Author Archives: Susan

POCKET

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I franticly pull on my favorite pair of black dress pants and a white silk blouse. I overslept yet again. I have been plagued by insomnia for the past three weeks. I didn’t fall asleep until 2:30 in the morning last night. My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and so does my mouth. I rush toward the bathroom. And stub my toe on a pile of books I left on the floor yesterday. I scream out an expletive. I have never been able to figure out why it hurts so much when a toe is stubbed. I lean over and hold my toe, hoping it will stop throbbing.

Silver Dollar 2211438-Pixabay

When I finally stop cursing, I hop over to the sink on one foot to wash my face, brush my teeth and gargle mouthwash. I brush my red curly hair into a bun.  I rush to the kitchen and grab my keys off the kitchen table.

I head out the door to the garage. I shove the garage door up. God, how I wish I could afford an electric garage door opener. I back out of the garage. Put the emergency brake on the car and get out and slam the garage door shut.

I jump back in the driver’s seat, and off I go. As I drive down the street, I can see that Route 50 is absolutely packed. I’ll probably have to sit for five or ten minutes just waiting to make a left turn. The traffic on Route 50 is unbelievably crowded if you are heading into the city from the suburbs.

I finally manage to edge my way onto the highway. I‘m off, going ten miles an hour. Why you ask? Because someone has had an accident somewhere ahead of me on Route 50. I’m going to be in hot water if I’m late again. I already had a warning last week.

Oh good, it looks like the accident in front of me is clear. I’m on my way again. I put some music on to calm my nerves. I reach into my purse for my change purse and blindly search through the change for my lucky coin. It never fails me. Whenever I’m under the gun, all I have to do is keep my lucky coin in my pocket and everything turns out perfectly.

My Uncle Pat gave me this silver dollar for my tenth birthday. He promised that it would bring me good luck whenever I really needed it. And it always has from that day forward. Whenever things are difficult. All I do is put the coin in my pocket and rub it. And sure enough, by the end of the day, things will have improved immensely.

My Uncle Pat lived in Philadelphia, and we lived in a small town in Southern New Jersey. I loved it when he came to visit us. He would call ahead and let my mother know what time his bus would arrive at our corner. I would wait until it was almost time for his bus to get to our street, and then I would run as fast as I possibly could down our street to Main Street. And sit down on the bench at the bus stop and wait for his bus to get there.

When the bus pulled over to the curb, I would be waiting there for him with a big smile on my face. “Hi Uncle Pat, I’ve been waiting for you. I missed you.”

“Hello, Jenny, how are you?’

My Uncle Pat always said the same thing to me every time I saw him. He would say,” I have a surprise for you. Guess what it is?”

He always gives me the same thing, a coin. Sometimes it’s a quarter, and other times it was a dime. Either way, I’m happy because as soon as I walked him down the street to my house, then I would run down the street to buy some penny candy at the candy store.

“Come on, Jenny, guess.”

And then I answer, “is it an elephant?”

He looked at me and says,” how do you always know what’s in my pocket? You must be a mind reader.”

Then he hands me a coin, and I smile from ear to ear. Because nothing made me happier than seeing him laugh. My Uncle Pat was tall and had a huge belly that bounced up and down when he laughed. His hair was bright red and wavy. He laughed a lot. He was such fun to be around, always laughing and telling silly jokes.

But that day, he pulled a silver dollar out of his pocket. I’ve never seen one before. I thought it must be worth a fortune. “Uncle Pat, thanks so much. This is the best present anyone has ever given me.”

“You’re welcome, Jenny. But don’t spend this silver dollar because it isn’t an ordinary coin. It’s magic. When you are having a tough time, put it in your pocket and rub it, and soon your problems will be gone. Whatever you don’t lose it. And don’t give it away. It will only work for you, no one else. The magic is just for you, Jenny. We better keep moving, or I’ll be late for lunch, and your mother will have a bird.”

He always says, “your mother will have a bird.” It just means she’ll be upset.

As we walked down the street, my uncle kept stumbling. I began to worry that he’ll fall. And I‘ll never be able to pick him up. He’s really big. By the time we arrive at my house, I‘m a nervous wreck. Because I kept thinking he’s going to fall. But thank goodness, he didn’t.

I yank open our front door and yell at the top of my lungs,” Uncle Pat’s here, Uncle Pat’s here.”

My mother calls out from the kitchen, “dear god, Jenny, are you trying to wake the dead?” Stop yelling. My mother walks into the vestibule and says, “Pat, come in, come in and take a load off. I have the coffee on, and your lunch is almost ready.”

Ever since the day that my Uncle Pat gave me the silver dollar, I always kept it in my pocket. And if I was really having a tough day, I  take it out and rub it. And think about what my Uncle Pat said.

And it never failed by the end of my day; whatever I was worried about would seem small and insignificant. And I would stop worrying about it. As I grew up, I began to understand that  I couldn’t control all the things in my life that didn’t go perfectly. I was able to control most things. While I was still in school, I realized that if I studied and prepared for my classes, I didn’t have to worry about failing. If I planned ahead. I wouldn’t have to worry about something that might happen. Of course, you can’t be prepared for everything that might happen. But I was lucky because I had my lucky coin. Sometimes, I rubbed it so hard for so long that I realized I was wearing it out.

As I grew up, I needed my lucky coinless and less, but I still keep it in my pocket, just in case. I know it will always be there for me if I ever need it. I’m an adult now, and I realize that the magic that coin held for me was self-confidence. That no matter what problem I face in life. I will be able to handle it. And I have. My Uncle Pat was a wise man.

RAIN THEN TEARS

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I barely make it on time to the Greyhound Depot to catch my bus. It starts to rain about five blocks from the depot. I‘m thoroughly soaked through by the time I arrive there. My hair is dripping wet, and rain has somehow found its way inside my jacket.  I run towards the bus depot; my backpack is bouncing up and down on my back like a snare drum. The bouncing has the added effect of inducing a migraine headache. I step onto the bus and hand the bus driver my ticket. “Oh, sorry, I’m sorry. I got a late start. “

Greyhound Bus-Peter Wolf-Pixabay

I take one look at the bus, and I see it is packed to the gills. “Shit, shit, shit,”  I look at the driver and shrug my shoulders. “There aren’t any seats left; I purchased this ticket two weeks ago.”

“Yes, mam, there is. It’s in the second to last row on your left, next to the window.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, I see it. Thanks.”

I make my way halfway down the center aisle and trip over some guy’s foot that’s sticking out. He all but shouts at me, “Hey lady, lookout, are you blind or what?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see it sticking out. I didn’t expect someone to have their foot sticking out in the aisle so they could trip someone. And I give him one of my biggest smiles and flutter my lashes at him. And walk on. I mutter under my breath, “asshole.”

I notice as I cruise down the center aisle that all the other passengers have their heads down for some reason. Huh, I think what’s this all about? I try and catch someone’s attention, but no one looks my way. Then I think, oh maybe they’re all mad because I was late. Oh well, nothing I can do about that now.

I finally make it down the gauntlet of sad, distracted faces to my empty seat. I hear a weird noise. First, there is a sniffing sound. I think someone has a cold. And then I realize it’s the person in the seat next to mine. Great, now I’m going to catch a cold for crying out loud. I look at her. Tears are streaming down her flushed cheeks. I hear three loud sniffs, and then the crying starts and steadily increases until she is full-out sobbing. I take a step back. I look from left to right. I see no other course of action, no place else to go. I look at the people on the right and the left. Then I do an about-face and look at the passengers in the middle and the front.

About half of them have plugged in their headphones and have their heads down. The rest are staring out the windows. Probably wish they were anywhere but here on this stupid bus ride to hell. I turn back around and look at my seat.

“Excuse me,” I say to the crying young woman. “But this is my seat next to you. Could you move over so I can sit down?”

She slowly raises the armrest and blows her nose a couple of times on a tissue she has tucked up her sweater sleeve. I hear a honk, honk. I think, dear god, what is that noise? Then, I realize it’s the young woman blowing her nose. She slowly gets up, and I mean slowly, and moves over to the window seat. She doesn’t say a word, nada, anything at all. She just slides over and continues crying, with her head hanging low. Her chin is almost resting on her chest.

I pull off my backpack and unsnap one of the side pockets and pull out my headphones. I put my pack on the rack above my head with some difficulty.  I’m not the tallest person in the world, and I have short arms to boot. I finally shove it in and plop down in my seat. It’s only 7:55 am, and I’m exhausted. And there’s a thirteen-hour and fifteen-minute bus trip ahead of me. Oh well, I, think I’ll just take a nap, and that way I can get some rest and kill some time.

And that’s when I realize that I don’t have my migraine medicine with me. And I know that this is going to be the most interminable trip of my life. It was a mistake flopping down in my seat, too, as that has made my migraine pain even worse. I start to feel nauseous. My head is pounding as if it might explode. I begin worrying about how often they clean the bathroom on these Greyhound buses.

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep over the road noises and over the sobbing of my bus companion. As I’m about to drift off, I think, what in the world has happened to this girl to make her cry like this, non-stop and within hearing distance of everyone on the bus? And also, why am I so unlucky? Why did I end up sitting next to this weeping young woman? And then I realize it was my fault for being late leaving and being the last person to get on the bus. And that’s all I remember until I woke up about an hour later.

As I started to wake up, I hear a weird noise. I don’t immediately remember where I am. And then I hear a honking. Honk, honk, honk. It’s my seat companion. Blowing her nose once again. Dear god, is she still crying, I think?  I look over at her. Her eyes are so swollen from crying.   I can hardly see her eyes. Her nose is red. She starts pressing her fisted hands on her eyes and rubbing them back and forth. I stare at her. She seems to have forgotten that I’m sitting next to her. I try and decide what the best course of action is. Short of throwing myself out the window. Or at the very least, getting on a different bus at our first rest stop.

I stare at her red and puffy eyes and think. What would I want someone to do if the circumstances were reversed, and I was the one who couldn’t stop crying? Would I prefer people just ignored me or someone asks me if I’m alright?

“Excuse me; my name is Marilyn Carter. I know it’s none of my business, but you seem so upset. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She looks over at me with a surprised expression on her face that says, where did you come from? She is still sniffling, and tears are running down her cheeks, but she isn’t sobbing anymore. I see her gulp. And then she clears her throat. “Oh, I didn’t even notice you were sitting there. And the short answer is no; I’m not alright. Four days ago, I was laid off from my job. Well, they called it a layoff]. But I won’t be called back. I loved that job. It was the first job I had where I felt I was making a real difference. I moved away from Raleigh to take the job. A place where I had spent my whole life. All my friends live there, and so does my family.”

As she mentions family, she starts crying again. I wait for her to continue. “And that morning before I got to work, I got a call from my father. He told me that my mother had a heart attack, and passed away. So, today I’m going home for the funeral. And while I’m there, I’m going to decide if I should go back to Philadelphia and look for another job there. Or if I should just go and pack up all my stuff in my apartment in Philly and move back to Raleigh and try to find a job there.”

“What did you say your name was, dear?”

“My name? Oh, of course, I’m sorry. I told you my whole life story, and you don’t even know who I am. My name is Candace Mickleton. I’m not in the habit of crying in public. I know this sounds dramatic, but I feel like my heart is broken. It hurts to keep breathing. Just the very act of breathing is painful. I love my mother so much. I called her every day. She always believed in me even when I struggled for so long, trying to find out what I wanted to do in my life. She was always there for me, telling me she knew I will be successful and not to ever lose faith in myself. And then to lose my job so unexpectedly. It’s too much. I don’t feel like I can go on. I can’t think of a reason why I should go on.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you by your first name Candace. Please call me, Marilyn.”

“First, please let me say how sorry I am about your mother passing away. I remember when my mother died and how her loss made me feel broken, empty. I couldn’t imagine going the rest of my life without seeing her. Every day for weeks, the first thing I thought about was my mother and how I would never see her again or hear her voice, how I would never hear her tell me how proud she was of me. And how much she loved me.”

“Over time during the day, I started thinking about how my mother would not have wanted me to feel this bereft because of her. She only wanted the best for me. And whenever I started feeling bad, I thought about how lucky I was to have such a wonderful mother. And I started to do things that made me feel happy; I concentrated on all the good things I had in my life. I moved forward in my life instead of being stuck in that moment of loss. I decided that from that moment forward, I would be happy and successful in my life because that is what my mother would have wanted for me.”

“As for losing your job well, that was bad timing. Perhaps you need this time to heal from your mother’s loss. Take the time to recover and consider what you want your future to be. You said that your job was the first job you loved and were doing well. You could use that experience as a springboard to something even better. While you are in Raleigh, you’ll have the opportunity to talk to all your old friends and relatives. And who knows one of them might be aware of an opportunity in the Raleigh-Durham area. That you aren’t aware since, as you said, you haven’t lived here in quite a while.”

Candace gradually stops crying as she listens to Marilyn. And she realizes she’s right. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to stop living her life. She would want her to move forward into her future with her optimism. “Thank you, Marylyn, that is what I needed to hear. I feel like I can breathe again. My mother would want me to go on with my life and be happy and successful. I don’t know what I’m going to do about finding a job. But I will talk to my family and get their advice. I love living in Philadelphia. I have made so many friends there. And there is always something going on downtown. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of my father living alone. “

“Candace, why don’t you give it a few days and then talk to your father? He is probably in shock right now. You might find that he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And wouldn’t want you to give up your life in the North East. Since he knows how happy you are there.”

“Thanks again Marilyn I’m so lucky that you were late getting to the bus station. And that you ended up sitting next to me.”

“Thanks, Candace, life has a way of bringing the right people into our lives when we need them. I think I’m going to take another little nap now. But if you like it at the rest stop what say I buy you a nice lunch. I know I didn’t take time to eat breakfast, and you probably didn’t, either.” And with that, Marilyn’s eyes close, and she falls fast asleep and begins snoring loudly.

Candace looks at Marilyn and smiles. And closes her own eyes and falls fast asleep as well.

CORONA VIRUS- JUNE 6th, 2020

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Another week has passed. Spring is nearly over and Summer will arrive in two weeks. I can’t imagine that this summer will be similar to any summer I have experienced during my lifetime. It’s true the heat and humidity will be here and extended daylight too. But few people will be taking vacations at the beach or anywhere else I imagine.

Cows cooling down in the pond

In my travel to my volunteer job at Animal Edventure, I have been fortunate in being able to observe the beautiful farmlands of North Carolina come to life. Two weeks ago, I noticed that the farmers were plowing their fields and that because of all the rain we receive, the grass was greener, and the wildflowers were appearing along the side of the roads.

NC rural farmlands- photos by Bob Culver

Yesterday I noticed that the crops that were just planted a week ago were about ten inches tall. I was amazed at how quickly they grew. Thanks to the hardworking farmers and the Latino migrant workers that come here every year to do the backbreaking work to provide food for our tables. I have never lived in a rural area before, and I have come to have a real appreciation for this landscape.

We will appreciate our friends and family because we now understand how essential they are to our lives and our happiness. And appreciate them all in a new way. We will no longer take anything for granted. Because we realize that any of it or all of it could be lost in a moment.

We know life seems to slip by quickly as we get older. And every moment of our lives should be treasured. Now is the time for all of us to tell people how much we love and care for them. From my own experience, I can tell you that time passes quickly. It seems like yesterday when my children were young and playing in the little blow-up pool in the backyard of our first house. And now they are both adults. It seems in the blink of the eye.

When I was a child, Summer was my favorite time of the year. It was a magical time. I had complete freedom, no school, and so no homework. Endless days of playing with my friends, riding my bike all over town and swimming in my neighbor’s pool, roller skating, walking downtown and going to the 5 & 10 Store, and going to the Matinee downtown every Saturday afternoon. The only bad memories I have was being eaten alive by the mosquitoes.

So no, this won’t be the idyllic Summer we would all love to have. But we can enjoy watching movies with our children or grandchildren, swimming in our backyard pools if we have one. Riding bikes in our neighborhoods or even hiking in the woods if there is one located near where you live. We can still create good memories. It is up to us.

It is strange that with all the unrest in our country that the Corona Virus has barely been mentioned even though it is clearly still here. And the death rate has continued to increase. And we will a surge in the number of people infected because of people protesting and more people attending churches and not observing social distancing or not wearing masks while among crowds of people.

I believe that because of all the pain and loss we are all feeling at this time, we will learn a new appreciation for we took for granted all these years. The violence that has been visited upon American citizens for lawfully protesting the death of yet another black American citizen by police is difficult to digest. There have been rallies across the world to support Black Lives Matter. There have been riots.

I do not support rioters destroying private businesses or looting. This type of action is not acceptable at all. It hurts everyone in the community. But I do understand the emotions behind the looting and rioting. The anger, the frustration, the resentment they have experienced by being treated as less than white people over many generations has an accumulative effect.

As your lives return to normal and you return to your jobs, please keep in mind that the virus is still very much alive and among us. Please continue to social distance and wear masks. I know it’s easy to forget doing to do this. I enjoy talking to people and often have to suppress my inclination to walk over to people and start talking to them. I miss that interaction. I wave at them from a distance and yell out,” Hello, how are you doing?” It feels weird and artificial to me. But I continue to do so because I don’t want to inadvertently become infected or infect someone else because I wasn’t careful enough. We must always remember to first do no harm.

Some day I hope that all of this will just become a distant bad memory. But there are lessons to be learned here. That all lives have value and make a contribution. A contribution that perhaps we never valued before and, now we do. I hope we remember this when all is said and done.

That in order for us to continue to have a free country, there is a price we all have to pay, is to guard that freedom. That our actions have consequences. That every person’s life matters. Regardless of their race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation.

__________________________________

THE INCREDIBLE MUTTER MUSEUM IN PHILADELPHIA

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“I‘m about to embark on the ultimate goal of my lifetime. It’s such an incredible opportunity that I’m almost tongue-tied. Tongue-tied, that’s funny. If I were actually tongue-tied, I would no doubt fit into my position on yet another level. Let me explain further.

My name is Henry Aloysius Caldwell, the Third. I’m third in line to inherit all that my grandfather Henry Aloysius Caldwell left to his heirs. Which, even I admit, is considerable. I have amassed a small fortune myself. And so, my grandfather’s inheritance, although a tidy sum, is not something I need or necessarily even desire. But what he has left to me and me only is the opportunity of a lifetime.

Mutter Museum skull collection

The first time I entered the hallowed halls of the Mutter Museum and Library, I was about thirteen years old. Mutter Museum’s location is at 19 South 22nd Street in Philadelphia, Pa. The Mütter Museum of The College of Physicians of Philadelphia was donated by a surgeon Thomas Dent Mütter who was hell-bent on improving and reforming medical education. Mütter made it clear that by accepting his donation of 1,700 objects and $30,000, the College is required to hire a curator, maintain and expand the collection, fund annual lectures, and erect a fireproof building to house the collection.

What collection, you ask? Well, I was just about to explain just that. Basically, the museum is dedicated to the study of human anatomy. The collection includes both normal and abnormal specimens. They’re stored as wet and dry specimens. But, my area of “interest” is the anomalies. Some have called it an obsession, but I, well, I call it passion.

Conjoined twins plaster cast Mutter Museum

Conjoined twins plaster case- Mutter Museum

Why do you ask? Well, it is merely this. I’m an anomaly. Oh, you don’t see anything about me that is odd or peculiar? Some differences are not apparent to the human eye. I may look normal enough at first blush. But I’m attracted to all things different, strange, off the wall, bizarre, weird and eccentric, and unusual. I’m a collector of sorts too.

And since I have the resources, I have spent the entirety of my adult life collecting. I have traveled every nook and cranny of the earth, no matter how remote. I have collected human oddities, not living ones. But those who have passed from this mortal coil. Their final contribution being their human remains. And their families are generously compensated for their contributions. And their hope is at least they will contribute to preventing future generations from suffering the same fate as their loved ones.

As I was saying and I hope you will forgive my slight transgression. I tend to go off track. It is one of my little foibles. The first time I visited the Mutter, as I fondly call it, I was about thirteen. And upon entering this bastion of knowledge, I was utterly transfixed. It was as if I had died and gone to heaven. My grandfather brought me there as a surprise for my 13th birthday. He considered age thirteen to be the age when a boy becomes a man. And he knew only too well my love of all things otherworldly, offbeat, strange, alien even.

So, there I was on the precipice of becoming a man. Then I walked through those doors into my version of nirvana. The building from the outside seems small but somehow impressive, carved in stone.

As I stepped inside the exhibition room, I was confronted by a wall. And on that wall were cabinets with glass doors, and within those beautiful Victorian cabinets were human skulls. I was transfixed. Each skull had a description of who the person was, whose head now inhabited the shelf. I read each and every classification. I stepped back from the skulls and took them all in. In my mind, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever beheld. A powerful image that remained in my memory from that moment until this moment.

The next exhibit was so incredible I found it challenging to find the words to describe it.  A physician whose name was Chevalier Jackson was a well-known and respected otolaryngologist. This is a fancy name for a doctor who specializes in ear, nose, and throat problems. He developed methods and tools for removing foreign objects from human airways. Jackson’s collection includes 2,374 inhaled or ingested foreign bodies that were extracted from patients’ throats, esophagi, and lungs during his almost 75-year-long career.

Most of the items are on display. Can you imagine having the compulsion to swallow objects that are not meant to be digested? I saw objects such as buttons, pins, nuts, coins, bones, screws, dentures and bridges, and small toys, among many other items. Can you picture it? How fascinating. Not just the fact that people had the compulsion to swallow these indigestible tidbits but the fact that Dr. Jackson was driven to spend his life keeping painstakingly keeping records of not just the patient but each object that was swallowed. And here it is now for all to see.

And this will blow your mind, just as it blew mine. The Mutter has dissected sections of Einstein’s brain. They studied his brain to try and discover why Einstein’s brain was so advanced. It was found that they were unable to find anything out of the ordinary about his brain. In fact, they discovered his brain was slightly small than the average brain. And yet, he was one of the most brilliant men known up to that time. It goes to show that humans and how our individual brain works is still a mystery.

During my first visit to Mutter with my grandfather, I experienced a revelation. And that was that I could create a life for myself that was both satisfying and engaged my curiosity about people and their inner workings. And that I different as I was from everyone, I ever knew that I could contribute to the world, to science, and to humankind. And in that way, I would not be considered a weirdo or outcast. I would be accepted as “normal.”

And from that moment, I dedicated my life to understanding the true nature of man. I have come to realize that we are all more similar than different. We all have gifts that can benefit the world.

And so here I am, opening these grand old doors at Mutter and embracing the life that I have long dreamed of as President & Chief Executive Officer of the Mutter Museum. Who knows what mysteries will unfold as we hold back the fabric of time. And discover all the secrets of humanity as yet unknown? Please come in, won’t you?

CORONA VIRUS-MAY 30,, 2020

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Here in North Carolina this week, we have had more than our share of rain. It has rained nearly every day during the past week. I’m an avid gardener, so I realize that if I want to enjoy flowers and vegetables growing in my garden, rain is necessary. Today it rained so much that the ground in my back yard is sodden. In NC, if you dig down to about ten inches, you will find red clay.

Calla Lillies - photo by Bridget Culver

Calla Lillies- photo by Bridget Culver

The clay inhibits moisture from going deep into the soil. And the accumulated rainfall after a week of rain just sits on top of that clay. When I go to my back yard, I wear boots. The first Spring after we moved here, we planted several young trees. One week it rained so hard one of the young trees, a beautiful dogwood just floated up out of its soil and fell over. I’ve never seen that happen before. We replanted it, but it didn’t survive.

Some people love rain, the way it sounds on the roof as it falls, the fresh smell after the storm. I, too, enjoy these things. But still, I love a sunny day so much more. I feel so happy when I look out the window and see the sun shining. It lifts my spirit.

Jalapeno – Photo by Bob Culver

Today it started to drizzle on my way to Animal Edventure. A thunderstorm is predicted at about 10:30 AM. I arrive at about 7:15 AM. And so, I think I can accomplish my work done before the rain starts. But the rain starts early. The bird building I work in has a metal roof, and the sound that the rain makes on the roof is tremendous. The parrots and Macaws love noise, and they increase their volume as the rain hitting the roof becomes louder. I have to go out of the building several times, and I am thoroughly soaked.

By this time, I accept that it will probably rain all day. I stop letting it bother me. I turn the radio on in the building. The only station that I’m able to tune in is a Country Station, not my favorite kind of music. But I go with it. The birds, including three Macaws, three cockatoos, and twenty parrots, all begin to chime in. They love the rain. And would probably love nothing more than to be out in the rain taking a shower. So all and all we had a good morning in the bird building, singing, and some screaming, screeching and talking.

After I took care of my parrots in the bird building, I go outside to feed the pheasants, chickens, and doves. They don’t seem to mind the rain either. I cleaned out all their water dishes and checked who needed more feed. And I rake out the waste, and I’m finished. I put all my tools away and walk out to my car. The sun shows its face. I was happy to see it even if it is only for a little while.

I hit the country road and start home. When I ‘m about one-half mile from Animal Edventure, I notice a Red-Tailed Hawk sitting on a post of a split rail fence. And flying over the hawk’s head is a wren who is repeatedly dive-bombing the hawks head, hitting it over and over. I realize the wren wants the hawk out of his territory. Possibly she’s protecting her nearby nest. I want to stop and take a picture, but I realize they would both fly away if I did. So, I just slowly drive by them and watch the show. The hawk ignoring the wren as if were little more than a gnat. And the wren unafraid and unrelenting in her desire to protect her nest and babies.

Nature is continuing to do its job, rain upon the earth, offering us the occasional glimpse of the sun, the wren protecting the future generation of wrens.

When I arrive home, I fill up the bird feeders in my yard while the sun still shines. As long as we live upon this planet, nature will continue to provide for the cycle of life. About an hour later, the heavy rain returns, and I watch the storm from the safety of my porch.

As I sit there on my porch chair, my dog Douglas jumps up next to me, and I pet his head. He’s happy that I’m home and is content to lie next to me and continue his nap.

As I sit there, I contemplate all the things that occurred during the past five days, and some of it is heartbreaking. A man’s life was lost because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his skin was not white. The city he lived in is in turmoil, and his community is angry and reacting.

It is a heartbreaking event, one that we have all heard too many times. I can’t imagine how this will resolve. I wonder how much longer it will take for America to recognize that the color of one’s skin is one small aspect of that person. Would you define a person’s worth by their eye color? This man’s future is forever gone. His family and friends will miss him for the rest of their lives.

The number of people that have died from the virus in America has risen to over 100,000 people. A number so large it’s hard to comprehend. But every single digit represents a single person who is forever lost to their family, their friends. Anything that they could have contributed to our society, to our planet is forever lost.

Anyone who states that the “numbers” aren’t that bad, is a person who does not value human life. A person that values “things” more than life. The accumulated loss of all that this 101thousand lives could have accomplished and could have enriched our lives is incalculable ways and will forever remain unknown. But the loss will be deeply felt for generations to come.

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COMING OF AGE

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In May of 1989 I turned 38 years old. In July of that same year I celebrated my 14th wedding anniversary to my husband, Bob. I had two young children Jeanette, who was seven years old, and my youngest daughter Bridget was almost four.

Susan Culver- Tyler School of Art ID

In September of 1989 I entered Temple University at Tyler School of Art as a full-time Freshman. I was the first and the only adult to begin undergraduate studies as an adult at the Tyler Campus. I looked young for my age, but by no stretch of the imagination did I look seventeen or eighteen years old.

In 1987 my mother passed away from congestive heart failure. My father died eight months before her from lung cancer. The years that my parents became ill and eventually succumbed to their illnesses were the most difficult and painful I had ever experienced. Their absence from my life was almost unbearable.

But I learned many lessons from those experiences and the most important one I learned from my mother. She revealed to me in the last year before she died that her biggest regrets were not the mistakes, she made. But the things she had not done in her life. I made a vow to myself that I would not make these same mistakes. I didn’t want to come to the end of my life regretting the things not accomplished. I wasn’t going to allow anything to stand in my way for any reason, including fear and money.

I also learned what a strong woman I had become in the years between eighteen and forty. I learned to trust myself as a person with strong values. I realized I had courage and intelligence. It took all those years to believe in myself. I made a conscious decision to not allow anyone to dissuade me for any reason. And that is exactly what I did. I did not listen when I was told I was too old or didn’t have an art background.

Once I made the decision to go to Art School, I spent almost a year building my portfolio. And ultimately, I was accepted into all the art schools I applied at including Temple University and Hussian School of Art and Moore College of Art which is a women’s college.

I chose to attend Temple Tyler School of Art, which was then located in Cheltenham, Pa. I felt this school offered me the opportunity to not only attend a prestigious art school but access to all the classes at the main campus in Philadelphia. Pa., I wanted to learn more than art but also history, science, women studies, and literature.

At one point before I decided to major in art, I also considered becoming a writer. The second reason I choose Temple Tyler School of art was the University offered me full financial aid for the entire Freshman year. This offer was based on my being a woman of a certain age. And the scores I attained in the University entrance exam. And I believed my determination to go to this school played a big part in my acceptance and financial aid.

The first week as a full-time student was a momentous one for me. Here I was in the mid-point of my life and I was a college Freshman.

The First Day

I leave Bridget in the car seat while I walk Jeanette up to the baby sitter’s front door. The baby sitter had a child had in Franklin Elementary School as well. Her daughter happens to be Jeanette’s best friend. She’s one year younger than Jeanette. I have been babysitting her during the summer months for years since she was a young child. They agreed to walk Jeanette to school along with their own child. The school was just down the street. “Bye Jeanette, I’ll see you after school. I love you.”  Jeanette was so happy to be spending time with her best friend Laura, she didn’t look back, she just yelled, “Bye Mom see you later.”

I jump back into the front seat behind the wheel. I look at Bridget. She’s smiling as usual, always a happy little girl. Her eyes were as big as saucers. “OK Bridget you’re going to the First Baptist Christian Day School. And you are going to make a lot of friends and have tons of fun. You’re so lucky.” She smiles at me. I have to admit I felt a little guilty. But I had spent seven years being a stay at home mom. And I thought they would benefit being with other children and adults. They both had a tendency to be somewhat reticent with people they didn’t know.

I held Bridget’s hand tightly as we walk into the school, and into her classroom. I met her teacher, Mrs. Miller. She looks as if she is about seventy-five years old. And I think, Oh how is she going to handle all these little kids?

“Hello, Mrs. Miller, I’m Susan Culver and this is my daughter, Bridget. She’s starting pre-school here today.”

“Well Mrs. Culver don’t you worry Bridget will be just fine here with me.”

“I’m sure she will, however, she has never been in school before or even had a babysitter before now.”

“Yes, yes Mrs. Culver not too worry, she’ll be just fine, be on your way now.”

“Oh yes of course, let me say goodbye first.”

“No, it’s better if mothers don’t make a big fuss when leaving their little ones here.”

“Oh, alright and I walk to the door and then turn back and took a final look at my little girl. Thinking, oh I hope I haven’t made a mistake doing this. “As I look across the room, I see Bridget sitting in a circle with the other little kids singing like she’s been coming here all of her life. She looks happy. I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a bit.

My first day at school was about to begin as well. And I was feeling equal amounts of excitement and fear. I had graduated from high school in 1969. And so, it had been a long, long time since I was in a classroom as a student. But this was the first time I wanted to go to school. I’m excited about learning and being challenged. All the teachers at Tyler wanted the students to learn and grow as an artist. They were all artists as well.

As I pull out into the street next to First Baptist Christian Day School. I am about to meet my first challenge. I have to drive from Merchantville, NJ to Pennsylvania.  And that meant I had to cross the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge to North East Philadelphia and then on to Cheltenham, Pa.

What challenge is that you may ask? Well, the challenge is my fear of bridges and heights. The Tacony Bridge is a drawbridge that allows large ships to go under the bridge to the port at Philadelphia. And I am terrified of bridges. Why, because one time when I was young, under five I was in the car sitting on my mother’s lap. And we were going over the Walt Whitman Bridge. I leaned against the door and the door swung open and I fell out onto the bridge. Luckily my father was at a standstill waiting until the drawbridge closed that was allowing a ship to pass under the bridge.

Tacony-Palmyra Bridge, NJby Arorlin 55 2009

I don’t remember much more than this. Except how angry my father was at me. Even though obviously it wasn’t my fault I was a child, the door wasn’t locked and I was sitting on my mother’s lap and not in my own seat in the back. Of course, back then there weren’t car seats or seat belts for that matter. And my father was mad because it scared him witless when I fell out. And ever since that day I was afraid of going over bridges.

I found out that the first day that I drove over the bridge was I wasn’t afraid anymore. Why, because I was the one doing the driving. Before this, I had always insisted that my husband drives to Philadelphia. Now I had control of my car, and I was safe. That’s the day I overcame my fear of bridges. And it was a good thing because for the next four years sometimes I had to go back and forth twice a day. So, I met that first challenge.

My second challenge was getting to the Tyler School without getting lost. One of my shortcomings is a complete lack of a sense of direction. Never had one, still don’t. My husband Bob wrote clear and precise directions to and from Tyler. And he drew a map. I taped the map to the dashboard to the right of the steering wheel. Thanks to him, I made my way to school and back without getting lost once. Of course, at some point I remembered the route without the map. Although for some reason my brain often has difficulty figuring out how to go home even though it is the same except for the direction I’m headed. It always takes me longer to learn the way back from just about anywhere I go.

As I made my final right turn into the stone walled parking lot of Tyler, I was torn between excitement and trepidation at making it this far in my dream of becoming an artist. Spending a year getting my portfolio prepared, applying to the art schools and participating in the portfolio reviews, and waiting for news of whether I was accepted or not. I was thrilled when I was accepted by all the schools where I applied. And even more thrilled to get financial aid and grants.

As I sat in my car in the parking lot, I look around I realize my car was the only one there. I look at my car clock and I realize that I was once again I would be the first one to arrive. This is a life-long habit, arriving early. After twelve years of Catholic School I was neurotic about being late. As this was practically considered a “Mortal Sin.” And for the next four years I was always the first student to arrive in every class. Which was of benefit to me because it gave me time to study. Time is valuable when you in college. I scheduled every minute of my day. Especially for me a Freshman student who was married and has a house and two small children to take care of. In addition, I made the decision to have two majors, graphic design and art education.

As I walk out of the parking lot, I realize I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I broke out in a sweat. Then I remembered I had a campus map in my backpack. My first class was the Freshman Graphic Design Class. I look on the map for the building and found my way there. I walked over to a man who was trimming some bushes and said,” Hello, my name is Susan Culver. I’m just starting here today. Can you tell me if this is the Graphic Arts Building?”

He said, “yes, it is right through that door at the top of the steps, but you may be a mite early.”
“Thanks so much, I’m a bit nervous this is my first day here. What’s your name?”

“My name is Patrick. I’m one of the groundskeepers here. I worked here for years.”

“Oh, really it’s nice to meet you. Thanks for your help.”

“Your welcome, good luck, Susan.”

After that morning I made it my business to say hello to Patrick every time I saw him. He was my first friend at Tyler. Always pleasant, kind, and welcoming to me and all the other students.

I made my way to the top of the steps and down the hall and found the right room number, no one else was there. Surprise. I sit in the first seat of the front row. I didn’t want to miss a thing. As the students start to arrive almost every one of them asked me if I was the teacher. And I responded, “No, I ‘m a student.”

And they each gave me a funny look and found a seat. One of the students came up to me and said, HI, y name is Lynette Brown.”

“HI Lynette, I’m Susan Culver. My mother’s name was Brown and she was born in Philadelphia. Maybe we’re related.”

She took a long look at me and said,” Somehow I doubt it.” We both laughed. She was a young black student. She was eighteen years old. We both laughed and we started talking. It turns out that we had almost identical class schedules and she was also majoring in Art and Art Education. We spent the better part of the next four years together. We became great friends despite the age difference. We even did our teaching practicums together in our junior and senior years. She was extremely talented, and intelligent. She even enjoyed my sarcastic sense of humor.

One of the promises I made to myself before I started my student career was to make friends with as many people as I could while I was a student. This was not an easy challenge for me since I spent my entire life up to that point being quiet and reticent with people I didn’t know. But starting from that first day of school I made it my business to introduce myself to every student I came into contact with and most of the staff at the campus.

When I went to the student lunchroom for break or lunch if there wasn’t an empty table, I would walk over to one of the tables with an empty seat and say,” Hi, I’m Susan Culver. Would you mind if I sit here and have lunch with you?’ They always said, “Yeah, sure.” And then I would ask everyone at the table, “what class are you taking?” And this is how I became acquainted with every student at the school.

The teachers kept it professional at all times. Even though quite a few of my teachers were about my age. They soon realized that I always had my assignments done on time. And they would call on me to put my artwork up to be critiqued first. And they showed me no pity. I believe all the other students benefited by these critiques because they didn’t want their work to be so harshly critiqued as mine was every day. They learned what not to do, and what was expected by my mistakes.

That first day was only a small taste at what I would experience as an art student. But by far Freshman Life Studies Drawing class was the most challenging for many reasons. It was four hours every day. You had to draw standing up at an easel and the models were mostly young people male and female. One time one of the maintenance workers modeled for our class and he was about fifty. I had a hard time talking to him when I met him in the hall after that. The models had to stand for hours in the same position and they were nude. About five of the Freshman students dropped out of class that first day because they were not prepared to draw nude models. After a time, I started looking at the models as just one more object to draw that reflected light and shadow. And it stopped bothering me altogether.

And so, ended my first day. It was a day that challenged me and changed me for the better.

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Corona Virus- May 23rd, 2020

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Three and a half years ago when I was driving home from my volunteer job at Animal Edventure, I noticed a small abandoned farmhouse. Its clapboards had long ago lost any paint that had adorned them. The house stands back about thirty feet off the road. Behind the house are two outbuildings crumbling to the ground. The fields behind lie fallow.  On the edge of a road in front of the old house grows a large stand of Prickly Pear Cactus. Oh, I thought I would love to have one of those in my front yard where I get the sun all day.

Abandoned House with Cactus

I decide the next time I come to Animal Edventure on my way home, I’ll stop and cut a couple of pads off. It just so happen that my husband came with me that day to repair some equipment at the sanctuary. On our way home, we pull over in front of the house and park. I  brought some newspapers and a small serrated saw. We cut off two pads and were on our way.

When I arrive home I place the pads in our small greenhouse to heal over. In the meantime we prepare a berm with a mixture of sand, soil, and gravel.

Two weeks later I planted the pads in the berm and happily, they rooted. Over the next two years the cactus flourished. In the second year, several flowers bloom. This year it’s in full bloom.  It reminds me that we can start from a single seed, and in time we will have a fragrant flower or a flowering tree that bears fruit—given time care and effort. Nature can fill an empty space with life.

Flowering Cactus

Photo by Bob Culver

Nature has the ability to recover from catastrophic events. In Australia it has been observed that some of the forests are recovering after being ravaged by fire. There are signs of regrowth across much of eastern Australia. But, we know that if we do not change our ways and stop depleting our planet of all its’ resources. If we continue to pollute the land, the water, and the air. Climate change will continue and worsen. There will be more fires.

Right now at this moment we’re facing challenges that no one in the past one hundred years had to face.  A virus that seems to be intent on eliminating human life from the planet earth. We have the opportunity right now to make choices that protect our fellow man, woman, and child. If we all work together as one, we can and will find an anti-viral to protect any further people from becoming infected. It can limit the number of lives that are lost. People have been unable to work and earn a living. Some people are going hungry. Their basic needs are not being met. We are losing our loved ones, especially older people whose immune systems are unable to fight against this virus. We must acknowledge that all people’s lives have value. No matter their age or if they are rich or poor.

A single flower can bring joy to someone’s life, An older person brings wisdom and experience. All people are capable of making a contribution. Children are the future. We must protect everyone. Every single being is unique and they can not be replaced.

One day in the future humanity will look back at how we handled this experience. And hopefully, they will be able to say people did their best, we valued all people’s lives, they took care of the poor and disenfranchised. Everyone worked together for the benefit of all.

If you reflect on what is going on right now is this the behavior you are seeing? If not, why not? We can all take a step in the right direction. It is not too late. Do the right thing. We all know what it is, we have to make a choice. And you do have the ability to choose right over wrong. Generosity over selfishness. Love over hate.

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THE NIGHT IS STILL YOUNG

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It’s February 14th, and believe it or not, I’m going on a blind date. I gave up long ago on finding Mr. Right. Now I’m willing to consider Mr. Not That Bad. I recently celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday. Please don’t try telling me I’m not that old. It’s true. I’m too young to apply for Social Security, and I wouldn’t qualify for the Senior Special at my favorite restaurant, that’s for sure. But when I walk into the room, I’m not turning anyone’s head anymore. Unless there trying to look at the twenty-something behind me.

My date asked me to meet him at his favorite restaurant. A Greek Restaurant called “Taziki’s.” I pull my 2003 Mitsubishi Galant into the last parking spot next to a pristine red sports car with wire wheels. I glance at the back of the car as I pass it. And it bore the legend of Alfa Romeo. I don’t know a whole lot about cars, but even I can recognize class and style. “Wow,” I said out loud. I wonder who owns such a car and would be eating at this place.

I’m ten minutes late because I changed my dress five times before I left my apartment. I want to look sexy but not cheap. Available but not free for the taking. If you know what I mean, I wore a touch of mascara and red lipstick. I’ve always thought my hair was my best feature. It’s black and hangs down to the middle of my back. I wearing it down. I finally decide to wear my sleeveless, turquoise silk tunic that hits just above my knees. My date asked me to look for someone who held a red flower; he didn’t say what kind.

As I pull open, the doorbell chimes announcing my arrival.  I notice everyone within hearing distance looks in my direction. For some reason, this makes me feel flustered, and I feel myself blushing—something I hadn’t done since high school. And then I see a man sitting in a booth next to the wall waving at me. I’m not sure how he knows I’m his date.

I walk towards him, and I see him stand and wait by the table. He’s over six and a half feet tall. His hair is jet black and slightly curly. His eyes are green. As I step up to the table, he extends his hand out to me. He’s holding a single red Amaryllis. It is enormous and fragrant. Up close, he looks like a Greek god.

I take the flower and put it up to my nose, and the smell is intoxicating. I feel slightly dizzy. “Thank you, how beautiful, I’ve never seen one as large before, and the fragrance is amazing.

He is not handsome in the traditional way. But he is the most attractive man I ever saw, nonetheless. “I’m hoping that you’re Alexander. I’m Maria Caledonia.”

“Yes, of course, I’m Alexander. Will you have a seat? I have so looked forward to this moment. I hope you don’t mind me ordering for us. It’s somewhat presumptuous, but I know this restaurant so well. I practically grew up here.”

Really, you like Greek food that much?”

“Well, yes, of course, but my family owns this restaurant and several others.”

“Really, I’m sure the food is delicious. I’m curious how my friend Elizabeth knows you. She told me you were old friends, but I don’t remember her mentioning you before.”

“That’s probably because we knew each other as children.  Then when I was about to start high school, my family decided that they wanted me to go back to Greece to continue my education until I was ready to go to University.  When I came back, I decided to continue my studies, and I lived in New York several years ago.

“Oh, and then you reconnected with Elizabeth? Did you and Elizabeth ever date?”

“No, we have always been close but more like brother and sister. I was talking to her about my desire to find that special woman to spend my life with. I know it’s too soon to talk about this. I just wanted you to know that I’m not interested in casual dating.”

“Well, I understand that I’ve dated my share of men. I know the kind of person I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Perhaps we should take this one step at a time. And get to know each other.

“Elizabeth, I see our dinner is about to arrive. I hope you enjoy it. I thought we might take a walk after dinner. If you like?”

“A walk, that would be fine. It’s a beautiful evening for a walk.”

“Sir, Madame, here is your meal. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Aleixo. I’m sure it is perfection.”

“Elizabeth, once again, I apologize for ordering for you, but I hope you will love this dish as much as I do. It’s called Spanakopita. It is a spinach pie.

“Try it first, and let me know what you think.”

“Alexander, it smells delicious. Elizabeth takes her first bite. “Oh, this is wonderful. I love the combination of onions and cheese, and seasoned perfectly. And this crust is so light. Wonderful.

“Oh, I’m so pleased. I hope you will enjoy it. And wait until you taste dessert. I ordered the Greek lemon cake.”

“Alexander, the cake was heaven. Thank you, I’m so full, I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

“Oh, would you like some coffee or anything else to drink?”

“Thank you, no. I’m full. But I wouldn’t mind just sitting for a bit before we take that walk. Just to let the meal settle.”

“So, Elizabeth, while we’re sitting here, would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“Well. I’m afraid it isn’t that exciting. I grew up in a small town in New Jersey called Merchantville. My father was the principal of the public high school. My mother was a stay-at-home mom. I have to admit it was somewhat awkward when I was in high school, my father being the principal. But sometimes, it came in handy.

I have a younger brother. He’s studying for his master’s in psychology. He wants to be a counselor for at-risk kids in the inner city. Probably in Camden or Philadelphia. He’s twelve years younger than I am, so we didn’t really grow up together. He’s really a remarkable young man. I’m proud of him. I don’t get to see him often since he’s busy with school and a part-time job. My parents are still married, happily, I think.

“After college, I got hired as an editor for a book publisher. Nothing glamourous. These weren’t best sellers. They’re scientific journals. I’ve always been interested in science but couldn’t really settle on a field of study. But I love learning about it, so it seemed like a good fit. Since I have a secondary degree in journalism.

“How about you, Alexander? Do you work in the restaurant business with your family?”

“Actually, I’m part-owner. And I did manage several of them in the past, but now I’m more in an advisor capacity. I decided to devote the rest of my working career to trying to promote the changes we need to make to protect our climate. I do spend a great deal of my time in Washington.”

“Really, that’s wonderful. There are a great many scientific journals written about climate change. I hope you are making some positive changes.”

“Right now, it is an uphill battle. But let’s continue this serious conversation for a later time.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you like to take that walk now? It’s really a beautiful evening.”

“New York is such a beautiful city. I can’t imagine moving to the suburbs. The art museums, the theater, the symphony. If I could, I would spend every day of my life listening to music, and I would be a happy and content woman.

“Elizabeth, I’m so happy you love the symphony. I hold season tickets. And as a matter of fact, I have two tickets to the Matinee on May 20 for the opening of “Singing in The Rain.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I would so love to attend that. I adore Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds in that movie. Such an extravaganza, the singing, the dancing. Just enthralling and so romantic, don’t you think, Alexander?”

“I do. I’m a romantic at heart. I would be thrilled if you would agree to go with me. I’m sorry it is a matinee, but in the evening, I’m often busy with one of the restaurants or In Washington.”

“Sorry, you have no need to be sorry. I accept. I would be overjoyed to attend the opening matinee concert. Over the moon, really, Alexander.”

“That’s wonderful, Elizabeth. How about we meet here on May 20th at noon for lunch, and then I will escort you to the matinee at 2 pm. Would you like to take that walk now? Would you rather take a walk here in this area, or can we go wherever you like?”

“Oh, you know where I love to walk at night in Times Square. I know it’s what most tourists do, but I love it, the excitement, the lights, people watching.”

“That’s a great idea. Let’s take my car, and when we are finished, I’ll bring you back here to your car. Instead of us taking both cars.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

As they walk out to the parking lot, Alexander walks towards Elizabeth’s car. She looks over at him and says,” how did you know that was my car.”

“Your car Elizabeth, I don’t know your car. This is my car right here, the Alpha Romeo.”

“You’re kidding. That’s my Mitsubishi right next to it. In fact, I was admiring your car before I came into the restaurant. It’s a classic beauty.”

“As are you, Elizabeth. Allow me to open the door for you.”

“Of course, thank you.”

Elizabeth gets comfortable and puts on her seat belt. Alexander says, “I hope that this day will mark the beginning of the rest of our lives, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth feels her face blushing once again. And touches her cheek.  And smiles her most radiant smile and looks straight into Alexander’s eyes. “I hope so too, Alexander. Let’s begin our journey now.”

THE EBB AND FLOW OF THE TIDE

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Mathew hesitates momentarily before he throws his knapsack down. And steps onto the boat as it sways and gently bumps against the dock. He pushes the oars against the tide and takes his last look back at the house where he had spent his entire life. He stands up in the bow of

Leo Cardelli- Photographer

boat and cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “goodbye” to no one in particular.

There’s nothing keeping him here anymore since his father passed away four months ago from emphysema. Mathew’s family has lived on this island for over a century. His childhood was spent fishing and crabbing. As soon as he was big enough to hold a fishing rod and set a trap.

His father took him by motorboat every day from their small island to the school on the mainland. When Mathew was young, he believed that the island was paradise. As he waited for his father to pick him up on their dock with their small motorboat, Matthew would breathe in the salty sea air and the mist.

But over time, the island became a prison, and he dreamed of his escape. He imagines moving to New York City, of becoming invisible, unknown, and one of eight million.

Everyone in the little island community knows him by first and middle, and last name. They know who attended his birth. And the doctor that cut the cord. There was only one doctor on the island. Doctor Hartman. He had just passed away eight months ago at the age of eighty-eight. The islanders are still seeking a replacement. But so far, they have no takers.

They know when Mathew cut his first tooth, caught his first fish, and kissed his first girl. They have known his family history for over a century.

Mathew longs to be landlocked, with no pounding surf or cry of the seagull.
When Mathew arrives at the mainland, he ties the boat up at the dock. That he knows so well, strides by all the familiar faces, without saying hello or goodbye, he walks swiftly to the bus depot and takes the first bus he finds that will take him closer to New York City and as far away as possible from Harker Island.

As the bus pulls in at the first rest stop, he uses the restroom. And then grabs a sandwich and fries and a cup of coffee. It’ll take at least ten hours to reach his destination. He closes his eyes and thinks of all the new and exciting things he hopes to see and experience in his new life in the big city. He imagines all the strangers that will pass him on the street. They will not know his name or who his parents and grandparents were.

Mathew sleeps on and off until he hears the bus driver announces, “Port Authority, Grand Central Station.”   He rubs his eyes and slowly opens them to an unbelievably huge bus depot. He disembarks from the bus and grabs his backpack, and follows his fellow passengers off the bus. He walks out of the bus depot into a magnificent and huge room. In front of him are three of the largest windows he has ever seen. He’s amazed. He heads outside the Port Authority and onto the street.

There are groups of people standing along a railing, stepping over and between small piles of melting snow. He peers down to see what they’re looking at. Mathew sees the deep blue waters of what he will later learn is the Hudson River. It seems to him as if he can’t get away from the water.

He realizes that his stomach is growling and looks around for a restaurant to get something to eat. A restaurant sits right next door to the Port Authority. It’s a place to eat called Schnipper’s. He walks up to the counter and looks at the menu on the wall, and orders their best burger and fries and a Pepsi.

As he’s eating the last fry, he looks around the dining room for a bathroom. He sees the men’s room sign and walks toward it. As he’s about to walk in, a middle-aged man bumps into him and then walks off without even acknowledging him. Mathew stares at him. “Jerk,” Mathew says under his breath.

After he emerges from the bathroom, Mathew walks up to the cashier to pay for his check.” Hey, how are you doing?”  As he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. It’s not there. “What the…?” He pats all his other pockets. Nothing. He grabs his backpack and searches all through it and the pockets on the outside. Nothing. He starts hyperventilating. The cashier looks at him and says, “Sir, is there some sort of problem?”

“Yes, some guy bumped me as I was going into the men’s room. And I think he stole my wallet. I had it when I got off the bus at the Port Authority, and now it’s gone.”

“Oh dear, he must have been a pickpocket. That happens all the time around the Port Authority and the rest of the city, too, I guess. You can’t keep things in your back pocket around here. Or somebody will lift it. Do you want me to call the police, or can you do it with your cell phone?”

“The police. Well, I guess so. I don’t have any money since he stole every penny I had. Yes, please call the police. I’ll wait here.”

Mathew stands there, unsure of what his next move should be? He stares out the front window of the restaurant. “Oh my god, there’s the guy. I have to go get my money back.” And he hands the cashier his backpack and dashes out the door.

Mathew blasts out the door slamming the door. It rattles in its frame. He runs as fast as he can toward the pickpocket and tackles him. The guy is yelling, “Help, help. This guy is trying to kill me. Help.”

A few people start to gather and watch Mathew wrestle the man down to the ground. No one interferes. And the next thing Mathew is aware of is two police officers yelling at him. “Hey, buddy, you can stop pummeling this guy. We got you.”

Mathew gets off the guy as the other police officer snaps handcuffs on the pickpocket’s wrist behind his back. Mathew spits out all in one breath. “This guy stole my wallet with every penny I have. I just arrived here by bus. And this guy stole my money. I need it.”

“Alright, I called in for another squad car, and the guy in handcuffs will be on his way to be booked at our precinct. I’m going to need some information from you before you come to the police station.”

“What? I have to go? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ok, OK, buddy, we’re here to help you. The cashier at the restaurant called us. Try to calm down. You have to come downtown and give a report. And then you’ll get all your money back if it’s still in the wallet.”

“Alright, I’ll try to calm down. But no one ever stole anything from me before.”

“What, where have you been living anyway? Obviously, you aren’t a New Yorker.”

“No, I’m from Harker’s Island off the NC coast. I just arrived at the Port Authority less than an hour ago. And then I stopped at the restaurant next door to the depot, and I got robbed going into the bathroom.”

“Tell me exactly what happened, starting with your name.”

“What? Again? Ok, my name is Mathew Fegundus. I just came here to NYC by train from Harker’s Island off the NC coast. I came here to start over. My parents passed away, and I had no reason to stay there any longer. So, I sold my father’s fishing boat and our house, and I came here. I don’t know a living soul here. I’m starting over. A fresh start, I thought. And I ate at that restaurant right there next to the Port Authority.  Some guy bumped into me as I entered the bathroom. When I went to pay for my meal, my wallet was missing. I was staring out the front window of the restaurant, and I saw the guy that robbed me. I ran out and tackled him. And that’s all she wrote.”

“Ok, Mathew, you’ll have to come to the police station with us and sign an affidavit stating what happened, and then we can return your wallet after you make sure everything is still in. You will have to identify the thief in a line-up.”

“What? Can’t you give me my money now?”

“No, Mathew, it doesn’t work that way. If this goes to court, you will have to testify against him. Do you understand?”

“Understand? Yeah, I understand. I got here less than an hour ago. I got robbed, and now I have to go to the police station and make out a report and sign an affidavit, and then I’ll get my own wallet and money back. But later, I’ll have to testify in court.?”

“Ok, do you want to go with us in our vehicle?”

“Where is the police station?”

“It is in the Midtown South Precinct. Do you know where that is?”

“No. I don’t know where anything is, and I don’t know anyone here. I have to get my wallet back. I don’t have any other money with me. I have money in a bank account in my hometown. But I don’t have any ID, and it’s in my wallet. I guess I’ll have to come with you. I never rode in a police car before.”

“OK, buddy, let’s go. It’s not that long a ride. Sit in the back and keep quiet. I’m Officer Murdoc, by the way. Get in, sit down, and be quiet.”

As Mathew sits in the back seat, he looks out the window as the streets of New York City fly by. He has never seen such enormous buildings in his life. The biggest building on Harker’s Island was two stories. It was Kelly’s Fish and Tackle Shop, and the owner lived in an apartment upstairs. It also has a flat roof where Kelly, the owner, used to drink beer and bar-b-que fish and watch the ocean. He often asked Mathew to join him. They would eat and drink in silence while they watched the sun go down over the ocean.

Mathew can’t even see the tops of these skyscrapers from the back seat of the police car. He looks forward to walking all over the downtown section and seeing all the different people. People he never met and might not meet in the future. Who knows?

As they drive toward the police station, Mathew sees more people on one street than lived on the whole island where he grew up. More people than he had ever seen in his entire life. It was a sight he’ll never forget, no, matter how long he lives, even though this wasn’t a great beginning to his new life. He hopes that the future will hold many new adventures, new friends and happiness, and love if he’s lucky.

“Alright, Mathew, here we are. You can exit the car and wait for me. I will escort you inside, and we will get this business over as quickly and painlessly as possible. And you can be on your way.”

As Mathew gets out of the vehicle, he looks around, and he hears a man yelling at the top of his lungs. “Let me go. Get your hands off me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m being framed.”

Mathew glances over in that direction, and who does he see doing the yelling? The pickpocket. Mathew wants to go and punch him in the face. All this trouble because of this low-life thief. What a horrible beginning to his new life. Mathew stands there and glares at the guy. And he’s startled by the policeman saying to him,” OK, let’s go. Ignore what’s going on over there.”

“Alright, have a seat, and I will have to ask you the same questions for my report. Let’s get started.”

“Yes, alright, Officer Murdock. I hope this won’t take too long. I have to find a place to stay temporarily until I find a permanent residence.” Mathew puts down his backpack and takes a deep breath, and then exhales.

After fifteen minutes of questions. Another officer steps over to Murdock’s desk and says. “Alright, the lineup is ready. You can bring in the victim.”

“Victim? I never thought of myself as a victim. Jeez.”

“It’s OK, buddy. If you live in New York City long enough, you’re going to get mugged. That’s life in the big city. What can I say?”

“You are going to be behind a one-way mirror. You will be able to see the suspects, but they can’t see you. Take a good look. Did the guy say anything to you? Would you recognize his voice?”

“No, none when he bumped me. But when I saw him outside the restaurant window. I ran out there and jumped him and punched him, he yelled. “Help, help. This guy is trying to kill me. Help.” And that’s when you guys showed up.”

“Alright, we can go in now, and you take your time looking at the guys and if you are absolutely sure you recognize him. Then you tell me his number. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. Will I get my money then?”

“After you make a statement and sign it. Your property will be returned to you. We will need your contact information, full name, current address, and phone number.”

“I don’t have an address yet. I have a cell phone number. After I get a place to live, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, here comes number one. Number one, will you face forward, turn right and then left, and then shout, “Help, help this guy is trying to kill me. Help.”

Mathew stands in front of the two-way mirror and looks at the three guys standing up there. They look similar to each other. He listens intently while the three of them each shout,” Help, helps this guy is trying to kill me.”

Mathew stares at them and then remembers that his assailant had a facial scar that ran down the side of his cheek from his hairline down below his earlobe. Mathew tugs on the cop’s sleeve. “Hey, can you ask those guys to turn so I can see their left cheek?”

“What? Sure. Everyone, turn so we can see your left cheek.”

Number one and two turns, but number three hesitates and takes a step back. And shifts his weight back and forth nervously. “Number three, do as your told, now.”

Number three turns his face. “Yeah, that’s him, that’s him. He has a scar running down his cheek from his temple to his earlobe. That’s him.”

“Alright, number one and two, you can leave. Officer Drewitz take number three to the holding cell. He is under arrest. Read him his rights.”

“Alright, Mathew, go over to the Sargent’s desk, and you can claim your property and be on your way. This guy may get out on bail. We don’t know that right now. But he may. Make sure we have your contact information and inform the Sargent when you have an address. You will be informed if your assailant is out on bail. And also, when you’ll have to come to court to testify against him. Do you understand? “

“Yes, I understand. You or someone will inform me if the crook gets out on bail and let me know if there is a court date that I have to testify against him.”

“Ok, then go over there and get your belongings. You will have to sign an affidavit stating that you received all your property. Got it?”

“Yes, I got it, I got it. Good Bye. No offense, but I hope I don’t have to meet all of you anytime in the near future.”

As Mathew steps out the door of the police station, he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Well, that’s nice. How do you do.” What’s next? I get run down by a bus or something?” Then he realizes that he doesn’t have a clue exactly where he is or where he’s going. He sees a bench down the street next to a sign that says bus stop. He walks over to it and plops down.

He pulls out his cell phone and looks at the time. 11:45. Not even lunchtime, and he had breakfast and got robbed. Went to a police station in New York City. And identified the thief and sign an affidavit. And got his wallet and money back. He still doesn’t know where he should go.

He realizes he should have made more detailed plans before he arrived here. At least he should have found where to look for a place to live. And where he could find a job. He really didn’t put much thought into any of it. He was sick and tired of the same town and the same people. And knowing nothing different was ever going to happen there. And he would never meet anyone new. And the girls in town were like sisters to him. He couldn’t imagine marrying any of them. He needed a fresh start. But he realizes he should have put more thought into the where and the how of it all.

As he sits at the bus stop, an older woman walks over to the bench and sits down. She has two grocery bags in her arms. They look heavy. She sits down and sighs. “Oh, my feet are killing me.”

Mathew looks over at her and says, “are you alright, mam?”
She turns her head and looks at him from head to toe. “Mam, huh? Well, you are obviously not from around here, are you? I’m guessing somewhere down south? North or South Carolina?”

“North Carolina, Mam. I just arrived here today by bus.”

“Really, and how do you like it so far?”

“I haven’t seen too much of it except when I was in the police car. And I couldn’t believe how big the buildings were and how huge New York City was. Even though I’ve only seen a small part of it.”

The woman turns her head and looks at him from head to toe. “Police car, did you get arrested already. What happened?”

“What? No, I didn’t get arrested. I was robbed. When I was going into the bathroom at the restaurant where I ate lunch, some guy bumped into me. I didn’t really think anything about it. Until I went to pay for my lunch and my wallet was missing. Then as I was standing there, I looked out the window, and I saw the guy who bumped into me. I ran outside and tackled him. The cashier called the police, and they came and arrested him. Then, I had to go to the police station and make a statement and identify my assailant. And, here I am.”

“Woah, you have had quite an eventful morning. What are you going to do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t plan this move as well as I should have. I don’t know anyone here. I have some money with me. But I have to have my savings sent from my bank in NC. And I will have to open a bank account here, so my old bank can transfer it to my new account. And I don’t have a place to live or a job yet. I have no idea where to look for a place to live, either. I feel stupid right now. I didn’t really think any of this through.”

“What kind of work did you do before you came here?”

“I grew up on a small island off the coast of NC. My dad was a fisherman, and I became one too. There weren’t too many choices available there.”

“Alright, let me think about this for a few minutes. I don’t ordinarily trust people I just met. But for some reason, I trust you. Let me sit here and think about it for a few minutes. Relax a bit.”

“First of all, what’s your name, and how old are you?”

“Mam?” How old am I?”

“I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in two weeks. My name is Mathew Carberry. My father just passed away. I don’t have any other family. So, I thought I needed to make some changes. I hope I haven’t made a big mistake.”

“Well, Mathew, I think it was fate that brought you here. And that you and I have met at this moment in time. The fact is I think I can help you. My son and my grandson own a small tour boat company. They take tourists on trips to the Statue of Liberty. And one of his best Tour Boat Captains decided to retire. And he needs to be replaced. And I think that with your experience being a fisherman. It might just qualify as the experience that could land you this job. I can’t make you any promises. However, my son is just as good a judge of character as I am, and he trusts me. What do you think?”

“I think that although I had decided not to have anything to do with boats anymore that I would be a fool not to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“Alright then, let me give my son a call and see if he has time to meet you today. By the way, my name is Elizabeth Maguire. Now sit tight for a couple of minutes while I speak to my son, Richard.”

“Hello, Thomas, this is your mother.”

“Yes, mom, I recognize your voice. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Thomas, why do you always ask that? I’m fine, and I can take care of myself. The reason I called is that I met a young man here at the bus stop and he is looking for a job. He had just arrived here from an Island off the coast of North Carolina. And he worked all his life for his father, who was a fisherman.”

“Mother, stop. I know where this conversation is going. You found a lost puppy, and you want me to take him in and adopt him. This isn’t the first time I rode a bronco in the rodeo.”

“Thomas, what in the world are you talking about, lost puppies, and riding in a rodeo?”

“What I’m trying to say is, you can’t save every poor soul you run into every day of your life. Do you remember the homeless man you brought here? And, now, he is working for me as a night security guy.”

“Yes, Thomas, I do. And do you remember he has been working there for eight years and is one of your most trusted employees?

“Alright, alright, I give, I give. Send him here. I’ll talk to him and see if he is a good fit.”

“Thank you, Thomas. We will take the bus over there right now. We should be there shortly. Bye.”

“Alright, Mathew, I spoke to my son, Thomas. And he’s willing to meet and talk to you about a job. No promises. But I know he’ll like you just as I do. We have to get on the number 149 Bus and then change buses and get on the 430 bus to the peer. We should be there in less than an hour.

As they sit on the bench waiting for their bus to arrive, Mathew watches the unbelievable amount of traffic going by. The most extraordinary thing is the sheer amount of people walking in every direction. Women in business suits head to work. Men in hard hats working on girders thirty stories above the street level. People of every race and age. It’s extraordinary and overwhelming all at once.

And taxies that whizz by, the drivers leaning on their horns the whole way, not giving in to other cars or trucks just flying by at what seemed an unbelievable speed. But somehow, no cars crash and no one’s run over. It’s amazing and frightening at the same time. Just as Mathew is thinking about the traffic, a bus pulls up, and there is a tremendous swooshing sound emanates from under the bus.

“This is our bus, Mathew. Let’s go. As he steps up into the bus, he realizes that the young woman in front of him handed the bus driver a card, not cash. He begins to sweat a little. He thinks, oh, what am I going to do now? He clears his throat and says quietly, “Miss Maguire, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a ticket to get on this bus, and the sign says, No Cash.”

“Oh yes, but of course, you don’t have a Metro Ticket. Why would you? Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. You can pay me back when you have the money.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Maguire, that is generous of you. I have the money now. I‘ll give it to you as soon as we sit down. I do appreciate your help more than I can say.”

“Mathew, please call me Lizzie. All my friends do.”

“OK, Lizzie, thanks again.”

After they settle in their seats, Mathew sighs and stares out the window. And then he remembers he owes Miss Lizzie money. “Oh, Miss Lizzie, how much do I owe you for the bus ride?”

“Well, why don’t we settle up on the ride home. What do you say?”

“I say that’s just fine. He settles back into his seat and stares at the rushing traffic and the buildings as they whizz by his window. He looks around at all the people sitting near him on the bus. And is amazed again at the sheer variety of people sitting near him. On Harker’s Island, almost everyone was related to someone else who lived on the Island.

He doesn’t know anyone here at all. And then he remembers Miss Lizzy sitting beside him and thinks she’s my first friend. And that’s his last thought because he drifts off to sleep, and he doesn’t wake up until he hears Miss Lizzie say, “Mathew, wake up we here.”

As they pull up to the bus stop, Mathew looks around and sees the landscape, and the street is different from downtown New York City. The traffic isn’t as heavy, and there aren’t as many people in business suits. He waits for Miss Lizzie to step down to the last step, and then he reaches up to take her hand as she goes onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you, Mathew, you’re a gentleman. And that’s something I don’t often see anymore. We have to walk a short distance to the pier and then another five minutes to my son’s dock and his office.

As Mathew walks along the peer, he looks out over the water, and he sees the Statue of Liberty standing tall. “Oh my god, that’s the Statue of Liberty. I saw pictures of it when I was a kid. But I never thought I would ever see it. It’s huge. When I was young, my father used to tell me stories about how his family came to America from Ireland and landed at Ellis Island. They didn’t know a soul in America. But they were escaping the Potato Famine in Ireland. And they hoped to make a new life for themselves in America. And here I am back here again. And I’m hoping that I can make a new life for myself. And just maybe the new beginning for me will be here at the Statue of Liberty.”

“Mathew, it certainly seems as if this is your destiny. Everything that happened up until now has brought you to this moment in time—even being robbed and having to go to the police station. And then sitting down at the bus stop and meeting me. It’s fate, don’t you think?”

“Lizzie, I can’t help but feel it was all meant to be. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for having met you when I was feeling so low. And I began to think I had made a stupid mistake coming here where I didn’t know anyone let alone where to get a job or where I could live. Wait a minute, where am I going to live?”

“Alright, Mathew, calm down a bit. Let’s take this one minute at a time. It will all work out. Let’s go, my son will be waiting for us. And I think my grandson will be getting off for the day right about now. And you can meet him as well. He’s about your age. Let’s walk this way now.”

“Oh, you’re right. Sometimes I get carried away. My father was always telling me to take one thing at a time.”

“Your father gave you good advice. You should take it. Oh, there’s my son now. He must have been on the lookout for us. That’s him waving at us over there. Let’s not make him wait too long. Just be yourself and be honest, and you’ll be in like Flynn.”

“Like who?”

“Never mind, that’s just an old expression. It means everything is going to work out.”

“Oh, Thomas, it’s so nice for you to come out and meet us. This is Mathew Carberry, the young man I told you about.”

“Hello, Mathew. It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you come into my office and will have a conversation and you can tell me all about yourself? And you can tell me what you can bring to the table.”

“Table, what do you mean?”

“Mathew, don’t try and confuse the young man, he just got here today from North Carolina, and I was lucky enough to meet him. I’m sure you will feel the same way.”

“Alright, mother, let me decide how I’m going to feel.”

“Alright, son, you’re right, and I trust your judgment. Good luck, Mathew. I have a feeling that this will be the beginning of the first step into your new life. Good luck.”

As Mathew walked into the office, he turned back at Lizzie, and she was giving him the universal sign of good luck, thumbs up. He returned her gesture and walked through the door into his future.

Corona Virus- May 16th,2020

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Corona Virus-May 16th, 2020

This week has brought equal parts of both good and bad. Reminders that life’s challenges help me to become a stronger person. This week I have observed that the Magnolia trees are in full bloom. I so look forward to seeing those majestic flowers every year. And it’s a reminder that life goes on despite what is happening now.
I look forward to the magnificent Crepe Myrtles blooming in a couple of months. We must allow ourselves these moments to enjoy the good things in life that are all around us.

Magnolia Flower- Photo by Bob Culver

One of the animals that I came to love at Animal Edventure met an untimely death. I will so miss her each day when I go there. She was the first one who greeted me, And I pet her from the top of her head to the end of her tail. I would bring her into the main building and feed her and give her something to drink. Such a beautiful animal. Such a short life.

I have faced many difficult times in my life. I believe I faced these times head-on. I look at each challenge and think about what will make this situation better or a least less painful. What can I do?

In 1985 my parents, who were then in their mid-seventies, became ill. My father developed lung cancer, he already had emphysema. He was a heavy smoker his whole life. My mother’s personality and behavior changed drastically. My mother was blind from glaucoma. She lost her vision slowly over time. She didn’t tell anyone what was happening. Her loss of vision affected her profoundly and she became frightened and paranoid. Perhaps it was dementia or as my brother who was a psychologist thought a psychosis. There aren’t words enough to explain how devastatingly painful to see my loving and caring mother change before my eyes to someone I didn’t recognize. I miss her still to this day. Not the person she became at the end of her life but the loving and devoted mother I knew for my whole life up until that time.

My children were only two and five at the time, and I was a stay at home mother for several years. And so, I was able to spend a great deal of time with my parents. My father gave me the power of attorney. I took over their finances and paid their bills and made medical decisions for them. When the time came, I bought their burial plots and their caskets, headstones, and flowers.

Lung cancer is an unforgiving disease and it progressed rapidly. By the time my father shared his symptoms with me, he had large inoperable lesions in his esophagus and right lung. At that time, there was no treatment for him, as the cancer was too advanced. My mother’s mental health deteriorated over this time. I have to admit I have never felt as low at any time in my life as I did during their illness and after their death. My entire family, which was a large one, stepped up to help take care of my parents. It was a sad time for us all.

After my father passed, it was apparent that my mother wouldn’t be able to live by herself. And I hired a woman whose name was Doris Cook to come in and stay with my mother during the week. My siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our homes on the weekends. It was painful seeing my dear mother’s sweet and loving personality disappear day by day. She passed eight months after my father.

I know every member of my family felt this loss deeply. As for myself, I woke up every day and felt that loss and waves of sorrow would wash over me. Until I felt I was drowning in it. I thought I’m an orphan now, I have no parents. It took a long, long time for me to overcome this sadness. And still, to this day, I feel a deep emptiness when I realize that I will never see my parents again. Despite the fact that it has been over thirty years.

I have realized that loss is just as big a part of life as is joy and happiness. Loss offers us the opportunity to grow and mature and become a stronger man or woman. If we stand up to those challenges if we face then instead of running away or denying their existence.

Right now, at this moment, at this time, we are all facing the biggest challenges on every front that we never imagined would come our way. Not in our wildest imagination. A pandemic never crossed my mind, not once, not ever. I knew there was a pandemic in 1918 when my parents were young. But I certainly never thought it would happen in the here and now. In fact, I never thought about it at all. It belonged to the distant past. But here it is. And we are in the middle of it. Not just here in American but every single place big and small across our planet. So far, 308,985 people have died from this disease. Over 80,000 in the United States alone.

By nature, I am a caretaker and a fixer of sorts. In one way or another throughout my life, I have striven to give assistance and care to the people I come in contact with me. If I see a need and I am able to mitigate it in some way, I have. There are so many people now that are not getting their basic needs met with food, shelter, and clothing. I help in my own limited way.

We are all in this together. And if I could just offer this bit of advice please, please wear masks when you are out and about. They are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign that you care about others, including your own family members’ health and well-being. They protect “other people” whose masks protect “you.” Even if you never did anything for anybody your whole life, you can do this small thing NOW. Wear the mask to protect others and they will do the same for you.

We are not able to reliably project when the pandemic will end. It could appear as if it is and then flair up again and more people will die. Or it could become a seasonal disease that returns again and again. We will not become safe again until there is an antiviral available to protect us from this disease. And when this happens, get inoculated. Please. Do the right thing. If you never made a good decision in your life, why not start with this.

As you go about your daily life, try to be kind. I know it is difficult considering all the stress we are all under, not enough money to live on, buy food, pay our bills. People want to go back to work and provide for their families and they can’t yet. We miss spending time with our friends and family. And going out for fun. And a million other little and big things too long a list to mention. But, somehow, sometime in the future those of us who are still here will look back on this time and think, “I’m stronger than I realized. I did the right thing for myself, my community, and the world. I survived this, so I certainly can meet any other challenge that comes my way. Please do the right thing, not just for you but for all of us. We are all in this together.

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