Author Archives: Susan

Corona Virus April 18th, 2020

Last night was the first night that I fell asleep and slept for five hours in over a month. I’m feeling better, less irritable. I have always had trouble sleeping since I was a child. I would fall asleep and then wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to go back to sleep or wake up multiple times. It is not a new problem. What’s new now is that when I wake up the thoughts, I have been having are disturbing. I obsess about the suffering of people here and in the rest of the world. I feel such a sense of loss and helpless to make things better. I have always been a proactive person. If I see a problem, I try to find a way to mitigate it in some way.

Kite photo by Bob Culver

These last several weeks, I have donated small amounts of money to Food pantries, animal shelters in NC, and the poorest parts of the country. I don’t know if this will make any difference, but somehow, I can’t sit by and do nothing. I would find it difficult to live with my future self if I just here and felt sorry for people and didn’t do anything. We live on Social Security, but our house is paid off. So, I’m able to do that small thing.

This week the weather here in the area of NC was schizophrenic one day 87 degrees the next morning 36 degrees, one day heavy rains and high winds, the next day sunny and pleasant. The unpredictability for me adds to my sense that the weather now is abnormal as the Corona Virus. You just never know what is going to happen next.

We retired to NC three and a half years ago. It is a small development with twenty-one homes. The people that live here keep to themselves. One or two of our neighbors will wave and say “hello,” but it’s nothing like the neighborhoods we lived in the past where you knew your neighbor’s name and talked to them or even became friends with them over time. People here don’t spend a lot of time out in their yards, although their plots are about an acre. You see them cutting their grass on their riding mowers, but they don’t sit outside on their porches and talk to neighbors as you pass by. I still wave at them when I see them and call out,” Hello, how are you.” Occasionally, someone will wave back. There are probably about eight or cute little kids under ten years of age that will say. “hello” but won’t engage in any conversation. I have always loved kids, so I miss that.

Tiny blue shoes- photo by Bob Culver

Tiny Blue Shoes by Bob Culver

We have a neighbor at the end of the street right next to Route 50. Her twins, a boy, and a girl were about six months old when we moved here. They are beautiful little kids. Now, they are about four. In the summer, the parents allow their kids to ride their bikes, take walks, and play out front with no clothes on during the summer.  This isn’t something I ever saw in NJ so, I have asked quite a few people here in NC if this was just a Southern thing, and they all said no. I know it isn’t my business, but one evening I was sitting on my back porch, and I saw the father of the twins taking a walk with his two naked than three-year-old children. And before I knew it, I yelled, “Put clothes on those kids.” The father shouted back; they just won’t keep their clothes on and kept walking. When did children become the bosses?

Anyway, since this virus started, our neighbors began emerging from their development cocoons. Not every day and not all at once. But, every couple of days, I see someone running, or riding a bike, or jogging up and down our small development. I sit on the front porch and yell out,” Hello, how are you all doing?” And sometimes they wave or yell back. “We are fine, thanks.” Last Sunday, my husband and I were taking our first walk of the day up and down our street, and we saw a kite flying high above the tree line. It like it originated from the farm on the other side of our development. Somehow the sight of that beautiful kite lifted my spirits. It remained up there for over two hours. It brought back memories of my own children’s childhoods when we would take them to Cooper River Park in NJ and let them fly their small kites. And it reminded me of my childhood when I would fly my Dime store kite in the park behind the public school in Maple Shade, where I grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. Such happy memories. The site of that kite lifted my spirits and gave me hope that perhaps somehow, someday our lives would return to normal and life would go on.

Then three days ago, my husband Bob and I were taking our dog, Douglas, for a walk, and I noticed something blue on the ground on the corner of our front yard. I kneeled to take a closer look, and there before me was a tiny pair of blue shoes. Sitting one next to the other one upside down. It was such a whimsical thing to find, weird. So, I started imaging how they came to be there. “Oh, no,” I said some tiny little person; perhaps a well-dressed little alien has lost her shoes. I’m always thinking of stories I can write or paintings I can paint. It keeps me sane.

I look forward to the day when we get take a walk, go to a store, eat at our favorite restaurant once again without fear that we will touch something or someone, and it will be the end of us. However, I hope that my neighbors will remember that they came outside rode their bikes and took walks, and said,” Hey, how are you doing to their neighbors and didn’t turn to stone. I hope this small beginning will grow into a sense that we are a community, not just a place where we live. I will do my part and say. “hello, to everyone I see and ask them how they are doing. And perhaps someday in the not too distant future, I will invite all my neighbors over for a barbeque on a warm summer day, and we can’t get to know each other better and maybe, just maybe make some new friends.

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ONCE UPON A TIME

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, lives an old man who seems strange, even weird, in many ways. His neighbors avoid him, and if they happen to pass him on the street, they glance the other way.

There’s something about him that doesn’t seem quite right. His eyes are violet, but the whites of his eyes are yellow. His skin is tinted ever so slightly green, not unlike pea soup. What is left of his hair is stringy and hangs down to the middle of his scrawny back. He smells and looks as if it hasn’t washed in a decade or more.

Photo 99 mimimi-Pixabay

Car hits man in the street.

He’s bent over at his waist and has to turn his head from side to side to cross the street. His pants are big and baggy. He wears suspenders and a belt. The waist of his pants is hiked up under his armpits. His ankles are exposed, and you can see he is covered in a fine black, curly down. He wears sandals all year round, and his toenails are long and curl under his toes. They make a clicking sound as he shuffles down the street.

Traffic seems to slow down as passengers in their cars stare out their car windows at him. A driver in a convertible is so distracted that he nearly crashes into the Chevy truck ahead of him. When he doesn’t notice the traffic light turning red. The old man slowly turns his head in the direction of the screeching car and shakes his finger at the driver.

He continues to walk slowly forward. Ignoring the stares and the ugly names that are shouted at him. Life hasn’t given him an easy road to travel. But he perseveres.

He’s midway between the street and the sidewalk when he hears a car screeching and tires squealing. He tries to look up, but he reacts. He’s too slowly. And then he feels an enormous weight hit him and propels him into the air, and then nothing.

He feels as if he is floating. Someone is whispering to him. It seems as if it’s from a tremendous distance. He can’t quite make it out. He feels so weary. He thinks one last thought. Perhaps he’ll finally be able to lay down this burden that life has given him. He closes his eyes. And darkness, then silence follows.

From out of nowhere, he hears a voice, “Gerard Tippin, can you hear me? If you can hear me, nod your head or blink your eyes.”

Gerard slowly opens up his eyes and blinks. “Gerard, I’m going to shine a light in your eyes. It will be quite bright. Try to hold still.”

Gerard holds his head as steady as he’s able. A bright light shines in one eye and then the other.

“Can you see that, Gerard?”

Gerard tries to answer, but his throat feels dry and scratchy. He clears his throat.

“Gerard, you had a tube down your throat, and that’s why it hurts. I’m going to hand you a glass of water with a straw. Try to drink a little, and it will help.”

“Gerard, I’m Dr. Drachman. I’ve been taking care of you since you were admitted. You were hit by a car when you were trying to cross the street. We would like to keep you here for a couple of days. You have a mild concussion and some bumps and bruises. Overall, I think you were lucky you didn’t sustain any serious injuries.

However, in general, it appears as if you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself. Your skin tone is unusual, but we couldn’t find any obvious reason for it. The yellow in the whites of your eyes is concerning. We are running some tests on that. It looks like you have curvature of the spine or osteoporosis. We are going to get a physical therapist to assess you, which might help. Do you have any relatives or friends that we can contact? We feel your recovery will improve if you are able to stay with family or friends.”

Gerard clears his throat and states matter of factly, “family or friends, no. I don’t have nobody. I live alone in a room I rent in a boarding house. I get one meal a day there. I live on a small disability check. I’m not good at making friends.

“Well, I believe we can help you out. There are services that are available to people in need. Perhaps we can find better accommodations for you. Have you ever considered shared housing?”

“Shared housing? Well, like I said, I live in a boarding home. Of course, people don’t stay there too long. Some of the people that stay there just got out of jail. Some people are junkies. And then there are the down and outers like me. But most people think I‘m one of a kind. And keep a distance from me. I guess I’m kind of weird. At least that’s what I have been told most of my life. That I’m a weirdo.”

“Gerard, you are unique. That’s true. But we are all unique in one way or another. Let’s try to get you feeling better, eating better, and see about getting you in a better place. We’ll talk again soon. Some nice people are going to come and talk to you about helping you with your needs. This accident may turn out to be a happy accident, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what to say, doc. Thanks. Nobody ever tried to help me ever. I grew up in foster care. My parents didn’t want me. When I turned eighteen, I was on my own. I didn’t do too good in school. I took any job I could find most of my life. And here I am.”

“I’ll see you soon, Gerard. It has been quite an experience meeting you. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Take it easy.”

A few minutes later, an orderly came into Gerard’s room with a food tray. “Hello, Mr. Gerard. I’m Joseph, and I’ll be bringing you your meals while you’re here. Tonight, we are serving meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and string beans with rice pudding for dessert. Also, I have left a paper on the tray where you can write down a  request if you have any. And inform the kitchen staff if you have any food that you don’t want or are not supposed to eat. I’ll take that information to the kitchen staff if you leave it on your tray. Enjoy, Mr. Gerard. I’ll see you later.” The orderly walks silently out of  Gerard’s room.

Gerard looks at the tray and suddenly realizes that he’s starving. His stomach is growling. Long ago, he learned to ignore that feeling and the sound that comes with it. Since he rarely eats more than once a day. He reaches for the tray and touches it to make sure it’s real. He pulls the tray toward him and breathes deeply. And then picks up the fork and takes a bite of the meatloaf. The smell, the texture are overwhelming, and Gerard feels a tear roll down his cheek. He smiles and begins eating like there won’t be a tomorrow and this is his last meal. When he finishes, he sighs and pushes the tray back, and falls fast asleep.

When Gerard wakes up and looks around, he doesn’t immediately remember where he is and what’s happening. His head hurts, and he’s sore all over, and then it all comes back to him. Trying to cross the street and being hit by a car and then nothing.

“Maybe I’m in heaven?” And then he laughs to himself. He glances around the room he sees an empty bed. And beyond that, a window. He can’t see much more since he hasn’t been able to buy glasses in many years. His close-up vision isn’t much better.

Later that day, a young man comes into Gerard’s room and walks over to his bed. He takes the chart at the end of the bed and studies it. Then he clears his throat and says,” Mr. Tippin, Mr. Tippin, are you awake? I would like to talk to you for a few moments.” He clears his throat again.

Gerard slowly opens his eyes and sees a tall young man in scrubs standing next to his bed. He rubs his eyes. “Yes, I’m Gerard.”

I’m a physical therapist here at the hospital. My name is Donald Abraham. And I’m your doctor, and I have been discussing the type of physical therapy that would benefit you the most. We’ve decided that a combination of treatments would be the most beneficial. I’m talking about massage, hot tubs, muscle stimulation, and in the beginning low, impact exercise. I would like to start this afternoon. How do you feel about that?”

“Well, I have trouble walking because of my feet.”

“I think you will see that we have already addressed that issue, Gerard. Allow me to show you.”

The therapist lifts the sheet and blanket off of Gerard’s legs. Gerard looks down at his legs, then his feet, and is shocked. He hasn’t been able to cut his toenails for years because of his back and his vision. He looks closely at his feet and sees normal feet with normal toenails. Gerard looks at the therapist and says, “that’s amazing. I hardly recognize my own feet. I’ll be able to wear real shoes again, and my feet won’t be freezing all winter. Thank you so much. He smiles from ear to ear. Thank you.”

The next morning a woman is standing at Gerard’s bedside when he wakes up. “Good Morning Mr. Tippin. My name is Elaine Marshall. I’m a patient advocate at the hospital. I had a conversation with Dr. Drachman, and he related to me some of the challenges you are currently facing. I‘ve been talking to our local Social Service offices, and they are looking for some home-sharing possibilities for you. I understand you get Disability. Do you get any other assistance?”

“Assistance? Oh, you mean money?”

“Yes, financial assistance. For instance, have you ever served in the military?”

“Yes, but only for a few years. I was getting some money because I was injured in Viet Nam. But I had to move so many times over the years. And they lost track of where I was located, and then for a few years, I lived on the street.”

“I see. Well, I tell you what, I’m going to leave these papers with you to fill out. This will include your Social Security number. I’ll be better able to get help from the VA with that. Can you fill these papers for me?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t really read anymore since I lost my glasses long ago. I told the doctor about that. And I can’t really see far away either.”

“Well. That’s something I can help you with too Gerard. I’ll arrange for you to have your eyes tested and see if we can’t get you some new glasses before you’re discharged. In the meantime, I’ll read you the questions, and you can supply me with the information.”

“Really, I would love to be able to read again, and I used to read all the time. Thank you again.”

“Oh, Gerard, I also wanted to let you know that a physical therapy team is going to start working on your back issues this afternoon. Let’s get started with the paperwork. I’ll type it in on my laptop here and then print out copies for you and then forward the paperwork. Question one is do you have any living relatives that we can contact about your situation?”

“I don’t know. After I came back from Viet Nam, I was injured. And I was really messed up. I started drinking. For a long time, I was able to keep working, but later it got worse, and I got fired from one job after another. It was my fault. I guess, half the time, I didn’t show up, or I showed up hungover or still drunk. I kept getting fired. I moved from one place to another sometimes, I didn’t have any place to sleep. So, I slept outside. I lost touch with my family. I grew up in twenty different foster homes. My family might all be dead. I don’t know. They probably think I died a long time ago.”

“I remember the names and addresses from long ago. But that’s about it.”

“Alright, let’s get started.”

An hour later, she finishes up the paperwork and closes her laptop. She feels today is going to be a good day for her because she knows that she will be able to make a big difference in this particular man’s life. She smiles and pulls the sheet and blankets up to Mr. Tippin’s chin. And tip-toes out of the room.

Later that day, Gerard is once again sleeping and realizes someone else is speaking to him. Gerard hasn’t talked to so many people in one day in decades. He feels a little overwhelmed. “Hello Gerard, my name is Samantha Cummings. I’m one of the therapists that will be working with you. Do you think that you can get out of bed by yourself?

Gerard looks at her and feels immediately embarrassed. Standing before him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She had beautiful red hair with gold highlights. It’s pulled back in a ponytail that hangs down her slender back. Her eyes are green. Gerard always had a weakness for redheads. He stares at her and says, “I don’t know. I haven’t been out of bed since I woke up from the car accident.”

“In that case, allow me to help you to get out of bed and over to the wheelchair next to the bed. And then I’ll take you to your first therapy session. Ok, if you can try to sit up, I’ll assist you. That’s right, try to swing your legs over the side of the bed. Now, the hard part. I’m going to stand next to you and guide you to the wheelchair. Don’t worry, and the wheelchair won’t move. The brake is on. And then we’ll be on our way”.

“Excellent, Gerard, you did wonderfully. And now I’ll take you to the rehab. We’ll have to take the elevator to the second floor, and we will be just about there.”

As Gerard and the therapist get onto the elevator, four people come up to the elevator door, and the therapist holds back the elevator door for them. Gerard is so afraid that one of them or all of them will start laughing at him or calling him names. He hangs his head down low. Hoping that no one will notice him.

All the passengers get off at the next floor. Gerard breathes a sigh of relief. He never knows what kind of reaction people will have to his unusual appearance. This was the story of his life. Rejection because of the way he looks. He tries never to call attention to himself, if possible. Ordinarily, he only goes out after dark. And he frequents the same places all the time where people had seen him before. And they just ignored him. He tries to be invisible.

Since he was a small child, he has always been picked on and bullied. Especially since he grew up in foster care. The bigger kids always picked on him. Girls ran away from him, yelling,” freak” at him. He knew what he looked like. Although the older he grew, the less often he looked in the mirror. He knows he doesn’t take care of himself. That he should wash more often and cut his hair, but it all felt so pointless. He knows he looks weird, but what can he do about it? He often hates himself. And wishes he could go to sleep one night and not wake up. No one would miss him. No one cares about him.

As they arrive at the second floor, the therapist says, “here we are, Gerard, hold on tight.”

Gerard takes a quick look from left to right, and the coast is clear. No one is coming his way.  “Here we are. Shall we get started? First, you are going to soak in the whirlpool bath, and then one of the massage therapists will give you a massage. Then we’ll begin doing some exercise that, over time, will increase your mobility. What kind of exercise do you usually get, Gerard?”

“Exercise. I don’t have a car, so I usually walk. But the only place I go to is the Bodega at the end of the street for my groceries. I can’t carry that much because of my back. So, I go there several times a week.”

“Couldn’t you have your food delivered, Gerard?”

“Delivered? I can hardly afford to buy even the cheapest food. I buy Ramen Soup and hotdogs and white bread when it is on sale. That’s about it.”

“Gerard, did you ever apply for food stamps?”

“Yeah, a long time ago when I was living in the middle of the city. But now I have to take the bus anywhere far. And I don’t have the money to do that.”

“Perhaps, if you don’t mind, I can talk to the patient advocate and see if they can help you apply for food stamps?”

“Really, you would do that?”

“Of course, Gerard. Everyone here wants to help you recover and to get assistance to meet your basic needs. We care about you, Gerard.”

Gerard feels a lump in his throat and swallows hard. It’s hard to believe that all of these people who never met him before are going to help him. He has a hard time trusting people. He looks at the therapist and quietly says, “thank you.”

Later that day, after lunch, Elaine Marshall, the Patient Advocate, sits next to Gerard’s bedside, patiently waiting for him to wake up. She’s reading through his file. She is in an optimistic mood because she has actually made progress for this particular patient. She has spent her whole career trying to make a positive difference in people’s lives. And occasionally, she’s able to help them. Some in small ways, and once in a blue moon, she makes a positive outcome for some of the high-risk patients.

Gerard slowly begins to wake up and senses that someone is looking at him. He opens his eyes and is pleasantly surprised to find the beautiful redhead Elaine next to his bed. “Good afternoon, Gerard. How are you feeling? Any better?”

Gerard realizes that he does actually feel better. His head still hurts a little, and he is still sore all over. But his heart feels lighter. He feels there is a glimmer of hope that his life may improve. “Yes, I do feel better.” And he smiles at her.

“That’s wonderful, Gerard. I’m so relieved and happy to hear that. And I believe you will feel better after I tell you some good news. First, I believe I have found a place for you to live. It is a home-sharing situation for homeless Veterans. They have an opening, and I have sent them your information. They have tentatively approved your application. It is not far from downtown. So, it will be within walking distance of shops and stores. You’ll have your own bedroom. You will share a bathroom with one other person, and you will be able to access the common room where you can watch TV or listen to music, or play cards.

And in addition, everyone is allowed to use the kitchen where you can prepare your meals. Also, I have applied for the VA benefits that you used to get. I’ll have to make a copy of your Social Security Card and email it to them. I’ll keep in touch with them, and I’m fairly certain that you will soon begin getting some additional funds from the VA since you sustained injuries. And finally, tomorrow morning, you are going to be taken to have your vision checked and be able to get those glasses you need so badly.

Gerard stares at her, afraid to believe what she has told him. He had so many disappointments in his life. It’s difficult for him to trust anyone. Finally, she puts out her hand and extends it for Gerard. He looks down at her hand. He looks into her eyes. He sees kindness. He reaches for her hand and holds it briefly. She smiles at him.

“Gerard, you’re going to be discharged tomorrow, but you’ll be coming back to the hospital as an Out-Patient to the clinic to continue your physical therapy, for advice about nutrition, to pick up your new glasses, and to get updates on your VA Benefits. I want you to know that I’m continuing to try and contact any family members of yours that might still be living. I’ll keep you up to date on anything I find out. Tomorrow I’ll be taking you over to New Beginnings, the shared housing I spoke to you about. After you look it over, you can decide whether you would feel comfortable living there. If you do, we can go pick up your belongings and move you in. What do you think?”

“What do I think? I get to decide if I want to live there. Have they accepted me?”

“Why yes, of course, they have accepted you. Would you like to go there tomorrow and take a look?

“Yes, I have never wanted to do anything more. And I would truly love to do just that.”

“Alright, Gerard, I’ll stop by tomorrow morning and pick you up by 10 am. I’ll see you then.”

As she walks out the door, Gerard watches as she walks down the long hallway. He realizes he had just met an angel. One that came into his life unexpectantly and gave him a new lease on life, a new beginning.


Corona Virus- April 11th, 2020

Corona Virus- April 11th, 2020

I sat for two days trying to decide what to say about my experiences during the past week and come up with nothing. Early this morning at 4 AM,  I realized so many, many things happened that I hadn’t even been able to take it all in at all.

It begins with the fact that although I have always struggled with insomnia. I now have difficulty sleeping at all. I fall asleep exhausted at about 10 PM. I sleep for about one and a half hours and then wake up. It may take me two hours to fall back to sleep. My mind keeps going over and over all the nightmarish events that have happened that day, this past week. Sometimes I silently cry. If I do fall asleep again, I wake up every two hours and toss and turn. I finally wake up at about 4:30 AM for the day.

On a personal level, I was contacted by a family member and told that my brother-in-law had passed away. He lived in NJ. I live in NC, where we retired to three and a half years ago. I have known and love my brother-in-law Pat since I was about ten or eleven years old. He was married to my sister Jeanie. She passed away from emphysema in 1979.  She was forty-two. Pat was always kind and caring towards me for the entirety of my life. And when I was told he passed away, I didn’t let this sad news touch me. I sent out condolence cards. And then I  blocked it from my mind. In the past three years, I have lost my oldest brother, his wife, and my brother- law Jake.

I was told that there was only going to be a small funereal with ten or fewer people because of the danger of Corona Virus. Ten people to mourn a man who was a husband, father, grandfather, brother and uncle, friend to many. I was told maybe they would be having an Irish wake for Pat in the Fall.  I responded, “Oh, right, of course, that makes sense.”

I filed this bad news away far back in my mind, in the vault where I am keeping all my feelings now. All the fear, all the loss,  that I have no clue how to deal with it at any level. I didn’t tell anyone about my brother-in-law passing. Why?Bbecause all I hear, all that we hear all day are the numbers, big incomprehensible numbers of people that are dying in our state, in our country, in the world. It is impossible to comprehend, to digest. It is incomprehensible, completely overwhelming, and heartbreaking.

So, I lock it away, because I know that if I even think about it for even a minute, I will not be able to take one more step forward. I will be stuck in that moment, overwhelmed with fear and grief and loss. Anger is what I’m feeling right now. It is eating away at me, making me feel helpless and alone.

I have always been a person that deals with difficulties by looking at the problem, finding solutions, and then solving that problem. And now, I have no solutions. The problem is too big for me. I’m scared. I’m afraid of what the final outcome will be not just for me but for my family, our country, and the world. The loss of life already is devastating and hard to take in.

I worry about all the people who have lost loved ones or who will ultimately lose many people or might die themselves. I worry about the people who lost their jobs and don’t know when or if they will have jobs to go back to. I worry about how they will take care of their families with no income.

I worry about a country with a leader that thinks a couple of thousand dollars will take care of American families for the duration of this virus while giving big corporations billions.

I’m a person that has always looked around at my fellow humans and did what I could to help them. I continue to try and do that, but this problem is too big for me. I think we have to do everything we can to survive this and help the people around us when we can.

How this will end, I can not say. It will evolve. But I do know that significant changes will have to take place or we can not go on as we have in the past. Everything we do, every choice we make has consequences. How we treat our fellow man, how we pollute our planet.

Right now, in this moment, in this day, I will do the best that I can. I can not do more than that.

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THE OTHER SIDE of HAPPINESS

The ancient Buick hustles down the dirt road. A cloud of dust swirls up on either side of the black car and paints it a dirty gray. In the back window, a young girl presses her face against the window. Tears stream down her pale face leaving trails on either cheek. Her body trembles in her struggle to suppress the sob that tries to escape from her heaving chest.

She counts to ten on her fingers over and over again. Her eyes tightly shut blocking out the burning light of the early morning sun. A single word escapes her lips, “home.”

“Sit down in your seat girl, there’s a long ride ahead of us.”

Giant Sunflower

Sunflower by ONZE greatvitijd Pixababy

She takes a deep breath, and with all the strength that remains in her lagging spirit, she sits back in the seat. She gulps air through her open mouth and wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

She imagines walking up the path towards her house and through the red door. She sees her mother standing at the counter loading dishes into the dishwasher. She’s singing Walking After Midnight along with Miss Tammy Wynette at the top of her voice. She’s at the part where she wails out, I saw a girl that looked a lot like Billie Joe McAllister standing atop the Chocktoe Ridge.

Her mother is swinging her hips and is lost in the moment feeling every word and note of the song. When she sees Charlie, she dances up to her and sweeps her up in her arms, and continues singing and dancing.

After what seems a lifetime the car pulls onto an even more primitive road that’s little more than gravel on dirt. It’s full of ruts and the car bumps and swerves its way down the narrow path. Then makes its way up to a driveway paved with broken seashells. “Well, here we are. I want you to be on your best behavior while you’re here. You’re lucky we found someone in your family to take care of you while your mother is away. Otherwise, you would have ended up in foster care.

“Someone in my family, who, who is it? I’ve never been here before.”

“It’s your great-aunt, well actually she’s your grandmother’s sister so she’s your great, great aunt. Your Aunt Charlotte, your mother spent most of her summers with her when she was a kid.”

Charlie gets out of the car and stood stiffly next to it. She started counting to ten on her fingers again.
The woman from Social Services grabs Charlie’s bag out of the deep trunk of the old Buick and heaves it out and drops it on the ground. “Good lord child what have you got in here, rocks?”

Charlie shuffles her feet from side to side and shrugs her shoulders.

“Well let’s go then. It’s a long ride back.”

The woman picks up the duffle bag and walks toward the front door. She rings the doorbell. After a few minutes, they hear someone coming to the door and then suddenly the door flies open. And there stands an old woman not much bigger than Charlie. She has her long white hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing old jeans and a flannel shirt that hangs down to her knees. Her ears are pierced and have long feathers hanging from them. Her wrinkled face is dusted with flour. There’s a smile on her face that seems somehow familiar to Charlie.

“Well, here you are, and just in time for lunch. I made some fried chicken and homemade chocolate chip cookies. They used to be your mother’s favorite. Oh, where are my manners, come in, come in.”

“Hello, Miss Tremont. Would you like to stay for lunch? I made plenty?”

“Thank you, Miss Charlotte, but I have to be on my way. It’s a long way back. Here’s my card, if there are any problems please call me. I’ll keep in touch with you ”

“Goodbye Charlie. I know you’ll be fine here with Miss Charlotte. Be a good girl. Please don’t worry. Things are going to be ok.”

Charlie stares first at the lady and then at the old woman, her hands behind her back counting. She nods at the lady and waits for someone to tell her what to do. Silently begging them to tell her where her mother is and when. When will she be able to go home? But no one does. So, she just stands there and waits. The old woman walks over to the door with the lady and whispers things to her. Things Charlie can’t make out.

The old lady comes back over to Charlie and takes her hand. “Come on Charlie I’ll show you where the bathroom is, don’t forget to wash your hands. Here you go dear take your time. Then come on in to the kitchen and we’ll eat lunch.”

When Charlie finishes using the bathroom, she’s drawn to the kitchen by the tantalizing smell of fried chicken. She follows her nose and finds herself within the confines of a kitchen unlike she had ever seen before. It’s big and bright. The walls are painted the color of sunshine. There’s a ceiling made of tin with an amazing design of birds in flight. In the middle of the ceiling is a big fan. The fan’s paddles look like they are made out of giant leaves. The curtains are blue with white lace along the edge.

But the aroma, the aroma is unbelievably fragrant and enticing. Charlie feels as if she could stay in this room forever. Comforted by the good smells of fried chicken and homemade bread and chocolate chip cookies. “Well have a seat, Miss Charlie. I can’t tell you how much I have looked forward to having you stay here with me. You’re most welcome. Please help yourself while we get to know each other. Go on now don’t be shy.”

“I’d like to tell you a little bit about myself since I didn’t have the opportunity to meet you before. I’m your Mama’s great Aunt but since my sister passed long before your mother was born, I was fortunate enough to take her place. You know you look a lot like your mother. Those deep brown eyes and that shy smile. Yes, you look so much like her when she was your age. You know she used to spend every summer here with me and we became great friends. I hope you and I will do the same. Are you enjoying the chicken? Would you like to ask me any questions?”

Charlie looks up at her with her deep brown eyes but doesn’t say anything at first. Then a single tear flows down her cheek. She nods her head.

“Charlie you can talk to me. I promise I won’t bite.”

“Where is my mama? When can I see her again? Why am I here, and when can I go home?”

Aunt Charlotte rises quietly from her chair and comes over to Charlie and kneels down and puts her arms around her. “Oh, Charlie dear, hasn’t anyone explained what has happened?”

“No, a policeman came to my school and took me. Then I was taken to a building where a lot of other children were staying. It was really loud, and I was afraid. I had to stay there for a long time. I kept crying for my mother. But no one told me anything. Then one day the lady that brought me here came. She told me that I was going to stay at my aunt’s house for a while and today she brought me here.

“Charlie your Mama isn’t feeling very well right now. She is in a special kind of hospital, but she’s going to get better and you’ll see her again soon. But until then you’ll stay here with me. You’ll be safe.  I promise, no one is going to hurt you here. I’m going to take care of you. Just like I used to take care of your Mama when she was your age. Did you know that you are named after me? Your name is Charlotte, just like me. Your Mama sent you here to stay until she feels better again, ok.”

“You promise, my Mama is going to be alright, and she will come get me? When?”

“I don’t know exactly when Charlie, but I promise she will come and get you. You and your mother will be together again. Now, how about some of those cookies? Let me get you a glass of cold milk.”
The next morning Charlie wakes up to the smell of bacon cooking. Oh, how she loved that smell. Mama didn’t cook it very often because she said it wasn’t a very healthy food. Charlie ran over the dresser and pulls out a pair of shorts and a shirt and put them quickly on. She pushes her feet into her sneakers and runs down the steps toward the smell.

“Well good morning sunshine, how are you feeling this fine morning?”

“Fine, I’m starving. I smell bacon. I just love it. Can I have some?”

“Of course, you can. I made it a special treat since it is your first morning here. Would you like some eggs too? I can make them any way you like them.”

“Really, yes Mama and I only had eggs on Sunday. Can you make scrambled eggs with the bacon mixed in?”

“Why that was your mother’s favorite too. Of course, you can, have a seat. Would you like some orange juice to go with your eggs? How about you make the toast. There’s the toaster on the counter. That will be your job in the morning.”

“Charlie, I thought that while you’re here this summer that I could really use your help with my vegetable garden out back. I grow all kinds of vegetables, tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, and some herbs. I have a fig tree, and raspberries and strawberries, and some wonderful blueberries. But this year I decided to grow something special. Your mom always loved helping me. What do you think? Are you interested?”

“I guess, but I don’t know anything about gardening or growing things. We live in the city in an apartment.”

“Well, Charlie, it’s not hard. I’ll show you how to do it. Why don’t we finish eating? Could you help me with the dishes? How about I’ll wash, and you dry the dishes? Then we’ll go outside and get started.”

“Yeah, I guess so. My mom and I never had to wash dishes at home. We have a dishwasher. I never knew anyone who didn’t have one. Are you poor?”

“Well, Charlie, it’s true I don’t have a lot of money. But I have always been rich in the things that matter. I live in a beautiful place, and have plenty of sunshine and fresh air and wonderful friends. I’ve always felt those are the things in life that make you happy. It’s a simple life, but a good one. Now let’s wash these dishes and get busy outside.”

“It’s a beautiful day today Charlie, look at that sky. A blue and white sky my favorite kind.”

“Blue and white, what do you mean?”

“Well, just the right amount of blue sky with those wonderful, fluffy white clouds. It’s a miracle really.”

Charlie looks up at the sky and sees the clouds set against the clear blue and realizes she never really noticed the sky before. In the city, the sky is filled with skyscrapers and noise. People yelling, and cars beeping and the air is different; the air in the city isn’t clear it has a color all its own. She misses all the activity, the life that hustles and bustles around her on her street. It’s too quiet here. She misses all her friends.

“Why is it so quiet here? Where are all the people and cars?”

“Well, Charlie, I guess it does seem quiet to you after growing up in New York City, but you’ll see once you start listening, you’ll hear all the sounds of nature and realize that life is busy all around you.”

Charlie looks around her and at first, doesn’t notice anything moving. Then all of a sudden, she sees a rabbit hopping across the backyard. “Is that a rabbit?”

“Yes, I call her Tilly, because she’s always digging up my vegetables. But I don’t mind sharing some with her. It’s so much fun watching her and her babies running around the yard.”

“She has bunnies, oh where, where are they?”

“Be quiet and you’ll see them come out and follow their mother around eating the clover in the grass. And if you look over there at that big oak tree you’ll see Ozzie and Harriet. They’re squirrels, and they’re the best acrobats I’ve ever seen. They can climb a tree in a blink of an eye, and hang upside down by one leg. Oh, there’s Ozzie right now at the very top of the tree. Watch how he jumps from one limb to another. ”

Charlie tilts her head back and she sees at the very top of the tree a squirrel jumping from one limb to the other. She holds her breath thinking he’s going to fall for sure. But he doesn’t. He runs down the trunk of the knurled old tree and chases Tilly from one end of the garden to the other.

“Come one Charlie we’re going to plant some seeds today. Let’s go have a look at the garden. We can decide where we’re going to plant all the seeds. As they walk across the garden Charlie can hear all kinds of birds singing. She hears one bird singing in the most beautiful bold voice. What kind of bird is that, the one that sounds like it is singing pretty bird, pretty bird over and over?”

“Oh, that sounds like a bird called the Brown Thrasher or a Cardinal.”

“Can you see him?”

“Yes, that’s him right there in that big tree over there next to that shed.”
“Oh yes that’s a Cardinal, isn’t he a beauty. He serenades me every morning and sometimes again in the evening. You know I have a little book with pictures of the birds that live in this area if you would like to read it. You can look at the pictures and the description of the birds and learn to identify them and the songs they sing. Would you like that Charlie?”

“Yeah, sure I guess.”

“Alright, Charlie here we are. As you can see, I already prepared the garden for planting. I turned over all the soil, and I added nutrients to it. I make my own compost from leftover foods and plants and soil.”

Charlie had no idea what compost is, but she didn’t want to admit it so she just listens and hopes she’ll figure it all out. What kind of plants are we going to grow in the garden?”

“Well, I thought we would plant tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, lettuce, cabbage, and carrots. But I thought this year we would plant something special.”

“What’s that? What do you mean?

“Well, two things really. We’re going to plant pumpkins for the Fall. And something almost magical, I think. Giant sunflowers, they’ll be tall enough to tower over your head and mine and then some. The sunflowers will finish growing at the end of summer, and the pumpkins will be ready by Halloween. Won’t that be fun? Here let me show you the seeds. Charlotte held out her hand and small black and white seeds were in the palm of her hand. See these Charlie; from these little seeds, a giant flower will grow almost as big as a tree. And it will grow in just a few short months. It’s really amazing what can happen given the time and love.”

“Months, I ‘am going to have to stay here for months?”

“I know it seems like forever to you now, Charlie, but I promise you the time will pass more quickly than you realize. And in that time our garden will grow and produce wonderful things for us to eat and in that time your mother will get better. You’ll see her again soon, Charlie, I promise.”

“You promise, I’m going to be with my mom again?”

“Yes, Charlie, I promise. I will always tell you the truth. Now let’s get busy planting our garden. Let me show you how to plant the seeds.”

Every morning Charlie wakes up early, as soon as the sun shines through her bedroom window. She jumps out of the bed and runs over to the window. She sees Ozzie and Harriet chasing each other high in the tree. Leaping from one branch to another as graceful as any trapeze artist in the circus. She throws on her clothes and runs down to the kitchen to see what delicious meal her Aunt Charlotte has created.

Today it is homemade oatmeal with raisins and cinnamon. Charlie never liked oatmeal before, but Aunt Charlotte make it fresh with cream and brown sugar, and cinnamon. It is always wonderful and her tummy feels warm and content when she is finished. “Aunt Charlotte, this tastes really good. Can I go out to the garden now?”

“Well, yes, you can Charlie as soon as you brush your teeth. I’ll be out there in a little while as soon as I get the dishes washed and put away.”

Charlie runs into the bathroom and gives her teeth a quick cleaning. She can’t wait to see how her garden is doing now. Yesterday the pumpkins were as big as her head growing on long vines that trailed all over the garden. But the sunflowers were her favorite and yesterday one of them looked as if it might open its petals to the sun.

As Charlie runs out through the screen door of the back porch she can see that one of the sunflowers is blooming. Its bright yellow face turns up towards the warm light of the early morning sun. It is so tall it is towering over her head like a skyscraper. And on top of the sunflower sits Red singing out Pretty Boy, Pretty Boy at the top of his tiny lungs. In between songs he is pecking at the center of the sunflower. “What are you doing Red? Don’t ruin my sunflower.” Charlie runs back into the house and into the kitchen. Aunt Charlie Red is killing my sunflower, please come outside and stop him.”

Aunt Charlotte walks out to the garden and sees Red is atop the tallest sunflower and sees he is eating the seeds. “Oh, Charlie he isn’t killing the sunflower he’s just eating his breakfast. The whole center of the sunflower is full of seeds. That’s why I covered the tops of the other sunflowers so the birds wouldn’t take all the seeds. But I left the big one for the birds to thank them for bringing our garden to life with music. We have to share our bounty with our friends.”

“Alright, Aunt Charlotte, can I pick some of the vegetables and bring them into the house?”

“Of course, Charlie, I really appreciate your help. And when you come in, I have a surprise to share with you.”

“Really, what is it, Aunt Charlotte?”

“Well Charlie, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now.”

Charlie spent the morning picking the ripe red tomatoes, and glossy green peppers. She picked a cucumber that was as big around as her arm. She picked the long-string beans from their vines and finally some snap beans. Oh, how she loved to shell the beans. When she was finished, she turns on the sprinkler to give all her vegetables a drink.

She picks up the wicker basket that is almost too heavy for her to carry. Before she goes back into the house for lunch, she takes one more look at the giant sunflower. She can’t believe that this enormous flower grew from the tiny black and white seed.

As Charlie struggles through the porch door she sees her Aunt Charlotte standing at the stove. “Aunt Charlotte, wait until you see all the beautiful vegetables that I picked. They are the best ones so far. Look at how big this cucumber is.”

“Oh, Charlie that’s a beauty, you have become such a wonderful gardener, thank you so much for your help. Why don’t you go in and wash your hands? I’ve made a special lunch for us. I made grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade vegetable soup made from our very own vegetables.”

After Charlie washes her hands she looks into the mirror and sees that she’s smiling. She realizes that she is happy, and for a moment she feels guilty. But she knows in her heart that her mother wants her to be happy. That’s why she sent her to stay with her Aunt Charlotte. Because she had spent such wonderful and happy summers with her Aunt, she wanted the same for Charlie.

“Oh Charlie, there you are. Are you ready for your surprise?”

“Yes. Yes, what is it?” And that’s when she sees the sweet face of her mother walking through the doorway and into the kitchen. “Mommy, Mommy you’re here. I missed you so much. Charlie throws her arms around her mother and swears to herself that she will never let her go again.

“Oh, Charlie I missed you so much. I’m so sorry that I had to leave you. I promise I’ll never leave you again. Why don’t we sit down and eat what smells like a wonderful lunch? I have missed eating Aunt Charlottes’ food very much.”

After lunch, Charlie and her mother went upstairs and pack her things and get ready to leave. Suddenly Charlie feels sad at the idea of leaving Aunt Charlotte and the farm and Red and Ozzie and Harriet. She realizes she won’t see the sunflowers anymore or see the pumpkins grow large.

“Oh, Charlie dear what’s the matter?”

“Mommy I’m going to miss Aunt Charlotte so much. And I won’t see Red, and Ozzie, and Harriet again. I won’t see the sunflowers and the pumpkins.”

“Well, Charlie in life sometimes we have to lose something to gain something. But I promise you that we’re going to come back here to visit Aunt Charlotte. We’ll come here at Halloween to carve the pumpkins, and at Thanksgiving to eat pumpkin pie. Now let’s go give Aunt Charlotte a big hug and tell her how much we love her.”

As they hug Aunt Charlotte, Charlie wipes a tear from that threatens to run down her cheek. “Thank you so much, Aunt Charlotte. I love you so much. And I loved staying here with you. Mommy says that we’re going to come back and visit you at Halloween and Thanksgiving.”

“I know you will child, and I look forward to that every day until then. I’ll save some sunflower seeds for you and you can find a place in the city to grow a giant sunflower of your own.”

As Charlie looks out the back window of the car she smiles at the giant sunflower and her Aunt Charlie who is waving goodbye she looks so tiny standing next to the giant sunflower.

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CORONA VIRUS – 4/3/20

As I look back on last month, I realize that I’am finding it increasingly more difficult to accept the drastic changes that have taken place in such a short period. I wonder, is it just me? Or do other people feel a sense of disbelief?  Is this happening? A pandemic, a virus that has taken over the planet, changed the way we live, causing havoc in our daily lives. People are dying. One moment I think well it can’t happen to me. And then I think yes, it could. Why not me when I consider my age, my health issues. It could happen to me if I somehow contract the virus from another person or touching something that I shouldn’t have touched.

I miss my older daughter and her husband, who lives in Pennsylvania, outside of Philadelphia. I worry that she might get sick, and I wouldn’t be able to see her or take care of her. I want to protect them, but I can’t.

The front garden

And then there is anxiety. I keep thinking maybe I already have it and I don’t know it yet. I find myself taking my temperature before I go to bed. Insomnia is my new companion. It’s a long  when you wake up at 4 AM.

Here in North Carolina, there is a plethora of pollen. Everything is coated with it. People are sneezing and coughing, blowing their noses, including me. It is unnerving. People are afraid if you sneeze or cough. I understand because I’m one of those people.

I have attempted to keep busy every minute of my day. I volunteer at an Exotic animal sanctuary called Animal Edventure. I have been going there for three mornings a week for three and a half years, since right after I retired to NC from New Jersey.

Matilda the Emus

Matilda the Emus

I take care of twenty parrots and three Macaws. I decid that I will go in early and avoid interacting with the other people that work there. So I can decrease my chances of contracting the virus. I arrived at about 7:15 AM and leave by 10:30. I have come to love all the animals that reside in this sanctuary. And I would miss them if I wasn’t able to see them anymore. In North Carolina, people that work at animal shelters and animals, sanctuaries are permitted to go to work.  Over 220 Animals are living at Animal Edventure  including farm animals like horses, donkeys, a yak, a camel named Isaac, pigs, ostriches, emus, peacocks, monkeys, lemurs, rabbits, all types of reptiles, pheasants, turtles, tortoises of every size, and foxes. Just about anything you can think of.

After we moved to NC , we found a little restaurant in Garner, NC, about a half-hour drive from where we live. It is called the Toot and Tell. And we have been going there for breakfast on Saturday mornings for over three years. It is a family restaurant, but all kinds of people go there, young and old, black and white and brown, gay and straight. You name it. All are welcome. The people that work there know the customers. They are friendly and welcoming to everyone..They joke and laugh, and it makes you feel like your part of a family.

My husband and I always sit at the same booth. And the waitress at our table is the friendliest person you can imagine. I worry now that the restaurant is closed, how is she and all the other employees are making a living.  What is going to happen to them? How will they survive without a job? I hope they don’t go out of business. I am concerned that the people who work there will have difficulty finding new jobs. I am a worrier by nature. And then I worry about all the people out of work, how will they get by with no money or little money?

I decide to take one day at a time. I”ll fill my time with activities I enjoy. I wrote two new stories this week and started a sewing project that I hope to finish tonight. I still have a couple of hours before I have to cook dinner. So Douglas and I go out to our back yard. And I finish weeding our garden.

The sky is blue and the sun is shining on my back, There’s a slight breeze blowing. It really is a beautiful day. I try to live in the moment.

Our Koi Pond

My dog Douglas starts barking and he runs all around the yard. Enjoying the day and just happy being a dog.

So yes, this is a difficult and challenging time for me for all of us—some more than others.  I realize when I feel my life is out of my control if I help someone in some small or big way. I feel better.  I’m in control. If you can reach out and help people, do it..

And take solace in a sunny day, the Spring flowers blooming and in these few moments, peace. And let that feeling carry you through the next day and the next until this dark time is behind us—one day at a time.

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THE OLD BEAR

Did you ever meet someone that seems to wake up on the wrong side of the bed every day? Well, I did. And that man was my father. My father was a grouch. At least that’s what I believed when I was a child. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized that my father was not so much a grouch as a perfectionist and with a dash of pessimism.

My father with his dog Andy

I look over at my dad on the other side of the dinner table. He doesn’t always eat dinner with our family. It depends on what shift he’s working on at the Philadelphia Transportation Company. He’s the head dispatcher for the city bus company. If he’s working the second shift, he works four to twelve pm; if he works the third shift, he works 12 Pm to 8 AM.

When my dad works the third shift, we have to be very quiet in the house. Because he is sleeping during the day. Luckily for us, he is deaf in one ear and has a tendency to sleep on his good ear. But woe is to you if you make too much noise and wake him up.

If he’s working the second shift, I usually get home from school right before he leaves for work. As I walk down our sidewalk, I look into the kitchen window and see my dad sitting at the kitchen table. As I rush through the door, I see my mother putting my father’s dinner plate on the table. He is sitting there with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other. With his elbows on the table. The king of the kitchen. I see my mom is giving him his favorite dinner six hotdogs sliced up into little pieces and ketchup. My dad loves ketchup. Sometimes he water’s it down and drinks it. He likes to use the left-over pickle juice from the pickle jar and add all kinds of weird foods to it, like hard-boiled eggs and beets and relish and any other really spicy things. “Oh no, dad you’re eating that weird pickle juice stuff with the beets.”

“Ah, you don’t know what you’re missing, Susabelle.”

“Yuck.” One day I looked in the refrigerator and I saw a glass jar in there. I kept staring at it. Finally, I asked my mom, “What’s that in the jar in the back of the refrigerator?”

“Oh, that’s just your father’s cow tongue. He slices it and makes sandwiches.”

“Make’s sandwiches out of cow tongue?”  I thought I would puke. How disgusting can you be? Sometimes it’s better not to ask questions in my house.

One night last week, I was sitting at the table and watching him eat. He kept telling me to stop picking at my dinner. It wasn’t one of my favorite dinners, so I didn’t want to eat it. Sometimes, my mother would say, Susan, don’t waste your food. Think about the poor starving children in Africa.”

I really couldn’t understand why not eating my dinner would hurt the poor starving children in Africa. Where ever that was. So, I kept pushing the food around on my plate to make it look like I was eating. Then my father said,” Stop playing with your food, Susan.” I didn’t start eating, but I did start rocking my chair back on its back legs. My father got louder, “stop rocking your chair back and forth, Susan.” But, I didn’t, and all of the sudden my father reached across the table at me. I guess to smack me. Although he never hit me before. I guess I got on his last nerve. I figured he was going to smack me and I rocked back further on the chair legs. And over the chair went, taking the tablecloth with me and half the stuff on the table. As you can imagine he was really angry at me by then. And he roared at me, I can’t remember just what he said. But he did put the fear of god into me. And I started bawling like there was no tomorrow. “Get up, Susan, sit up. Are you happy now?”

I can’t really say I was happy, but I was relieved that he didn’t smack me. Although I probably deserved it.

My father kept his collection of pens on the counter behind his seat. And anyone who touched his pens was at risk of their lives. So, I always felt compelled to go over and move them around when he wasn’t looking. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. All the important things happened in our kitchen while we were sitting at the table. This included all of the conversations that we had as a family. Although, I tried to keep my mouth shut since I usually put my foot in it.

My father would sit in his seat, and behind him, he had a metal table fan that ran all year round. My father was a large man and he always felt hot and uncomfortable. He was the only one to have an air conditioner in his room and it ran all year round. In the dead of winter, he would go outside with just a wool scarf and a fake fur hat on his balding head.

My father is a creative man. He likes to make things out of stuff he finds or buys really cheap. He makes collages. He collects pictures out of magazines that he buys at the Lions Club. One of his favorite magazines is National Geographic. One of the collages is very large and hangs over our glass fireplace. Perhaps four by six feet wide. Within the collage are pictures of naked women. This collage became a silent battleground between my father and mother. My mother is a quiet person and a religious who doesn’t believe that pictures of naked women belonged on the living room wall for all the world to see.

My parents never talk about these pictures. Every time my father goes out to the store, or the track or to work my mother puts Holy Cards over the naked women in the collage. And when my father comes home, he uncovers the ladies. This went on for a long time until my father took up making String Art. The one hanging in our living room now is a huge piece over the fireplace. He made a spiderweb out of nails and string, and he found a giant plastic, hairy spider. When my friends came over, they all stare at it with their mouths hanging open. They look at me for an answer or explanation, I just shrug my shoulders. It doesn’t seem odd to me, because I love making things too, my father and I had that in common.

Yesterday my father said, “Susabelle, do you want to take a ride with me?’ I didn’t have to think twice. My father rarely took me anywhere.”

“Yes, I would. Where are we going?”

“Oh, not far.”

“We got in the car, and my father drove maybe five or ten minutes away. We were still in our town of Maple Shade, NJ. He drove down a street and pulled over to the curb and parked in front of a house. It looks similar to our Cape Cod house. “Do you see that Susie?”

“What that house?”

“Yes, that house, my friend Dar and I built that house?”

“It’s really great.” I looked at my dad and thought, my dad, can build houses. Wow. And then we went home, I never mentioned the ride I took with my dad to anybody. Because it made me feel like I was special because my dad took me to see it.

My father had our cellar filled with woodworking tools. He remodeled our kitchen and built a fence that was in our front yard for years.

Sometimes my father is in a bad mood, and he doesn’t want to talk to anybody. He’ll sit in his chair in the living room and watch one of his shows. Andy, our dog, will sit next to his chair, and my dad will pet his head all night. Until it is time to go to work or go to bed. Depending on the shift, he is working.  When he is in a bad mood. I stay far away from him. He can say cutting and hurtful things to me and my siblings when he is in a bad mood.

For instance, Christmas time is not always a good time for my father. He will put the Christmas lights on the rose arbor outside the front door. And put the big plastic Santa on the front step. And hang all the grandchildren’s stockings from the fireplace mantle. But then there are those times that Christmas seems to make him sad. He doesn’t want to talk too much. Everyone in my family goes out of their way to buy something that he will like. Sometimes He often refuses to open Christmas presents. Sometimes he will laugh and smile, sometimes silent.

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March 27th, 2020 Corona Virus

Photo by Bob Culver

Douglas

Last Saturday, my husband Bob and me with our dog Douglas, decided to go to the Carrol Howard Johnson Environmental Park in Fuqua-Varina. Douglas loves walking through the woods, keeping his nose to the ground. Smelling all the delicious smells.

There was lite traffic on the usually busy roads that lead to Fuquay and the park.  When we arrived at the park, there were about six cars parked out front. Usually, there is only one or two. But it was Saturday, and we usually go during the week.

We enjoy this particular park because it has trails through the woods with streams and is somewhat hilly, but not too strenuous. As we started our hike, we could hear voices in the distance, including the happy laughter of little kids. It was like music to my ears.

When we were within shouting distance of one of the families, I noticed they kept glancing in our direction. I said, “Bob, I don’t think we should walk too close to these families. It seems like it is making them uncomfortable. We waited on one of the wooden deck overlooks while they passed us. There were about ten feet between us and them. I called out to them,” Hello.” They quickly walked by us and appeared to avoid any eye contact at all. They didn’t return my greeting.  It was kind of weird. And this was repeated several times with three other families.

I asked Bob, “Did you notice that they didn’t even make eye contact and didn’t say hello?”

“Yes, I noticed it’s weird,” Bob said.

“You know I think they somehow they felt they were at risk just to pass ten or more feet away from us and to speak to us.”

“I think you’re right Susie, they appeared to be afraid.”

I felt a kind of sinking feeling in my stomach. I kept swallowing hard. I felt sad. I’m a friendly person and when we pass people on the street. I always greet them and say ‘hi, how are you? Or just, “hello.” People almost always respond to a friendly greeting.

Douglas happily made his way through the woods, smelling all the delicious aromas. Totally oblivious that the world had changed so rapidly in a short time. People are afraid of their fellow humans because too close contact with them could possibly cause them to die.

We made our way back to our parked car. I couldn’t help but think to myself. “How is this going to turn out? Will we make it through somehow? What is to become of us?’ And I’m not just talking about myself and my husband. But, all of us. How will this end?

I have come to this conclusion, yes, we must be careful of coming in contact with people, and by that, I mean physical distance. But we can still safely acknowledge one another. And care about one another and want them to continue on with their lives. And be able to live happy and productive lives. Would any of us want to live in a world where we care nothing for other people’s well-being? I wouldn’t want to live in such a place. Be careful, take care of yourselves and your families. Be kind to one another.

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HATS ON AND ON AND ON TO INFINITY

It’s just another ordinary day. I wasn’t expecting anything unusual to happen. My alarm rings at 7:47 am right on the dot. I dangle my legs over the side of the bed and let them hang there for a bit just to get the circulation back.

Cowboy Hats by Paul Br751

I start making the bed, and as I get out of bed, I straighten the sheets and then the Cowboy comforter. I smile, just looking at that bedspread. I can’t believe how lucky I was to find it on eBay. I’ve looked for one for twenty years. I owned one when I was a kid, but my mother gave it away when I was sixteen. She said I was too old for a cowboy bedspread. Can you imagine? Too grown-up for cowboys, ridiculous.

I walk the twenty-seven steps to my bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I take off my hat and look at the top of my head that clearly has less hair this morning than it did yesterday. I sigh. Oh well, what can you do? I get out my mustache kit. I comb it straight down and then trim each hair one at a time. I comb it seven times I try to be vigilant about the length and the shape.

You just can’t let yourself go to hell, right? I decide tonight I will touch up the gray a little. Not all of it, of course, I like to look my best, but no one’s going to believe that someone that is sixty-seven doesn’t have some gray hair in his stache. I jump into the shower and wash and rinse myself seven times. I put on my clothes and look in the mirror. Not bad, I think.

I pull up my bamboo socks, you wouldn’t believe how comfortable they are, and your feet can breathe. And the Piece De Resistance is my hand-made vintage Lee Miller boots. They cost a pretty penny, but believe me, they were worth it. They are hand-stitched with red hearts and inlaid white patches. I  feel like a million bucks.

This makes it even more difficult for me to understand why I can’t find a woman to keep me company in the sunset of my years. After all, I’m not bad-looking, have some money in the bank and own a home with no mortgage. What more could any woman want? Plus, I’m very, very neat, and a dam good cook to boot.

I set the table for two, I live alone, but I’m optimistic. I take two steps to the right and then two steps back. And take my seat, as I eat my bowl of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch. I consider where I might purchase my next hat. My plan is to buy a Brick Cowboy Hat, which is similar to a cattleman cowboy hat but has a squarer crown. I also have to pick up my Gambler Cowboy hat because I left it at the hat shop to be blocked. It‘s a little too big for my head now that I have less hair. So, I’m having it resized.

I wash and rinse the cups and bowls twenty-seven times and put them away. Today is the third day of the week in the third week of the month, so it’s time to go out and buy a new cowboy hat. I decide to shop at my old standby Cowtown Cowboy Outfitters. I received an email informing me that they received some new hats just last week. And luckily, Zane Western Apparel is only about a quarter of a mile from Cowtown. And that is where my Gambler Hat is being blocked. What a great day this is going to be.

As I head towards Cowtown, I decide that while I’m buying my new hat, I’ll peruse the flea market. And then enjoy barbeque ribs for lunch. I realize that I’m humming my favorite tune. “Whoopie Yippie e. Hurrah.”

I see the sign for Cowtown, and my heart starts beating a little faster, “Yippee Ky O Ky Yea.” I yell at the top of my voice.

I disembark from my 1965 Shelby-Made Mustang. I step back three steps and sidestep five and take a long look at my baby. It’s cherry red and pristine. I love it like I loved my mother. It’s 10:45 am. I take a deep breath and stare at the Cowtown Cowboy. It’s one of my favorite icons of all time.

The cowboy had a lariat in his hand, but people kept trying to swing from it. So, they took off the lariat. I decided to peruse the flea market. I enjoy looking through the now worn and somewhat tattered stalls. Why? You ask it’s probably just a bunch of Chinese imports. Nothing is made in America anymore. Because it is part of my tradition, and that is reason enough for me.

I pick up a genuine replica of a Colt 45. I’m not a gun enthusiast, but it’s part of the Cowboy tradition. Still, I put it down and keep walking. And then I see in the distance a woman, a goddess, really. She’s wearing full cowgirl tradition. She has on amazing boots, and tight blue jeans with a red flannel shirt and matching red scarf. And the Piece de ’resistance, a creamy white Stetson hat.

I nonchalantly walk toward the table where she is standing. It’s a table covered in bright neck scarfs. I casually glance at a sky blue one and pick it up and feel the texture and put it in the light to get a better look. She looks over at me and smiles. I look at her, and I notice she has the most astonishing blue eyes. I almost gasp out loud. I smile and say, “that scarf would look great on you. It’s the exact color of your eyes.

She glances at me, and takes off the scarf, and says, “thanks, that’s a good choice.” I want to continue the conversation. But as usual, this is where I usually get tongue-tied. I continue, anyway. “Say, I was just going to get some bar-b-que ribs for lunch, would you be interested in joining me?”

“Lunch, sure, I guess that would be nice. I’m getting a little bit hungry.”  We head on over to Dutch Country Barbeque. She stops along the way and looks at tables at the wares. We arrive at the restaurant. A somewhat loud but friendly woman yells out. “Find a seat and sit-down folks. I’ll be right there.”

So, she has a seat, and then I take two steps to the right and two to the left and sit down. She gives me a funny look. I sit down and begin to move the salt and pepper into the right position. And then move the barbeque sauces next to each other. I take out a clean hand wipe and wipe the table down. I get another funny look. I begin to feel that uh-oh feeling. That I get when I notice people think I’m weird. But I don’t know what it is that I’m doing wrong.

“Well, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Robert Leroy Cassidy. But everyone calls me Butch. May I ask your name?”

“My name is Sue Ellen Bassett. I own a small ranch about twenty miles south of here. I raise and train horses for the Rodeo here. Wait a minute, did you just tell me your name was Butch Cassidy?”

“Well, yes, is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just you know Butch Cassidy was an outlaw. Are you a descendent or something?”

“No, I had my name legally changed to Butch Cassidy when I was thirty. He was kind of a hero to me, growing up.”

“A hero, but was an outlaw?’

“Well, yes, technically, I guess that’s true. He lived by the code of the old west. It was a different time.  People lived by different rules. You know live by the gun die by the gun.” I watched her face carefully as I related this information to her.

She starts clearing her throat. It looks like she’s going to make a run for it. “Wait, I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not crazy, I just have a thing for the old west, and the gunslingers back then. That’s all. I’m not an outlaw. I‘m a retired insurance salesman from Texas. By the way, what’s your name?” I see her face relax a little.

“My name is Etta Thompson. Do you come to Cowtown very often?

“Well, about once a month, if I’m picking up a new hat.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Do you collect hats?”

I smile, I think ok she doesn’t seem to think that’s odd. And so, I continue.” Well, yes, I do. I collect cowboy hats. And other kinds of Western paraphernalia. But my main interest is hats.”

“Well. Everyone has hobbies, and collecting hats seems a harmless enough activity. I enjoy collecting brass bells. I have about five hundred. I had more, but I sold some of them on eBay recently because I was running out of room in my house.”

“Oh, how did you start collecting bells?”

“I go to estate sales because I enjoy looking at older homes. I started to collect bells, so I had a reason to keep going to the sales. Basically, I’m curious about how other people live and the things they accumulate over a lifetime. People are fascinating to me.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m drawn to that many people, or that I  like to talk to most people. There are very few people that I’m attracted to, I mean to feel a connection “ I feel my face getting red, can you imagine still blushing when you’re over sixty years old.

“That’s alright, I know what you mean.”

At that point, the waitress comes over. “So, what can I get you to drink? Do you need the menus, or do you know what you want?”

“Well, I would like a sweet tea and the lunch special barbeque.”

“Me too.”, Butch says and blushes.

After the food arrives, they both dig in and don’t really say anything until they finish eating. Butch feels comfortable with Etta, a rare occurrence. They both sign push their plates away and sigh simultaneously. Then they both chuckle at the same time. “That was good, says Etta.”

“Delicious as usual,” says Butch.

“Well, what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon, Butch?”

“First, I’m going to pick up a hat I’m having blocked, and then I’m going to Zane Apparel and purchase a Gambler Hat that I’ve wanted to buy for a long time.’

“That sounds like fun?”

“Would you like to come along?”

“I would love that, but I’m meeting with some guys about a horse they want me to train. I would love to get together again. In fact, I would like to invite you to come over and see my ranch. I’m really proud of it.”

As Butch starts to rise out of his chair, he lays down a twenty-dollar bill and a tip. And he says I would enjoy that very much. Any day in particular?”

“How about on Sunday afternoon, it’s the only day I don’t have a lot of work to do on the ranch, and the weather is supposed to be spectacular. We could take a ride.”

“Take a ride? I don’t really have a great deal of experience riding, But I would love to give it a try.” Butch is secretly amazed at his own words. Not to mention that he didn’t even do the two-step when he arose from the chair or clean the whole table and stack the dishes. A big smile crosses his face.

“Fantastic. Here are my card and cell number, how about around 12:30 pm. I’m a pretty good cook if I do say so myself. I’ll make something special for us to eat.”

“Wow, I mean great, I look forward to it. I’ve had a great day. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.”

They walk side by side out the door. Butch has never felt more alive and has a bounce to his step that he didn’t know existed before. As he is about to say goodbye, Eta leans in and kisses him on the cheek. I’ll see you then Butch; I look forward to it.”

“Me too, Eta. I look forward to it. See you Sunday.”

As he starts walking away, he says, “Hell, maybe I’ll get two new hats.”

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I HOPE THIS GOES VIRAL – PLEASE SHARE ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA- WRITE ON

I decided that on Fridays I will write an essay about the experiences that I have during the week.  These essays will speak to my personal experiences during our new reality of the Corvid 19 virus. I have been feeling a low-level amount of anxiety because of the virus. Sometimes I wake up at night, and it hits me again. And I can’t go back to sleep.

This is what happened to me today, and it made this virus “real” to me. I went to CVS to pick up eye drops for dry eyes.  I purchased several other small items. There were only a few customers in the store. I walked up to the check-up counter. The cashier was behind the counter, and there was a folding table in front of the counter. The cashier is wearing blue vinyl gloves. She instructed me to put my items on the folding table then she picked each one up with her gloved hands and scanned them an put them in a plastic bag and told me to pay by debit card or credit card which I could do from the machine that was on my side of the table. I did what she said. And then I looked at her face, and I saw a young woman about twenty.

And I thought, dear god, what is happening? I felt an overwhelming sense of grief for her, for all the rest of us living on this planet. And then, I felt tears streaming down my face and managed to say thank you and walk out the door. I wondered what will become of us, how will all of this end?

Here in North Carolina, the restaurants, schools, and large gatherings such as concerts are canceled for an unknown length of time. You can order food as take-out and then pick it up outside of the restaurant in your car. People can order their food from food stores as well, and then one of the employees bags the food, and customers can pick it up in the parking lot outside of the store. The dentists are closing their practices for routine cleanings and check-ups and are only seeing emergency patients. I haven’t had to go to the doctors, but I imagine they are treating this situation in the same way.

These changes did not happen slowly. It happened in the last two weeks. For me, it seems almost incomprehensible that so much has changed in such a short time. I find it hard to take it all in. And the fact that it is not just happening here in NC, in the United States but all over the world is mind-boggling and terrifying.

I somehow have a sense of immediacy in that I feel I must somehow fix or change what is happening to all of us. But I have no clue what to do or where to start. I know people that will be at higher risk of going hungry. Because they were on edge already, and now, they will go over that cliff. So, I decided to donate money to the Food Bank of Central and Central NC twice a month. And because I am an animal lover, I will donate to the local animal shelters.

Susan Culver with Noel the Cockatoo Animal Edventure

I volunteer at an animal sanctuary in Coats, NC, called Animal Edventure at https://www.facebook.com/AnimalEdventuresSanctuary/

I have worked there for three mornings a week for the past three and a half years. I take care of Parrots, Macaws, and Cockatoos. There are over 220 animals that live there most who have been rescues. There is everything there from horses to camels to monkeys, lemurs, and reptiles. Animal Edventure is dependent upon donations from the visitors that visit them. And now because of this virus, the donations if they continue at all will be significantly reduced.

Many people who live on the edge of poverty barely get by on a good day if they lose their job, then what? What about those who are laid off and then no longer have income or healthcare. They are between a rock and a hard place, no doubt.

I continue to have some modicum of hope that our government will step up and do the right thing, but I have doubts that they will.

So, here is what I propose, that all of us step up and find one person or one family that needs help, and we help them in whatever way we are able to do. And we help them without any expectations of being repaid.

If we are to survive this challenge that we face, we must do it together, and help one another. We can not do it alone; we must take one day at a time and try and rise to our higher selves.

And if you would like, you can read this post on my blog and follow my experiences there and add your experiences and how you feel to the comments. https://susanaculver.com

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A JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND MILES BEGINS WITH A SINGLE MISSTEP

The year I celebrated my twenty-first birthday, I had big plans. No, it’s not what you’re thinking I didn’t go out and get drunk. I didn’t get laid for the first time. I decided that a coming of age journey was in order. No, it wasn’t a remake of Thelma and Louise. Although, considering how it turned out maybe I should have brought Louise with me. Well, I don’t know anybody named Louise, but I do know a Helen, a Joan or Brenda that would have loved to come along.

But you know that’s not my style. I decided that I would go it alone. Why you may ask?  Well, because of all the things I feared, and the list is long, getting lost is at the top of the list.  And running a close second is public speaking and wearing a bikini at the beach.

The Auto Train by Engin Akyurt-Pixabay

I made a list of all the things that I wanted to do once I was a legal adult. I wanted to get up at dawn every day and see the sunrise. I wanted to dye my hair blond. Embrace each day with renewed energy and a positive vibe, no more negativity. I would learn how to parallel park, learn a new language. I was considering Chinese, it would be more of a challenge. Maybe I could learn to write it as well. I’ve always been good at languages. Remember, how good I was at Pig Latin when I was a kid.

Well, I could go on and on, perhaps I should stop prevaricating and get to the point. I had planned the whole trip. Oh, this was decades before the I Phone and Google Maps. I had purchased maps of the East Coast from New Jersey to Florida. I decided I would take the Auto Train. I would have to drive from South Jersey to Lorton, Virginia. Barring unforeseen circumstances and according to my calculations, it was a two hour and forty-minute drive to drive one hundred- and seventy-five-mile drive from my home in South Jersey to Lorton, Virginia.

And then I would board the train and go from Virginia to Sanford, Florida and then drive to West Palm Beach. It was a twenty-four-hour ride on the train.

And believe it or not, I arrived at Lorton, Virginia auto-train with time to spare. Even I was amazed since I had never taken a longer trip than going to Atlantic City about an hour from my parents’ house without getting lost. And I did not have to make a single U-Turn. I kid you not. Since I arrived early, my car was the first one to be loaded onto the train. Of course, what I failed to consider was that would mean my car would be the last one to get off the train in Sanford, Florida.

I watched as my beloved 1970 Volkswagen Beetle was loaded onto the train. I must admit I was somewhat nervous about it. I loved that car; it was my first car. I had purchased it on my own, with money that I earned while working my first real job. I loved that car so much that every morning I got up an hour early to wash it. It was lemon yellow with automatic stick shift. I loved it like it was my first-born child.

After waiting on a bench in Virginia’s August sizzling heat for well over an hour, I was allowed to board the train. I was drenched in sweat. I had my somewhat damp ticket in hand. The Conductor directed me to the box car. As I got onto the train, I realized that most of the passengers that were boarding were families with multiple children, some still in diapers. This was somewhat concerning since I knew we would be driving for twenty-four hours, which meant that at least eight hours of the drive would be overnight. Overnight with a large population of children under the age of five. I could see that this might cause some sleep problems. It turns out that crying babies would be the least of my problems.

As I boarded, the train trip got off to a rocky start. I tripped going up the steps and fell right into the passenger in head of me.  And I might add not very gracefully. I attempted to pull myself up using his leg, mistake number one. Inadvertently, his pants came down around his ankles. And to add insult to injury turns out this guy goes commando.

I was so shocked at the turn of events, I started talking gibberish, or maybe it was pig Latin. It’s kind of a blur now because his reaction was well, a little over the top, in my opinion.

As he yanked up his pants, you know the velvet kind with an elasticized waistband he let loose with a string of expletives that would make Genghis Kahn blush. The last thing he said was, “You better keep clear of me, you stupid bitch. If I see you again, I’m going to toss your fat ass off this train.” Well, I may be a little zaftig, but I’m not fat.

The line of people waiting to board the train behind me was beginning to back up. A couple of young guys grabbed my arms on either side and pulled me up. “Oh, thanks,” I mumbled and prayed I would never seen any of these people again. I had never been so simultaneously embarrassed and terrified at the same time.

I found a ladies room and stepped into a stall. I had myself a mini-breakdown. I may have shed a few tears and I was shaking like a leaf. I took some deep breaths and wiped my tears with toilet paper. When I  finished, I walked over to one of the sinks, and I gazed into the mirror. I realized that I had blood dripping down my face. I must have hit my lip or bit it when I fell. I splashed some cold water on my face and dried it off with a paper towel, the cheap kind that is brown and feels like sandpaper.

I decided that things could only get better from here on out since I couldn’t imagine anything worse happening. You see I was already putting the optimistic point of view into play.  I started to brush my hair but gave up on it as a lost cause.

I stepped out in the hall and looked for the boxcar that was listed on my ticket. It was a good thing that each car was marked because otherwise, I would have been lost as they all looked exactly the same to me.

I swayed from one end of the train to the other. The movement of the train was somewhat like walking on the deck of a boat in a rough sea. I found the right boxcar and sat down in my assigned seat with a deep sigh.

It turns out the seats were three across. So, it was going to be a tight fit. I shut my eyes and started doing some deep breathing. And I fell fast asleep probably from the shock and stress. I woke up abruptly, I looked around, unsure at first where I was. Something was banging on the back of my seat. I looked to my right there was an elderly man fast asleep on my shoulder, his drool was running down my sweaty arm. And to my left was a nursing mother. Who looked younger than I was. I was not in a good mood, I swore as loud as I could “I don’t know who is kicking my seat, but if you don’t stop, the shit is going to hit the fan.” I had never really cursed before, but I thought this occasion was a good time to start.

Unfortunately, I woke up both the drooling ancient man and the sleeping baby and mother. The baby let out a wail that would have raised Lazarus from the dead for a second time. Little Mama, well let’s just say if looks could kill, I would have been breathing my last breath.

“Hey Girlie, what’s all the racket about? Can’t you tell people are trying to sleep?” What’s all the racket about? Kids nowadays don’t have respect for their elders. I didn’t respond immediately because my attention is drawn to his lower lip, where a long string of drool is suspended. My stomach lurched. “Sorry, I was startled by somebody kicking my seat back. It’s been a long day.”

I decided that this would be a good time to go get something to eat. Hopefully, when I returned, everything would be copesetic again. Or at least everyone would have gone back to sleep. Since I’m working on being positive. I choose to believe this until reality smacks me in the face with the truth.

I meander down through one compartment after another. And then I hear before I see what I think must be the diner compartment. I stick my head in the doorway. And low and behold there looks like there is a party going on. It is loud, way past noisy. There is a yellow haze. It could be cigarette smoke, but most likely pot—smoking with one hand and drinks in the other. And now, we are talking; this is the type of experience I have been looking forward to.

I push my way through the crowd and find a seat at the bar. “Hey bartender, can I get something to eat here. My stomach thinks I cut my own throat?” He takes one look at me and asks for my ID. I take it out of my back pocket and hand it over to him. He is a scary-looking dude; he has a scar running the length of his face from his hairline down. I shutter to think how that happened. There is a tear tattooed underneath his right eye. Half his mustache is missing. I don’t even want to know the significance of that. He looks at me; he looks at the ID. “Ok, close enough, we have hamburgers and French fries, the first beer is on the house.”

“Awesome, well-done, please.”

“Well done, you’ll be lucky if it ain’t still mooing, honey.”

My eye starts twitching a little. I look around the room. My first thought was maybe I’m still sleeping because this looks like a bar scene from Casablanca. Would that make me Ilsa? I look around for my Rick. Unfortunately, I don’t see him, but maybe he is in the men’s room. The only thing missing here is the designer gowns and the tuxedos. I guess this is the poor man’s version.

My hamburger arrives, my mouth is watering; this is the first thing I’ve had to eat all day. It’s not that bad, and the French fries are just the way I like them salty and crisp.

At that moment, I feel someone’s hand grasp my shoulder. I look up, and who do I see, Pants Guy, or should I say no pants guy. I gulp down the last bite of my hamburger whole and almost choke. I grab my free beer and swallow. His grip is getting tighter. He is leering down at me. But not in a good way, if you know what I mean.

My breathing is becoming irregular, in short gasps. I’m hyperventilating. I try to slow my breathing down. And then it comes to me, go completely limp. he is so surprised that he lets go of my shoulder. I drop like a lead balloon,  I hit the ground. And before he knows what is happening, I‘m up and running and out the door.

I run through several boxcars. The constant swaying of the boxcars is making me feel nauseous. I hear a voice in the distance, yelling.” You wait until I catch up with you. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born.” And then a roaring sound, I’m not sure if that was him, or my intestines.

I hear music, I follow it. I see an open boxcar. And propel my body through the entrance.  It’s another bar or a cabaret. I’m not sure.  There is the sweet smell of pot and many voices talking at once. I can’t see clearly because of the smoke. I give a silent prayer of thanks for the smoke. If I can’t see anyone, then neither can the Neanderthal that is chasing me.

Someone grabs my arm and pulls me in. The next thing I know, I’m dancing with a guy with Do Wop hair. You know the greasy hair that swoops on across the forehead and down over one eye. He is wearing tight jeans and a cowboy shirt with fringe. I go with it. Better than doing the Last Tango in Paris with No Pants Guy. He pulls me in tight. I press my face against his chest. I’m thinking, safe at last, and then Do Wop swirls me out expectantly, and I let out a yelp. Then he yanks me not very gently back into his chest. And that, unfortunately, is when my intestines and I say adieu to the very rare hamburger and the warm beer. I projectile vomit across the floor and all over Do Wop.

It turns out Do Wop is a sympathetic vomiter. And it seems as if he has had a great deal to eat prior to coming to this bar. Apparently, he had Mexican food, unfortunately, for me and everyone behind me. And to add insult to injury, this set off a chain reaction of vomiting across the room. The smell alone was overwhelming, and then people started slipping and sliding all over the place. And that’s all she wrote as they say. The party was over.

As I crawl across the slimy and disgusting floor, I see No Pants Guy. I lay flat on the floor and hope for the best. He backs out of the room. No doubt blown back by the sheer stink of it all. I take a deep breath, and then immediately regret it.

As I rise, I consider throwing myself off the train and just hoping for the best. I crawl out into the passageway and look one way and then the other. I don’t see hide nor hair of my nemesis. I slip and slide until I see a lady’s room sign and shove open the door. I look right and left, and it is all clear. I enter somewhat trepidatiously.

As I once again gaze into the mirror, I realize I have reached a new level of looking like shit. A rare accomplishment for the first day of my twenty-first year. I congratulate myself. I turn on the cold water tap and splash lukewarm water onto my face. The water has a weird metallic smell. I wonder, where is this water coming from? The train isn’t connected to water lines. It must be stored in tanks under the train or something. This thought leads to another less savory thought where does all the shit and piss go? Do they flush it out the last boxcar? Do they store it until they arrive at the final destination? It is at this point in my stream of consciousness; I realize that my thoughts have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I cup my hands and throw the water into my mouth and rinse and spit. I‘m convinced I’ll never get the disgusting taste out of my mouth.

I stick my head out of the bathroom door; I think I see a kangaroo. I’m thoroughly exhausted. I believe I must be hallucinating.  My mind rejects the vision. So, I continue walking out the door and towards what I believe isn’t real. I shake my head and reach out to touch it. And that’s when I realize that this isn’t a vision but real. The kangaroo pulls back his arm and then strikes me in the chest I stagger backward a couple of feet. I’m momentarily so flabbergasted that I can’t catch my breath.

Imaginary or not, that thing can punch like Mike Tyson. I run in the other direction. Perhaps I inhaled so much pot fumes and that it was indeed imaginary. Or none of this is happening. And I’m fast asleep and dreaming, between drooling old man and nursing mother. I pray for the second option.

I decide that I’m going to head back to my boxcar and squeeze into my seat and not rise again until we reach Sanford, Florida. As I head back toward my destination, I fantasize lying on the beach and catching some rays and drinking a Margarita with a tanned and toned surfer dude. I convince myself that this is still possible. I just have to get back into my assigned seat and keep a low profile until we reach our destination. We will probably reach it in about fourteen hours. Meanwhile, I can catch some Zzzz’s.

I double-time it back to my boxcar.  Hopefully, there won’t be any further excitement or altercations. This day seems like the longest day of my life. I arrive at my boxcar and look in, fearing at first that my nemesis will somehow have found out where I was sitting and lie in wait for me. Luckily, this was just paranoia at work. And no one was waiting for me.

I walk down the aisle. I see what appears to be two empty seats where I was sitting earlier. I arrive and look down at the seats, and I see that drooling man is now slumping over into my seat. I fear the worse that he is dead and decomposing. I look at nursing mother is curled around her baby and sound asleep. Thank god for small favors.

I consider trying to clandestinely make a loud noise and wake him up. Nope, that would wake up the mother, and even worse the infant.

And so, I gently shove him over into his own space. I grasp his sleeve and push him ever so gently. It works except he is now slumped over onto the mother. I consider this; it works for me. I plop down quietly and immediately fall into a fretful sleep.

I wake up abruptly to a high-pitched screaming. My eyes pop open, I fear for the worse. Was it the kangaroo or No Pants Dude? Will this nightmare never end?

I look to the sound of the ungodly noise and it is the infant. It has awakened and is now bawling like there is no tomorrow. “Dear god, what is it? Why is it screaming, is it in pain? Please make it stop.”

“Sorry, he is just hungry or needs his diaper changed. I will have to take him to the lady’s room. They have a changing table in there. If you could just get up for a moment, I would appreciate it.”

As she gets up with her infant in tow, the old man slumps further into the other seat. My god, but he is a deep sleeper. I attempt to pull him up. He is like a sack of potatoes. He still doesn’t awaken, great I think. And I close my eyes and am out like a light in short order.

I am awakened by someone tugging at my sleeve. I mutter,” for the love of all that is holy, would you please leave me alone.”

“Sorry, but could you please let me in my seat again. I have to feed my baby, or he will start crying again.”

“Yeah, ok, ok.” When I get up, the old man falls right back into my seat. “What’s wrong with this guy anyway, nothing wakes him up?”

The mother touches the old man’s face and then grabs his wrist and holds it for a minute. “Shit,” she screams, this guy is dead. I was wondering why he slept so long. We will have to call the conductor or somebody in charge.”

She pulls the cord next to her seat. It says emergency only. Well, this certainly qualifies as an emergency to me. There is a loud squealing noise, and then a lurch as the train grinds to an abrupt stop. Everybody wakes up, some start screaming, mostly kids but quite a few burly young men.

By the time the train comes to a complete stop, everyone has calmed down. There is an announcement over the intercom that everyone should remain seated until they are told otherwise. About fifteen minutes pass by, and then two EMTs and a police officer come on board.

When they arrive in the boxcar, I start feeling a little sick to my stomach. I hope I won’t start throwing up again. I look up to see the police officer standing over me. “Alright, ladies, can you describe to me what has occurred here.

Well, I just came back to the boxcar, and I couldn’t sit down because he was slumped over into my seat. When I moved him, he just sort of plopped into his seat. Like a dead weight. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say it that way. It was such a shock. I’ve never seen a dead body before. And to tell you the truth, it has been a tough day for me. Oh, sorry.”

“And you miss?

“Well, I thought he was asleep for most of the trip. He didn’t really say anything to me at all. I was taking care of my baby, and as she said, it has been a really long day.”

“Do you two young ladies know each other? What is your relationship?”

Simultaneously, we both said, “No, I never ever talked to her. I never met her before. I don’t know her.”

The policeman said, “ok, you two will have to make a written statement before we leave. And at some time in the future, you may have to testify.”

I looked over at nursing mother. She looks like she is going to start crying. Which made me start crying. And before you knew it, we were both crying—a perfect end to a perfect day.

After they took the body out, she and I look at each other, and then we hug. I am not much of a hugger, but somehow it did make me feel better after that. “My name is Susan, and you are?”

“Well, this has been some trip and a weird way to meet somebody, my name is Joanne. And this is my baby Gerald. He’s four months old. We are on our way to see his grandparents in West Palm Beach.  God, what a day.

After that, we just sat back in our seats and didn’t say another word. I mean, what more can you say after somebody you didn’t know or even talk to dies in the seat next to you. I wonder what kind of lesson I was learning about being an adult from this experience. I still don’t know.

A police woman came in and told the two of us that we were going to have to move to other seats in a different boxcar. While the police look over the scene. I don’t know what they were looking for? Drool maybe? Sorry, I know that’s not funny, but what can I say. I can be a real jerk sometimes.

After I was told where my new seat was, I found my way without any difficulty. Maybe I was developing a sense of direction. Who knows. The new boxcar and seat look exactly the same sans nursing mother, I mean Joanne and her baby and the old man. Oh, there I go being a jerk again.

The next few hours of the trip passed without any further incidence probably because I never moved out of the seat. I just stared out the window as the sky gradually went from inky black to gray. And then I watched as the sun rose and moved higher into the sky. I notice that the trees changed from Maples and Oak to Palm Trees.  The sunrise in Florida is so beautiful it takes your breath away. The sun slowly rises and highlights the blues and pinks with gold. I will always remember that more than anything else I experienced on that trip. Because well, it was a new day and a new beginning for me.

When we arrive in Sanford, I start getting nervous about getting off the train. I was so afraid I might run into No Pants guy. I step down out of the train along with a hundred other people. It had only been twenty-four that’s for sure. I sit on a bench in the morning sun, and I think, holy crap it feels like I stepped into an oven. The heat and humidity are unbelievable. You just can’t believe how hot it is in Florida until you experience it. I was going to have to wait a long time for my car because it was the first one that was boarded. I keep on the lookout for No Pants Guy. I thought I was in the clear but all of a sudden, he burst out of the boxcar about thirty feet away . but I feel like a different person.

“ What the hell?” I am so startled that I stand up quickly and was about to start running. But then from the bowels of the boxcar, something jumps out and lands within three feet of No Pants Guy. It’s the kangaroo, unbelievable. I just stand there transfixed.

No Pants Guy takes off like a bat out of hell. And the kangaroo takes a giant leap. Before you could bat an eye he kicks No Pants Guy where the sun don’t shine. And that is all she wrote, my friend. Welcome to Florida.

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