Author Archives: Susan

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE CURIOUS

There are many ways that someone can be described. I’ve been described as intelligent, not bad-looking, and funny. But the truth is my most outstanding trait is my curiosity.

As far back as I can remember the force that drove me is my curiosity. You may ask, “But what are you so curious about?”

“And the God’s honest truth is, everything.”

I remember an incident from my early childhood. I was about four years old. And I decided to take a walk down my street about four houses down from where we lived. I was standing next to a telephone pole that was out in front of Mrs. Collins’s house. And her trash can was sitting there waiting to be picked up by the garbage man. They always come at 8 AM every Friday morning.

My father had a weird fascination with counting how many garbage cans people put out in front of their house the day before the trash was picked up. He got angry if the neighbors put out too many and even more angry if they didn’t put out any at all.

So perhaps because he talked about the garbage cans every week to such an extent, I became curious and wondered, “what is so interesting” about garbage cans? And on this particular Friday morning, I decided to take a walk down my street, and investigate just what was inside these metal cans that everyone wanted so badly to get rid of them, and have them driven far, far away from them every week? And why did they keep buying things that they eventually couldn’t wait to get rid of?

As I stood there staring at Mrs. Collins’s trash can I couldn’t help but notice that there was a disgusting smell emanating from the depths of the can that had a bent and rusty lid on it. The lid was being held closed by a broken brick. Because the lid didn’t fit well. And would often fall off before the garbage men emptied its contents into the maw of the giant monster of a truck that swallowed everyone’s garbage every Friday morning.

I picked up the broken brick and put it gingerly onto the ground next to the can. The stink intensified. I took off the lid and put that on the ground next to the stinking can. The first thing I saw inside was a large can. I recognized it as something my mother used to call “The Crisco Can.” I didn’t know that everyone had this “Crisco Can.”

I thought, “wow, that’s really a big can. I wonder if this can will fit over my head. It looks big enough.” And so, I picked up the can without investigating the contents. It felt empty so I thought it would be safe to put on my head. My older brother had been kind enough to give me a haircut recently. As a result, my hair only came down to the tips of my ears. For some reason, my mother asks, “why, why did he cut your hair? And why would he cut it this short? I told my mother that he cut it short to see if I would look like a boy.

Anyway, it turns out that the Crisco Can was almost a perfect fit for my head since I had very little hair left on it. I wiggled my head a bit to see what if anything would happen. And then out of the blue, I felt something or someone biting my head. Not just the top but all over. And not only did the bites sting like crazy but my scalp started to burn like it was on fire. And whatever it began running down inside my shirt and biting me all over my chest and stomach.

I began to scream like crazy and running at the same time back to my house. I ran to the kitchen door and screamed at the top of my lungs. “I’m on fire, help I’m on fire.”
My dad and mom who had been sitting quietly at the kitchen table drinking their first cup of coffee of the day came bursting out of the kitchen onto the side stoop. And my father started yelling, “what the hell is wrong with you? You’re not on fire. And why in the hell do you have a Crisco can on your stupid noggin?”

“My head is on fire. And something is biting me. HELP.”

My mother said, don’t yell at her, you’re just making it worse. Why do you always have to yell?”

“For the love of god, take the can off her head.”

My father yanked the greasy can off my head. I yelled even louder. “Ow, ow, ow. That hurts.”

My mother said, “what is it” what is it?”

“Holy mackerel she has red ants all over her head, and on her neck, and in the front and the back of her shirt. “Take her clothes off, and I’ll get something to kill them. And with that, he ran back into the house and off to find something that would kill the “red ants.”

I hoped he wouldn’t kill me in the process. Sometimes with my father in charge, the cure was often worse than the ailment. I started crying anew. My mother started pulling my top off and my undershirt and then my pants and underpants. I was now naked as a Jay Bird in front of everyone who happens to drive or walk by. And the worse part was, I could see our evil next-door neighbor’s face pressed up against the windowpane. And there was a horrible grin on her face. For some reason she just despised me. She was always calling me The Cry Baby.

And then at that very moment, my father burst out of the kitchen door and he had a big metal can in his hand. “Step back from the child, I’m going to pour this all over her head. This should kill the bastards.”

My mother yelled, “What? You can’t pour turpentine on her head. It will kill her. She’s just a little girl and it will get in her eyes and blind her.”

She stepped back and I felt a burning liquid pouring down over my head and face, I quickly closed my eyes tight. And then it dripped down my front and back and down my skinny legs. My mother forgot to take off my shoes, so my new sneakers got all wet too. My mother said, “oh no, you ruined her new sneakers.”

I had tightly closed my eyes but tears somehow managed to creep out of my eyes and down my red and swollen face. My father yelled, “get the hose, and we’ll hose her down.”

And that was what they did. They hosed me down for what seemed forever. I had finally run out of tears and was just standing there in my ruined sneakers and red and itchy skin and soaking wet. And my father said to me with all seriousness,” are you happy now?”

I stood there soaked to the skin with itchy, burning bites and dead ants pooling around my feet. And my father said, “why in god’s name did you put that filthy, disgusting can on your head for? Can you just tell me that?”

I looked at him and said, “to see if it would fit on my head of course.”

“Did you hear that? She wanted to know if the can would fit on her head?”

“Yes, she’s always been a curious child. She’ll probably be the death of me yet. I’m going to take her in and put her in a tub and clean her off. And then I’m going in my room and say the rosary.”

Of course, this was neither the first or last horrible experience I had because of my curiosity. My best friend and I often took long walks around town or rode our bikes all over the place. My mom always said to me as I was on the way out the front door, don’t slam the door and be home for lunch (or dinner) on time.

My best friend would always go along with my plans and never questioned or suggested. Nor did she ever suggest that perhaps this was not a good idea. She just went along with whatever I said. So, one fine summer day, I said, “Wow, it is really hot outside, I would really like to go swimming. She said, “Me too.” I was about ten years old then and she was nine.

“Why don’t we go and get our swimsuits on and walk down to the hotel on Route 73 and sneak into their swimming pool. I bet they wouldn’t even notice us. I’ll meet you at your house in about fifteen minutes. Put your clothes on your swimming suit and bring a towel. “Ok, I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes. I went to my house and changed into my hand-me-down swimsuit and put my shorts and tee-shirt on over it.

My mother told me to be on time for lunch and I said, OK. She never asked where I was going, she just reminded me to be on time. When I got home from whatever adventure I was up to she said, “oh good, there you are. Go get ready for dinner.” And by that, she meant to wash your hands. Neither my father nor mother ever ask where I was. They might say what were you doing today? And I would just reply, riding bikes.

And so, on this particular day, we rode down Route 73 which was a State Highway in South Jersey and heavily traveled. Luckily, it wasn’t rush hour so there weren’t too many cars and trucks on the road. And somehow, we made it in one piece to the hotel. When we got there were several families with kids already swimming in the pool. So, we just parked our bikes next to the fence behind a bush and walk through the gate and put our clothes on our towels and nonchalantly jumped into the pool. We had a great time. Unfortunately, both of us got sunburned and when I arrived home my mother said, “Good grief, you’re as red as a beet. You should have known you were out in the sun too long. You need to go take a bath in baking soda. My mother thought baking soda was a cure-all, either that or Vic’s Vapor Rub.

I never let a previous negative outcome to one of my little adventures deter me from continuing down the path I follow to satisfy my curiosity. I really don’t allow anything or anyone to stop me once I got an idea in my head. My father often told me I was the most bullheaded, stubborn person he ever knew bar none.

And so, about a year later, when that self-same hotel that my best friend and I went swimming in added a trampoline for the guest children to enjoy I thought, why shouldn’t I enjoy the trampoline? What’s one or two more kids jumping on the trampoline going to harm? We had a half-day at school this Friday so I would just fail to inform my mother and she would not be the wiser, no harm, no foul, right?

I waited for my friend to come out of her classroom on Friday and we dumped our schoolbags on my back porch and we went on our merry way towards Route 73 and our new adventure. Once again, we managed to get safely across the highway and up to the hotel. My friend did have a few moments where she freaked out as we crossed the highway. When we got to the other side I said, “what are you crying about? Nothing bad happened we’re fine.”

And then we walked up to the gate where the trampoline was located and before you knew it, we were jumping up and down to our heart’s content. It was amazing. I felt like I was flying. My greatest desire in life was to be a bird. And to fly from one side of the planet to the other. We must have jumped up and down for three hours. My stomach was growling like crazy because I didn’t eat breakfast that morning. And we skipped lunch. On the other hand, there was a really strong chance that if I did eat anything I would puke.

I yelled as loud as I could, “hey my legs are getting tired. How are yours?”

She yelled back, “they are killing me let’s go home now. It must be getting late.” By then we were the only kids left on the trampoline. “Yeah, let’s go home now.” We took our time walking back to our houses because not only were our legs killing us, it felt like we were still jumping up and down. It was a weird feeling, and it took us twice as long to get back home. When we got back to my house, we went to the back porch and grabbed our school bags. I yelled, “I’ll call you later,” to my friend. She barely waved at me. No doubt she would go home and fall in her bed and not get up to twelve o’clock on Saturday afternoon.

I have to admit my legs were absolutely killing me. But there was no way I could tell my mother what I had been up to. Or my father would have made sure that my legs were the only thing that would be hurting for a few days. When I got up to the side steps, I could hardly lift my legs up to the next step. There were only four steps but I wasn’t sure I would be able to make it. It took me about five minutes.

When I got to the top step, I saw my mother looking at me through the windows on the kitchen door. I waved at her. Thank god, my arms didn’t hurt. Or the jig would be up.

My mother opened the door and let me in. She said, “where have you been your sister has been home for several hours? She said you had a half-day today.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. But I had to stay after school to practice diagramming sentences with Sister. This was a frequent occurrence so she didn’t question me again. But the problem was I was hardly able to walk because I had such terrible leg cramps from jumping on the trampoline for hours.

As the school year came to a close, I began looking forward to going to Strawbridge Lake. My friends and I used to ride our bikes there. I was twelve years old now so I didn’t think it was a problem to ride there it was only two towns away. Of course, I didn’t tell my parents where we were going, they would have told me that I wasn’t old enough to ride my bike that far. But unbeknownst to them, we had been going there for years. But as I mentioned earlier, my parents never ask where we went. They only told us not to be late for lunch or dinner. Unlike me, they didn’t seem to have any curiosity about where I was and what I did. As long as I got home in one piece more or less.

Anyway, on this particular day, I had the brilliant idea that today would be the perfect day to walk across the waterfall at Strawbridge Lake. Up until now, we had all been too chicken to cross it since the water was at its deepest at the Falls. It would be really, really fun. I called a couple of my friends up and ask them to meet me outside my house in a half-hour. Only two of them agreed to go. Since they had all suffered some negative consequences when I got “some crazy idea” about what would be fun.

At eleven o’clock we all met in the church parking lot. And then we headed to Strawbridge Lake. It was in Moorestown. So, it took us about forty-five minutes to get there. And it was at least ninety degrees out and humid. In other words, typical summer weather in NJ. By the time we got there, we couldn’t wait to get in the water. However, no one was allowed to swim in the lake. It was strictly a fishing lake and a place to have family picnics. But of course, that didn’t stop us.

I had brought a towel and a blanket in my bag. So, I laid the blanket out under a Willow tree and we all took our sneakers and socks off. Then I said, “let’s go.” And off we went and walked toward the waterfalls. I kept saying, “come on, come on let’s go.” There was me and my best friend and two of my school friends, Diane and Helen. I said, “come on last one there is a rotten egg. And we all started laughing and running.

When we got to the edge of the water I stuck my foot into the water, and said, “holy mackerel it’s freezing.” They all looked at each other and I could see they were going to chicken out. “Come on, come on. I’ll go first and then each one of you goes in one at a time. The water was shallow at first but got gradually deeper as I moved forward. And then there was a sudden drop off as I got to the waterfall, the water was up to my knees. I started making the climb up to the top of the waterfall. It was really slippery.

I could see about six or seven fishermen standing on the top of the waterfall and spread out all the way to the other side. I heard one guy yell,” hey kid be careful the water is really deep along here. You shouldn’t be up here. Go back.”

I just ignored him. There was no way I wasn’t going to go all the way across the falls. My feet were already numb from the freezing water. But I was almost to the halfway point of the falls and there wasn’t I was bound and determined that I going to go all the way to the other side. And then it happened. My foot slipped and I was just about to fall off and down into the lake. I screamed at the top of my lungs. One of the men, yelled, “grab that kid she’s about to fall off into the lake.”

And that is when the fishermen closest to me tried to reach down and grab me, but he couldn’t reach me. Then he yelled, “Hey kid grab ahold of my fishing pole. Yeah, that’s it, grab it. I’ll pull you up.” And he did. I was small for my age so I wasn’t that heavy. And he pulled me up by the fishing pole. When he finally got me back to the top of the falls he said, “are you crazy or just stupid?” My father used t say that to me all the time. So, it didn’t really bother me that much. I said, “thanks” and walked back to my friends.

They were all standing there with their hands clapped over their mouths. And then my best friend said, “good grief, you could have drowned.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t. And this goes to the grave with you and the rest of them.” Then we all walked back to the blanket and I flopped on it and I just sat there until my clothes dried off. And then I said, “well, I guess it’s time to go back home.” None of my friends ever mention this experience again. I thought about it quite often and I decided it might be a good idea if I learned how to swim.

My experiences as a child growing up in the 1950s and the 1960s were fueled by my curiosity and desire to experience everything I could and if there was a chance that it was a little dangerous well, all the better. I was a quiet child around adults and no one would imagine that I would do anything dangerous. But I was often the catalyst for all the exciting and yes, possibly dangerous activities that I and my friends participated in over time. My friends knew it was going to be an exciting day if I preface a statement with the phrase, “Hey, I was thinking wouldn’t it be exciting if we…

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THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

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It’s the first day of the rest of my life. Today is my first day of retirement. I worked hard all my life and saved money so I will be prepared for a happy and secure retirement.

I wake up at 6:30 AM. At the same time, I have been waking up for the past thirty-plus years. Old habits are hard to break and all that. I stumble out of bed and make my way into my bathroom. I look in the mirror at my reflection. I’m still trying to come to terms with the face that stares back at me in that mirror. There’s a similarity to the face I expect to see but still, it looks like a stranger, even if it looks like a familiar stranger. In fact, I look a couple of decades older than I feel.

I expect to see my bright, blue eyes, a ready smile, and a youthful countenance. I guess the youthful part is what’s missing.

I made a commitment to begin every day of my new life by exercising. I start by doing some warming-up exercises like doing deep knee bends, sit-ups, and stretches. And then I get on my clothes and walking shoes, grab my keys and head out my kitchen door to walk two miles.

I have to admit I’m somewhat out of shape and my feet are killing me even though I bought expensive walking shoes. I have no doubt that tomorrow my back and legs and feet will be killing me as well. But I will not let that stop me. I made a promise to myself that I will get in shape within the next six months.

My intention is to get in shape and stay in shape and live for at least another twenty years. I just wish that my face would cooperate and get in shape. If that is even possible. While I’m walking my miles, I consider the next steps to take to rejuvenating my body from head to toe. And decide that I will call my hairdresser and make an appointment to get a haircut and maybe some highlights in my hair. And perhaps a facial as well.

As I’m heading towards the last block I have to walk before I head home for breakfast, I see someone, a middle-aged man looking in my direction. He is standing next to a car that has the trunk open. I wonder if he is having car trouble? I keep walking but quicken my pace as I get closer to the man standing on the sidewalk. He looks at me and I nod and keep going. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but you never know what might happen. I decided that when I’m out walking alone, I will keep alert, not wear headphones and maybe even keep my keys in my hand at all times just to be safe. I suppose I’m being paranoid, but better paranoid, than dead.

As I continue my walk, I decide to cross the street just in case. As I cross the street I glance over and I see the man get in his car and drive off. I feel a sense of relief. Maybe I am a little paranoid. But still…

I’m only halfway through my walk and my legs are starting to ache a bit, probably from all the years I sat working at my desk. I did have a sedentary job. I should have made an effort to do some kind of physical activity, but I can’t change the past so I’ll just have to do better now. As I’m walking along, I start thinking about all the things I missed out on because I spent the last thirty-something years working to support myself. I never got married, didn’t have children. Didn’t even have a pet, since I often had to go on business trips.

And then the solution to my newly retired lifestyle comes to me, I need to get a pet. I consider getting a cat. But then I think if I get a dog, he can go on walks with me. And I won’t be as nervous because I won’t be walking alone. And that is when I decide that when I get home, I’m going to look on the internet for all the local shelters and go looking for a dog. I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid. I feel excited. I step up my pace and head back in the direction of my house.

According to Google, there are a couple of animal shelters within a mile of my residence. I go to each site and write down their addresses. I jump in the shower and then throw on my clothes. I can’t wait to find out who will be my new best friend.

I forgo breakfast and head out to my car and turn on my GPS to the first animal shelter. I’m the first person to arrive at the shelter. In fact, the volunteers and the employees haven’t even arrived. I listen to a podcast while I wait for the shelter to open. About thirty minutes later a woman pulls up in a Volkswagen. A woman well over six feet tall unfolds herself and steps out of a tiny car. I’m amazed that she fit in the car.

I jump out of my car and quick-step over to where she is emerging from her car like a butterfly out of a cocoon. I say, “good morning” in the cheeriest voice I can muster up. And she almost jumps out of her skin, because she had no idea I was standing there. She screams, at the top of her voice. “Dear god, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you would have seen me waiting in my car.”

“We don’t open up for another twenty minutes. And I need to have a cup of coffee before I will be able to interact with another human being. Why don’t you go around the corner there is a small coffee shop there and have some coffee and a donut. And by then I will be fit to talk to.”

“Sure, I’ll do just that. I’m sorry if I startled you, I’m just so excited to find my new companion, I just retired, today in fact. And I want to get a dog and—–“

“Please, can you just come back in about a half-hour?”

I look at her, and I realize I better give her the half-hour or she may just put the kibosh on me adopting a dog. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

I decide to walk around the block rather than driving and then having to look for a parking spot and then having to drive back here. It’s a beautiful Fall day and I haven’t been in this area before. I see a shop on the corner called, “HITS THE SPOT.” And I think that must be it, what a clever name.

I push open the door and I hear bells ringing. I look up and I see a bell attached to the chain on the door. There is something so cheerful and inviting about doorbells, I just love them. As I walk through the door, I hear laughter. And to my surprise, there are about fifteen people sitting at the counter. There is a man about my age behind the counter and he seems to be the center of attention. His hair is a mixture of red with white highlights. And he has a red beard. There has always been something about beards that I like. He flashes me a toothy grin and says, “Hey guys move over and let the lovely lady take a seat.”

I can’t believe it but I blush all the way to the roots of my hair. I probably haven’t blushed in thirty years. I smile and take a seat.

“What can I do for you? How about a cup of the best coffee in thirty miles to start?”

“Yes, that sounds great, I haven’t eaten anything today.”

“Well, then how about the house specialty, creamed beef on toast or shit on a shingle like they used to call it in the old days. What do you say, sound good?”

“Well, I’m trying to lose some weight, but since it’s my first day of retirement I think I’ll make an exception and have the house specialty. It sounds great. I don’t think I’ve had that since I was a kid.”

“Well, this is a day for a celebration, how come I never saw you around here before?”

“Well, as I said I just retired and I had to go to work, and I don’t live in this area. I just came here to visit the Animal Shelter. I decided I needed to get a dog since I will be home from now on. I arrived before the shelter opened so the woman who works at the shelter recommended your restaurant to me since I had some time to kill.”

“Oh, well that was nice of her. Was she kind of grouchy?”

“Well, yes. But I was early and waiting for the shelter to open, and she wasn’t too thrilled by that.”

“Well, that’s Madge for you, but she gets better as the day goes on, she usually comes here for lunch every day. OK, let me get busy and make you the best Shit on a Shingle you ever had. I’m sure you’ll be back tomorrow for more.”

I sit quietly and listen to the conversation flow around me. It’s a mixture of retired men and the occasional working stiff that stopped in for a cup of coffee on their way to work. I was enjoying the comradery. And before I know it, my breakfast was ready. I said, “oh that does bring back memories of my childhood, we used to have this every Friday night for dinner when I was growing up.”

I start eating, and it was even more delicious than I remember. I didn’t say a word, while I was eating. And then I just sighed. Then the cook said, “by the way, my name is Harry and this is my place, and you are welcome to come back anytime, in fact, we would love to have a beautiful lady such as yourself come share breakfast with us. “

“You know, I was going to start the day with a long walk, and I think I will do just that it is about a mile from my house to here and I could stop and join you guys for coffee and occasionally have breakfast since I’m trying to lose weight. By the way, my name is Kathleen. And I’m happy to meet you Harry, and the rest of you as well.”

“So, what kind of dog are you going to get?”

“Well, I don’t know, I don’t know what kind of dogs they have available yet. And I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid. I guess I’ll know when I see him or her. I’m really excited about it.”

“Well, after you get your new best friend stop by and introduce him to the rest of us.”

“I will do just that. What do I owe you? That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

Harry slides the bill over to Kathleen, and says, “the first meal is on the house, but only if you promise to become a regular customer.”

“Really, oh this really has been a great beginning to my retirement. Kathleen looks around at all the smiling faces and says, “the day I get my new dog, I’ll stop and have a celebratory meal. Is that alright, Harry?”

Kathleen waves goodbye as she goes out the door and gives them all a big smile. She can’t believe what a great start she’s having on her first day of retirement and now she’s walking back to the shelter to meet her new best friend.

Kathleen wants to walk faster but she’s afraid she ate a bit too much and she doesn’t want to feel sick so she takes her time getting back to the shelter.

As she walks through the front entrance of the shelter, she can hear dogs barking. Then she hears a young woman’s voice call out, “good morning, can I help you?”

Kathleen is relieved that she doesn’t have to speak to the woman that she met earlier. “Yes, I just retired, and I want to adopt a dog. I wasn’t ever able to have one before because of my job and the hours I kept and business trips.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. Do you know what kind of dog you want?”
“I had a Cocker Spaniel when I was a kid. Her name was Naomi, and she was so sweet and intelligent. Do you happen to have any kind of Cocker Spaniel or even a mixed Spaniel?

“Well, as a matter of fact, we do. And I think that you will just love her. She is about five years old. She has a wonderful, loving nature and is smart as a whip. Do you want to go meet her?”

“Really, she sounds great. Can I see her now?”

“Of course, lets’ go see her. How about if I take her out of her kennel and you can meet me outside in the back. That way she won’t be distracted by all the other dogs. How’s that?”

“Great, oh I can’t wait. I’ll meet you outside.”

In about five minutes, Kathleen hears someone open the back door of the kennel and the woman she talked to comes out with the most adorable dog Kathleen has ever seen. She’s in love the second she sees her.

Oh my, isn’t she precious? I love her.”

“Why don’t you walk over slowly and she will get to know you. I think the two of you will be a great pair.”

Kathleen slowly walks toward the little dog, And the dog starts wagging her tail and smiling at her. Kathleen gets down on her hands and knees and approaches the dog. She slowly moves her hand toward her and the dog licks her hand. She moves her hand and slowly pets the dog from head to toe. “Oh, aren’t you the sweetest little thing? Can I walk her around a bit?”

“Yes, I’ll stand back here and let you two get acquainted. Take your time. You want to be absolutely positive that this is the dog for you. You don’t even have to make up your mind today. If you want to you can meet some other dogs too.”

Kathleen spends almost a half-hour quietly talking to the little dog and getting to know her. She is such a calm, yet happy little dog. She knows that they will get along together. “Thank you, for being so patient with me, I definitely want to adopt her. So, we can get the paperwork started and I can find out what I need to do. Did she get spayed yet or are there any problems I should know about her?”

“Let’s go inside and do the paperwork, and I’ll tell you her history and by the way, you can change her name if you wish, but her name is Goldie.”

“Oh, that’s perfect. I love it. Let me start filling out the papers, and pay the fee and find out any health issues. And oh, does she up to date on her shots?”

“OK, let’s take one thing at a time, and I’ll take Goldie in the back and have her get the latest flea treatment so you won’t have to worry about that. And I’ll give you all her paperwork and let you know her history. It won’t take that long.”

About thirty-five minutes later Kathleen heads out the door with Goldie and begins her new life with Kathleen. It’s a new beginning for both of them. “Come on Goldie, we just have to take a short walk to my car and maybe meet some new friends of mine. And then we’ll be on our way home, and wait until you see your new backyard. You’ll never have to be chained up again. And they take their first step towards their new life together. A beginning neither one of them expected when they woke up that morning. You never know what good things lie ahead of you in life.

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BORN DIFFERENT

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Thelma is the middle child in a family of five children. Thelma is often overlooked or overshadowed by both her older siblings and the youngest as is often found in the middle child.

Thelma however is not a child that’s content with being the overlooked child. She’s a child with a unique personality, traits, and talents. And if the truth be told Thelma isn’t easily ignored because she’s an unconventional-looking young girl, not ugly, but unusual.

And add her strange personality to the mix and Thelma is a one-of-a-kind young girl. No one can easily overlook her. Because the moment you glimpse her, you’re struct by first her face, her body, and then her unique mannerisms. And for some unknown reason, there is a faint but distinct smell of gardenias when you stand within a foot of Thelma.

And let me be perfectly clear Thelma doesn’t suffer from any facial or body deformities. Nor is she mentally ill. It’s simply a combination of unusual looking with an unusual palpable vibe.

Thelma enjoys taking long walks around her neighbor by herself. She is comfortable with her own company. She is complete within herself. She rarely feels lonely. And if she does, it is only a fleeting feeling.

One day Thelma was sitting on her front steps when she notices a toddler walking toward her on the sidewalk in front of her house. Thelma glances up and down the street and doesn’t see any adults in view. In fact, she doesn’t see anyone. Thelma decides to take charge of the situation. It is clear that a child this young, barely older than a toddler should be taking a walk by him or herself.

“Hello, what’s your name? Where do you live? My name is Thelma. How about if I find out where you live and take you home to your mommy and daddy?”

The toddler looks up at her and sticks his hand out. And Thelma takes his hand in hers and starts walking back in the direction he came. “So, tell me if you see your house. And then we’ll knock at the door and see if you belong there. Thelma knows that no one that lives on her street has any little kids. So, she turns down Popular Avenue and walks hand in hand down Mill Road. “Do you live in any one of these houses? Hey, what’s your name?”

The little boy doesn’t respond. “Oh, you don’t feel like talking today, huh? Well, that’s alright sometimes I don’t feel like talking either. Wait, let’s try this house, and see if you live there or if they know where you do live. You couldn’t have walked that far.” Thelma walks up to the house and up the front steps to the green door and knocks.

An older woman answers the door, she is tall and thin and has grey hair that is twisted up into a bun with two chopsticks sticking out of it. She had dark, red lipstick on her lips and rouge on her high cheekbones. Her eyes are slightly slanted. Even though the woman is old, she is still quite beautiful.

The woman looks at Thelma and then down at the little boy holding her hand and she has a worried look on her face. “Yes, can I help you? Is everything alright?”

“Hi, my name is Thelma. I was sitting on my front steps on Ellis Avenue when this little boy came walking down the street by himself. I was afraid that he would get hurt or hit by a car. So, I ask him if he wanted me to help him find his house. So, here I am. Do, you know where he lives?”

The woman looks at Thelma and studies her for a moment and then says,” Well, Thelma that was a good idea to help this little guy find his parents and his house. But I think that I will give the police a call and see if anyone has called about their child be missing. I don’t recognize him, but I’m sure the nice policeman will find his parents right away. They must be really worried about him. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, I do. But I think we will just wait out here, while you call the police.”

“Thelma you are right again, you should never go into a stranger’s house. Why don’t I get you two a drink of water and a cookie? And you can sit on the step and wait for the police to come and take this little guy home. What do you say?”

“I think that is a good idea. We’ll wait outside, and I’m sure he is really thirsty after he took such a long walk by himself. Besides, it’s really hot outside.”

Thelma sits down on the step and the little boy sits on her lap. She never had a babysit on her lap before, and she is surprised how heavy he is for such a little guy. “So, what’s your name?”

He doesn’t answer. Thelma imagines how she would feel if she was this little and she got lost from her home and her mom and dad. She feels a tear run down her cheek, and she hugs the little boy. She knows she would be really scared. “Don’t worry, the policeman will be here soon and they will bring your mom with them. Oh, here comes the nice lady and she has some water and a cookie for you.”

“By the way Thelma, my name is Mrs. Wilkes, I’m so happy that you stopped at my house, here is your cookie and cold water. She hands the cookie to Thelma and hands the little boy a cookie as well. “Here you go, little guy. And here is a sippy cup, my grandson uses it when he comes to visit me.”

The little boy grabs the cup and drinks the water down so fast, he chokes a little. Thelma says, “slow down, slow down. Here is the cookie but don’t eat too fast or you’ll choke again.”

“Thelma, you’re such a nice person to help this little boy find his mom and dad. By the way, the police told me that they did get a call from a woman that was very upset because she couldn’t find her little boy. Apparently, she forgot to lock the back porch screen door and the baby decided to take a walk. She was so happy he was found safe and she will be here any minute she’s coming with the policeman.”

“Really, I’m so happy. I would have been so afraid if I got lost when I was this little.”

“Yes, he was so lucky to have been found by a caring person such as yourself.”

The pretty lady sat down on the step next to Thelma and the little boy, he was still nibbling at his cookie, taking tiny bites. Because Thelma kept warning him not to take big bites because he might choke.

After about fifteen minutes a police car rolled up next to the curb. And as soon as the car pulled over to the curb a young woman jumped out of the car and ran over to the house where Thelma and the little boy and the pretty lady were waiting.

“Oh, Joey there you are. I was so worried about you. I must have forgotten to lock the porch door. I’m so sorry.” There were tears running down her face, it was clear from her red, puffy eyes that she had been crying for a while. She picks up Joey and hugs him against her chest.

“Hi, my name is Thelma, I was sitting on my front step when I saw Joey walking down my street towards Main Street, so I decided I should find his house before he got more lost or hurt.”

Joey’s mother looks at Thelma, and she smiles.” Oh Thelma, thank you so much. You will always be my hero. You are such a kind and brave little girl to take care of Joey when he was lost. I can’t thank you enough. Then Joey’s mom starts crying anew. And says, “Can I give you a hug Thelma?”

Thelma was seldom hugged and didn’t know what to say. But after a moment, she said quietly, “yes, I would like that.”

The pretty lady and the policeman were both smiling from ear to ear. The policeman said,” I have to say that this is the best ending that I have seen in a long time. And I would like to shake your hand, Thelma, can I do that?”

Thelma was overwhelmed by everything that Joey’s Mommy and the policeman said to her, and a tear of happiness slowly rolled down her soft cheek. “Yes.”

The policeman reached over and shook her right hand, “You are a hero, Thelma. Say, did anyone ever tell you that you smell like gardenias?”

“No, what is a gardenia”

“It’s a beautiful flower, with a wonderful aroma. You’re a wonderful young lady, who smells like a beautiful flower.”

Thelma put down her head, she was overwhelmed by emotion. It was a rare occasion when she was complimented. Her older siblings were always tattling on her and her younger siblings were always stealing her toys. She was always the odd man out in her house. Someone was always mad at her and telling her she was a weirdo.

Well, Mrs. Phillips if you like I can give you and Joey a ride home and you too Thelma if you like I’ll even turn on the sirens all the way to your house. Would you like that?”

“Yes, that would be neat. I would love that.”

“Ok, let’s be on our way. Thank you for the quick thinking and calling the station mam, Otherwise, this might not have had such a happy ending.”

“Oh, I didn’t do anything but pick up the phone and call you, Thelma is the hero here.”

On the way home, Thelma couldn’t stop smiling. She knew her family would finally know that she was special and not just some weird kid.

“Alright Thelma can you give me your address and we’ll be on our way?”

“My address is 48 South Forklanding Road, two houses down from Main Street next to the school.”

“Here we are, I would like to come to the door to explain to your mother why you arrived in a police car. OK?”

The policeman got out of his side of the car and went around to the back of the car to let Thelma out. “Here we are Thelma, let’s go up to your door.

The policeman knocked at the door several times before anyone answered. Thelma’s oldest sister came to the door. And she immediately started screaming for her mother, Mom Thelma is at the door with a policeman, she must have gotten arrested. Mom, Mom, Mom.”

“Ewe, you are going to be in such trouble, Thelma.”

“Hello, my name is officer McKinney, Thelma isn’t in any kind of trouble. She found a lost toddler and because of her the little boy’s mother was informed that her lost toddler was found and they were reunited safely. She is a heroine. You should all be proud of her.”

Thelma stood there saying nothing, when her sister said, wow, Thelma, you saved a little kid’s life. You’re are a heroine.”

Thelma blushed, but she felt the happiest she ever felt. Thelma’s mother stepped over to her and gave her a big hug. Thelma never felt this happy before. She smiled from ear to ear. The police officer leaned over and shook Thelma’s little hand. And then he turned and got into his car and left.

“Oh, Thelma, I’m so proud of you.” Said her mother and sister in unison. Her sister said, I can’ wait to tell dad, that you are a heroine.”

Thelma’s mother takes her hand and kisses it, and leans over and hugs Thelma hard. “I always knew you were special, Thelma, how about a snack before it gets too late. And they both walked back into their house, and Thelma told her mother the whole story again from beginning to end. And it turned out to be Thelma’s luck day, her mother had just made chocolate chip cookies, Thelma’s favorite kind.

At dinner when Thelma’s dad came home from work and they were all seated at the table for coffee, her mother told everyone the story. And everyone’s clapped. It was the happiest day of Thelma’s day, so far.

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MARIE’S RECIPES

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It’s almost unbearably hot in the kitchen, even though all the windows in the kitchen are wide open. And Marie’s new summer curtains are pushed aside. If it wasn’t for the ceiling fan that Harry installed a couple of years ago Marie thinks she would probably pass out or have expired by now. Summer in New Jersey is not only hot but unbelievably humid. You know how people say, “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” Well, it’s both.

Mom sitting at the kitchen table,

Marie isn’t one to complain. In fact, she never complains. She learned that complaining is an unwelcome trait when she was growing up as the only daughter in a house filled with older brothers and a sick mother.

She’s been bent over the ironing board for the past several hours but thank god she’s finally finished that tedious task. She had a large family with six children. All grown and left home save for the youngest two, who are twins in the fifth grade. And even though there are only four people living in the house now, there’s still plenty of ironing to do. Harry is fussy about how his clothes look. Of course, she never mentions to anyone how much she hates ironing, especially Harry, never has, never will.

Marie notices a movement out the kitchen’s side window. She tilts her head to get a better view. It’s Mrs. Rice, her next-door neighbor. She has her rotary push mower out and is energetically pushing the mower in crooked rows from one side of her front yard to another. It isn’t unusual for her to cut the grass on the most inhospitable day. Although she usually chooses a day when it’s pouring down rain. Mrs. Rice is a widow with one son that lives at home and three married daughters.

Marie would never admit it out loud, but she really doesn’t like Mrs. Rice at all. The woman just rubs her the wrong way. She made a habit of saying hurtful things to Marie, and she goes out of her way to talk to Harry. Whenever Mrs. Rice talks to her, Marie nods and keeps walking or ignores her altogether. Marie is friendly and thoughtful to people but she cannot bring herself to even look at the woman for any length of time.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back happened when Mrs. Rice came over to the side door and hammered on it with her closed fist. Marie looks out the curtain and sees Mrs. Rice. She reluctantly opens the door and she can tell by the look on Mrs. Rice’s face that she’s fit to be tied. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I just had my front steps painted red and “someone” came over and took some of the paint and the paintbrush and painted nasty words on my sidewalk. And I think it was your daughter, Susan. She will have to clean it up.”

“What?” Susan would never do such a thing, and she doesn’t know any bad words. She’s only ten years old.” And with that, my mother slammed the side door in Mrs. Rice’s face. If it was possible Marie thought she actually hates Mrs. Rice. But she knows that’s wrong and tries not to think about it again.

It’s Friday afternoon and it’s Marie’s custom to make a cake for Sunday afternoon. Today she decides to make an Applesauce Cake. She takes out all the ingredients, a measuring spoon and a measuring cup, and a spatula. And she opens the cabinet and pulls up the mixer. She just loves how Harry attached the mixer inside the cabinet and all she had to do is pull it up and lock it into place.

She began adding the ingredients one by one.

1 1/3 cup flour

1 13 cup sugar

¼ tsp. Baking powder

1 tsp. Salt

½ tsp. Cinnamon

¼ tsp cloves

¼ tsp. Allspice

w/3 cup shortening

1/3 cup water

1 cup unsweetened applesauce

1 large egg (beaten)

1/3 cup chopped nuts

2/3 cup chopped raisins.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease rectangular pan well and dust with flour. Sift dry ingredients into a bowl. Add shortening, water, and applesauce. Beat 2 min. Scrape sides of bowl constantly. Stir in nuts and raisins. Pour in prepared pan, bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Baking is one of Marie’s favorite tasks. Rarely does anyone say thank you for cleaning the house and washing my clothes, but everyone loves her cakes, cookies, and pies? She’s proud of her baking skills. Although she rarely eats cake, she does love her Peppermint Patties.

When the twins come home from school, they sit down and she gives them each a glass of milk and some cookies. They love to dunk the cookies in cold milk. Marie is still bent over the ironing board making her way through the wrinkled clothing. Marie doesn’t have a dryer. She still hangs all her clothes on a clothesline out in the backyard. If it is raining or too cold outside, she hangs them on clotheslines in the basement. This is why they are wrinkled. If she doesn’t have time to iron all the clothing in one afternoon, Marie rolls up the clothes and puts them in the back of the refrigerator, until the next day.

Susan sits down and starts eating her cookies and dipping them in the cold milk. Susan’s twin sister says she will eat her cookie on the way to her friend’s house. “Alright, but go up and change into your play clothes before you go, and be home for dinner at 5:00. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be. I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful riding your bike in the street.”

“Susan, so how was school today?”

“Mr. Mc Elliot was teaching us some words in French today. Also, he told me that he knows my brother Harry and that he used to work with him at the Post Office. He thinks he is one of the smartest people he ever knew.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. That was a long time ago.”

“Did anything else happen in school today, Susan?”

“Well, I was showing Mr. Mc Elliot some of my drawings that I made. Remember I drew all those pictures on the stiff paper Daddy gave me. Well, all the kids gathered around him to look at the drawings and were handing them to each other to look at. And I ask for them back. And they didn’t give them to me right away and I got mad.”

“Were you afraid you wouldn’t get them back?”

“No, I got mad because they were looking at my drawings but didn’t pay any attention to me, and I made the drawings.”

“Oh, you felt ignored. What kind of drawings were they?”

“Well, one of them was a drawing of a shooting star and the star had a face and a holster and was shooting a gun.”

“Oh, that was a clever idea, Susan. Why don’t you show them to me?”

“Mr. McElliot still has them, he said he’ll give them back tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he will Susan.”

“OK, Mom.”

“Why don’t you get change and go out and play for a while, I have to start dinner.”

“What are we having, Mom?”

“Your favorite, Susan, beef stew.”

“Great, Mom, I’ll be home on time.”

I go to my room and change my clothes and throw my uniform on my bed. I pull my play clothes out of the drawer and put them on. I grab my sneakers and shove my feet into them without untying the shoelaces.

I run down the steps two at a time. Susan is about to run out the door and she says, “what kind of cake did you make, Mom?”

“Applesauce Cake, Susan, one of your favorites.”

“Oh, boy can I have some now?”

“No, you already had cookies, that’s for Sunday after dinner. It’s the dessert you know that.”

“OK, I’ll be home at five Mom.”

Marie has finished ironing for the day, so she rolls up any unfinished ironing and puts it in the back of the refrigerator on the second shelf under the milk and eggs. She goes over to the counter and pours herself a cup of hot coffee from the percolator and adds cream and three sugars. Marie doesn’t have a big appetite but she does love her sweets including sugar.

After Marie finishes her coffee, she washes the coffee cup and dries it, and puts it away. She decides she has time to wash the kitchen floor. So, she gets out the bucket and fills it with warm water and floor cleaner. First, she puts all the chairs upside down on the kitchen table and then sweeps the floor with the broom and dustbin. Then she washes the floor on her hands and knees from the front window all the way up the kitchen counters. She takes the bucket into the bathroom and dumps the dirty water down the toilet and flushes it.

Marie goes down to the shelf in the cellarway and gets out some of the newspaper.

She lays the newspaper on the kitchen floor. Because she knows one of the kids and some of their friends might show up and walk all over her clean floor looking for a snack.

It has been a long day, and Marie goes into her bedroom and takes off her shoes, and sits in her chair. This is really the first time she’s sat down all day. Marie wakes up at six o’clock sharp and goes to Mass every day, she’s never missed a single day. She belongs to the Altar and Rosary Society at the church and she attends Mass with them.

But now it is her time to relax. As she sits down in her rocker, she pulls her rosary out of her pocket and starts saying her prayers. It’s called “saying the Rosary.” Marie finds this ritual comforting. Sometimes she says some extra prayers from her prayer book. She prayers for all her children, the grown ones that have children of their own, and the two she still has at home. As she gets to the end of her prayers she starts to nod off. It has been a long day.

Marie wakes up with a start and looks at her clock it is four O’clock and she has to check on the Irish Stew she has on the stove and make the crust for the top and then put it in the oven. Luckily, Marie woke up just as the cake was finished baking and it didn’t burn. She can smell the wonderful smell of apples from the applesauce cake.

Marie rises from the rocking chair. It isn’t as easy to get up as it used to be. She puts her rosaries away and walks into the kitchen. The timer has just gone off on the cake that was in the oven and Marie gets her potholders and takes it out of the oven and puts it on the hot plate on the kitchen counter to cool off.

Then she walks over to the counter and gets the ingredients out to make the crust for the stew she has been cooking all day on the stove.

Irish Stew is usually made with lamb, but Harry doesn’t like lamb. So, Marie always makes it with beef.

The Beef Stew Recipe:

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1 1/4 pounds stew beef, cut into 1-inch pieces

6 large garlic cloves, minced

8 cups beef stock or canned beef broth1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon dried thyme

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

2 bay leaves

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter

1 large onion, chopped

2 cups 1/2-inch pieces peeled carrots

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parley

1 can of small potatoes (already peeled)

Preparation

Heat oil in a heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Keep the burner on low. Add beef and sauté until brown on all sides, about 5 minutes. And sauté 1 minute. Add beef stock, sugar, thyme, Worcestershire sauce, and bay leaves. Stir to combine. Bring mixture to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, then cover and simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, melt butter in another large pot over medium heat. Add potatoes, onion, and carrots. Sauté vegetables until golden, about 20 minutes. Add vegetables to beef stew. Simmer uncovered until vegetables and beef are very tender, about 40 minutes. Discard bay leaves. Tilt pan and spoon off fat.

Recipe for the Stew Crust

And while the stew is simmering Marie makes the crust for the top of the stew.

1¼ cups all-purpose flour plus more for dusting your work surface

¼ tsp salt

6 tbsp unsalted butter and cut into 1/2 “cubes

2 tbsp chilled shortening and cut into ½ cubes

5 tbsp ice water

Using a dry ingredient measuring cup, add the flour to the mixer

Add the salt and then the chilled butter and shortening.

Cut the fat into the flour. The butter should resemble small frozen peas.

Add the ice water, 1 tbsp at a time, just until a ball form. Immediately stop mixing.

Remove the dough from the mixer bowl and using your thumbs, for a disc.

Enclose the dough in plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for 1 hour.

On a lightly floured counter/surface, place the dough. Try not to handle the dough too much, to prevent the butter pieces from melting.

You’ll need to roll out the dough to about 3 to 4 inches greater than the inside diameter of the pan.

Try and roll the dough out in a few ‘rolls’ as possible. Repeated rolling will overwork the dough, and will yield less flakey crust.

To transfer the dough to the pot, fold one half over, then fold over again into a quarter. Gently place onto the top of the large stew pot and then unfold the dough. Trim the edges with scissors.

Use your fingers to flute the edges. Your pie dough is now ready for baking! And then bake in the oven until the crust is golden brown. Bake at 350 degrees for one hour or until the crust is golden brown.

Marie gets the large bowls, dishes and knives, and forks out for dinner and large spoons for the kids. At the last moment, she remembers to put salt and pepper on the table and bread. God, forbid she forgets the bread.

Marie sits down and has another cup of coffee; this is a quiet part of her day. She thinks about what she will cook tomorrow. About a half-hour goes by and Marie hears Susan coming in and slamming the front door behind her. “Susan what have I told you about slamming the door?”

“Sorry Mom, I always forget. Oh, Mom, I forgot to tell you earlier but after Mr. Mc Elliot looked at my drawings, he asks me what I wanted to be when I grew up.”
“What did you say, Susan?”
“I said I wanted to be an artist or a veterinarian.”

“Really, that’s wonderful.”

“Susan, could you take the newspapers off the floor for me. The floor is probably dry by now.”

“Sure, Mom. Can I watch Popeye after that?”

“Yes, after you pick up the newspaper.”

“OK, Mom.”

“I’ll call you for dinner, Susan.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love Irish Stew Mom. Thanks for making it. It’s my favorite.”

“I know it is Susan, that’s why I make it.”

At five o’clock sharp Susan’s twin sister arrives with a bang at the front door.”

Marie yells out, “Karen, I told you a million times not to slam the door.”

“Sorry, Mom. Is dinner ready? What are we having?”

“Irish Stew. Can you tell Susan that dinner is ready?”

Then she screams at the top of her lungs, Susie, dinner’s ready.”

“What did I tell you about yelling?”

“Sorry, Mom.”

And then the three of them have a delicious Irish Stew dinner. Harry is working the second shift this week, so he isn’t having dinner with them.

“That was great Mom,” said Susan and her sister in unison.

“Ok, why don’t you go do your homework.”

Susan says, do I have to do it now?”

“Yes, you do. If you get done before it’s dark you can go outside and play for a while.”

“OK, Mom.”

Marie starts clearing the table and washing the dishes, then she dries them and puts them away. She puts the leftover stew in a container on the counter to cool off before she stores it in the refrigerator. She wipes down all the countertops and the stove and the front of the oven.

She decides to read the newspaper in the living room, when Harry is home, she isn’t able to read the paper until he is finished with it. But for now, she can take all the time she wants to read it. Marie brings a cup of coffee to the dinner table and sits down. It always feels so good to get off her feet and relax. Marie reads the comics first as she sips her hot coffee, black with plenty of sugar. She takes a deep breath and relaxes.

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PART 2- ON THE WALK BACK TO GLAMPING CAMPING

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Joe and Frieda are hiking at a fairly fast clip and Kathie‘s getting a little out of breath since she already walked quite a distance. “Hey, you guys would you mind taking a short break before we make the rest of the hike back to the camp. I’m kind of bushed?”

“What? Of course not, no problem. I know a place up ahead about a quarter of a mile where we can rest on the beach near a gorgeous lake and cool off. What do you think? Would you like to do that? They also have a cabana there where you get a cold drink and some snacks. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds great, I would love to sit on the beach and have a cold drink. Let’s go for it.”
“Awesome, we could even take a dip in the lake and cool off. We went swimming there yesterday. And the water was so clear, you can see straight to the bottom of the lake. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Oh Frieda, I don’t have my bathing suit on under my clothes.”

“Oh, that’s not going to be a problem, don’t worry about it.” After about twenty minutes Kathie can hear people talking and laughing. The closer they got to the lake the louder the voices got louder. She doesn’t hear any kids yelling or playing.

“Oh, here we are Kathie, we know some of the people that are here because we come camping here almost every summer. I think you’ll love them as such open-minded and fun-loving people. I know you’ll love them, Kathie.”

Kathy can see the lake now, and it does look beautiful. “Wow, this is wonderful. No kids here, huh? That’s not a bad thing, it’s just that all the beaches I’ve been to in New Jersey were swarming with families and kids of all ages.”

“Oh, I guess I forgot to mention this is an adult beach only. But there are other lakes here that are family beaches, but all of them are clothing optional. I would have said something before, but most people know that before they come here. Although I guess Glamping Clamping doesn’t advertise it.”

“You’re kidding, I had no idea.” As Kathie looks up and down the beach, she sees that about one-half the people are wearing bathing suits and the other half, nothing. She decides that it doesn’t really bother her that much and plops down on the beach. “Well, I never went to a nude beach before, but I guess it’s not a big deal. But I think I’ll have to work up to it. Right now, I think I’ll just go get a cold drink and a snack.”

Kathie was relieved that the guy selling the drinks and snacks was wearing swimming trunks. “Hi, could I get a tall ice tea with ice?”

“Sure, coming right up. Is this the first time you came here to Glamping Camping? I don’t remember seeing you here before?”

“Yep, first time, turns out this is going to be my first time doing a lot of things here.”

The waiter chuckled, and said, “don’t worry you’ll get used to it.”

“Yes, I guess you can get used to anything, eventually, Thanks. “

I head back to where my new friends are standing on the beach and I’m somewhat surprised to see them standing in a group of people sans clothing. “Oh boy, here we go. Take a deep breath and keep walking Kathie. I said to myself.

“Oh, here she is now. I was just telling our friends here how we met you on the trail on our way here.’

I smiled and kept my eyes averted. I’m quite sure it is going to take me more than a little while to get used to talking to total strangers who are naked. “Oh hello, everyone, it’s so nice to meet you all. I was lucky to run into Joe and Freida this morning since I lost my way for a little bit. I never had a great sense of direction.”

Then everyone started introducing themselves to me, one by one. And I said jokingly, “I think it would be a lot easier if you all had name tags and I would remember your names better. Then I blushed, but they all laughed. And then I said, “Or not, LOL.”

Frieda said, “that’s a good one.” And she laughed.

“I think I’ll take a walk around the lake and check it out. It really is beautiful here.”

A young guy about my age asks me, “would you like some company?”

“Ah, yes, sure. I guess.”

“Oh, I’ll be right back I’m going to put on my swimming trunks since I know you are a newbie.”

I just stood there trying to decide if I was alright with the turn of events or if I wanted to run far, far away really fast. I decided to wait for him to return. I took a deep breath and waited. I decided I would wait and tell him I just wasn’t comfortable with the whole clothing-optional lifestyle.

After a couple of minutes, he came towards me. I relaxed as he had put shorts on. I realized I didn’t even know his name.” I’m sorry if Freda told me your name, I seem to have forgotten it all ready.”

“She didn’t. My name is Paul, Kathie. So, let’s take our walk and you can tell me what you’ve been up to so far.”

“Well not much really, I only just arrived a short time ago and after I settled into my little house, I took a hike, and lo and behold I saw a huge black bear up a tree. And it really freaked me out. I started running without really paying attention and got somewhat lost and that’s when I ran into Freda and Joe. And then we came here and I found out this it was a clothing-optional beach. Surprise, surprise, surprise.”

“Actually, you took it pretty well, some people might have run away. I felt awkward when I first came here, but now I don’t even think about the nudity.”

“If you say so, but I think it is something that will take me more than a little while to get used to. “

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it. It’s a choice, like I said, you do whatever you feel comfortable doing.”

“I appreciate that Paul, and I think I’m more of a traditional kind of person and I’m going to stick to swimming with people that wear bathing suits. No judgment, just my own comfort level.”

“Alright, no pressure, but maybe we could get together for lunch before you leave?”

“Thanks, but I already have my week planned out, it was nice meeting you, take care.”

The look on his face was heartbreaking really, but I turned and start walking away all the same. I felt bad if I hurt his feelings. But before I took this trip, I decided I was going to start listening to my inner voice and not to everyone around me. I felt proud that I was able to speak up for myself, but I felt a little guilty for hurting him.

I start hiking towards my little house and believe it or not I arrive there relatively unscathed and intact. I walk over to my little house and decide to take a shower and then a nap. It’s only about one 0’clock in the afternoon, but it had been a long day of traveling and hiking and weird experiences.

As I approach my little house, I can’t help but notice that the door is wide open. I walk slowly up to the door and peek in. I think well maybe housekeeping is in there? Nope, can’t be that I just arrived and it doesn’t need cleaning. Maybe, someone broke in and stole my belongings. Well, I had my wallet with me, and I didn’t bring any jewelry with me. Well, maybe a plumping problem?

I’m afraid to walk in so I just stick my head inside the door and I can’t help but notice that there is something or someone lying on top of my bed. What the heck is going on. I hear a loud sound, which I realize is snoring. But who or what is it? And then the snorer turns over and I see a hairy black face and I realize there is a hairy black body to go with it.

At first, my mind refuses to accept the reality of what I’m seeing. It is a bear; it is most likely The Bear that I saw earlier in the day up in the tree. What the heck, am I Goldilocks, are there three bears in there. I scream at the top of my lungs and run the fasted I have ever run in my life to the manager’s office.

I am so overwrought and freaked out that once I arrive at the office. I throw open the door and yell at the top of my voice, “BEAR, BEAR, BEAR. There’s a Bear in my bed in my tiny house.”

The Manger takes his time responding to me, or even looking up. “What, a bear? That’s highly unlikely Miss.”

I scream again, ‘There’s a bear in my bed in my tiny house.”

“Well, I’m sure your mistaken. But, let’s go have a look shall we.”

My heart is beating so hard it feels like it might explode. “OK, that’s my house there, the one with the door wide open and he’s sleeping on my bed.”

“Sleeping on your bed, oh surely you’re mistaken.” If looks could kill this guy would be dear. I’m so mad at him for not taking me seriously.

He is about to walk into the house when I grab his arm and say, “are you insane? He’ll kill you, he’s huge, and by that, I mean HUGE.” He laughs at me and steps in through the doorway. I step back and then I move about ten feet away from the door to the right. If and when this bear comes running out, I don’t want to be in his path.

And that is when I hear the manager screaming, and running in my direction, he is yelling, ‘RUN, RUN, RUN.’

And I run toward the office. The manager is directly behind me, for an old guy he can really move. “GET IN CLOSE THE DOOR. GET IN.” And then he locked the door behind us and we pushed his desk up against it. As we are looking out the door window, we see the bear ambling away, ever so slowly. He’s not in any kind of rush. He swings his huge head in our direction and gives us what looks like a big, toothy grin. And then he heads back towards the woods.

Meanwhile, we are both shaking and out of breath, “dear god, I’ve never been more frightened in my life, he could have killed me with a swipe of his gigantic paw. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“Maybe, I’m overreacting, but I believe that I need a vacation from this vacation. Between naked people swimming in the lake and bears sleeping in my little house, I think it’s time for me to go home.”

“Now miss, please reconsider, this is your first day, I’m sure it was just an aberration.”

“Nope, nope, I’m leaving and I’m sure you will give me a complete refund for this week considering what has happened here today, I’m sure you don’t want me to give you a bad review this early in the season.”

“Of course, no problem if you’re sure you won’t change your mind.”

“I’m sure, could you please walk me over to the tiny house so I can gather my belongings safely?”

“Yes, of course.”

He stuck his head out of the door and looked to the right and the left. No sign of the bear. “Looks like the coast is clear, let’s go.”

When we got back to my tiny house the door was all but torn off the hinges. We peeked in the door, and the bear was gone. “You first.” And he stepped into the room. The room looked like a cyclone had hit it. My clothes were strewn all over, the mattress was on the floor, as were the sheets, pillows, and quilt. “Good grief.”

“Ok, well, I’m just going to use the ladies’ room, gather all my belongings, could you please go back to the office and get my refund ready?”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry this all happened. I hope in the future you might come again.”

I laughed and laughed. Then I went into the bathroom and took care of my business, gathered all my stuff, came back to the bedroom threw all my clothes in my suitcase. I took a good look around to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I put my stuff in the trunk of my car and drove it over to the manager’s office. He was waiting for me.

“Here’s a copy of the credit I applied to your credit card, I’m so sorry this happened. I can’t apologize too much. This sort of thing has never happened before.”

“Well, I say this for you. I have had a short but intense vacation. One that I will never forget. And I’m sure sometime in the distant future I’ll be able to laugh about this experience. But not today. Goodbye.

On the way home I thought, how will I ever top this vacation. And I headed back towards Route 9 and home.

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Dream Vacation – Day ONE-Glamping in Cape May

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This is my first vacation in ten years. I have been counting the days for the last six months. Kind of like when I was a kid when I used to count the days until Christmas. As “The” Day comes closer my excitement and anticipation are so great I feel as if my head or my heart might explode.

Little House

I‘m having a difficult time deciding on a vacation location. There are so many to choose from, literally thousands. The last time I went on vacation was to Atlantic City. I had to attend a work convention there. So, it wasn’t strictly a vacation since I had to attend meetings five out of seven days that I was there. But the added benefit was that I could spend almost every evening in the Casinos.

The convention was being held at the Borgata Casino and Hotel. The first night I won $900.00 on the roulette wheel, unfortunately. I say unfortunately because I was hooked once I won that $900.00 And every chance I had I was spinning that wheel of fortune. And the only time I saw the ocean was when I took a tram or walked the boardwalk to the next casino. I didn’t even come home with even a hint of a tan. What I did come back to was an empty bank account and maxed out all t my credit card cash advances. It took me three years to pay down the debt.

I’m having a hard time deciding what to do and where to go. I only have a week off so it can’t be too far away and my budget limits me as well. And I want to do something totally out of my comfort zone. I finally decide to go camping in the woods by myself. I live in New Jersey and I’ve decided to camp in Cape May, which is the southernmost point of New Jersey. I found the perfect place to camp. The newest trend in camping is called glamping at a location not so cleverly named GLAMPING-CAMPING in Cape May.

Bear in a Tree

Glamping is camping only with creature comforts. Each brand-new Tent or little house features a queen-size bed and ceiling fans and an air conditioner or a heater if you go during the cold months. It’s not unlike a hotel room, each tent or house has a small refrigerator, coffee maker, and microwave. Outside, there is a small deck, grill, picnic table, and chairs.

I want to experience the great outdoors for sure, but let’s not get carried away. I hate mosquitoes, so I want no part of them. I’m not big on showering in a big room with strangers. So, I’ll be showering in a single shower that provides all the creature comforts like, soap, hot water, towels, mirrors, and toilets with privacy. I’m not much for letting it all hangout. If you catch my drift.

Anyway, I’m really jazzed about the whole trip, a change of scenery, the ocean, the beach, the ocean breeze, the sunrise over the ocean. I dig it all, can’t wait. It’s going to be a blast. As long as there aren’t any horse flies or mosquitoes. I detest biting insects.

So, in ten days I’ll be there not only in my imagination but for reals, people, for reals.

Oh, I have to find someone to take care of my fish. I better put that down on my “to-do list” right now before I forget. I don’t want to come home to find my beautiful fish floating upside down. That would be a tragedy I might not survive intact.

Today is the day, I’m so excited I wasn’t able to sleep all last night. Everything is packed in the trunk of my car. I checked and rechecked my whole list. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises. As soon as I shower and get dressed, I’ll be on my way to Cape May.

Oh, that reminds me of something that happened to me one time when I went shopping at the craft store. When I got in line to pay the cashier, I heard someone singing really loud “On the way to Cape May, I fell in love with you.” As I got closer to the front of the line, I realized it was the cashier. She was singing,” On the way to Cape May, I fell in love with you”. She wasn’t humming it. She was singing it out loud with facial expressions, and swaying back and forth, and doing a little two-stepping too. It was weird, but somehow everyone that was in her line left smiling and in a better mood. The cashier seemed to be totally unaware that she was doing anything unusual.

In honor of that singing cashier, I sang, “On the Way to Cape May, I fell in love with you”, for a good hour. I’m really jazzed. I absolutely, positively know this is going to be an experience I’ll never forget. It is about an hour and a half drive from where I live to Cape May. All I see for miles and miles on Route 9 are trees and the occasional pick-up truck zooming by me at the speed of light.

According to my GPS, Glamping Camping is only minutes away. Seven days of fresh air, sunshine, and solitude. Hiking, swimming, and canoeing at a lake within walking distance to the Tiny House I rented for the week.

And finally, here I am at Glamping Camping. I pull in through the front entrance and park outside of the main office. As I enter the office, I see a man in his mid-fifties standing behind the desk. “Hello, can I help you?”

“Yes, my name is Katherine O’Connor I have a reservation for a week in one of your tiny houses. I can’t tell you how much I have been looking forward to this vacation. I just know it’s going to give me a new lease on life. I haven’t had a vacation in ten years. I’m so looking forward to the quiet, the solitude, the fresh air, the water, the ocean. Just all of it. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to go on and on.”

“No problem we have been looking forward to your arrival today, and you should find everything in the house that you need. My name is Bill Anderson, I’m the manager. Here is a pamphlet with a list and schedule of all the activities available at Glamping Camping. Here is some information regarding local food stores, pharmacies if needed, and directions to the Cape May area and all the activities available there. If you’ve never been there before you will be more than pleased, I know. Here’s your key to the house, if there are any problems just pick up the phone and call the office. Someone is here twenty-four seven.”

“Thank you, I look forward to a wonderful stay here. I think I’ll unload my car and take a walk around the grounds and maybe take a swim in the lake later this afternoon.”

I drive my car a short distance to the area where the tiny houses are located. I’ve seen pictures of them but I’ve never seen one in person. And it is tiny but more than enough room for me. The bed is queen size and there is a tiny bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower, and towel rack. The kitchen is in the same room it consists of a sink, two cabinets, and a microwave, and a small refrigerator.

I step out the front door and I see seating for two and a table with a sun umbrella. Around the back of the house, there is a barbeque. It looks clean as a whistle. I don’t see many people around they must be out enjoying the woods, or the lake, or maybe they drove to Cape May to eat lunch or go to the beach. I can’t wait to do the same. So far, I’m impressed.

I decide to get my suitcase and supplies and put them in the house and put on some more suitable clothing for a hike in the woods. It is such a beautiful day sunny and warm with a slight breeze, perfection really. After I put my things away, I look at the pamphlet to see the best area to start hiking within the camp. I see it is only a short distance away. I put on sunscreen and spray myself with bug spray. One thing I know for sure if you’re going in the woods be prepared for biting insects.

I start walking down a path that has an arrow pointing to it. I walk for about fifteen minutes without meeting anyone along the way, but I can hear some voices in the distance. But I don’t see anyone. It’s absolutely wonderful here, quiet, except for the birds singing in the trees above me. And somewhere not too far away I hear water so there must be a stream or perhaps a lake nearby. I decide to head that way. Now I wish I had worn my bathing suit under my clothes.

I keep heading in the direction of the sound of water. I walk about another thirty minutes. The terrain is getting more challenging. I am getting a little out of breath. I realize that I can’t hear the water any longer. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. I feel a little nervous. I don’t have a great sense of direction. I decide to turn back in the direction I came from before I really get lost.

I hike for another half hour or so, I’m really tired. I have to admit I’m out of shape. My job is sedentary. And I avoid the gym like the plague. But I do love to walk and hike whenever I can. I see a clearing ahead. I hope I find some fellow glampers. I know I must be headed in the right direction if other people are there.

Finally, I hear some noise up ahead and I run in that direction. I’m not sure why I’m running. And then I arrive and I still hear a kind of rustling noise. But I don’t see anyone. I do see a large lake and in the distance on the other side of the lake, I see some people paddling a canoe. I wave like crazy at them. They see me and wave back.

I hear the rustling noise again it seems to be coming from a tree up ahead. I can’t imagine what it could be. I don’t hear any talking. It sounds something like branches being moved. Maybe someone is gathering wood to start a campfire? I keep walking towards the sound. I’m now standing directly under the tree. I hear the noise. I step back to see if there is anything up there.

And low and behold there is a bear up in the tree. And I’m not talking teddy bears here, it is a giant bear at least a hundred and fifty pounds or more. I yell at the top of my lungs,” holy crap.” And then I clap my hands over my mouth the bear is now looking directly at me. Dear god, I think, my first vacation in then years I’m going to get mauled and eaten by a bear on my first day. I don’t know what I should do, run like hell, or slowly back away or wait and see if the bear is going to get down the tree and go on his merry way.

I decide to watch him for a minute or so and see if he is going to descend the tree. I stare up there until I start getting a crick in my neck. The bear is stretching out and making himself comfortable up there. I decide my best course of action is to back away quietly until I’m out of his range of sight. I back away and back away some more. I don’t see or hear the bear running after me. So, I start walking faster and faster until I am full out running and I don’t stop until I feel I left him far behind me.

I’m so exhausted I decide I need to rest for a few minutes. And I think, why oh why didn’t I bring some water with me. I keep moving forward, but every once in a while I turn and look back. And then I hear some voices ahead of me. I head toward the comforting sound of human voices.

Suddenly, I hear someone say, “Hey, was that you yelling a few minutes ago? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m alright. I just had a somewhat disturbing experience that’s all.”

A man and woman in their late thirties walk toward me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something, what happened?”

“Well, I was hiking and I got a little turned around and ended up near a big lake and there was a huge, absolutely huge black bear in the tree up ahead of me. I didn’t know what to do. The only wild animals I’ve seen before were squirrels and an occasional bunny. It was a shocking experience.”

“You saw a black bear, wow you are lucky. I had heard that there was an increasing number of bears in the area especially since it is Summer. What did you do?”

“Well, as you heard I screamed like a banshee first and then I calmed down and slowly backed away. The bear saw me but just continued to lie up in that tree. And I backed away slowly until I put some distance between us, and then I ran like a bat out of hell. I was terrified.”

The two of them laugh and then I laugh. “Well, all things considered, it was an exciting beginning to my vacation and it will be a great story to tell everyone when I get back home.”

“You’re right, it will be. All the same, I think I would avoid going back there in the near future you don’t want to test your luck. By the way, what’s your name? Our names are Joe and Freida Melony. We just got here today. We’re staying for the week. “

“My name is Katherine O’Connor. But everyone calls me Kathie. I’m here for the week too.”

“Well, Kathie O’Connor I’m glad to meet you. Why don’t you walk back with us, do you have any plans for dinner tonight? We were thinking of heading into Cape May and going out to dinner, would you like to join us?”

“You know I would like to join you that sounds like fun.”

“So, Kathie while we walk back to the campgrounds why don’t you tell us about yourself.”

“Really, well this is the first vacation I’ve taken in ten years. So, it looks like it’s taken off with a bang. I expect this vacation is going to be a whole lot of fun and unexpected surprises.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Continue while we walk, look out ahead the path is a little bumpy up ahead. Wouldn’t want you to take a fall.”

“Thanks, from now on I’ll keep my eyes wide open.”

PART 2- NEXT WEDNESDAY

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A SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE

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Last night I heard the phone ringing as I was about to take a bath. I thought about ignoring it since it’s the first time all day that I was able to relax. And frankly, I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone else today. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to talk to anyone on the phone let alone in person.

But at the last moment, I decide I better answer it. It might be important. But most likely it was someone trying to sell me something that I didn’t need or don’t want. So, I step out of the tub and grab a towel. I pick up the phone on the last ring I say, “Hello, hello is anyone there?”

“Oh, thank you for answering I have been trying to get ahold of you for several days. Are you Isabelle Trablaca?”

“Well, that was my married name, but I’m divorced now. I go by my maiden name Conway. What can I do for you?”

“My name is James Sarnow. You’re named as one of the people who will inherit property.”

“You’re kidding? I didn’t know anyone in my family had any property of value. And I have been out of contact with them for years. I can’t imagine who would leave me anything. I guess you could say I’m the black sheep of the family.

“As I was saying I was your Aunt Bernadette Conway’s attorney. She passed away recently. Your inheritance consists of a series of books, diaries of your Aunt. If you give me your address, I’ll send them to you tomorrow.”

“Diaries, what kind of diaries?”

“I believe they’re personal diaries that she kept throughout her life.”

“Really, I wonder why she left it to me? I haven’t seen her in years.”

“I’m sorry that is all the information I have about it. I’m sure you’ll understand after you read the diaries. She put a note in the final volume to your attention. You can text me your address.”

“Alright thank you, I will look forward to seeing them in the next few days. I have to go now.”

As I hung up the phone, I try to recall my Aunt Bernadette. I vaguely remember a tall thin woman, who was kind of high-strung and intense. Somewhat eccentric and energetic, yet often reclusive. She was estranged from the rest of the family. I think she left home at an early age because she got into some kind of trouble. And they lost contact with her. And here she is leaving me her diaries. I wonder why? I guess I’ll have to wait and find out what this is all about.

Frankly, I understand why she left. My father said his family was rather old-fashioned and did not forgive or forget easily, if at all. And if they didn’t agree with the decisions you made or forgive you for the mistakes made while you were young. They often felt Bernadette was out of control and overly emotional or at times, or completely withdrawn.

As a result, she left home right after high school. I don’t recall anything beyond that. I wonder if my father kept in touch with her over the years. He must have or she wouldn’t have known my name or my whereabouts.

I’ll just have to wait and find out what’s this is all about. Although I don’t like to think about the past too often. There are too many unfulfilled dreams and regrets. And being let down by people that should have been more accepting of me. Maybe that is why she left me her journals because she believed we were similar. In that, we often felt rejected and misunderstood. And we both made the decision to remove ourselves from our family’s criticism and rejection.

I have mixed feelings about any contact with anyone in my family. In the past, it has always turned out to be a negative experience. I found that it was better for me and them if we just went our separate ways. When I first left home, it was a relief not having to worry about every single word and action. Wondering how they would interpret it. If they would take everything I said personally, even though most of the time it had nothing to do with them. I have to say it was really exhausting trying to pretend to be something I never was. Which was a happy-go-lucky person with no problems whatsoever.

The fact is I was an unhappy child and adolescent that never felt accepted by any of them. I hope the diaries would not bring all that rejection and loneliness back again. On the other hand, it might help if I find a kindred spirit in Bernadette. It would be somehow cathartic.

Here it is three days later, and as I walk toward my front door, I see a box on the front step. The return address is my Aunt’s lawyer. I unlock the front door and push the box through the front door with my foot. I have my hands full with a bag of groceries that I picked up at the food store on my way home from work.

As I close the door behind me, I stare at the box. I decide I need to fortify myself with a cup of coffee or maybe a stiff drink before I open the box and discover what kind of secrets are about to unfold before me.

The box is surprisingly heavy. I suppose a lifetime of memories can be a heavy burden for someone to carry around with them their whole lives. Especially if their lives were full of struggle and uncertainty. Not to mention unhappiness, it really weighs a person down.

There are six numbered journals. I look through them to find the final journal for the note that my aunt’s attorney told me about the other day. The journals are all bound in red leather. My Aunt’s name, Bernadette Conway is imprinted on the front cover of each volume.

They are beautifully bound and edged in gold leaf. The pages of the journals are heavy and even a single page has weight to it. As if the words written by hand in ink on each page carry the actual feelings of the author. I handle each page as if its value is incalculable and irreplaceable. Because they are. These words are the only remaining remnants of this woman’s emotions and all the experiences of the entirety of her lifetime.

In the days I waited to receive this gift I realize that my Aunt has left me something I should cherish as it was left to me and me alone. I’m responsible for the safekeeping of each volume. In essence, her life’s memories were left for me to learn from, to cherish, and to protect. And perhaps to share.

As I open the box I almost feel as if I could be opening Pandora’s Box and all the secrets good and bad will come flying out from those pages written over all the years of Bernadette’s lifetime. I take a deep breath and remove one book at a time.

BOOK 1- SQUARE PED IN A ROUND HOLE

I handle each volume with care. I open the first page and read the first sentence of each of the six volumes. Book One states in the first sentence,” I Bernadette Conway begin this journey to find not only who I am but what I am and why I have never felt I fit anywhere. I have always been a Square Peg in a Round Hole.

As I read this sentence, I recognize myself in her words. I have never felt like I comfortably fit anywhere as far back as I can remember. I come from a fairly large family unit consisting of my mother, father, a much older brother, and a sister. I had no siblings my age or near my age. My parents were in their early forties when I was born. I was unexpected, and I have always felt unwanted. Perhaps an unpleasant surprise.

My older siblings always seem so intertwined with each other. They shared years of history before I even came into the story. They were always talking about memories from their childhood or adolescence. And laughing at jokes that I did not get and they would never explain. When I would ask what Is so funny? They often said in unison, “Oh you wouldn’t understand.” And they wouldn’t explain any further.

My parents would laugh along with them. And say, “oh those were wonderful days, weren’t they? We had so much fun all the time.”

I always felt I was on the outside looking in through a foggy window. Not quite clear enough to understand what was going on inside while I remain firmly locked on the outside of the window.

One day while my parents and my brother and sister were sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch I said, “Mom, Dad do you have any stories about when I was a little girl that was funny?”

“Well, Bernie I’m sure there are a great many stories to tell about you. Do you remember anything from when you were little that was funny that you would like to tell us?”

I sat there for several minutes and stared at my parent’s faces. They had no expressions on their faces at all. I looked into their eyes and they revealed nothing to me.

“No, I can’t remember anything because I was little. I do remember when Daddy took my favorite stuffed animal away from me and he said, “Bernadette you are a big girl now you don’t need this old stuffed animal anymore. And he took it and I never saw it again.”

“Well, Bernadette that isn’t a happy memory at all. Surely, you can remember one happy time?”

“No, I can’t. That’s why I ask you to remind me of those fun times.”

I always wished that I had a sister that was my age and she would play with me. And that we would have secrets that only we knew. In fact, sometimes I would pretend that I had a sister and talk to her when no one was around. “Mom, do you remember that I used to pretend that I had a sister my age?”

“Yes”, I remember.”My brother and sister said in unison. And they both laughed. “It was weird and we told you to stop pretending and make some real friends. And after a while, you stopped talking about your make-believe sister. You were always weird. It was embarrassing.”

“OK, that’s enough, Cindy and Charlie. Lots of kids have imaginary friends. It’s not weird. Little kids have big imaginations.”

“OK, mom if you say so.” Said, Charlie and he snickered.

I felt a tear run down my cheek. I look from my brother to my sister and my mother and I felt I was on the outside looking in again. And I knew that I still talked to that imaginary sister sometimes. And I always felt better afterward. I just never told my family about it. Or they would start picking on me again. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. Sometimes I felt really sad and alone but I never told anybody because they would just make fun of me.

And when they made fun of me, I would cry. And they would say you can’t say boo to Bernadette she such a big baby.

After a while my imaginary sister, her name was Angela became more real to me than my “real” brother and sister who seem to hate me. And who would do anything to get away from me.

This was about the time I decided it would be better not to tell people or let people see how I felt. Because they would just tell me to “stop acting like a baby.” And make me feel lonely. I just didn’t feel I fit in anywhere I was just a square peg in a round hole.

After I read this passage, I felt an aching in my stomach. It resonated with me. I can remember feeling like this when I was a child, alone and alienated from the people around me. I didn’t feel love or cherished or accepted. I was always on the outside looking in.

-Book 2-School Daze

I began to identify with Bernadette, I wondered what other similar experiences we shared. I decided to look at Book Two. Its title was School Daze. I imagine that this chapter would reflect Bernadette’s early school experiences. I hope they were better than mine.

Her story began, my mother started talking about my upcoming birthday in August. She said it was an important birthday because soon I would start going to school in September which was the next month. She didn’t send me to kindergarten because she felt I wasn’t ready for it yet. And maybe I wasn’t. But because I didn’t go to kindergarten with the rest of the kids, they all knew each other and had made lots of friends already. I didn’t know anyone. I have trouble making friends. I didn’t really know how to make friends.

My mother dropped me off at the schoolyard on the first day of school. She told me to find the kids that I had played with in my neighborhood. What she didn’t know and I’m not sure why she didn’t know was that I didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood. That when I went out to play, I was always alone. One day during the summer I saw some kids at the playground. I decided I would just join in without saying anything as if I belonged there.

They were playing kickball. I watched them play it before so I had a pretty good idea how it was played. It was something like soccer and something like baseball. I was good at hitting a baseball with a bat. I practice it in my backyard. But I had never played kickball. You have to hit the bigger ball with your feet. The whole game is played with your feet. Teems play against one another.

I jumped into the fray without telling anyone or asking what team I was playing on. I just jumped in and the ball came near me and I kicked it hard. It went flying. I started screaming “I got it, I got it.” I was jumping up and down excitedly. Some boy yelled, “who’s that, is she on your team?’”

“No, I never saw her before.”
“Hey, you can’t just start playing you have to be on a team.”

I got scared so I ran away. I never knew what I was supposed to do. I heard someone say, “what are you doing, don’t run away? Come back and join a team.” But, I didn’t. I felt stupid and I never tried to play again. I wished that I did run back and played with them and maybe things would have turned out differently. But unfortunately, I didn’t run back and join them to play. I wish that I had been braver, but I wasn’t brave. I was afraid of everything and everyone.

The rest of my school experience was the same. If I had been able to make one friend, I would have been alright. But by the time I hit Middle School, I had a reputation as a weirdo. And the kids would laugh at me and call me names. Once you have a reputation of being different in school no one will befriend you. Because then they will be considered weird too. You become a pariah. High School was worse. Teenagers can be absolutely heartless and brutal with kids that are different, or fat, or homely or quiet like I was. Maybe they are afraid it will rub off on them or something.

The 3rd journal – THE WORKING STIFF

After high school, I got a job in an office as a filing clerk in a law office. The people who worked in the office were pleasant enough. But by that time, I was so entrenched in the idea that I was so different from everyone else that I didn’t even try to make friends with my office mates. I would have like to have a close friend. I wanted to date, and have a boyfriend. But my anxiety was at an all-time high, I became depressed and caught in a cycle that I didn’t know how to break.

Sometimes I would eat compulsively and other times I stopped eating much of anything. I would go home and sit in my room. My mother and father would ask how I was doing. I would just mumble an answer, they never asked me to repeat what I said. My mother asks if I was going out with friends. I didn’t have any friends. They seem to be completely clueless about what was or what wasn’t going on in my life. Sometimes, I didn’t even shower or wash my clothes after I wore them. Sometimes I would keep putting the same clothes on for weeks at a time.

In the second year of my job, I was called into the Human Resources office. When I arrived the woman who worked there said, “Bernadette, my name is Mary Ellen Saunders. I’m the head of personnel. Do you know why you were called into the office today?”

“No, I don’t. Are you going to fire me?” I always expected the worst possible outcome for every situation.

“What? No, of course not. But I do have to talk to you about a couple of problem areas. Your work ethic is fine, and you are doing a good job. But and I’m trying to be as delicate as I can here. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. You need to start taking an interest in your appearance and your health. Sometimes, you wear the same clothes over and over and you don’t appear to be aware of your personal hygiene. Some people in the office have complained about it. You will have to address these issues or there will be a problem. I feel bad about talking to you about this, but I’m trying to help you. Do you understand?”

I looked at her for a moment and then I said, “Yes, I’m sorry but please don’t fire me. This is the only job I’ve ever had. I will try to do better.”

“Bernadette, I hope you will. I feel you have the potential to do better. Please make yourself a priority. And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. I’m not a psychiatrist but I can’t help but think that you seem depressed. Do you know that as an employee here you have health insurance and access to psychological assistance? I want you to know that it is confidential, and many people feel the need for counseling at some point in their lives. Please let me know if I can help you if you need assistance in any way.”

After my discussion with Mary Ellen Saunders in personnel, I made an effort to wash and iron my clothes. I had a tendency to wear the same clothes each week. Because I felt comfortable and more myself in the same clothes. I took care to shower and wash my hair every couple of days. But I had to make myself do these things. Maybe somewhere deep down I didn’t think I deserved any better. Maybe at some level, I hated myself for the way I was. It was kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I became the weird person everyone told me I was since I was a kid.

But the thought that I might lose my job and the only good thing in my life shook me to the core. I started taking care of myself, eating right, being clean and tidy. And best of all I made an effort to talk to the people in the office where I had worked for years., People in the office started talking to me. As a result, I was asked to go out to lunch occasionally and office mates started smiling at me instead of looking away.

The 4th Journal- LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED

I know Love is all you need is a song title of the Beatles. I’ve been told many times. But truth is truth. Love is all you need in life. Even in the most difficult times, when money is scarce, and the times are hard. If you have love you can make it through. I had a difficult time accepting that I was worthy of love. Because my past experience within my family taught me over and over again that they didn’t think I was worth loving. I didn’t even love myself. That is why I stopped taking care of myself.

But once I accepted that I was a person of value and substance and that I deserved love. I opened myself up to believe in the possibility that someday, somehow, I would find love, and love would find me. And when that happened I would grab it would both hands and never let it go.

As things at my job improved and people that worked with me saw me as a good person who had some problems. They began being kind, friendly and I returned their kindness with acceptance. And I began to make friends. Occasionally I even went out. And then one day, loved walked into my office and stepped up to my desk, and introduced himself. “Hello, my name is Frederica, but everyone calls me Freddy. Are you Bernadette?”

“Yes, I’m Bernadette. What can I do for you?”

“I was just hired to work here and your boss said that you would show me the ropes.”

“She did? Sure, I’ll show you around. What did you want to see first?”

“What? I don’t know. What do you think Bernadette?”

“I think we should walk down to the cafeteria and have some coffee and I’ll give you the lowdown on everyone here. And you can tell me what experience you have and what you hope to accomplish here?”

“Have a seat, Freddy, it will be my treat since you’re the new guy. Do you like your coffee strong and hot as hell? Because that’s what they serve here. They want everyone here to be super caffeinated.”

“Sounds perfect.” As Freddy waited, he looked around the employee cafeteria and he noticed that the occupants were an equal amount of men and women of all ages. He felt he would fit in here just fine.

“Here you go Freddy, strong and hot. And as a first-day surprise a blueberry muffin. Enjoy.”

“Thanks so much. How about telling me about your experience here.”

“Well believe it or not I started here right after high school. I was kind of shy and kept to myself for a long time, but recently I made an effort to get to know the people that work here. And guess what? In general, they are friendly and helpful, and kind. Of course, there’s always a jerk in every workplace. But I leave that up to you to figure out who that is.

“I think you will find it be challenging work, but satisfying. I think it is really up to you how far you want to make it up the corporate ladder. Some employees here work enormous amounts of overtime. I don’t. I give a 100% while I’m here. But when I go home, I don’t think about it until the next morning as I go through the front door of our building.”

“Sounds about right, I do hope that it is challenging and satisfying, but I certainly don’t entertain the idea of working here until 10:00 every night.”

“Well, I guess your family wouldn’t appreciate you working every night, would they?”

“Oh, I don’t have a family yet, I’m single. Someday hopefully.”

“Oh, me too, single I meant. I haven’t really been in any serious relationship yet.”

We smile at one another and within those smiles was hope. Hopefully a promise of the future for us together. And over time that hope grew and grew into a reality and a future together.

5^th Journal- HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

No matter what path I took or how far I traveled eventually I would go back home. Not to my childhood home, but to the home Freddy and I created. And home was not a place. It was Freddy. I always returned to him. We eventually married and we lived together our entire adult lives. We were not the perfect couple. But we both found a home in each other’s hearts and would always live there. We found acceptance and appreciation, love and joy. We did not have a perfect union. We were not perfect, but we fit together like puzzle pieces, joined but separate. We had our ups and downs, and disagreements. Love always brought us together again eventually. We considered having children but, in the end, we decided that the two of us were enough.

6^th Journal-THE FINAL CHAPTER

Life is a journey and along the way, if you are lucky, you find love, happiness, and contentment in your life. But have no doubt you must make a mindful decision that love, happiness, and contentment are priorities. And the first love is self-love. Not to the exclusion of all others but before you can love and accept people into your life you must learn to love and accept yourself. You must acknowledge that we as humans make mistakes along the way. And we must learn how to learn from our mistakes and forgive them and move on. And once you have learned to forgive yourself for your faults and missteps in life you can do the same for all those people who are in your orbit during your life.

Once you are able to forgive you will feel lighter, the weight of anger will be lifted from your heart. And once I learned to forgive myself, I was able to forgive the other people in my life who had hurt me. And that is when I opened my life and my heart and I was able to allow Freddy to come into my life and fill my heart with love instead of anger and resentment towards myself.

Freddy and I had a wonderful life together with joy and happiness. I’m not saying every day was perfect or that we never said an unkind or thoughtless remark to one another. But we made a conscious commitment to forgive one another and let the little stuff go. We had time to travel the world and make friends. We also made the decision that wherever we went that place would be better for us having been there.

The final page in the sixth journal was a personal note to me.

Isabelle, the reason that I have left these diaries to you is that I realized when I first met you that you were struggling with many of the same issues that I had as a young person. You felt different from everyone around you. And you felt disconnected because of those differences.

I know my advice comes a little late, but perhaps it comes at a time when you are more open to looking at life with an open mind, and mature enough to see that your life can improve. But you must be willing to make the changes that will bring you the happiness I know that you have been looking for your whole life.

I’m not telling you that you have to change who you are, you do not. You are perfect the way you are. You only need to know and accept yourself. And the people around you will feel the change and realize that you are a person that they want to be a part of their lives. Forgive yourself for whatever mistakes or any decisions that you may have made in the past. And move forward without that useless baggage.

Happiness and love are waiting for you just on the other side of that door. Open your heart to people and they will welcome you with open arms. I promise you.

As I read my Aunt’s diaries, I felt my heart felt lighter and the knot that I felt in my stomach slowly loosened. For the first time in my life, I felt hope.

And the hope that sprung up in my heart helped me to deal with my anxiety and cope with adversity. It brought me a feeling of well-being and happiness.

And for the first time, I felt motivated to create a positive change in my life. I was able to start setting goals for myself and my life began to improve a little bit each day.

Hope can make a difficult situation more bearable and ultimately improve your outlook on life. Take one day at a time and slowly open your life to the people around you. Life is waiting for you on the other side of that door.

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THE INDENTURED GRADE SCHOOL STUDENT

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It was September of 1957 when my twin sister and I entered first grade at Our Lady of Perpetual Help School in Maple Shade, NJ.

Susan Carberry – photo by Hugh Carberry

“Get up it’s time to get ready for school.” My mother yells from the bottom of the steps. We moan and reluctantly throw the covers off. And slowly we get out of bed.

My mother put our school uniforms out for us. They look exactly alike, a maroon jumper with a white blouse that had what my mother called a Peter Pan Collar, black and white saddle shoes, and white socks. And worst of all a hat called a beanie that is also maroon. I put on the blouse and the jumper and it is so itchy I can’t believe it. I don’t think I will be able to wear it all day. I start scratching. I put on my new shoes. They look kind of neat but feel really heavy. Since I haven’t worn shoes all summer.

As soon as I start walking around my feet start hurting. I take them off and put my old sneakers on instead. Since I haven’t worn shoes all summer.

My sister looks over at me and says, “What are you doing? You have to wear the school shoes.”

I stick my tongue out at her. She says I’m telling Mom.

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up, I’m telling Mom.”

We walk down the steps to the kitchen. My sister’s shoes are making a lot of noise as she clumps down the stairs. I’m wearing my sneakers so I’m not making any noise. I hear my mother yell.

“Pick up your feet.”

I start laughing at her. She rushes down the rest of the steps and runs in the kitchen.” Mom, Susie isn’t wearing her new shoes, she’s wearing her old sneakers.”

My mother says, “Don’t tattle, that’s not nice.”

My sister is mad now, “but Mom she’s not wearing her school shoes.”

“Alright, sit down and eat your cereal, I’ll talk to your sister.”

I’m hiding at the bottom of the stairwell, so I know my mother is coming to talk to me. There’s nowhere for me to hide so I just stand there and wait for her.

“Susie, please go back upstairs and change your shoes. We already talked about this the other day you have to wear shoes and the uniform. It’s a rule.”

I look at my mother, and I want to cry but instead, I say, “I hate school, I don’t want to go.”

“No, you don’t Susie, you don’t even know what it’s like. You will make new friends, and learn all kinds of new things. Now, please go upstairs and put on your new shoes. And while you’re at it get your beanie. And I’ll comb your hair after breakfast, and help you brush your teeth.”

She has to “help” me brush my teeth because for a long time I didn’t brush my teeth at all. Just because my mother would nag me about it. And then I got an abscessed tooth and my mouth swelled up and, I got an earache. My parents had to take me to an emergency dentist appointment in Philadelphia. The dentist said my tooth had to be pulled out. And he blamed my mother because she didn’t make sure I brushed my teeth.

Now I stomp up the steps, muttering under my breath, “I hate school, I hate school.” I hear my sister laughing in the kitchen.

When I come down, I hear my mom talking to my sister in the bathroom while she is brushing her curly, dark hair. I start shoveling my cheerios in as fast as I can. I feel like I’m going to start crying. My sister and mother come back into the kitchen. I feel a tear and then another run down my cheeks.

“Look Mom, Susie’s crying, she’s such a baby.”

I look at my sister, and I’m so mad at her that I stop crying and stare at her hard. I stick my tongue out at her.

She yells, “Mom, Susie is sticking out her tongue at me again.”

“Alright that’s enough, go get your school bag, and wait for Susie on the front porch she’ll be outside in a minute.”

“Come on Susie, I’ll fix your hair, and you can brush your teeth.”

I follow my mother down the hall past the Blessed Mother grotto towards the bathroom. I start feeling sick to my stomach. “Mommy, I don’t feel good, I feel sick.

“You’ll be alright Susie, you’re just nervous. Let me brush your hair and then you can brush00 your teeth. Don’t forget to put on your beanie or you’ll get into trouble.”

I look in the mirror, I see my tear-streaked face, it is all red from me rubbing it. I had washed my hair last night but I didn’t comb or brush it so it is full of knots.

“Susie your hair is a rat’s nest. Didn’t you comb it last night after your bath?’

“No, I guess I forgot.”

Then my mother starts pulling the brush and then the big comb through my hair. It hurts. I look in the mirror. I have blond hair, but my sisters always tell me it’s “Dirty blond.” I hate when they say that cause I wash my hair every week.

“OK, Susie here’s your brush, put some baking soda on it and start brushing, brush all your teeth not just the front ones.”

“OK, Mom I will.” And I try to brush all my teeth, but my arm starts to feel tired, so I may have missed a few of the back teeth.

“Alright, let me see your teeth, Susie, open up.”

I open my mouth wide. She looks in. “Looks like you missed the ones in the back, here’s your brush do it again, and then rinse out your mouth.”

I do it again, I hate baking soda it tastes like poison. I brush the back teeth, rinse and spit.

“Put your beanie on Susie.”

I put it on the top of my head, it is sticking up weird in the back, because of my ponytail. I make a face. My mom looks at my face in the mirror. “Here Susie, I’ll put a couple of bobby pins on the beanie to keep it on. She takes the bobby pins out of her own hair. Which is set in bobby pins. Sometimes she doesn’t take the bobby pins out of her hair all day. Because she is so busy doing the housework, the laundry, making the beds, and washing dishes. And of course, ironing, which often takes up her whole afternoon.

“Don’t lose them, Susie.”

“OK, Mom.”

She sticks the bobby pins into my hair, and I flinch. Now, my feet and my head hurt. I want to cry again, but I don’t.

My mother leans down and gives me a little hug. It makes me want to cry again, but I hold the tears back. “Bye Mom, I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, Susie I forgot to tell you. You can come home for lunch. Sister will tell you when it’s time. I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

For a minute, I feel a little better. Then I run out the front door and I see my sister has already left. Now I have to go by myself. She’s a pain, but I always feel a little better when I can go with her somewhere I’ve never been before. My stomach starts to hurt in earnest and I get the weird scratchy feeling in my throat right before I really start crying.

I cry all the way to the schoolyard. I hear the school bell ringing. There are hundreds if not thousands of kids in the schoolyard. I don’t know where to go. Just then I realize that I forgot my school bag. The crying increases. I run into the schoolyard and look into the sea of unfamiliar faces. I look for my sister. I can’t find her. All the girls look alike in their uniforms.

I see a “nun” coming toward me. I want to run away. She looks like a giant or a witch. She has a really long black dress on and around her waist is a giant rosary swaying back and forth. As she comes toward me, I see she has a giant bib on her neck that comes down to her chest. And a stiff white piece of fabric and it is across her forehead. There was a black veil hanging down her back.

I’m terrified. “You’re late, don’t let that happen again. What is your name and what grade are you in?”

I look down at the ground. For a moment I can’t remember my name, or what grade I’m in.

“Put up your head and speak up.”

I looked up momentarily and mumble, “Susan Carberry, first grade.”

“Alright, Miss Carberry follow me.”

The “Nun” takes me across the schoolyard, and over to the line with the smallest kids. I see my sister. And I had never been so happy to see her in my life, as I did at that moment. She looks over at me and she gives me a little smile. And then the second bell rings, and all the kids start marching toward the school. The first day of school begins.

At first, when my mother told me that we were starting first grade I was excited about it, thinking it might be a new adventure. I could make new friends. It could be fun.

But then I talked to some of the older kids in the neighborhood and they told me about the nuns and homework and having to sit from eight o’clock in the morning until three in the afternoon. I wasn’t really sure what “Nuns” was, but it didn’t sound good. I was scared.

Jackie Rice the boy that lives next store to me told me all about it. He’s a lot older than me he’s going into the fifth grade. He said that the Nuns yelled at the kids all the time. And that you’re not allowed to talk in class unless the teacher says you can. I guess I don’t care about that so much since I don’t plan on talking in school at all. I decide that no matter what happens I will not open my mouth. And in that way. I won’t be able to get in trouble, ever. Keep my mouth shut.

But it turns out that I wasn’t able to do that because Sister John Michael who teaches my class is always asking questions. Sometimes she’ll go up and down the aisle and ask each of us a question. This is really bad because the whole time I hold my breath until it’s my turn to answer. And by then I feel sick to my stomach, from not breathing.

And then sometimes Sister John Michael will call a student’s name out of nowhere. And ask a question you didn’t have time to think about before you answered. One day she called out “Susan Carberry, what address do you live at?”

I just stare at her and don’t answer. I didn’t even know my address. No one ever told me that was something I needed to know. I think about making up an address. But I can’t think of one.

Then she yells even louder,” Has the cat got your tongue, Susan?”

“What? No, he doesn’t.” And then everyone laughs at me. I don’t know why they’re laughing. “My best friend is Strottles the cat, and he would never hurt me.” Everyone laughs at me again. That’s the day I decide I hate school and I would do everything I could to stay home.

From that day on almost every day, I would tell my mother that I felt sick, sometimes I tell her I had a stomachache, which is true. I wake up feeling sick every day. Because I hated school so much. Sometimes I told my mother I have an earache. But she just put drops in my ear and puts a piece of cotton ball in there too. Sometimes I convince her I was sick, and she’ll let me stay home.

But when I get my report card the number of days, I was absent was written in red. And Sister John Michael tells me that my mother has to go and talk to the principal at school. I don’t know what they told my mother but she looks upset when she comes home. I’m afraid they’ll send me to Public School because that is what they always said will happen to us if we’re really bad.

After I come home from school the next day my mother says that I can’t stay home from school anymore unless I’m really sick. So, from then on, I never told my mother when I’m sick. No matter what. So, when I got itchy bumps on my stomach, I didn’t tell anyone. And it turns out that I had measles and then so does the rest of my class. My mother talks to me again. “Susie, tell me when there is something really wrong. OK?” I don’t answer. I just look at my mother. I don’t want to lie to her.

I pretty much keep everything to myself after that because I didn’t want to go to Public School. Because the nuns told me it’s horrible there. I think it was horrible in the Catholic School and I didn’t think I could stand being anywhere that’s worse.

When I was promoted to the fourth grade Sister Joseph Catherine became was my teacher. She’s short not much taller than me. But she’s loud and mean. I’m a shy and quiet child. She chooses me to be her “assistant.” Wherever she goes I had to follow and carry whatever she is taking with her. She never said a kind word to me or even thanked me.

The Catholic Schools were overcrowded in those years when the boomers went to school. There aren’t enough classrooms available for all the kids. Sometimes there are fifty kids in a classroom. And there aren’t enough classrooms., Our fourth-grade class is held on the stage in the basement of the Catholic Church. Because it was in the church basement our classroom was isolated from the rest of the elementary school.

Sister Joseph Catherine was extremely strict with the students in order to keep the noise to a minimum in the overcrowded classroom. She also has a short fuse if she feels you aren’t trying hard enough or didn’t keep up with the class.

One day she calls on me to go to the blackboard to do a math problem. I hate being the center of attention and math did not come easily to me. When I made a mistake on the answer to the math problem, she comes up behind me as I was standing at the blackboard. She yells at me and then she grabs my ponytail and repeatedly slams my face into the blackboard and says to me, “How stupid are you?”

In addition to being Sister Joseph Catherine’s “assistant,” I’m told I will have to sell candy during recess to the other kids in the schoolyard. For the whole year, I sell candy and I’m not allowed to play with the other kids.

As an adult looking back on these experiences, I understand to some degree that these “teachers” were overwhelmed by the sheer number of students and the stress of keeping order. But still, I wonder why I was chosen to be the focus of Sister Joseph Catherine’s anger and resentment.

She could have made the decision to treat a shy and quiet student with concern and care and understanding but she did not. She was a sad and, heartless woman that was woefully unprepared and lacking empathy towards the children in her care.

As an adult, I look back on this experience as one that taught me many things. At first, my response was to become more withdrawn, more reluctant to participate in school. And become less apt to trust adults and less trusting of my own abilities to learn and participate in challenging experiences.

But ultimately, I decided that I would not let this experience shape me or change me in a negative way. And I chose to become open to new experiences and kind to the people I met along my way. And whenever possible to learn from all my experiences that I would and could overcome all challenges. I would meet the challenges with confidence in myself and the heartfelt belief that most people are decent and good. And the ones that aren’t are dealing with their own negative experiences and may yet do better in the future.

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THE STILL OF THE NIGHT WHEN THE MOON FLOWER BLOOMS

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Late one night I received a call from my mother’s next-door neighbor, Amanda Cummings. I remember it so well it was late, nearly eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night. I was just getting out of the bathtub when I heard the phone ringing. I let it ring. I mean who wants to talk to anyone at 11:00 PM. I don’t. It’s either a wrong number or bad news. Let’s face it no one wants to hear bad news right before they go to bed.

NIGHT GARDEN

I figure after the phone rang four or five times most people would give up. But not this late-night call. They let it ring ten times because that is when I picked up the phone. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. And I said out loud to no one in particular. “this better be good because it’s 11:00 and I was just getting ready for bed.” I pick up the phone, “Hello?”

“I apologize for calling so late, this is Amanda Cummings.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know any Amanda Cummings. I’m tired can you please tell me why you’re calling. I have to go to work in the morning.”

“I’m your mother’s next-door neighbor and a good friend of hers. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you but I couldn’t find a recent phone number. I finally got in touch with an old school friend of yours, Sara Rice. Luckily, she has kept in contact with you and had your home phone number.”

“OK, so what’s the problem, does my mother need to be bailed out of jail? If so, you called the wrong person I’m not doing that anymore. I can’t handle her drinking and self-destructive lifestyle anymore. I made that clear the last time I spoke to her over ten years ago. I told her not to contact me ever again. I meant it.”

NIGHT GARDEN

There was a moment of silence and I could hear her take a deep breath. “No, it’s nothing like that. I have some difficult news for you. She took another deep breath and then sighed. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your mother passed away several days ago, unexpectantly.”

“She passed away, what are you talking about she wasn’t even sixty years old yet?”

“It appears as if she had a stroke, apparently she had high blood pressure. Anyway, we held off holding the funereal and the services until we could get ahold of you. And as I said that took several days. Do you believe you’ll be able to make it to the services in two days?”

“No, I mean yes. Of course, I will make it home. I will have to speak to my boss in the morning and take leave for a few days. She is my mother after all, even though we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Do you know of any other relatives that would want to attend the services?”

“Honestly, I don’t. My mother was an only child. So, there were no cousins I knew of. My grandparents passed away years ago. And as I said, she had a drinking problem and if she had any relatives, they lost contact a long, long time ago. I guess I’m the only family. I suppose it will be a small service considering my mother’s addiction issues.”

“Actually, your mother has or had a large group of friends, she was involved in many community services and she volunteered at the grade school as an aide. She ran a kitchen that fed the needy in our community lunch and dinner for the last eight years. And then, of course, there was the community garden. She started it and trained all the volunteers and that is where the kitchen got all the fruits and vegetables. And then of course there was her personal garden. Oh, how she loved to work in her garden. Every year people took tours of the town’s most beautiful gardens. And hers was always on the list of most requested.”

“Wait a minute are you sure you are talking about my mother, friends, community services, and volunteer with kids? And also gardening, you must be mistaken?”

“No, I’m not mistaken. After your mother stopped drinking, she became well, a whole new person. Or perhaps the person she was always meant to be. She is, I mean was one of the kindest, most generous women, I ever met. I can’t tell you how much she will be missed. Not just by me, but everyone in town.”

“Well, that doesn’t even sound like the woman I knew or the mother I had. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I wish that woman was around for all the years I grew up alone, afraid, and often hungry. But as I said I will be there for the services. I will call you back tomorrow after I speak to my boss. Can you give me your cell phone number? Oh, this is your cell phone number. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

MOON LILY

Two days later I was in my car and on my way home to attend my mother’s funereal services. I felt numb, it all just seemed unreal. I stopped thinking about my mother ten years ago the last time I saw her. I bailed her out of jail and yet another drunken-driving accident, where a passenger in her car was seriously injured. I told her to lose my phone number I never wanted to hear from her or see her again. My whole life growing up was one catastrophe after another. Having my mother in my life was an invitation to a life of chaos and stress.

Over time I just stopped talking to her. I have no good memories to reminisce about. All my memories were painful to contemplate. All of them, I didn’t have a single good memory. And now I never would. I wish she had contacted me after she got sober. Maybe she was afraid she would relapse, I don’t know. But I can’t go back in time. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive to my mother’s house. I got a late start because I had to go to my office and tie up some loose ends. It was dark when I arrived.

When I pulled up to the curb in front of her house, I saw a light in the kitchen but the rest of the house was dark. As I opened the car door and step out, I took a deep breath. My memories of this house and the years that I spent there were not good ones. An absentee father and my mother who was there physically but her mind and her spirit were absent.

I was a lonely child. I was afraid to ask friends to come to my house. I couldn’t let them see the condition my mother was in or the downright filth we lived in. The kids and the adults would point at me when they saw me and shake their heads. No one ever reached out to me. No one tried to help me or ask me if I was hungry. Not even my teachers and they must have known something bad was happening in my home. My clothes and hair were always dirty. There were winters when I didn’t have a coat that fit me. I never had lunch money. I was often hungry. No one ever asks me if I was alright.

I pull into the driveway. I left my suitcase in the car. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in the house. I steeled myself for the possible nightmare I was about to enter. As I walk up the sidewalk, I notice that the sidewalk is spotless. The grass looks as if had been cut recently. There weren’t piles of unread newspapers strewn across the yard. There was a light shining next to the front door which wasn’t decorated by spiderwebs that I remembered as a child. I took a deep breath.

I knock at the door. No answer. I take my cell phone out of my purse and called Amanda Cummings. She answers on the first ring. “Hello Rebecca, where are you?”

“I’m at my mother’s door as we speak. Can you come over?”

“Alright, I’ll be right there. I just have to throw my robe and slippers on.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I look up at the sky as I wait for Amanda. It’s a clear night and the night sky is generously sprinkled with luminous stars. The night sky always had a calming effect on me. As a child, I used to sneak out of my room at night and sit in the back yard and say “twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are? Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, Twinkle little star, How I wonder what you are.” Every night I wished that my mother would be like all my friend’s mothers and that I had a father that would tuck me into bed at night and tell me, I love you, Becky. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.

But my wish never came true. My mother never became the perfect mother that I dreamed she should be and my father. Well, my father never appeared at my bed and told me I was such a wonderful daughter and how much he loved me.

I felt even more alone now, an orphan at thirty-five. And at that moment, I heard a voice behind me say, “Rebecca, it’s me Amanda I didn’t want to startle you. Would you like to go to the house? Are you planning on staying here? “

“Staying here, oh I don’t think so. I made a reservation at a nearby hotel.”

“Oh, well I understand, I just wanted to meet you and give you the information about the funereal and the wake. I hope this doesn’t further upset you but your mother left instructions in her will that she wanted the wake to be held here at the house the day of the funeral after dark in the back yard.”

“At night in the backyard? Well, isn’t that out of the ordinary? I thought most people have the wake after the funeral at a restaurant or a close friend’s house?”

“That’s true Rebecca but as I said this was a special request by your mother and I promised I would fulfill her final wish. I think you will better understand why at the time of the wake. I’m not trying to mysterious, but as I said I’m trying to fulfill her final wish.”

“OK, no problem I’ll text you the name of my hotel. If there is anything I’m supposed to do before then?”

“No, but your mother did ask if you would speak at the funeral.”

“What? No way. I can’t possibly do that. What would I say, I had a terrible childhood? And I have no good memories. She was the worst kind of mother.”

“Well, no, of course not. But don’t you have even one good memory of her that you would like to share?”

“I’ll try and think of one, but if I have any good memories, they are few and far between them. I’ll let you know if any come to mind.”

“OK, I’ll give you a call tomorrow afternoon with any updates. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. I know I’m a stranger to you, but I would like to say something to you.

Your mother and I have been close friends for many years. She was a woman who struggled to gain her sobriety. And once she did, she talked about you every time I saw her. She told me she was a terrible mother and you had every right not to ever want to see her again. But she loved you very much and she wanted to reach out to you. But kept her promise to you to leave you alone. And the reason was that she had broken every other promise she made to you and didn’t want to break the last promise she made.”

Rebecca tried not to allow any emotion to show. She promised herself she would not shed one tear for her mother. “Oh, alright I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I want to go to the hotel to get something to eat, take a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. But if you change your mind, or I can help you in any way, let me know.”
Rebecca said, “alright good night I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you for all that you are doing. You have obviously been a faithful friend to my mother.”

“Good night then, drive carefully.”

When Rebecca arrives at the hotel, she checks in and brings her suitcase up to the room. And she freshens up and takes the elevator down to the dining room and orders a hamburger and fries. It’s her go-to meal when she was stressed out. She knows it’s unhealthy but it’s the one unhealthy thing she eats. And it calms her down for some reason.

As she was sitting there eating her last fry, she had a sudden rush of memory. She was young perhaps six or seven and she was in a Mcdonald’s eating a hamburger and French fries and her smiling mother was sitting across from her eating the adult version of burger and fries. Her mother used to take her out on Friday night and they would eat at McDonald’s. How could she have forgotten that? A tear slowly descended her face down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

It was the first time in years that she thought of her mother in any other way than a negligent alcoholic mother. What else had she forgotten about her?

The next morning, she texted Amanda and told her she changed her mind and wanted to say a few words about her mother after all. Amanda was surprised but pleased. “Oh, that is good news I know your mother would love that. She lived with such guilt about you and your childhood.”

The service at the church was short. The minister spoke about her mother in glowing terms saying how she had fought so hard to get sober and stay sober and of all the people who she had helped to stop drinking. And the years following when she worked tirelessly at the school, within the community, and in the community garden. How later in life she became a model citizen and an example to all that is possible to turn your life around if you make a commitment to do so. Even though it continued to be a struggle throughout your life.

Many people came up to speak about their experiences with her mother. Each of them explained how they had struggled with addiction and how she supported them and helped them go into recovery. She was always willing to come out and help them no matter the time of day or if she had previous plans.

Amanda wished that she had the opportunity to get to know the woman that her mother had ultimately become. She knew it was too late now but still she felt proud of her mother for overcoming adversity and moving to the other side. She was glad she had made the decision to come here to her funeral. She felt it was a deeply healing experience for her.

After the service, many people came up to her and shook her hand, and told her how wonderful her mother was to them. How kind and generous with her time and energy. Amanda came over to her and hugged her. “Please Rebecca come to your mother’s house this evening at about 7:45. Go to the back yard I promise you that you will not regret it. “

“Alright, I will I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning so I can’t stay late. I’ll see you then.”

When it was almost time to go to her mother’s house Rebecca started to have cold feet. It had been so long since she had been inside her childhood home. There were so many bad memories there. At the last moment, she decided that she needed to let go of those bad memories and replace them with good memories she didn’t know what she would see in her mother’s garden at night. But she wanted to go see it.

Perhaps she would be able to find some peace now if she let go of her anger at her mother and forgave her. And try to accept that her mother had flaws and made some big mistakes but she had turned her life around and apparently did a great deal of good in the last years of her life. And so, she changed her clothes and drove to her mother’s house. She expected to see a lot of cars and many people but the only person she saw was Amanda.

“Oh, Rebecca I’m so happy you came. Let’s go over to the back gate I want to turn on some lights so you can see all the beauty that your mother created, not just in growing fruits and vegetables for all the hungry people in the area. But it creating a peaceful place for people to come and relax and enjoy the quiet and the beauty. Come on I know that you will just love it.”

“Alright, I can’t imagine what there is to see in the dark in her backyard. But I’m curious that is for sure. Let’s go.” Rebecca followed Amanda to the back gate. It was pitch black. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her. And then Amanda opens the gate and switched on some small twinkling lights and they walked through the gate and into something magical.

It was a garden of night-blooming plants lit up by twinkling lights with paths that ran from one end of the garden to another with connecting paths. It was so beautiful it was truly something breathtaking. Rebecca was overwhelmed by what she saw. The aroma was amazing. Tears ran down her cheeks and Rebecca was smiling and crying at the same time. In front of her was a sign that said, REBECCA’S NIGHT GARDEN. Created with love.

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THE ROCKING CHAIR

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I admit it. I’m a collector. Oh, some people might call me a hoarder, but that’s not true. I’m highly selective in what I buy and collect, always. For the last six months, I’ve been having a reoccurring dream. In the dream, I wake up to find myself in my car parked outside a store. The name of the store is OF MEMORIES PAST. The first night that I had the dream, I woke up with a start. And I couldn’t get back to sleep. I kept obsessing about the store OF MEMORIES PAST. I try to recall if I have ever frequented such a store, but I have no memory of shopping there or even seeing a store by that name.

Monkey Rocking Chair by Bob Culver

The second time I have the dream I wake up just as I’m about to lock my car door and walk across the parking lot and toward the door of the store. The third time I have a dream I was turning the doorknob. I hear a ringing sound as I open the door I look up and see bells that are attached at the top of the door frame and jingle when the door is opened.

The last time I had the dream was two weeks ago. I walk through the door and into the store. It’s an antique store, and it holds not only antique furniture but also any kind of ephemera. As I walk up and down the aisles of the store, I see many interesting items, including a candlestick holder that’s a snake. It’s placed on a side table with nothing else on it. Its ornate base is coiled, and the snake’s head is erect and holding a candlestick in his mouth. As I gaze at the snake, his eyes shift in my direction and stare at me. And at that moment, the candlewick lights up and starts burning brightly.

When a snake symbol appears in a dream, it usually indicates that something important is happening in the unconscious. It can be either dangerous or healing. The snake symbolizes both negative things, such as toxic thoughts, fear, worries, and running away from something, and positive such as transformation, regeneration, growth, or rebirth.

And besides, the candlestick is an antique oak rocking chair. I’m sure it’s well over a hundred years old. I can tell by the way the wood pieces are joined. The oak is quite old, and its patina is golden and cool to the touch. The seat is upholstered, and there is an image of a monkey in a jungle wearing blue and white striped pantaloons and, a red and white shirt, and a vest with a beret with a gold medallion on it. I’m immediately attracted to this chair. I know I must acquire it. And that is when I woke up.

I’m familiar with all the antique shops in the area, so I contacted all the local dealers and described the chair and the candlestick holders, but none of them owned either object. One dealer suggests contacting local private collectors, and another suggests I look into local estate sales in the area. None of the dealers has either of these objects, but one dealer, whose name is Macomb, tells me that there is a huge estate sale in three days on Saturday, and he gives me the phone number. As he is about to hang up, he tells me to get there early because the estate sale has been widely advertised.

I arrive one hour early for the estate sale, and there is already a line going around the block. I feel confident that if my dream chair and candle holder are present at this estate sale, I will be able to purchase them because there is nothing about them that should garner a great deal of attention.

As always, everyone waiting in line is somewhat excited. They all believe they will find that one treasure that will be worth a great deal more money than they have to pay for it because they alone will realize its true value. After all, going to estate sales is the modern-day treasure hunt. I have to admit I feel a bit of a buzz myself. Not because I hope to find a treasure that will make my years of searching for treasure worthwhile. But because I’m looking for something so special that perhaps I will learn the secrets of the universe. Or maybe a way to travel through time and space or the secrets from the past.

About a half-hour ago, they started allowing five people at a time into the house. At this rate, it will be over an hour before I even get to the door. But I will wait patiently because I have a deep belief that my dreams have taken me to this point, and I will succeed. And so, I wait. I think back on all of the sales that I have attended over the years. And I have found some forgotten treasures, some I have kept, and some I have sold for a profit. I don’t regret one moment of it, not the long lines where I stood outside in the cold, in the pouring rain, and on the hottest days in July and August.

Five more people, and it will be my turn to go into the house. My heart is beating hard, and I’m so excited. I start taking deep breaths. And then I heard my number called. “Numbers 56 through 61 come in. Everyone else steps back.” We are going to take a half-hour break before anyone else comes in. A noticeable moan goes through the remaining crowd waiting behind me.

Finally, I’m walking through the double doors. And I see before me an entryway that is astonishing, to say the least. It appears to be a hand-laid mosaic floor reminiscent of Giotto di Bondone of Florence during the Renaissance. It seems to be almost a sacrilege to walk on it. It is a garden scene in Italy with grape vine-covered stone walls and idealized romantic mountains and rivers. I walk along the edges of the floor, afraid that I might damage it in some way.

As I walk through the entryway, I see the living room beyond me. It is a room of light. It has huge ten-foot windows with stained glass in the top five feet of the windows. I stand there in awe. Even if I don’t find the treasures that I’m searching for, I know that this house and its contents are something I will not soon forget.

Most of the furniture in the living room has already been tagged as sold. This happens so often at these high-end estate sales. The antique dealers are the first buyers that get in, and they have already been made aware of what treasures are available for sale and they make offers a way out of range for the ordinary people to match.

But then, most of us are voyeurs or looky-loos who come to see how rich people live. And we pick up the odd knick-knack or souvenir. I have to say that I am truly impressed by the quality not only of the original artwork but the floors, the lofted ceilings, the marble, and on and on.

Unless I have the money and an interest in any particular piece of furniture or artwork, I never touch it. It is sacrosanct. Not to mention that the oil and sweat from people’s hands are damaging to fabrics, paintings, and any handmade object. I hear the people around me oohing and ahhing throughout the house, so I know I’m not the only one who admires quality.

I begin to ascend the spiral staircase. The railings alone are awe-inspiring. There is a vining pattern that appears throughout the house. On the second-floor landing is a crystal chandelier that is to die for. But I can not imagine any other home that it would feel at home in besides this one. I’m sure the artist came to this home and designed it for this home and no other.

I peek into each bedroom on the second floor, and I’m pleased but not surprised to see the beauty and originality found in each bedroom. I would be hard put to pick one that I loved more than the next. I stop and walk into the main bathroom. It is black and white tiles from the floor to the ceiling. And a Victorian-footed bathtub that is immense. I have no doubt that three grown adults could bathe in it with space to spare. It looks as if the walls are a one-of-a-kind hand-painted mural of the sea off the coast of Italy. It has dolphins jumping out of the waves into the sky and swimming through the sea. Stunning.

I take a deep breath and walk on. At the end of a long hallway in which there are a least ten bedrooms, I find a small doorway with an old fashion skeleton key in the lock. I turn it. I turn the knob, and the door swings open. I see a narrow stairway. I look around, and no one else is near me, so I walk through the doorway and make my way up the dusty stairway. It doesn’t look as if anyone has been up here in a long, long time. I quietly make my way to the top of the stairway.

My heart begins to beat irregularly. I know, I absolutely know for sure that I’m going to find my rocking chair and the Snake candle holder in this room. I know I‘m meant to find it. I find a chain hanging down from the ceiling and pull it, and a dim lightbulb turns on. I find my way to the front of the room and pull open the curtains, which are heavy and purple velvet. I can’t imagine how hot and stuffy it must be in this room in the summer.

Light streams into the room. Which is much larger than I imagine. I wondered who lived in this room over the years. Was it an employee, a servant? Or perhaps a nanny for the many children that must have lived in this house over the years? Or a relative who was no longer in favor of the head of the household? Who knows?

I wonder if there is any way that I can investigate this family through historical records or perhaps a family member that likes to tell people about his family history. I believe I will have to contact the local historian for the wealthy families that have lived in this area in recent history.

I see that there are many, many storage areas along the walls. There are doors that are about two feet tall. I pull one open, and I see a Sea Chest. I struggle to pull it out. But it is so heavy. I push open the cumbersome top and peer in. There are woman’s garments. They look as if they are from the turn of the century. Maybe the 1920’s. They look as if someone could put them on today and look amazing in them. I examine the inside of one of the dresses, and I can see that it was all made by the hand of the finest silk. It is a sky-blue dress with a lowered waist and a pleated navy-blue skirt. I tuck it back in and close the lid.

I pull myself up and walk to the other side of the room and pull open the curtains on the window. And low and behold, I see a small table with a candle holder in the shape of a snake holding a candle that is yellow with age. It is sitting on a small side table with a hand-carved top that looks like mountains next to the sea.

And then I see what can only be described as a rocking chair, made of oak with an upholstered seat cushion with none other than a monkey climbing a tree wearing pantaloons and a shirt and vest and a Barret with a gold medallion on it. On the top of the chair, the headrest is ornately carved with the legend OF MEMORIES PAST. For a moment, it occurs to me that I might actually be asleep and dreaming. And that none of this is real.

I run my hands over the smooth oak arms. It is like glass. And although it is clear that is a very old chair, it is also apparent that whomever this chair belonged to took care of it with loving hands and heart. I fondly look at the image of the monkey in the tree. He looks as if he is looking directly at me with an all-knowing look. I’m tempted to sit down in the rocker. It is such a strong impulse I decide to take a chance. I look carefully over the chair to make sure there are no loose joints and that the seat is firmly attached. It is in pristine condition. But I know that the glow of the wood indicates that many hands and arms have rested here in this chair and found peace and comfort.

I gently sit down on the seat and slide, and sit back as far as I can. I lay back my head on the back of the chair and closed my eyes. I take several deep breaths. And the chair begins to rock back and forth slowly. It seems as if the chair has a life of its own. I begin to relax, and I feel completely safe and sleepy. I nod off.

I awaken, and I find myself in one of the bedrooms downstairs. I’m standing in front of a mirror. I’m wearing an apron over a dress that falls several inches below my knees. I have heavy stockings on my legs and black boots with low heels and shoelaces tied all the way up over my ankle. I look at my face in the mirror, and I don’t recognize the face in the mirror, and yet I know it’s me, somehow.

My hair is long and dark. It is pulled back into a complicated bun on the back of my head. There is a silver hair clip holding my hair in place. I move closer to the mirror, and I see that my eyes are light blue and reflect intelligence and humor somehow. It looks as if I could burst out laughing at any moment. There are small perfect pearls on my earlobes. I walk over to the closet and open the door, and I see similar clothes as I’m wearing. Some are plain, and there are some far in the back that is ornate and in bright colors.

I walk over to the bed, and I see a picture of a younger woman who bears a resemblance to the face that I saw in the mirror. It must be a photo of her younger self. She is standing next to a young man who has his arm around her waist. And he is looking at her with what could only be described as love and devotion. And for some unknown reason, I feel deep sorrow and loss.

I walk across the room and look in the other closet. I open the door only to find that it is empty. I feel the same sense of emptiness and loss. I realize that the young man is no longer among the living.

The next thing I remember is walking to the narrow door in the hallway that leads to the attic and opening the door, and walking slowly up the staircase. And then I sit down on the rocker and close my eyes and breathe deeply and feel sleepy.

I wake up to find myself groggy and sleepy and not knowing exactly where I am or what I’m doing here. I hear someone calling out to me, “Miss, miss, you have to wake up now. Other people are waiting to come in. Wake up now.”

I slowly open my eyes to find a large woman with bright, red curly hair saying.

” Wake up, wake up, miss.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just sat down for a moment. I didn’t sleep well last night. I must have drifted off. I would like to purchase this chair and the Snake candle holder.”

“Of course, take this ticket downstairs to the woman sitting at the card table. Tell her you wish to purchase these items. And then, you can bring the receipt up here and take your items. You’ve made a very good choice with this chair and the candle holder. The chair belonged to the lady of the house. She was given this chair when she was expecting her first child, and she used to sit there and write in her diary in the evening by a candle when she wasn’t rocking her babies.

Later in life, after her husband passed away and her children left home, she would sit here and rock in the evening and write in her diary or read books. You know, the strange thing is that you bear a strong resemblance to her, except for the fact that she had dark hair, and your hair is light. And she had those startling light blue eyes, and your eyes are dark blue.

“Thank you, I’ll go down and pay for these items and be right back.”

“Alright, I’ll wait here for you.”

Less than ten minutes later, I returned to the attic, and the woman was looking out the attic window, still waiting for me. “Oh, good, there you are. I have your two items here. I hope you will enjoy them for many years. You might want to look up the history of the family to see if you are related to the Carlisle family. There really is a strong resemblance.”

“You know, I think your right. I feel a strong attachment to the chair and the candle holder. And actually, to this house. I wouldn’t be surprised to find I am related to this family. I picked up the chair and the candlestick holder and carefully made my way down the narrow steps, and in a few minutes, I found myself walking out the back door and into the back garden. It, too, felt so familiar to me, especially the arbor covered in grapevines over the picnic table.

Although I couldn’t recall ever being here before, I made a promise to myself to investigate the Carlisle family. I know that somehow, I’m connected to them and that the young woman in the mirror was a relative that had reached out to me and wanted me to have her precious rocking chair and the memories that it held.

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WRITE ON

Writer's Blog by Susan A. Culver

Author Archives: Susan

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE CURIOUS

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BORN DIFFERENT

MARIE’S RECIPES

PART 2- ON THE WALK BACK TO GLAMPING CAMPING

Dream Vacation – Day ONE-Glamping in Cape May

A SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE

THE INDENTURED GRADE SCHOOL STUDENT

THE STILL OF THE NIGHT WHEN THE MOON FLOWER BLOOMS

THE ROCKING CHAIR