going to touch anything. Good grief. I’ll just stand here until you come back for me. No worries. I’m trustworthy.”

A couple of minutes later, she returned and said, “Madam will see you now. Just follow me.”

So, I followed her, and I was overwhelmed by everything in my view. In the entryway stood a lifesize sculpture of a naked man and woman embracing. And I was so shocked I said, good lord, loudly,” I had never seen any sculptures outside of a museum. The hallway was tiled in the most gorgeous pattern I’d ever seen.

And then I found myself standing outside of two huge doors that were exquisitely carved with vines growing from the bottom of the panels to the top with gorgeous flowers that, if they had not been carved from wood, I would believe were real. The woman knocked at the door on the right and said something I couldn’t hear to the occupant inside the room. And then she looked to me and said, “you may enter now.” She turned sharply on her heels and walked away. And I thought I hope I don’t have to talk to her again.

I took a deep breath and turned the golden door nob, and waited until I heard someone say, “come in, come in.” somewhat impatiently. I pushed the door wide enough for me to go forward, and there sat a petite woman with short, dark hair and glasses. I wondered who she was and if she was the owner of the house or another snooty employee.

“Oh, I’m so happy you were able to come for an interview, dear. I just know you will love working here and taking care of my two boys. Their last nanny had to leave unexpectedly, and they were really heartbroken. They had become quite attached to her. So, please tell me about yourself and what kind of experience you have with children.”

I decided I wasn’t going to tell her that I had just graduated from hairdressing school since she wouldn’t find that very helpful to have a nanny who cut hair. So, I just said, “well, I recently moved to Florida from the North East, to be more specific, New Jersey. And I have been looking for a job, so far I was hired by a company selling high-risk insurance, and they were having problems of some sort and went out of business. So, I decided to try and get a job working with children since I really love kids.”
“Oh, do you have any children, or did you take care of children in the past?”

“Have children? No, but I do have seventeen nieces and nephews who I started babysitting when I was about eleven. And I just love kids. “

“You started babysitting when you were eleven. I can’t imagine that. Didn’t your mother think you were too young?”

“Well, if she did, she never told me.”

“When can you start? I need someone starting on Monday. I’m going to be doing some out-of-town work, and my former nanny’s mother became ill, and she quit without giving me any notice. The boys were devastated because she had been taking care of them since they were babies. My husband and I have to do a great deal of traveling because of our business.”

I can start tomorrow. But I would like to meet your children before that so that they won’t be upset about a stranger taking care of them. Are they available to meet me now?”

“Yes, let me buz the housekeeper and ask her to bring them down. Or perhaps it would be better if she took you upstairs to their rooms to meet them in their own territory?”

A few minutes later, a tall, thin woman with bright red hair came into the room and said, “you rang?”

“Yes, this young lady is going to start tomorrow as the boys’ new nanny. Would you please take her upstairs and introduce her to the boys? I can’t leave the office right now as I’m expecting a call from a client.”

“Follow me, dear. It’s just up the stairs and down the hall.”, She started up the winding staircase to the second level.  At the top of the stairs was an immense picture window, and I could see the entire property from it. It was a true garden of Eden, complete with Palm Trees and coconuts. And a built-in pool that looked large enough for fifty people to swim in with room to spare. I tried not to gasp.

I followed her down a long, long hallway with tropical plants every few feet, including some tropical hibiscus with flowers as big as my head. The floor looked like handmade tile with the family crest on it. It was so shiny it looked like glass, and I could see my reflection in it. “Here we are, dear. Let me introduce you, and you can get acquainted with them. They really are lovely boys, and I hope you will stay with us for a long time. They were heartbroken when Zelda, the former nanny, left. She had been taking care of them since they were babies. They still haven’t gotten over it.”

And then she knocked at the double door on the left, and I heard a voice say, “come in.”

Two young boys were sitting on an antique rug, and they were pushing little cars around a track. When we walked in, they looked up. And she said, “boys, this is your new nanny Sarah. She is starting work here tomorrow. Her name is Sarah, Sarah Carlisle.

Hi guys, you can call me Sarah. I have been looking forward to meeting you guys. I know we are going to have a lot of fun together. I grew up with three brothers, so I know what boys like to do. In fact, if it is alright with your mom, I would like to schedule a trip to the track to watch car races. One of my brothers works there, and he can get us in any time. And we’ll get the best seats in the house in the first row. What do you think?”

And that’s when the boys started jumping up and down. And then Sarah said, “so how do you feel about baseball? Because I have season tickets for all the best games.”

And that is when the two boys j ran over to Sarah and hugged her, and jumped up and down again. Then Sarah said, “and if you write down a list of your favorite activities, I can make a schedule for them so that every week we can do one of your favorite things.”

 OK, boys, how about we take Sarah for a tour of the house and the yard so when she starts tomorrow, she’ll feel right at home? The boys started tugging on Sarah, “come on, I can’t wait to show you our pool, and you won’t believe this we have a regulation-size pool table. Do you know how to play pool?”

“No, but I would love it if you guys taught me how. That would be awesome. So, how about taking me on that tour now.”

After Sarah was shown the whole house, including an immense attic, she was worn out. The boys seemed to be energized. Which was typical for young boys. They never ran out of energy. She knew this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And she looked forward to every minute of it.

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ALL MOBBED UP

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As long as I can remember, my life was polluted by secrets. I can’t remember a single day when I was young when I wasn’t terrified that someone would find out my secret. And they would divulge it to everyone I knew, including my friends, neighbors, and workmates. And then what would happen? My life as I knew it would never be the same.

Mob car

I didn’t realize at first that my family was different than all my friends. I had a father and a mother, two sisters and older brothers, and grandparents. We all lived together in a big, old Victorian house in Philadelphia, Pa. I was the youngest. Not to mention the endless number of” Uncles” I had.

My parents told me over and over again that what went on in our house stayed in our house. There were no if, and, or buts. I was warned that there would be dire consequences if I ever told anyone about my family and what they did. I really didn’t even understand what was going on. Because all the meetings that happened in our house were behind closed doors. There were always men coming and going from our house. My mother told me that my father was a businessman and that’s all.

And so, I believed that all these guys were members of our family and they were discussing business. The weird thing was that the people who lived in my neighborhood gave my family, especially my father, a wide berth. All of my “uncles” were big guys with black hair and mustaches. They wore expensive suits and had gold pocket watches. They smoked stinky cigars that bobbed up and down in their mouths when they were talking. I never saw them without cigars. Our house always smelled like cigars.

Once a week, they had a big meeting at our house, and they all marched into my father’s office, smoking their cigars and talking and laughing loudly. After they all arrived, my father would close the double doors to his office and lock the door. Sometimes I could hear them arguing with one another. Occasionally a fight might break out, but that never lasted too long. Because my father, who was a big man, would pick up the guy causing the problem by the seat of his pants and throw him out the front door. I would never see them again. I was always afraid of my father because he was angry, loud, and violent.

One night I snuck down the steps from my bedroom and listened at the door to my father’s office. I could hear my Uncle Vinny arguing with someone, and then I heard my father say, “Hey Joe take Vinny for a ride. He needs to cool off. And that was the last time I ever saw my Uncle Vinny. I was afraid to ask my father where he was. And my mother told me I shouldn’t ask such questions. If I knew what was good for me. I missed my Uncle Vinny. He always bought me black licorice, and it was my favorite. After Uncle Vinny went for the ride, I never saw him again.

What I didn’t know when I was a little kid was that my father was a part of the Mob or Mafia, and he and his cohorts were involved in illegal gambling at the casinos, and the race track, prostitution, and of course, selling illegal alcohol. As I got older, I realized that my family was not like any of my friend’s families. Their fathers were mailmen, factory workers, and mechanics. They worked from nine to five and didn’t have scary men coming to their homes at night. Which often ended with violence. Because of this environment, I became afraid of my father. I wished that I had just an ordinary family.

If any of the kids at school knew my father was in the Mafia, they never said a word to me, and that goes for teachers at school as well. No matter what kind of trouble I got in, I was never held accountable for it. Because nobody but nobody messed with the mob and their families.

My mother was strict with my siblings and me. She wouldn’t tolerate trouble coming to her door. And she really didn’t have to worry about it because nobody was going to rat out me or my brothers or sisters.

 

At some point when I was a teenager, it dawned on me that no matter what I did, I didn’t get into trouble. So, I did whatever I wanted to, and I have to admit I became something of a bully. This didn’t go unnoticed by my older siblings or my father. I couldn’t help but notice that my father seemed kind of proud that the other kids in school were afraid of me.

When I was about sixteen, my father told me he wanted me to start going with him so I could learn the family business. And so that was the end of my formal public school education and the beginning of my life as a member of the Mafia. I have to confess that I loved every minute of it, the power, the influence, and the respect I received from the people in my neighborhood. My childhood was behind me. And my career as a mobster began. And then there was the attention from all the young women in my neighborhood, especially after I bought a 1953 red Buick Skylark. I could have any girl that I wanted.

My brothers and I worked together. We split our time between bootlegging, alcohol and gambling, and prostitution. We were literally rolling in the dough in the late 1950s. That is when my father started getting involved with construction and controlling the Unions in the casinos in Atlantic City. My life was exciting. As I grew older, my power and influence increased, and so did my brothers. We were a family to be reckoned with.

Up until the 1970s, we didn’t feel threatened by the FBI or local police. Even the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) under J. Edgar Hoover didn’t believe that the local Mob families were a federal problem. And local police didn’t have the money or knowledge, or experience to support continual investigations and make cases against members of our families. We were untouchable for many years.

Not to mention that many of the local police departments were easily corrupted by the Mafia. The occasional successful prosecution had little, if any, effect on our businesses and operations. New members could easily be recruited to replace imprisoned colleagues.

And my life went on with little interruption. The Feds tried to build a case against me, but they were never able to prove anything. As I got older, I took over more and more of the responsibility from my father. In fact, my father said that he and my mother were planning on retiring soon, and he wanted me and my brothers to take over the business. And in fact, that is what we did. We took over the Family business.

My brothers and I made a great team, our business was growing, and we were making plenty of money. We even began investing in legitimate businesses. We hope that by doing that, there would be fewer problems with the Feds and the local police. But unfortunately, that is not what happened. The Feds were closing in on us, and by 2010 they had infiltrated the Mob to the extent that one of our members agreed to turn his back on the Mafia and the FBI took us all down. More than twenty-seven Mob bosses were arrested, interrogated, tried, and incarcerated.

And I was one of those. And here I sit and will continue to sit in this jail cell for what will probably be the rest of my life. I will miss the action, the power. But I knew what I was doing, and I wouldn’t change a thing about my life. It was the life I was meant to live. I do regret not being able to be with my family. I miss my children and grandchildren. I hope that one day, they will forgive me and come to visit me. All the money in the world can not make up for losing my family. It was too high a price to pay for power and money. But there is no changing past mistakes. There is only regret.

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