Author Archives: Susan

Tyler School of Art, the best experience of my life and the biggest challenge

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As I look back over my life, I realize that the best advice I was ever given was spoken by my mother. I had just lost my father to lung cancer. I asked my mother if she had any regrets in her life. And she said, “I never regretted anything I did, I’ve only regretted the things I didn’t do because I was afraid. I wished that I hadn’t let fear stop me.”

The Tyler School of Art in Elkins Park, Pa.

My mother passed away eight months after my father. She had a complete cardiac and respiratory arrest. From that moment on, I knew that I would no longer allow fear to hold me back from the things I wanted to accomplish in my life.

At the time, my children were seven and four. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that what I had always wanted to do was to go to college. When I graduated from high school, my parents did not have the means to send me to college, and I didn’t have the high grades in high school to attain any scholarships. Later, I found out that I could qualify for some financial assistance because of need. And so, I made a decision at that time that what I always wanted to do was to become an artist or a writer. I applied to all the local art schools in the Philadelphia area. I had to prepare a portfolio of my most recent artwork. I spent several months doing that.

I was contacted by Temple University, Tyler School of Art, the Hussian School of Art, and Moore College of Art. I was interviewed and eventually accepted by the Hussian and Tyler School of Art. I made the decision to attend Temple Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. It was located in Elkins Park in Pennsylvania, which was about a thirty-minute drive from where I was living in Pennsauken, NJ.

I started attending Tyler the following September. It turned out I was the only adult student in the Freshman Class. There were other adult students in the school, but they attended the graduate classes. I was thirty-six at the time. And although I looked young for my age, I certainly didn’t look eighteen years old, which was the age of all the other Freshman students.

Noah’s Last Voyage

Before I started school, I had to arrange childcare for my two daughters, who were six and three years old at the time. I talked to a friend of mine, and she said that if I took care of her daughter during the summer and on school holidays, then her husband would take care of my older daughter after school. I enrolled my youngest daughter in daycare at First Baptist Christian Day School. And so I started my new life as a college student at the grand old age of thirty-six. Saying that this was the greatest challenge I had taken is an understatement.

The Tyler campus was beautiful, and the buildings were older but full of character and ambiance. It was fourteen acres and had been donated to Temple University fifty years before I attended it. I have to admit that I was nervous that first week of school. That first morning I met an older man who was outside of the main building, and I asked him where the main office was located. He told me that he was the groundskeeper. He had an Irish accent which immediately drew me to him. Since my family originated in Ireland. We remained friends throughout the four years I attended Tyler. I walked over to the Main building and found the Main Office. I spoke to the office clerk, and she gave me a copy of the classes I would be taking this semester. And where the classes were located. I headed to my first class, which was a graphic design class.

Of course, I was the first student to arrive, as I have always been early for everything. I sat in the back of the classroom and waited for other students to arrive. Every student that came into the room asked me if I was the teacher. And I said, “No, I’m a student.” Apparently, I was going to be the only adult student, and I was. But, after a while, all the students accepted me as a fellow student, disregarding the age difference. I didn’t tell them I had two children for a long time. And so my art education began. To say it was challenging would be an understatement. It was more than challenging. It was like climbing a mountain every day. In my Freshman year, I had to take Drawing, Design, 3-D Design, Art History, and Intellectual Heritage.

The Race, one of my pencil drawings

The first year at Tyler was more than difficult, and it was time-consuming. I only got four to five hours of sleep during the school year. During the Spring Break and Summer, I took care of my kids, my house, and my friend’s daughter. I had no time for extracurricular activities. The teachers at Tyler had adult students in their graduate classes but were unaccustomed to one in their undergraduate classes. I’m sure teaching me was a challenge. I was the first student to raise my hand with a question if I didn’t understand whatever concept they were teaching. At first, this annoyed them, but at some point, they realized that if I didn’t fully comprehend some aspect of whatever concept they were teaching, then other students didn’t either.

I have to admit that I put every bit of energy I had into excelling in every area I was studying. But, I would have to admit there were many younger students who were naturally talented than I. I had to learn the hard way by repetition and mistakes.

One of the things I learned right off the bat was that if I didn’t put everything I had into my artwork and studying, I wasn’t going to make it. I had every intention of excelling. I have to admit that I was not the most talented student, but I was the one who worked the hardest, and through hard work and diligence, I finished the first year at the top of the class with a 4.0 average, which is comparable to an A plus.

The Trinity - one of my oil paintings

The Trinity

You may wonder how I assimilated into classes full of seventeen and eighteen-year-old students when I was thirty-six. Well, the absolute truth was I fit in just fine. I made many friends in the four years that I attended Tyler. Some of the students that I became friends with didn’t have driver’s licenses yet, and none of them owned a car. As a result, whenever one of our classes was visiting a museum or an artist studio, I would carry as many students as I could in my white Suburu wagon.

It was hard to believe how quickly the time went by while I was attending Tyler. I have to say that I enjoyed the experience tremendously. It was challenging, to say the least, but I came to love my fellow students and most of the teachers. And the sense of satisfaction that I was accomplishing something I always wanted to do my whole life but didn’t have the opportunity to do before this time.

In my junior year, I had to declare my major. I decided that I wanted to get a Bachelor of Arts and a teaching certificate. So, I had a double major. The final two years were exhausting. In addition, to the classes I took, I had to do student teaching. I ended up being placed at the Hancock Elementary School in North East Philadelphia and at the Conwell Middle School in Kensington, PA. I have to say that the students at these schools were challenging and lived in neighborhoods that were not altogether safe. But, overall, it was a rewarding experience for me. 

I graduated in 1992 with a B. F. A. Degree and teaching certificate with a 3.40 average Summa Cum Laude. I was forty-one years old. And I was offered a Membership to the Golden Key National Honor Society for four years.

I was recommended for Graduate School but decided I wasn’t interested at the time since I was somewhat burned out with attending school five days a week and taking care of my home and children.

As I look back, I can’t help but feel that going to college was one of the best decisions of my life. And I had excelled, and it was a great experience for me. And I knew that whatever challenges I faced in my future, I would be able to handle them, and I have. I don’t know what my future holds for me. But I know that I will do my best to excel at whatever I do in the time I have left on this planet. My only advice is to have faith in your ability to succeed in your life. And put all your energy into whatever you do, and don’t ever give up. No matter what anyone says to you. Believe in yourself. Because if you don’t have faith in your ability to succeed, who will?

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ONE TOOTH TOO MANY

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Throughout my lifetime, I have had many jobs. My first job out of high school was working as a dental assistant for Edward G. Wozniak in Haddon Township, NJ. In the second semester of my senior year of high school, I had enough credits to graduate early. So, the school allowed me to work part-time after school. The school found a position for me with Dr. Wozniak, a young man who practiced dentistry out of his home. His wife attended Saint Mary of the Angels Academy as a girl. That is why she called Saint Mary’s, asking if one of the students was looking for a job.

His practice had two patient rooms, a small lab where he repaired dentures and partial plates, and a very small room where I, as his dental assistant, developed xrays. Dr. Wozniak didn’t schedule patients on Wednesday as it was his day off. He went golfing which was apparently a traditional habit among dentists in the early 1970’s. 

Wednesday, I spent the majority of the day in the dark room developing xrays, cleaning the patient exam rooms and the lab, and typing notices to patients that they had overdue accounts and also reminders of their next appointments. The phone never stopped ringing all day. I would answer the phone and say, “Good morning, Dr. Wozniak’s office. How can I help you.”

Dr. Wozniak and I had a cordial relationship. We worked well together. He was a young man who was married and had two children during the time I was working there. I have to say, overall, I found that I enjoyed working and earning money. Since I was, for the first time, able to buy myself things that I wanted or needed. Before working there, the only way I had to earn money was by babysitting for my older sister’s young children. In fact, I liked taking care of their little kids, but the pay was not great.

On Wednesday, Dr. Wozinak was playing golf, or so I thought. I finished my work early and walked over through the office door exit to the Wozniak’s kitchen. I didn’t see Mrs. Wozniak, so I called out to her.

She didn’t answer, and then I heard a voice say,” What’s going on?” It was Dr. Wozniak, standing there in his underwear. I was so shocked to see him without his usual attire or any attire other than his underpants. I ran out of the house altogether and out to my car. And I went home. I lived about a twenty-minute drive from Oaklyn, NJ, in Maple Shade, NJ, and when I got home, my parents were surprised to see my home so early. They were sitting at the kitchen table. And my mother said, “Is everything alright, Susan? You’re home rather early.”

I stood there, unable to think of what I could tell my parents. I knew there was no way on earth that I could ever go back and face Dr. Wozniak again after seeing him practically naked. And then the phone rang, my mother answered it, she kept saying, “What? What? Over and over again?” Then she said hold on, she said, “Susan, it’s Mrs. Wozniak said that you ran out of the office. What happened to make you run out of the office.” I said,”

I saw Dr. Wozniak in his jockeys. I can’t go back, and I won’t be able to look at him.” My mother repeated to Mrs. Wozniak what I said. My mother said to me, “ Mrs. Wozniak said, “You have to go back. They need you.”

My father sat at the kitchen table, looking at me. And then he said, “You’re going back tomorrow.” My mother picked up the phone again and said, “She’ll be there tomorrow first thing. And I did when my father told you that you had to do something. You didn’t argue, you did it, and there weren’t any ifs and or buts. My first day back was awkward, but I forgot about the whole incident after a while. Dr. Wozniak and I continued to work together for years.

In fact, there weren’t any further incidents. But, occasionally, something odd or weird would occur. One day a new patient came in to have her teeth examined. She was the first patient that morning. As soon as I saw her, I realized that the day was going to have a rough beginning. The reason was that this woman was highly unusual-looking. Dr. Wozniak had a hair-triggered laugh, as did I. Plus, laughing is contagious sometimes. As I was saying, I accompanied our new patient into the room with the X-ray machine. I put the plastic bib around her neck. I asked if there were any problems she wanted to address today or if this was a check-up. And as I was talking to her, I couldn’t help but notice that she was not your everyday middle-aged woman. She was quite tall, so much so that her long legs extended past the footrest on the dental chair. She had high heels on her feet, which were quite large. Her fingernails were extremely long and painted bright, bright red. This was long before fake nails or extension nails were available. They were so long that they curled under at their tips. Her make-up was exotic and almost appeared somewhat like a mask. Since her own features were hidden, she was dressed to her teeth. I suggested that she wear a dental bib so that her clothes wouldn’t be damaged. And she agreed. Her hair was jet black and was parted in the middle, and she had her hair in two braids that extended to her waist. She had silver earrings hanging from her ear lobes that touched her shoulder blades. The longer I gazed at her, the more I realized that Dr. Wozniak would have difficulty keeping a straight face.

I told her that the doctor would be with her in a few moments. And I went back to the desk in the office and continued taking out the dental files for the patients that were going to come that day and the next. The phone rang, and I answered it. It was a patient canceling their appointment for the next day, so I rescheduled it for the next opening we had available. I was still talking on the phone when Doctor Wozniak came through the office from his house and continued into the front exam room. I hung up the phone, and the next thing I knew, Dr. Wozniak came out of the exam room and motioned to me to follow him into the dark room where I developed the x-ray. He closed the door behind us. I thought, “What in the world?” And then he started laughing, I knew he was laughing at the woman’s appearance. And unfortunately, I found laughter contagious. And then we were both laughing. Finally, we regained control of ourselves, and Dr. Wozniak regained control of himself and went back into the exam room. I waited outside the room until he was finished, and then I took the xrays and developed them. At the same time, he was cleaning her teeth. I brought the exams into the room and returned to the office. Then, the woman came out of the room, and I scheduled another appointment for her, and she was on her way. After she left, Dr. Wozniak came out of the exam room and acted like nothing unusual had happened.

Dr. Wozniak came into the office one day while I was typing renewal notices. He asked if I would park my car on the side street rather than in front of his office and house. At first, I thought he was concerned that I was taking up a parking space that a patient might need to use. But, as I thought about it, I realized that he was never that busy at any one time. However, he was busy all day. And I finally realized that he was embarrassed by the car I drove. My father had given me and my twin sister, who worked not too far from me, his old car when he bought a newer one. He had handpainted the car. There was a chain holding the back trunk in place, and he had collaged several pictures from magazines or books on the trunk since it was lacking paint. It was colorful, to say the least. My sister and I were so happy to have a car at all. Otherwise, we would have to take the bus back and forth to the town where we lived. And that would mean we would have to change buses in Camden, NJ, which is not a good place for two young women to go alone. So, needless to say, I, for one, was more than happy with the car, regardless of how it looked.

But then, one day, Elaine Wharton, a girl that we went to high school with, stopped by our house as she saw us sitting on our front step. She told us that she had bought a new car. She had saved a downpayment and took out a loan that was going to pay it off in five years. We were astonished. We had no idea that we could do that. And before you knew it, my sister and I had each bought and took out a loan to pay for the new cars. I bought a 1970 yellow Volkswagon. And I can not tell you how much I came to love that car. And all the trips I took to Atlantic City, Wildwood, and all over South Jersey and Philadelphia. And eventually, I decided to move to Florida and then several years later to California.

One day Dr. Wozniak had a patient, whose name was Mrs. Pinto come in to have an extraction. I didn’t know she was having all her teeth extracted on the same day. As I was assisting Dr. Wozniak, I realized that he was extracting ALL her teeth, one after the other. As I stood there, I started feeling lightheaded, and every time he took out a tooth, I felt worse and worse. The next thing I knew, I was waking up on the couch in Dr. Wozniak’s living room. Apparently, I had passed out. I’m not sure why I passed out since I had seen many extractions in the past. It seemed overwhelming to me to stand there and watch someone have all their teeth out at once. Apparently, Dr. Wozniak had to carry me while I was unconscious into his house. Yet, it is another experience I had to get over. I felt bad for Mrs. Pinto and Dr. Wozniak, but mostly for me since I was way past embarrassment to humiliation.

I worked for Dr. Wozniak for several more years until I decided that I would like to change jobs. The next job I took was working for Harry and Evie Ellis in Collingswood, NJ selling high-risk insurance. And that my friends I will write about in my next memoir story.

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I’d Rather Eat My Hat

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“There’s about as much chance of that happening as me eating my hat. Said, Stella.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Said her friend and neighbor, Helen.

“Not that bad, Well, I hate to know what could be worse.”Said, Stella

“OK, five things that could be worse than having to drive your beat-up old car that doesn’t have a working air conditioner all the way to Florida and back again. And then having to pick up your mother-in-law and bring her back to your house to live with you. Well, I can think of a hundred things. Have your teeth pulled out one at a time, all in one day. Or having burnt popcorn kernels stuck between your teeth permanently, falling down the cement steps at the Art Muzeum in Philadelphia with a whole crowd of people watching you. Going out to lunch with your boss, and he hits on you. I could go on all day. Your mother-in-law can not be all bad. I bet you could think of several positive attributes about her if you tried. 

“No, none of those experiences outdo living with my mother-in-law for the rest of my days. Absolutely nothing is worse than that. Dear god, I’m sure I will lose my mind. She will no doubt talk non-stop all the way home about how I should be making a lot more money, getting a better job, and living in a bigger house. And to top it off, she absolutely hates all my cats.”

“OK, so that doesn’t exactly scream you’re going to have a great time on the eleven hundred and eighteen-mile drive, which will take approximately seventeen hours if you go non-stop. But you never know; things could get better once you get used to living with her. Maybe she will mellow as she gets older. You never know. Maybe deep down, she is a decent person. Give her a chance, why don’t you?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve known her for over thirty years. I know her inside and out. And there is no way in hell that I’m going to suddenly realize that she’s not as bad as I thought. She criticizes everything I do and say. And beyond her god-awful personality, she is a cleptomaniac. I kid you not. Every time I went shopping with her, she stole everything she could get her hands on.

One time I took her food shopping. She opened food packages, bite big chunks out of them, and then put them back on the shelf. When we went to the department store, she once pocketed a one thousand dollar gold watch and stuck it in her purse. I wasn’t aware of it. As we were leaving the store, alarms went off, and five store security officers ran over to us and dragged us back to the security office. I had no idea what was going on. They made us strip and empty our pockets and our purses. And low and behold. They found the gold watch worth thousands of dollars in her purse, wrapped up in her hanky.

When they found it, she acted like an innocent little lamb. She said, “Oh my, how did that get in my purse? And then she said, “Helen did you put this in my purse? How could you?”

I said, “What? How dare you accuse me? Sir, my mother-in-law is a cleptomaniac. She could snatch the teeth right out of your head, and you wouldn’t notice it until you tried to eat a steak dinner. I kid you not.”

“Oh, Helen, how can you say that? I’m as innocent as a newborn baby.”
“A newborn baby what? “Peranna?”

“Look, officers, she’s an old lady. She’s out of her mind. She didn’t know what she was doing. Can you forget this happened? Since you retrieved the watch. She doesn’t have a clue. It’s all a game to her. She already has a watch. She’s nuts. That’s all I can say. She’s out of her god-forsaken mind. I promise I will keep her out of the store from now on. Can we please go?”

After the officers went back to speak to his boss, they came back in and said, “You can go, but you may never come into this store or any of our branch stores ever again, and if you do, you will both be arrested. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, we understand. Don’t we, Mom?”

My mother-in-law shook her head up and down. But I could see she had her fingers crossed behind her. I felt as if I might go to go out of my mind. The next day I took her back to the airport to send her back to Florida. I hoped never to see her again. When she was going through the security check, the alarms went off. She was surrounded like she was the Unabomber. They had their weapons drawn and were pointing them directly at her. I screamed at the top of my lungs,” What the hell is going on, Mom? What did you do now?

They took her into the security office, and she had to strip down to her skivvies. By the way, you won’t believe this, but she was wearing bikini underpants and a purple and gold bra. This woman is nearly eighty years old and dressed up like a Playboy Bunny from the 1970s. I have never been so humiliated in my whole life.

And here’s the kicker, she had a small revolver in a secret pocket of her purse. It was a pocket inside of another pocket. When she went through the scanner, it lit up like a Christmas tree. When they asked her why she would bring on board an airliner, she said, “Well, what do you think to protect me from hijackers? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“She was barred from ever using that airline again. I don’t know if she is just loco, or she has dementia, or she’s just plain stupid. Or, and this is what I really believe, she doesn’t think that rules and laws apply to her. Do you really believe that, at any level, I would be willing to spend the rest of my life with her??? I rather spend my life in a prison with hardened convicts and murderers. I kid you not. Why don’t you offer to pick her up and let her spend the rest of her life with you? Or better yet, why don’t you take her in for a couple of weeks? And if she doesn’t cause any problems like blowing up your house or robbing your neighbors blind, I’ll reconsider taking her in?”

“OK, I’ll do it. But what do I get out of it?”
“Well, you get to say, “I told you so. And I can’t think of anything else because I know in my heart of hearts that there is no upside with this woman. You will be pulling the hair out of your head in two” days, if not on the ride home.”

“OK, you’ve got a deal, but you have to pay for my expenses for picking her up and driving her back here. I’m not made of money, you know.”

“No problem, but I’m sure by the time you get home with her, you will be more than willing to give me your last dime just so you never have to see her again. When can you go get her?”

“ I can go this Friday, It’s a holiday, and I’ll be back late the next day.”

“ Take my advice and get plenty of rest the day before you go to Florida. You’re going to need it. And bring food with you. She eats like a horse, and she likes to stop at every restaurant she sees. And as little as she is, she eats like a starving horse.”

“Well, that’s fine, I love eating at roadside restaurants. I haven’t taken a road trip in years and years. It will be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”

I just stared at her and said, “I wish you all the luck in the world. You are going to need it. Let me give you her full name, address, and phone number. Whatever you do, do not give her your cell phone number. She will start calling you all night and day. “

“Oh, you always make a big deal out of everything. You have a tendency to exaggerate even the smallest thing. And blow it out of proportion.”

Two days later, Helen left me a message to let me know she was on her way to pick up my mother-in-law. I crossed my fingers and hoped that Helen wouldn’t murder my mother-in-law on the way back. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a little voice saying, “ I hope Helen doesn’t murder my mother-in-law, but then again, it would not be unheard of an old lady dying from a heart attack because my neighbor and friend, Helen is one of the worst drivers that I ever had the displeasure of riding in a car with. I only went on one trip with her driving, and I was praying the whole way that I would make it out alive. She rarely kept her eyes on the road, and she would fiddle with the radio and look in the mirror at her reflection over and over. She would eat a sandwich with one hand, drink a coffee with the other, and steer with her knee. I kid you not. It was truly a terrorizing experience—one which I will never repeat. Maybe the two of them were meant for each other.

So, I let my mother-in-law know that my friend Helen was coming to get her and that she was going to spend part of her time at Helen’s house since I was still working from home and needed quiet and isolation. I gave her the pertinent information about Helen, what she looked like, Cruella Deville. That might be a slight exaggeration. Because compared to my mother-in-law Helen was a raving beauty.

The next couple of weeks went by quickly, and before I knew it, I received a call from Helen telling me she was leaving tomorrow for Florida. And she would give me a call when she arrived. She was going to stay at my mother’s house overnight and leave early the next morning.

I didn’t hear from Helen or my mother for three days. I wondered if something bad happened or if Helen got lost or she tried to kill my mother or vice versa. A couple of days later, Helen called to let me know they were almost home and would call me again when they arrived at her house. She didn’t say anything about my mother, the long ride, or anything. I was gobsmacked to tell you the truth. Oh, gobsmacked is an Irish expression for shocked.

Helen called me the next morning and asked if I would like to come over and say hello to my mother. To tell you the truth, I had to think about it for a few minutes. Because, in all honesty, I had no real desire to see my “dear” mother any time soon. But, all the same, I changed out of my pajamas and into the cleanest clothes I owned. This doesn’t mean that they were actually clean, but they were the only clothes that didn’t have stains on them. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit of a slob. I hate cleaning, doing wash, yard work etc, etc. I love my stay-at-home job. That’s the one thing I like about my mother is that when she visits me, my house is immaculate. But the flip side of that coin is that she never stops nagging me about what a slob I am. But it’s my house, and if you don’t like it, you are welcome to leave any time.

I thought about running all around and straightening up the house, but I didn’t. About twenty minutes later, they arrived at my door, and they actually rang the doorbell. I walked over to the door nonchalantly and did my best to give them a big smile of welcome. But, to tell you the truth, my stomach was in turmoil. And then I saw my mother’s face pressed to my back door window, and she had a big smile on her face. And get this, she had a bunch of red roses in her hand. And what looked like a casserole dish with a cover on it. I could see steam rising out of it. She was holding it with oven mitts.

I opened the door and said,” Wow, you two look great, What have you been up to?”

“Well, we both went to the hairdresser this morning and had the works. And then, when we came back, I made this casserole for you so that we could make lunch. I knew you probably didn’t have time to cook. Since you are working from home, can we come in?” I looked at Helen, and she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. I looked at her like she must have lost her mind, and maybe a few days with my mother pushed her over the edge. I let them in.

“Why don’t you two have a seat, I’ll get you some iced tea and put out some dishes for lunch.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Mom. Have a seat.” I stared at Helen, and she still had that look of a cat that ate my canary.”So, how’s it going? How was the trip? What have you two been up to?”

Helen said the trip was fine. We stopped along the way, ate lunch and dinner, and stopped at a couple of local tourist places. And then we drove straight here to Helen’s house. We are having a great time together. We like the same food and the same TV Shows. And Helen is so neat her house is neat as a pin. She’s like the daughter I never had.” Helen looked at me after my mother said that, and what she saw was a tear running down my face. Because my mother still had the power to hurt me to my core. Helen said, “she doesn’t mean that. She did talk about you the whole way home, how much she missed you, how she was so proud of you. And she couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”

“Is that true, Mom?”

“Yes, it’s true. But I always thought that you didn’t love me. So, I guess I have always tried to protect myself from all the negative things you said to and about me while you were a teenager. And how you never wanted to visit me or rarely called me.”

“Mom, I always loved you. But I never felt loved by you. I guess we were never really good at understanding one another. It didn’t help that you lied and were a cleptomaniac etc, etc. “

“ Well, I have been seeing a therapist for the last year, and I feel like I have resolved most of those issues. I haven’t stoled anything for over eight months. And I stopped buying things I don’t need. In general, I’m trying to be a better person. And if you give me a second chance, I will try to be a better mother.”

I looked at my mother with disbelief. And then she came over and hugged me tight. And then we both started to cry. And Helen stood there with the biggest smile on her face that I have ever seen. And that my friends became the beginning for me, my mother, and my dear friend, Helen. We became a family. And that was the best day of my life, bar none…

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MY FIRST BEST FRIEND, MRS. MCFARLAND

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I grew up in a small town in New Jersey, South Jersey, to be more specific. The town I grew up in was called Maple Shade. I always assumed it was called Maple Shade because of the many Maple trees that grew there from one end of Maple Shade to another.

I believed that Maple Shade was a great place to grow up. Of course, my life experience at nine or ten was somewhat limited. But, as far as I was concerned, it was heaven on earth. Especially in the 1950s through the 1960s when I was growing up.

I clearly remember my mother standing on the street curb outside our house with me by her side, and she was teaching me how to cross the street safely. She said, “Before you cross the street, look to the right and then to the left, and then to the right again. If no cars are coming in either direction, it will be safe to cross the street. She practiced with me several times, and then she said, “You are on your own, be careful. Before you go anywhere, let me know where you are going. Understand?”

“Yes, Mom, I understand, right, left, right, then cross the street.”

“OK, now keep your eyes open, and most of all, don’t be late for lunch or dinner.” And then she went back into the house. I guess she was going to clean the house. That is what she did most of her days unless she was cooking. She did a lot of cooking. We had a big family.

After I crossed the street, I went directly across the street to Mrs McFarland’s yard. She was our neighbor, and I loved her so much. She was really, really old. She lived alone because her husband had died a long time ago. And if she had any children, they had all grown up and moved away. I never met them.

I walked up her path to her side door and knocked. I could hear her walking towards the door. When she opened the door, she said, “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise? Would you like to come in for a snack??? Or we can sit outside on the swing and have our snack?

“Oh, let’s eat on the swing.”

A couple of minutes later, she came out with a tray of milk and cookies. Oh, how I loved her cookies. I hope they were chocolate chip. Mrs. McFarland sat down on the swing and said, “Here we go, your favorite chocolate chip. I smiled from ear to ear. Mrs. McFarland had one whole arm and one-half arm. What I mean is her left arm only went down to her elbow, and the rest of her arm was missing. I was always amazed that she never let that bother her at all. She managed to do everything she had to do with one and a half arms. And her cookies were delicious. Sometimes, she brought her doll outside that she had since she was a kid. And She would let me change her clothes. She told me the doll was made from china, which I didn’t understand. When I asked my father what china was, he told me it was a country very far away. Sometimes, I would bring my doll over and play dolls together. Other times, my best girlfriend brought her doll, and we would all play with dolls.

But what I loved to do the most was walk around her yard, which had flowers growing all over it. But, my favorite flowers grew in the Spring, and she called them tulips. She had red tulips. And they were so beautiful. Sometimes, she let me cut a tulip and take it home to my mother.

While we sat and swung back and forth on the swing, she told me all about herself when she was little. I wished I was little when she was so I could play with her every day. But I guess I was lucky to have her as a friend now. The fact is I really loved Mrs. McFarland. And I didn’t care one bit about her only having one half of an arm. Anytime I saw Mrs. McFarland out in her yard, I went over and visited her. She was my best friend. One day, she said, “How about we walk out to the corner of my yard, and you can try climbing up the tree?”

I screamed at the top of my lungs,” Yes, yes, yes. Let’s”

“Well, I can’t climb the tree, but I’ll stand next to the tree and keep you safe.” And she did. After that, I took every opportunity to climb that tree and any other tree I saw around town. Sometimes, I fell, but I just got black and blue marks on my arms and legs. My mother would say, “What in the world have you been up to?”

“Nothing, Mom, just playing in the tree.”

My mother said, “Well, you have to be more careful. My father said, “Let her be. Kids will be kids.” And so, after that, she would say, be careful. When I was a kid, I would tell my mother that I was going out for a bike ride. She would say, be home in time for lunch. I would listen for the church bells to ring at noon time. We lived two doors down from the Catholic church, and then I would run as fast as I could home. Because if my father was home, it wasn’t a good idea to be late for lunch or dinner. When I got home, I would rush through the front door, and my mother would say, “Go wash your hands and face before you sit down. We almost always had the same thing for lunch every day: Lebanon Bologna sandwiches with chicking noodle soup or sometimes Alphabet soup. I loved making words in the soup with the noodles that were in the shape of the alphabet letters. My father would say,” Stop playing with your food. And my mother would say, “Oh, leave her alone. She’s just a little kid.

As time went by, I grew up and visited my friend Mrs. McFarland less and less. I was always busy with my neighborhood friends and my school friends, who came over after school. There was never a shortage of kids around town to play with after school and during the summer.

Eventually, I graduated from elementary school and went on to high school. We had to take an entrance exam to get into Catholic High Schools. I was sure that I failed, but as it turned out, I passed both tests, the one for St. Mary of the Angels Academy and Holy Cross High School. My parents decided that I would attend St. Mary of the Angels Academy. I had to take a bus to go back and forth to high school. As time went by, I didn’t see Mrs. McFarland anymore. She didn’t come outside since she was having difficulty walking, and I didn’t see her working in the garden anymore.

Then, one day, I was sitting at the kitchen table, and someone knocked at our front door. I got up and opened the door. It was an older man, and for some reason, he looked very upset. My mother came to the door and said, “Can I help you?” He said, “ I was just across the street at Mrs. McFarland’s house. I am her insurance man. And she had a heart attack and died right in front of me.” And then he started crying. I never saw a grown man cry before. My mother told him to please sit down. He did. The tears were streaming down his face. I looked at my mom, and she looked at me. And then we both started crying. I felt really bad because I hadn’t visited her for a long time. And I wish I had. I never saw Mrs. McFarland again. Someone else bought her house and rented out the top part of the house to someone else. They took Mrs. McFarland’s swing down, and about a year later, they cut down her Weeping Willow tree one day. I’ll never understand why. I cried all over again.

I will always remember Mrs. McFarland even though I am now the age she was when she became my first friend.

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REGRETS, I’VE HAD A FEW, BUT THEN AGAIN TOO FEW TO MENTION

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I grew up in an Irish Catholic family. There were six children in our family. My fraternal twin sister and I were the youngest, and then I had three older sisters; the oldest one was fifteen years older, and the next two were seven and eight years older than I was. My oldest sibling was my only brother, who was nineteen years older than me.

My childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ

One of the things that I experienced during my childhood was that my family was not big huggers. In fact, I recall very little physical affection from my parents or my siblings. For that matter, it was a rare occasion when my mother or my father told me that they loved me. As for my siblings, I don’t remember them ever showing any affection to me. I’m not saying that they didn’t love each other. I’m saying love and affection were not displayed. I believe at some level that we cared about each other, but we rarely expressed it. I believe that this was a trait that originated within the Irish Culture in Ireland. And since both of my grandparents originated in Ireland, you might say that this lack of showing love or affection was a trait that their parents and their parents and previous generations displayed. And it has occurred to me that if I had grown up in Ireland, this lack of affection might not have affected me so deeply because in Ireland, this is a trait of people in Ireland.

But, since I was born and grew up in America, I knew people and families whose families originated in many other countries. My oldest and best friend’s family was Italian. Her family were affectionate to one another and often expressed verbally their love for one another. I spent a great deal of my childhood at my best friend’s house, and I couldn’t help but notice how often my friend’s mother and father hugged her and told her they loved her. It made me feel sad. I recall asking my mother one day why she and my father didn’t hug me or tell me they loved me. She didn’t really respond to my question. So, for most of my life, I questioned whether my parents loved me.

As I grew up, I came to realize that both my father and mother loved me. And they demonstrated it with their concern and care for my well-being. My mother took care of me when I became ill or if I fell and was injured while playing. She worried about me when I went on bike rides and didn’t come back for hours. She worried when I went to visit my friends and didn’t come back on time for meals. My parents showed their love by enrolling me and my sister and my older sisters in Catholic School for twelve years, which was a financial burden for them. Not to mention that my mother cooked hot meals every day of the twenty years that I lived at my familial home, even when she worked a full-time job.

As I look back over the course of my life, I recognize that I have had difficulty showing my feelings. However, what I have also recognized about my nature is that I have a big heart. That I showed my care and love for people in different ways. Since I was a young girl, my older siblings married moved to their own homes, and started their own families. I found out that I loved being around their children. I enjoyed taking care of them and showing my love for them by hugging them and playing with them. I didn’t have any issues showing affection toward them I loved them as if they were my own younger siblings.

I looked forward to the time when I would fall in love, get married, and have children. And over time, all these events did take place. I had my first child when I was thirty and my second child when I was thirty-four. And I can say without a doubt that there were no two children who were loved more than I loved my daughters. They were not perfect children, and I know I was not the perfect mother. But I love them both with all my heart through the good times and the bad. I also recognize that when they were young, they received many more hugs and kisses than they received when they became adolescents. Adolescents can be like prickly pears.

It was never a matter of me loving them less, but they seemed less able to accept and respond to my affection. Adolescence is a difficult time for both the adolescent and the parents. They are moving forward and away from their families, and perhaps I, along with most parents, attempt to hold on more tightly, perhaps too tightly to them, which causes them to rebel and react negatively.

Parenting an adolescent is perhaps the most difficult challenge anyone can have in their life. Because during that time, adolescents are attempting to move away from childhood and move towards independence. Which is the natural order of things but still a painful time for parents. And a challenging time for adolescents.

I have to admit during my children’s adolescence, there weren’t a lot of hugs and kisses. I regret that, but it is hard to hug someone who makes it their life’s goal to move as far away from you physically and emotionally as they possibly can. And they are just as willing to leave with angry, hateful words.

When I left home at age twenty, I talked to my parents in advance. I was not angry, I still loved them both with my whole heart. I was just ready to move forward in my life and my independence. And that included having started working full-time by the time I was eighteen. I bought my own new car and found an apartment in a town thirty minutes drive from where I grew up. I became responsible for my own expenses, including car insurance, health insurance, rent, and food.

Everyone doesn’t take the same path in life. And life often offers us challenges that are difficult to overcome. Sometimes it is better to take one day at a time, one step at a time. And sometimes, it is better to make that leap of faith in yourself that you are capable of being independent.

On the other hand, growing up doesn’t have to mean growing apart. But sometimes it does. When I was twenty-three, I moved to Florida and got married. Then, my new husband and I moved to Santa Barbara, California, so that he could attend Brooks Institute of Photography. I did not move back to New Jersey for seven years. It was a time of growth, both mentally and emotionally. And I returned a much more independent, mature young woman.

After we arrived back in New Jersey, we stayed with my parent until my husband found a job, and then we decided to buy a small home in Pennsauken, NJ. It was only about a ten-minute drive to Maple Shade, where my parents lived. In fact, my father was one of our first visitors.

When I was thirty years old, I had our first child, and three years later, we had our second child. It was a challenging time for us, and we were so happy and blessed to have my parents in our lives. Becoming a new parent and a stay-at-home Mom for several years was challenging and rewarding. On the other hand, I often felt isolated because I spent most of my time alone with two young children.

When my oldest daughter was in the second grade, and my youngest daughter was in preschool, I made the decision to go to college, and I was accepted at three art schools: Hussian, Moore, and Temple Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia. I decided to attend Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. After the first year, I applied for student loans to continue my education.

The Tyler School of Art 1991

It was difficult balancing going to college and being a wife and mother. But, with the help of friends, I was able to do just that. I graduated at forty-one with a Bachelor of Arts and a teaching certificate. I was in the top ten percent of Temple University in 1991. It was a challenging four years for me, my children, and my family. My oldest daughter was in the fifth grade, and my youngest was in second grade when I graduated. I have to admit it was one of the hardest but most rewarding challenges I ever faced, both for me and my husband and two children. During my four years in college, I spent my time with my children when I was home. After they went to bed at night, I did my school work and studied sometimes long into the night. When I was on school break and during the summer, I spent all my time with my children. It was a growing experience for all of us.

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LIFE IS SHORT MAKE EACH DAY COUNT

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The man skipped, jumped, and ran for short distances as he made his way down the city street. He was on the main thoroughfare, but he could have been anywhere. He seemed to have no real destination in mind. But he was in an awful hurry to get there. Suddenly, he stopped cold and ran to the curb. An old bike was parked on the sidewalk. It was a vintage 1950s red Schwinn Panther. A girl’s bike with a basket on the handlebars and a knee-action spring fork, whitewall tires, chrome-plated fenders, and a slightly rusty chrome-trimmed tank with a built-in horn that had an American Flag attached to it.

In addition to the Flag, the bike is covered with First Prize ribbons of every color and condition imaginable. It must have been a childhood collection of awards for spelling, penmanship, grammar, math, and art. They hung from every surface of the bike. It was quite a sight. He hopped on the bike with a grace that seemed impossible for a man his age. He had a gray, scraggly beard down to his chest. His mustache was waxed and stood out four inches on either side of his rosy cheeks. His hair was long, and he wore it in two braids down his back. There was a tiny flag on each braid. The kind you saw years ago when you ordered a drink at a bar on the Fourth of July.

He continued down the street on the bike at breakneck speed. He started singing loudly. At first, it was difficult to understand because of his speed and his raspy voice. But once he got his momentum up, he sang in a deep baritone voice. He was singing The Fortunate Son by Credence Clearwater Revival. His voice grew louder and stronger as he flew down the street on his two-wheeled chariot. He threw back his head and sang, “Some folks are born made to wave the flag. They’re red, white and blue. And when the band plays Hail to the Chief, they point the cannon at you.”

Suddenly, a voice rang out,” Sam, what’s your hurry? Come on over here, and let’s have breakfast. Sam pulled over to the curb with alacrity and skill. He put the kickstand down and said,” Long time no see you old goat.”

“Look who’s calling me an old goat, Walt. You look like you haven’t taken a good look in the mirror for about fifty years.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Well, so where’s this breakfast going to take place?”

“How about at The Sunny Side Up breakfast place down the street?”

“Can you believe it?

 I just found my bike after two days. Some kid must have grabbed it, drove downtown, and just ditched it.  I don’t know what I do without my Old Glory.

“I bet no one would recognize you without that old bike, Sam. It’s really a collector’s piece, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Walt, but it’s more than that. It’s my connection between the past and the present. That bike belonged to my wife when she was a little girl. God rest her soul.”

“Yes, Marie was a fantastic woman. I don’t know how you were so lucky to marry her. Half the guys in town were in love with her.”

“We had a happy marriage. I have no complaints other than she left me too soon. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of her.”

“So, Sam, what have you been up to lately? I know you are always up to something?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I have been working pretty hard. I got a job repairing the organ in the theater. Well, I’m not just repairing it. I’m restoring it. You know, the one that was used back in the day when Vaudeville used to come to the Pitman Theater. Did you know it’s a player piano as well?”

“No, I didn’t, Sam.”

“Well, Walt, I just started working on it a couple of days ago. But I already found one of the problems. There were some letters hidden under the strings that were inhibiting the percussion of the instrument. The letters looked really old.  It’s possible they even predated the piano. I can’t figure out how they might have ended up where I found them. I believe they might have been deliberately placed there by someone.”

“You’re kidding me, Sam. I would love to take a look at them. Let’s talk about this when we’re eating breakfast.”

As they walked through the door of the Sunny Side Up restaurant, a bell chimed, and Henry Decker, the cook, yelled out,” Sit anywhere you like. Our waitress called out sick. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Hey, so what can I get you guys? What’s going on? It looks like you two both swallowed a canary or two.”

“Well, I’ll have the special, plus two biscuits and a black coffee straight up, thanks.”

“Hey, that sounds good to me. Make that two. Henry.”

“Well, Sam here is about to tell me about some letters he found in the player piano that he’s repairing. I mean restoring the theater. You know that old organ that was used back in the Vaudeville days.”

“You don’t say, what kind of letters?”

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t taken the time to look them over. But they’re all yellow. So, I know they’re old. I’ll let you know once I study them a bit.”

“Ok then, Sam, do that. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your coffee, and then I’ll cook you up some fried eggs and ham, Sam. Get it, fried eggs and ham, Sam?”

“Yeah, ’cause I haven’t heard that a million times before. Get busy. And don’t give up your day job to be a comedian, Henry.”

“Sam, you have always been such a spoilsport. You were an old man before your time. I think you might have been born an old man. Lighten up already, won’t you? So, Sam tells me something about the history of the Theater and the organ.”

“Well, Walt, it’s really kind of interesting. I’d be happy to. The Broadway Theater opened in 1926. Movies but also Vaudeville shows were shown. There were about one thousand seats. Some of the most famous acts and performers played there. Would you believe that Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Abbot and Costello? Not to mention Jerry Lee Lewis and George Carlin. I really loved George Carlin. And a lot more, real stars.

“That’s really something, right here in our little town of Pitman. I guess people came from all over to see it.”

“I imagine they did. Wouldn’t that be something if we saw all those great performers back in the day?”

“I’ll tell you something, Walt. I really consider it an honor to be repairing that organ. It really is a thing of beauty. Stop by, and I’ll show you what I’ve been doing. It’s not everybody that has the skill to work on a vintage organ like this one. And you can take a look at those letters I was telling you about.”

“Here ya go, fellas, enjoy. I have to keep moving since I’m the staff today. Talk to you later.”

“Come on, Walt, let’s go, that was a great meal. Times a wasting.”

As they walk down Main Street, they run into the editor of the town newspaper. She stops them on their way into the theater. “Hey, guys, what’s happening?”

“Hello Constance, I’m just going to show Walt the Kimball Organ that I’m restoring. Would you like to come along?”

“Sure, I have about a half-hour to kill before my next meeting with the Pitman Historical Society. We are trying to find ways of funding the repairs on the Grove Building, especially the old Methodist Meeting Hall.”

As they step into the main hall, they all stop and look around. Constance exclaims, “Wow, I’m always surprised when I come in here. It’s really something, isn’t it a grand place? Those chandeliers are just breathtaking. You know I really ought to do another pictorial about this place. It’s really coming together. It looks great.”

“Here it is. Oh, Constance, I was telling Walt that one of the reasons the organ wasn’t operating was that there were some old letters preventing the organ from working properly.”

“Really, Sam? Well, let’s have a look at it.”

The three gazed down at the organ. “Yep, just how I remember it. This will be a real centerpiece when you finished, Sam. You are doing a great job here. We all appreciate your time and talent. I bet there aren’t too many people left who would know how to work on this instrument.”

“Thanks, Constance. Oh, here are those letters I was telling you about.”

Constance picks up the letters and begins scanning the top one. “What the? Hey, this sounds like a love letter. It’s signed, your Raymond. Let me see that envelope, Sam. What the… This is Raymond Goldstone Sr. Well, I’ll be dammed Raymond Goldstone, the magician. Wait, who is he writing to? Let me see the first page again. It says, Dear Madeleine. Do you know who that is?”

“No, not offhand, I don’t, but I would guess it is someone that worked in the theater in the late 1920s and early 1930s. I bet you could find out Constance. Don’t you have copies of all the old newspapers from back then?”

“You’re right. We do. Let me see a couple more of the letters, Sam.”

“Sure, here you can take them. They might get lost in here with all the construction that is going on.”

“Sam, Walt, I  have an inspiration. We can publish these letters in The Pitman News and World Report once a month like a serial. People would eat this up. It would get more people from out of town to read and subscribe to the paper. And maybe even bring people to the Theater to see the scene of the crime, so to speak. But I’m going to have to do a lot of research first. This is so exciting; I’m so happy I ran into you two days. I’m really psyched.”

“Hey, do you really think this will work, Constance?”

“You bet I do, and I think we could get this to go national. And then we’re talking big time. Pitman is really going to become famous. Raymond Goldstone, one of the world’s most talented and famous magicians in love with a hometown Pitman lady. I have to go and start doing some research. I’ll let you two know what I found out. Let’s meet again on Monday morning at Sunny Side Up for coffee, and I’ll let you know what or if I found out who our mysterious Madeleine is.”

“Alright, great Sam, Walt, I’m excited about this. It could be the answer to our prayers.”

On Monday morning, Sam and Walt are waiting patiently on the bench outside Sunny Side Up when they see her heading in their direction.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late. Something always happens at the last minute when I’m about to go out the door. Oh well, forget about all that. I have some news. I think I have a candidate for our mysterious Madeleine. And perhaps a picture of her. There was Madeleine Summers, who was the costume designer for all the Vaudeville Shows back in the day. Apparently, she was the daughter of one of the founding fathers of Pitman. So, all of this must have been kept under wraps. Her family was very much involved in the Methodist Church.”

 

“You gotta be kidding me. Can you imagine the stink if anyone back then found out about her and Raymond? So, hand it over, I want to see the picture of this femme fatal.”

Wait a minute, and I want to see it too?” Sam chimes in.

Alright, Sam, you too, Walt, take a gander. I imagine she was considered quite the looker back in the day. Was she married?”

“Not that I could find any evidence of, I guess she would have been considered an Old Maid. Of course, people got married young back then. Usually, the man was quite a bit older than the bride.”

“Wow, Connie, she was a looker—the face of an angel. Well, I guess a fallen angel. But still quite a beauty. Those eyes are mesmerizing, indeed quite the looker. Do any of her family live in Pitman live here any longer?”

“Not that I can find any evidence of Walt which is good since we wouldn’t want any descendants causing any trouble. Well. I guess she didn’t have any children, or it would be in the census. At least none that I could find.

“From what I have been able to glean, the last family member was a sibling of Madeleine. One Matilda, who was a few years younger than Madeleine and she never married either. Which is a little weird, but nonetheless? Neither one ever married. So says the court documents I spent three days perusing. Oh, one more thing I found some pictures of Raymond doing his famous cutting a woman in half with a buzz saw. And it looks like she must have filled in a couple of times for his assistant. Take a gander at this.”

“Look at her. That costume must have caused a real stir back then. Weren’t most women still wearing wool bathing suits down to the knees back then?”

“No, I think by the early 1930, ’s Latex was invented, and women wore one-piece latex form-fitting bathing suits. But nothing like this outfit. Walt.”

“Hey, Walt, let me have a look already.”

“Take it easy, Sam, you don’t want to have a stroke or something. It might be more than you can take.”

“Woah, she was a looker, all right.”

“OK, you guys settle down. She passed away in the early 1970s. Apparently, never married. No kids, as I told you before. I don’t know what happened between them.  Or when it ended but I do know that Goldstone toured all over the country for a while and he did some spots on TV. He retired in the early 1950s. He was married and, of course, had a son named after him. Raymond Goldstone Jr., was a magician as well. I guess you could call it a family business.”

“Connie, is there any indication in the letters that his wife knew about what was going on between Harry Sr. and Madeleine?”

“No, Walt, not in any of the letters. But I did find out that Goldstone Sr. was married three times. So, I don’t know the timeline of these marriages. But back then, three times was not all that common. But if you are a famous magician and you travel all the time. Well, you get lonely. And women are sometimes attracted to famous and glamorous people. And a magician, you can expect many women would be flattered by his attention.”

“Well, Connie, what do you think about publishing one of the letters?”

“Walt, I think we could do that without revealing the names of the Blackstone and Madeleine. See if we get any response from the readers. Let me get one of the first letters, and you can publish it. See what happens. Here’s one that I think will get some attention and not too risqué.”

Dear Ray, I miss you so much. Each moment without you feels like an eternity. I feel like I have known you all my life. You understand me like no other person I’ve ever known. You brought such magic and light into my life. And without you, there is only darkness. I miss your magical touch. I miss your breath against my skin. I have never trusted anyone as I trust you with my heart, my soul. Every part of me yearns for you. Every minute of my life is a moment wasted without you in it. The distance between us might as well be the distance between the Earth and the sun. There is only a void where you once lie next to me. Please, my love, tell me when I can see you again. Where can we meet? Just say the word, and I will be there.  Love, Maddy.

“Walt, what do you think? How about you, Sam? Should I go ahead and print it? No names; maybe we could give some hints about the time and circumstances surrounding this affair. And let people guess their identities. What do you two think?”

“Go for it. Connie.”

“Yeah, as Walt says, go for it.”

“Connie, let me and Sam know what kind of feedback you have about the story. “

“Alright, I will, and if I have any news between now and our next meeting, I’ll contact you.”

“Great, Connie, we’ll see you next week, same place, same time. Take Care.”

“Bye Walt, bye Sam, see you soon.”

The following Friday night, Connie gives Walt a call. “Hello, Walt, this is Connie. I’m glad I caught you at home. I don’t know if you read the Pitman News and World Report this past week, but I published the article. And I included the love letter. And my phone hasn’t stopped ringing all week. You know what a sleepy town Pitman is? Well, get ready because things are going to get exciting really soon.”

“Exciting, in what way, Connie?”

“Walt, well, get this; one of the former residents of Pitman still gets the Pitman News, and World Report sent to her in the mail. And she has been living in New York City for the past five years. She happens to work on Fifth Avenue, and she is an actress. And she’s doing a play on 42nd Street. She knows a lot of famous people in the City.

“Yeah, so what?

“So, she contacted a writer for the New York Times that she dated for a while. And, he loved the story, and he’s going to be coming here to talk to guess who?”

“OK, Connie, I’ll bite. Who does he want to talk to?”

“Oh, Walt, us. What do you think? You, me, and Sam.”

“And if he likes what he hears and sees, the story could go national. And then, who knows what will happen? It could really put Pitman on the map. And our theater will really get some attention then. How about we meet for breakfast in the middle of the week? Say on Thursday and discuss any new possibilities. And Walt, we can then go with you to the theater and see how the renovations are coming along.”

 On Thursday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Sam arrives on his bike, and Walt pulls up to the curb in his 1957 mint condition Cherry-red Chevy Bel Air two-door hardtop. “Hey, guys and gals. I’m really enjoying getting out and eating breakfast with you two. Since I usually spend most of the day alone working in the theater on the piano.”

“Hello Sam, I must say I’m enjoying the break too. I rarely get to sit down and eat. I usually eat takeout on my way from one place to another. So, Sam, how are the renovations on the piano going anyway?”

“Connie, things are going along swimmingly. In fact, I will soon be finished. You were so wired about Raymond Goldstone and the woman. You haven’t asked about the player piano in a while. I have made some real headway. I believe I will have it back in working condition in a couple of weeks. It has been really challenging too. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but this piano is unique. It is actually a 3/8 Kimball theatre pipe organ. A unique instrument, considering its size. Did you know there is a pipe organ blower room in the basement? I had to replace some of the pipes.”

 “That’s fantastic, Sam; I’m proud of you. Not too many people with your skills around anymore, pretty much a lost art.”

“Thanks, Connie, and I have enjoyed every minute of it. Hey, my stomach is growling.”

“Speaking of which, you two, I already ordered breakfast for the three of us. Since we always get the same thing. It should be ready in a moment or two. Let’s go in.

 “Connie, maybe you should get the newspaper’s photographer out to the theater and take some pictures of the theater and the player piano. It would be great publicity. And everyone should be informed of the great work our hometown boy here, Sam, has done.”

“You’re right, Walt, that’s a great idea. But do you really think there is a photographer on the Pitman News and World Report’s staff?”

“Isn’t there?”

“Oh, you got to be kidding me, Walt? I’m the writer and the editor and the publisher and the photographer. I run the whole thing from top to bottom.”

“You’re kidding, I didn’t realize that. You are a walking, talking dynamo. Aren’t you, Connie?”

“Yeah, Walt, that’s me, the human dynamo.”

“Oh wait, less talk and more eating; here comes our food. I’m starved.” Sam interjects.

“Well, that really hit the spot. Do you want to split the bill or what?”

“Sam, Connie, let me take care of this. And I think we should see how your piano is coming and the restoration of the theater. It might be possible that we’ll be holding a celebration in the theater. If everything goes the way, I hope it will. Let’s go.”

“I’ll take care of the tip, Sam and Walt. Let’s hit the road.”

 “So, here we are, times a waste. Well, Connie and Walt, do you notice anything different about the front of the Theater? No, well, why don’t you cross the other side of Broadway and take a look at the Marquee? Alright, do you see anything different from over there?”

“Wow, this is fantastic. It says, “Grand Reopening on May 18th.” Wait, isn’t that the day the Spring Craft Fair begins this year? What a great idea, at least 10,000 people come to the fair.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Walt, that was my idea because I knew the piano would be ready and the renovations will be completed this week. Can you believe it? Come on, let’s go in, and you can take a gander. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

As they walk into the vestibule, Walt and Connie stand in awe staring at the chandeliers. The lights are sparkling through the crystals and sending rays of light on the ceiling and the walls. The plaster molding is intact and painted in the original colors.

“Sam, it really looks gorgeous. Is this new carpet on the floor?”

“Nope, we had a specialty company that cleans vintage rugs come in and clean all the carpets and made a few repairs. They really did an amazing job. And the best thing is that they didn’t charge anything because we are going to set up a table for them at the craft fair.

You know there are a lot of people here in Pitman living in Victorian Houses that have vintage carpets and can use their service. Plus, they are going to advertise in the newspaper and on the internet and use pictures of the Theater.”

“Well, what about the molding? It looks new?”

“Connie, I think I mentioned before they found the original molds in the basement of the theater. And we hired a plasterer in Mullica Hill to make molding from the original molds to replace the damaged ones. Don’t they look great?”

“Ok, so let’s go look inside the theater. I left the lights on so you would get the full effect of the Victorian lighting and the stage lit up around the piano and the orchestra pit.”

“Tada, kind of magical, isn’t it?”

“Yes, you can say that again Sam. It is absolutely magical. Just the effect we wanted it to have when it is shown to the public.”

“Alright, take a seat, and I’ll turn down the lights and turn on the piano. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when I want you to look.”

Sam makes his way behind the stage and hits the lights on the orchestra pit, and then comes on stage and turns on the player piano. As Walt and Connie look about in awe, they hear. “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” soundtrack. And they start clapping. And then they see a movie screen descends, and There is Judy Garland singing her heart out.

“Oh, Sam, I am so impressed. The theater looks amazing. And Judy Garland up there on the screen, who could top her?”

“Here’s my baby, and the surprise is, she’s finished, completely restored to her grand self. Here’s a little background information just in case you don’t realize how awesome this piano is. First of all, it is a self-playing piano. It has a mechanism that operates and controls the piano with pre-recorded music on this perforated paper called rolls. And this beauty here is also a pipe organ. And as I mentioned before, there is a blower room in the basement. It’s now in excellent condition, and the piano had no vacuum leaks. I was able to contact The QRS Company out of Buffalo, New York, and I ordered all new rolls.”

“Congratulations, Sam, you have really surpassed our expectations.”

“Thanks, Connie it was challenging, and I’m proud of myself. I have already received two calls from prospective clients who would like me to see if I can get their player pianos in working order.”

“Oh Sam, let me get some pictures of you and this beautiful player piano that’s also a pipe organ. Why don’t you stand next to the piano? And that way, we get the piano in all of its beauty next to one of the few people who could have resurrected it. Wonderful, I have some great shots to choose from for the paper this week.

—–“Great job, Sam. I knew you had it in you. Let’s go take a look at the rest of the theater. And see how much progress has been made.”

“I have to make a stop in the ladies’ room, guys. I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes. And then I have some news to tell you.”

“Sure, Connie, take your time; we’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks, guy. I won’t be long.”

Walt and Sam are walking around the lobby, looking at all the subtle changes that have occurred since the renovation began. “Oh, Walt, look over here at the snack counter. They found an original popcorn popper from the early 1920s and get this a cotton candy machine.”

“Oh, Sam, they are really awesome. They are going to blow people away and look at all that candy. Including some of my favorites, red hot dollars, candy buttons, watermelon slices, green leaves, licorice whips, and my very favorite sugar daddies. I feel a sugar rush just looking at all this candy.”

“Oh, hey guys, sorry to take so long. Well, it really looks great. Look at all that candy. You know, when I was a kid, I practically ruined my teeth with all the candy I ate. At Halloween, I used to go out Trick or Treating until ten o’clock at night. I had a pillowcase, and I would fill it to the top. Then the next day I would eat so much of it. I would feel sick.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You can add my name to that list to Connie and Walt. I was a candyholic. So, what’s the big surprise, Connie?”

“OK, hold on, this is going to make the top of your head blow off. Ready…”

“Yeah, we’re ready. Tell us already, Connie.”

“Well, a few weeks back, I mentioned that I knew a guy who knew a guy who worked on the NY Times, and he wrote an article about what we are doing here in Pitman Theater. And he mentioned all the famous people that played in our little town. And guess what???”

“What already? What do you want a drum roll?” asked Walt.

“Couldn’t hurt Walt. Well, one of his readers is distantly related to our own Raymond Goldstone, and he has agreed to come to Pitman the day of the grand reopening, and he inherited all that remains of the Goldstone’s magic box, including the buzz saw. And get this, he is a magician, and he is willing to perform some of his magic in our own little Pitman Theater. That’s right here in person the day of the Grand Reopening and the Pitman Craft Show. Ta Da.”

“Holy Mackerel, this is absolutely awesome. This is going to put our town on the map.”

“Yeah, it will, and I am going to advertise this event from now until the Big Day—all thanks to our buddy here, Sam. Who has turned out to be quite the magician himself. Take a bow, buddy. You are our hero. Take a bow, Sam, you deserve it.”

And with that, Sam took a deep bow. His face is as red as a beet. He never felt this good in his whole life. His smile reaches from ear to ear. And the day of the Craft Fair, people come from far and wide and had to be bussed from all the small towns around Pitman. There isn’t a single parking spot left for miles. Over forty thousand people showed up. And it did indeed put the little town of Pitman on the map.

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THE UNEXPECTED PEN PAL

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I was staring out my kitchen window at the rain that was pouring down hard. In fact, it looked like the wind was picking up because the trees were swaying back and forth. Some people love the rain, but I’m not one of them. And this rain looked, for all intents and purposes, as if it might turn into a hurricane. As it was hurricane season, I thought I should get myself in gear and prepare myself for the worst.

I was about to close the curtain and get busy when I saw a lone figure struggling to walk up to my driveway. I realized it was our mailman. He was wearing a long raincoat in an attempt to keep dry, but his head was bare, and the torrential rain was pouring down his face. He slowly made his way up my driveway. His hair was plastered to his balding head. He pulled open the door of my mailbox and shoved the letters, or most likely bills, into the box. And then slammed the door closed again with all his might. And then, he slowly made his way across the street to my neighbor’s house and repeated the same painful procedure with our new neighbor Brent’s mailbox.

In the back of my mind, I said, “god, what an awful job. Walking up and down the lonely streets, shoving mail in people’s mailboxes day in and day out until you’re old enough to retire. Then, he would be sitting at home looking out the window for his mailman to deliver his letters, bills, and useless advertisements. Life can often be mind-numbing. 

I considered making a run for it and grabbing my mail, but I decided to wait for the downpour to subside. About forty-five minutes later, I realized that I hadn’t heard the rain pounding on the windows for a while. I went into the kitchen and looked out the window. And sure enough, it had stopped raining. I double-timed it to the mailbox and pulled open the door. And to my surprise, there were about ten pieces of mail. I know this will sound weird, but for some reason, I’ve always looked forward to getting my mail every day. I know that seems weird, but my life holds a few surprises for me. Each day follows one another. And my routine rarely varies.

As I head back into my house, I notice that one piece of mail doesn’t look like a bill at all. And I thought, oh, I must have gotten someone else’s mail by mistake. It happens occasionally. I arrived inside my house unscathed and only slightly damp. I plopped the mail down on the kitchen table and grabbed my cup of tea off the counter. I briefly leafed through the mail and was about to go back to paying my bills when I noticed an envelope with a stamp that wasn’t from America. I checked the front of the letter again, and sure enough, it was addressed to me. How strange and unexpected.

I put the envelope up to the kitchen window to see if I could read any part of it. But, no, I couldn’t see a thing. So, I went over to the kitchen drawer and grabbed a small knife. And I carefully opened the top of the envelope since I wanted to keep the envelope intact. The return address on the envelope seemed vaguely familiar. But I couldn’t remember where I had heard the name before.

As I unfolded the letter, I looked at the date. And it had been mailed four days ago. And then I recognized the stamp. Lo and behold, the letter had been mailed from Ireland. I sat there dumbfounded and said out loud….”Well, who in the world is this from?”

As I opened the letter, I noticed that it was handwritten in beautiful script. It’s so unusual to receive a letter that is handwritten nowadays. Since most people either type the letter on their computer and print it out, or they avoid snail mail altogether and use email. For some reason, the handwriting looked familiar, but I couldn’t imagine who it was from.

It was signed by Kelly O’Brian. At first, I couldn’t quite a place who Kelly O” Brian was. And then it dawned on me. I used to have a penpal long ago when I was young. And we communicated for many years. That is until I graduated from high school and started attending college at Temple University in Philadelphia. Pa. After that, we lost touch. And I guess over time, the whole experience faded away.

As I began to read the letter, it dawned on me that the Kelly who wrote me this letter was indeed my old pen pal from when I was just a kid. Only now she was married, and her name was Kelly Rafferty. Well, what in the world could this be all about? I couldn’t imagine why she was contacting me after so many years had passed by.

I began reading the letter, trying to take it all in. It was such an unexpected surprise as I hadn’t heard from or spoken to Kelly for so long. I tried to remember just why she and I had stopped communicating. And the only reason I could recall is that we were both entering college, and I guess what with college classes and making new friends over time, we just stopped writing. I wish that hadn’t happened, but it did. 

And now here she was contacting me. I don’t know how she found my current address, but somehow she did. It seems as if she had become a writer of short stories and had several fictional novels published. She named several, and I thought, Wow, that’s amazing. I knew she was a fabulous writer just from the letters she wrote me and described in such detail where she lived her family, and her great love of Ireland. In fact, one of the books she published was based on our long-term friendship via letter writing. She said, in her fictional version of our letter-writing friendship, we eventually met.

She went on to say that she was wondering if I was up to a visit from her since her book was going to be published in the United States as well. And she was going to be in New York in two weeks. She wasn’t sure how long she would be visiting the USA. But she would really like to see me. I didn’t answer her right away. I was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected event. My life is and always has been predictable. I work nine to five, then I cook dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. On the weekends, I read or watched old movies. The only variation I have in my daily life is on my two weeks of vacation. I go to Atlantic City for two weeks.

I walk up and down the boardwalk in the morning and then again after I eat dinner. Occasionally, I go to the casinos. Usually, I play the slots. Last year, I actually won five hundred dollars and almost went out of my mind with excitement. I jumped up and down, yelling I won, I won. A crowd gathered and kept yelling, “How much, how much?” And when I finally calmed down, I said, ten thousand dollars.

And they all cheered. It took me a full two days to finally settle down and stop telling everybody I saw on the boardwalk how much I won. The only reason I stopped was because an old lady came over to me and said, “Dear, you should stop telling everyone you won a lot of money, or someone is going to rob you blind. I looked at her, and I thought she was absolutely right, I must have lost my mind temporarily. And she was the last person I talked to about that money. When I got home, I went to my bank and deposited the mullah in my savings account.

And I hadn’t taken a vacation since then. I thought, well, why the hell shouldn’t I take a couple of weeks off? And visit with an old friend, especially one that I have never met in person before. So, I finally wrote back and responded, “You know, I think that is a fantastic idea.” So, I gave her my email and told her to send me her traveling plans and where and when we could meet. I would make a reservation at the nearest hotel, or she could stay at my tiny apartment if she wanted to. And then we could spend her time in New York City together.

At first, I was a little overwhelmed by the whole unexpected event. And then, after a couple of days, I was stoked about the whole upcoming visit. I started making plans for our time together. The days up to the visit passed slowly. But finally, her arrival date was only a day away. I took the next train to New York City, checked in at the hotel, and made my way to the JFK airport. It was unbelievably crowded, but I tried to keep my cool. I made my way to Terminal 4, where the International Flights land.

When it was almost time for her flight to land, I started getting somewhat anxious and excited at the same time. I wondered if I would even recognize her. Since I hadn’t seen pictures of her when she was only a teenager. I wondered if she would recognize me. She told me she would be wearing all green, including wearing a Shamrock on her jacket. The flight was about twenty minutes late because the plane encountered turbulence because of storms.

I was staring out the window, waiting for her plane to land, when I heard over the intercom that her flight would be landing in fifteen minutes. I planned on taking her to McDonald’s because Kelly felt that it best represented American food if you can believe that.

The next thing I knew, her flight was deplaning, and the passengers were coming off the plane into the waiting area. I stared intently at all the passengers who might be her. Finally, I saw a young woman about my age, and she was wearing a somewhat hideous green jacket with a giant shamrock on it. I laughed out loud. I started waving at her like a madwoman. And soon enough, she started walking towards me. And when she was a couple of feet away from me, we both walked toward each other and hugged. I said, “I would have recognized you anywhere.” And we both started to laugh because if she weren’t wearing that giant shamrock, I wouldn’t have known her at all. “Dolores, I wouldn’t have recognized you at all, either. Time does fly by, doesn’t it?”
As soon as we were able to stop laughing, we hugged again, and I said,” Do you have any other luggage?”

And she said, “No, just this small bag. If I have to, I can buy some clothes here.”

“Well, maybe not here in New York City. But, perhaps in the suburbs..The stores here are quite expensive. “Well, I do have my heart set on bringing home some couture NYC designer clothing.

“Really, OK if that’s what you want.” Let’s head outside. We have to take a tram to the parking lot, and then we have to find my car. It will be a bit of a walk, I’m afraid. This is a really big airport.”

“No problem. It was a long flight, and I’ll be relieved to stretch my legs. By the way, I don’t know I would have recognized you either if you weren’t waving your arms like a maniac. And then she laughed and laughed. Let’s go, shall we?”

We arrived at the parking area relatively unscathed. Even though people bumped into us in a hurry to get on or off the tram. And then I was hit in the head by someone’s suitcase when they were pulling it off the overhead rack. I thought it would kill me. It was so heavy. God knows what or who she had jammed in that suitcase. It must have weighed twenty or more pounds. And when it hit me, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, look where you’re going. You almost killed me.” Everyone in the tram laughed their heads off. Which only served to make me madder and madder. And then I yelled at them and said, “And you can all go straight to hell.”

“Well, Dolores, you always told me you had one hell of a temper, and you do. You would feel right at home in Ireland, as you probably know the Irish are known for their temper.”

“Really, well, maybe all those years of you and me writing to each other. I picked up your temper through osmoses.”

“Oz, what?” And then Kelly laughed and laughed. And they finally arrived at the parking facility. And luckily, we found my car right away. The ride back to my apartment was bumper to bumper, as usual. And it was full of New York drivers who didn’t have a lot of patience either. And they were bumping and yelling at one another as we headed to my apartment. We were near my building, and I scanned the street up and down. I saw someone pulling out of a parking spot and gunned my gas to get to the parking spot as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, someone coming from the opposite direction did the same thing. But my car was smaller than theirs, and I managed to pull into the spot like my pants were on fire.

“Dear god.“ Kelly screamed at the top of her lungs. I looked over at her and said, “What’s the matter? What are you screaming about?”

“She looked at me like I was stark raving mad. You almost got us killed.”

“What? No, that’s just everyday driving in New York City. Welcome to America. LOL

 

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NASTY NEIGHBOR

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Sebastian slowly made his way down Main Street toward the bakery. He was looking forward to a breakfast of fresh, homemade bagels and cream cheese. He favored his right leg, as he had injured it many years ago, and it was never the same. When in the distance, he saw one of his neighbors one Jeffrey Duggins, walking towards him. Sebastian considered turning around and returning back home. He always got a bad vibe whenever he came within shouting distance of his neighbor, Jeffrey.

In fact, at times, he felt that his very life was at risk if he rubbed Jeffrey the wrong way. And as far as he could tell, everything he had ever said to Jeffrey seemed to set him off. Sebastian could say the most innocuous thing, and Jeffrey would read something nefarious into it. One day, he said, “Hello, Jeffrey. How’s it going? Did your trash get picked up yesterday? They never picked mine up?”

Jeffrey’s face distorted into an angry mask. And then he shouted,” What the hell is your problem? You’re always complaining every time you talk to me. How the hell would I know if everyone had their trash picked up or not?” Sebastian stared at Jeffrey, flabbergasted, and then shook his head, trying to clear his mind. And then Sebastian quietly crossed the street. He vowed silently to himself that in the future he would avoid any interaction with Jeffrey in the future. The guy had some serious issues, and Sebastian didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger. Jeffrey was a real nutter, for sure. Sebastian often wondered what excessive lengths that Jeffrey had gone to with other people who made some harmless comment to Jeffrey.

As Sebastian crossed the street, he shook his head and thought, what in the world would make a man of Jeffrey’s advanced age act so angry and belligerent for no reason at all? Sebastian continued on his walk. And just as he was about to cross the street to his house, it occurred to him that perhaps Jeffrey’s unfriendly behavior was deliberate. And his ultimate goal was to avoid any interaction with anyone. So as not to ignite any interest or curiosity about him with any of his neighbors or people in general. Sebastian crossed the street and made the decision to ignore or avoid Jeffrey in the future. He was a bad egg, that’s for sure. As he open his back door, he could smell what could only be his wife’s delicious breakfast waiting for him on the kitchen table. There was a cover over it. His wife was several years younger than he, and she still worked part-time.

Sebastian sat down to eat his breakfast and thought, where did all the years go? How did his life fly by so quickly in the blink of an eye? This was supposed to be a time to relax and enjoy life, doing the things you loved to do and didn’t have time for during your working years. And here he was, sitting at his kitchen table, worrying about what he could and couldn’t do because he didn’t wish to awaken the Jeffrey’s ire and directing that anger towards him.

While Sebastian was sitting at the table, it occurred to him that perhaps he could invite Jeffrey over for dinner one night would win him over. His wife was a fantastic cook, and she was known to be quite the charmer with people. She could take the most unfriendly and belligerent person and win them over with her friend chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, and one of her world-famous chocolate cakes.

And the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. But, he would have to get his wife, Millie, to go along with it. She kept telling him to leave her out of this whole business with our nasty, old so-and-so neighbor. She didn’t think he was worth the trouble. And then he thought he would take a walk over to the florist downtown and buy her a dozen red roses. They were her favorite, and she wouldn’t be able to say no after smelling them and putting them in her favorite crystal vase in the middle of the dining room table.

As Sebastian was on his way home from the florist, who should he see but Jeffrey coming from the opposite direction? There was really no way to avoid him other than quickly reversing his direction and running away. And Sebastian was way past that kind of shenanigans. So, he took a deep breath and kept walking. And then he felt someone staring at him. And who was it but none other than Jeffrey? Maybe Jeffrey would keep walking and cross the street? But no, he kept walking in his direction. And

Sebastian could feel his cold stare on him. And as he got closer, Jeffrey said, “Are you stalking me now?”

“Me? Stalking you? Why in the world would I do that? Listen, I haven’t done not one thing to you. You are the one causing conflicts in our neighborhood. You antagonize everyone you come in contact with around our neighborhood. Everyone else avoids you. You are obnoxious and cause conflict with everyone. Stop blaming your behavior on everyone else. You don’t have to talk to anyone. Just mind your own business. Nobody cares what you do. Just leave everyone else alone. And then there won’t be any further problems.”

“Yeah, I bet the whole neighborhood would love to see me fall off a cliff. I guess that would make you happy, wouldn’t it?”

“No, Jeffrey, I never wished you or anyone else any harm. I have tried being friendly to you since we moved here. And you put up a literal brick wall between our two properties. And that sure doesn’t say, “Welcome to the neighborhood to me.”

Jeffrey stood there with a strange expression on his face for several minutes. It seemed like a year to Sebastian. He was about to say something else to Jeffrey, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what to say. He was getting tired of the whole situation, including the friction in the neighborhood where he hoped to live out his final years.

“Well, Sebastian, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s my name. I introduced myself to you right after we moved in, and you just walked away from me without saying a word.”
“Well, yes, I guess I did. I didn’t want to go through the whole rejection scenario again. It’s getting old. I thought it would be better to reject you instead of the other way around.”

“Well, that didn’t turn out too well, did it?
“No, Sebastian, it didn’t. But, I have a tendency to be bull-headed, and once I get an idea in my head, it’s hard for me to change my mind.”

“OK, well, that’s a beginning; how about we start over? My wife and I would like to invite you to dinner. How about Saturday evening? It’s my wife’s day off, and she is a fabulous cook. What do you say?”

“ I say, what time? My wife was a great cook too. But she passed away about ten years ago from cancer. And I guess that’s when I gave up on life. It just felt so empty without her by my side. And when I saw everyone in the neighborhood going out and having fun with their families, it just made me madder and madder. We were never able to have kids, and I’ve just been alone all these years. And I guess I resented everyone else’s happiness. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, Jeffrey, I’m so sorry you lost your wife. That is a big loss. It would affect everyone who lost their closest loved one. But you just made it worse by pushing everyone away who tried to befriend you all these years. Your wife wouldn’t want you to be miserable all these years. So, why don’t we start over, and you come over tonight for a great dinner? And then maybe in a few weeks, you will feel up to coming to a neighborhood bar-b-que. There is no reason on earth for you to spend your remaining year lonely and unhappy, and angry. So, how about it? Are you interested?”

“ Yes, I would like to come over and have dinner. It’s been a long, long time since I had a home-cooked meal. I eat mostly take-out or frozen dinners.” 

“Alright then, let’s head home, and you can come over to our house at six o’clock sharp. What do you say?”

“ I say, I’ll be there with bells on my feet.” And they continued home, and Sebastian started telling Jeffrey what he had done for a living while they were walking home. And Jeffrey was surprised to find out that they had similar occupations. And he started telling Sebastian about his early years after he and his wife were first married. It turned out that they had many things in common.

 

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YOU HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

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I‘m flat broke. And unfortunately, I was recently laid off from my job. It was not the first time this happened to me. But what can I say? I’m just unlucky. My former boss informed me last Friday that he was going to let me go. Because I was unreliable. I frequently called out sick, and also, when I did come to work, I was almost always late. And that when I did go to work that I was always late returning after lunch.

I tried to reinforce to him that I was not unreliable. I was unlucky. Didn’t he ever hear that bad things happen to good people? Apparently, he didn’t. He told me that this was his last warning if I came in late one more time or I called out altogether. I might as well quit because when I finally did come in, I was going to be fired. I reassured myself that this was not the first time he has said this to me. And I took this as just another warning and that there was no way in hell that he was going actually to fire me. After all, I have been a loyal employee for over ten years. And I was one of his best workers.

And then more bad luck headed my way. I was on my way out the door when I got a call that my younger brother needed a ride to school. We were only half-brothers as he had a different father. In fact, my mother has been married more times than I can count. And she has had six children, all of whom have a different father. I kid you not. Why in the world would anyone who obviously is really bad at commitment and marriage keep repeating the same mistake over and over again? I’m the oldest sibling, and I felt some responsibility for my younger siblings. After all, none of their fathers are around. So, off I went to pick up my brother and take him to school. He was in his senior year of high school. And I remember only too well how important that senior year of high school was to me.

Thirty minutes later, I arrived at my mom’s house. I expected my brother to be standing outside the front door waiting for me. But, no, he wasn’t outside waiting for me. I jumped out of my car and sprinted up to the front door. I turned the knob, and alas, the door was locked. I rang the doorbell several times. Nada. I banged as hard as I could on the door and the window next to it. I didn’t see anyone. And then I saw a piece of paper on the ground next to the front step. Apparently, it was stuck on the door but fell down. I picked it up. It read, “Charlie, my friend Olaf came and picked me up. Sorry for causing you any trouble. Talk to you later. And it was signed by your ever-loving brother, Nick.

I felt my blood pressure hit the ceiling. I was going to be late again. I would surely lose my job. My brother Nick was so unreliable. Why the hell didn’t he pick up the phone and call my cell and tell me he didn’t need me to take him to school? I was so mad I thought I might explode. God, why are so many people so unreliable? I will never understand it. I ran back to my car, and I was about to get behind the wheel when I noticed that my left rear time was flat. This was absolutely the last straw. I was surely going to get fired the moment I stepped through the front door of my office. I considered my situation and tried to think of some excuse my boss would except. And I couldn’t think of one single thing to tell him that I hadn’t said before.

I got out the spare tire and tools from my trunk and set about replacing the flat tire. It was getting hot outside, and I started sweating like a pig. I heard myself grunting too. I kept going. Finally, I finished putting on the spare tire and threw my tools into the trunk. Then I jumped into the front seat. I glanced in the rearview mirror, and I hardly recognized myself. I saw a red-faced, sweaty middle-aged man who looked like his better days were way, way behind him. I almost started crying. Can you imagine a full-grown middle-aged man crying in his beat-up fifteen-year-old car? And then I thought, I’ll tell my boss that I stopped to help a woman whose car broke down and that is why I was late and filthy. 

Yes, that is what I would do. I’m not a very good liar, but what the hell did I have to lose? I was going to get fired for sure, just for being late. So, off I went.

I tried to drive under the speed limit, but I kept looking at the dashboard to check the time, and the next thing I know, I had run a red light. And then I heard a police siren behind me, and the red light on the police car was flashing. I said out loud, “Oh, oh, looks like somebody is in trouble.” And, low and behold, someone was in trouble. And guess what? It was me. I was dead meat.

Or I would be by the end of the day for sure. I pulled over. And I saw a cop that looked like he was about seven foot tall headed my way. And he didn’t look happy or even mildly amused. He looked mad as hell. He looked like he was ready to pull his weapon and put me out of my misery. I almost felt like telling him, “Just kill me already. I can’t take anymore. Just shoot me and get it over already.”

And guess what? That is exactly what I said, “So, officer, just kill me already. I can’t take anymore. I’m going to be fired for being late for work once too many times. So, take out that big, old gun of yours and pull the trigger. You’ll be doing me a favor. I’m done. I can’t take anymore. Just do it. I’ll even close my eyes.” And that was the last thing I remember until I woke up two days later.

I opened my eyes, and I was in a room that I didn’t recognize. It was a sickly shade of green. And there was an IV attached to my left arm, and some bluish liquid was being pumped into my arm. I looked around, and there was another guy in the bed next to mine. And he was tied to his bed and in four-point restraints. I yelled, “What in the name of god is going on here? Let me out of this bed. I’m not hurt. Let me go.”

“Mr. Darnell, Charlie, calm down. Let me explain where you are and what has happened to you.”

“You were involved in an altercation of sorts with a policeman. Well, actually, it was a state trooper. You tried to take his gun away from him, which is not a good idea under any circumstances. Apparently, you were getting a ticket for unsafe driving and threatening the trooper to allow you to get on your way to work because you thought you were going to get fired for being late again. Do you remember this experience at all?” 

“No, I do not. You must be mistaken. I can not imagine any circumstances where I would handle a gun, let alone take a loaded weapon away from a state trooper. This is some unfortunate misunderstanding or mix-up. You have to let me go. I am going to be fired for sure if I’m late again.”

“ Sir, you have been here for over ten days. Your behavior was out of control. You fought and struggled with the doctors and anyone else that tried to help you get under control. You are on a thirty-day hold. You may very well be sent to the state hospital, Ancora.”

“What, Ancora???” You are the one who is out of his mind. I demand to speak to my attorney and see my family immediately. This is against the law to hold someone against their will.”

“No, sir, it is certainly within our rights to remand an out-of-control person who attacks a policy trooper or officer and threatens them with bodily harm. So, you need to calm down and try to think rationally. Your therapist will be stopping by in the next hour or so to check on you. Try to stay calm if you start acting out physically again. You will find yourself under heavy sedation and put in four-point restraints. I kid you not. Do you understand now?”

“Yes, I understand. I will calm down. I will not threaten anyone with harm. I made a mistake in judgment, that is all. Can I please talk to my doctor or my family or at least talk to my mother on the phone? She is highly reliant on me, and she must be out of her mind with worry.

“Your family will be visiting in good time. But not all at once, one person at a time. Do you understand? And you must stay calm, or they will not be allowed to visit again for a long, long time. Understand?”

“How long is a long, long time?”
“ It could be up to six months or longer.”

“Oh, my god, my boss will never let me come back to work again. What am I going to do?”

“Well, you will have plenty of time to contemplate that, sir. Perhaps you should try and take a nap. And you will be better able to contemplate your future plans. Things will become clearer soon. “Oh, I almost forgot your boss left this note for you. He asked me to give it to you when you were feeling a bit better. Here you go.” And then he handed me the note and turned and left the room, and closed the door behind him.  I carefully open the note, and there were two papers in the envelope. One said, “Charlie, so sorry to hear you are not well, but perhaps in time, you will be in a better frame of mind. Needless to say, we had to lay you off because you have missed so many work days due to your untimely mental breakdown. We are all thinking about you. And hope you are well soon. Best Wishes. Oh, by the way, because we had to lay you off, you no longer have health insurance, and the company will not be reimbursing your incarceration, I mean hospital expenses. Best Wishes, Thomas Moore CPA. 

At this particular moment, my only thought was, “Well, there’s no place to go but up now. And that is when I simultaneously started crying and laughing at the same time. So, I decided just to put one foot in front of the other and hope for the best. After all, I already had the worst.

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AS TIME GOES BY, TICK-TOCK, TICK TOCK

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Life can be difficult at times. Sometimes you can become so overcome with fear and frustration you don’t have the strength to get out of bed. I have to admit that I’ve always been fearful of life’s challenges. I never felt confident about anything. I always felt overwhelmed. I can remember feeling this way since I was a young child. I often overheard my siblings talking about me behind my back. And even my parents complained about my fears. 

It was never a choice for me. I didn’t choose to be afraid. My first memory of being afraid was the day I started first grade. I am the youngest child in my family. I had much older siblings. They always seemed to be happy to be going to school. I couldn’t imagine myself walking out the front door and walking by myself to the school. And then having to come face to face with a whole lot of children I didn’t know. And then having to go to school when the bell rang.

During the last few weeks of the Summer before starting school, I began to feel terrified. I started getting stomach aches every morning. My mother finally took me to the doctor’s to see if there was something physical going on with me. After the doctor examined me, he said, Well, Kathy is physically healthy. I have no doubt that the stomach aches and difficulty sleeping are related to her fear of going to school. He told my mother that many children have this fear. That it’s normal. And I would be fine once I started school and made some friends, and realized there was really nothing to fear.

But that’s not what happened. On the first day of school, I was absolutely filled with dread. There were too many children yelling and screaming and running all over the schoolyard. And I didn’t know any of them. My best friend was a year younger than I was and wouldn’t be going to school for another year. I stood in the middle of the schoolyard. I didn’t know what I should do. It was so noisy, and the kids seemed out of control. They were running in every direction and screaming and jumping. It was all too much. I wanted to go home. I started crying.

One of the teachers came over to me and said,” What’s the matter?” I just started crying even more. She took my hand and said, “Let’s just find a nice quiet place, and we’ll have a little talk. And you can tell me what’s going on.”

I followed her, and we walked to the far side of the playground that was opposite the street. The cars were flying by at an amazing rate of speed, and I let out a yelp. And tears started rolling down my face once again. The teacher said, “Here, take this tissue and wipe your face and then take a deep breath. And try to calm down.”

I took a deep breath and then looked down at the ground. I didn’t want to talk to her; I wanted to go home. She said, “OK, now try to tell me why you are so upset.”

I looked up at her and said, “I hate it here. I want to go home. I want my mother.”

“What’s your name, dear?

“My name is Kathy. I want to go home. I want my mother.”

“Oh, well, a lot of children feel that way on their first day of school. But you will get used to it. You will make a lot of new friends. And you will learn a lot. So, how about you try and take it one day at a time? And any time you are upset or afraid, you can come to talk to me. My name is Ms. Norris. And as a matter of fact, I will be your teacher this year. And I promise you things will get better.”

I looked up at her, and I said quietly, “OK.”

“Alright, in a few moments, it will be time to go into the classroom. And you will be assigned a seat and given books. Some day soon, you will begin learning to read. And I promise you you will absolutely love reading. OK.”

“OK.” She said, when the bell rings, you get in line with all the other children in my class. And stand there quietly while the older children say the Pledge of Allegiance.” You stand quietly because you haven’t learned the words yet. But, soon you will learn them. OK?”

I stood there quietly, waiting for the bell to ring. But, just before that happened, two little girls came over to me and said, “ Hi, what’s your name?” Our names are Irene, and she’s Christine. Do you want to be friends?”

I stared at them for a few minutes with my mouth hanging open. I was afraid to say anything. Because I thought this was some kind of joke. Because my older sister pretended to be my friend sometime, and then they would laugh and me. And call me a big baby.

They didn’t say anything else, so I finally said, “My name is Kathy. I live down the street. This is my first day of school. I’m afraid I want to go home. I hate it here. It’s too loud here. I don’t know anybody.” And then I just stared at them.

“Kathy, you know us now. So, you can hang around with us. And today is a half day. That means we can go home at lunchtime. And come back tomorrow. OK?”

I looked at them and said quietly, “OK.”

Irene and Christine stood next to me and talked and talked without taking a breath. And then a bell rang, and everyone started running and getting into a line. Christine said, “Kathy, follow us, and get in line. We’re going into the classroom and sitting at a desk.”

“OK, I said, and then I began chewing my fingernails, which is something I do when I’m scared, which is most of the time. I wished I was home at my mom’s or my best friend’s house. She didn’t have to go to school because she is younger than me. I wish I were younger. My nose started running because of crying, and I didn’t have a tissue. So, it ran down my face. So, I rubbed it on my arm. Some big boy said, “Look at that kid wiping her runny nose on her sleeve.”

Everybody started slowly walking forward in a line. And then we got up to the school and started marching inside. I wanted to run away as fast as I could. But I didn’t. I just kept following the line into the horrible brick building. It was an old building; the walls were painted a weird green color in the hallway. I saw a water fountain. And I ran over to it to get a drink. I heard someone yell, “Get back in line. They were looking straight at me. So, I got back in line. We slowly made our way to the classroom. The teacher who talked to me outside said,” When I call out your name, take the next available seat. Understand?” Everyone said, “Yes, teacher.” At the same time. Not me. I wasn’t going to talk until someone told me to.

Finally, the teacher called out my name. She said,” Please take the next available seat please.”

I looked up and down the aisle and didn’t know where to go. I felt like I was going to start crying again. And Then I heard a voice whispering in my ear. It was Irene. Just walk down the aisle where kids are sitting and sit in the next empty seat. And that is exactly what I did. And the next thing I knew, I was sitting at the desk, and Christine and Irene were sitting behind me. I took a deep breath.

The morning went by slowly. I had to go to the bathroom. But I didn’t know where it was, or if I was allowed to go or had to wait until I got home. I couldn’t sit still. The next thing I knew, the teacher was standing next to me and said, “So, what is the problem? Why can’t you sit still?”

I didn’t want to look at her. I was afraid I would start crying again. So, I whispered, I have to go to the bathroom.” She said, “You have to learn to speak up. Say it loud enough for everyone to hear you. “So, I did, I yelled. I have to go pee.” The teacher said, OK, make a right outside the classroom door and walk down the hall until you see a sign next to the door with a picture of a girl. That’s the girl’s bathroom. And then come right back here.” She said in a loud voice. And all the kids started laughing.

I got up from my seat and walk down the hall. I saw the sign with the drawing of a girl on it. But I didn’t go into the ladies’ room. I saw the door that we came in from the schoolyard, and I went out the door. I was outside. I decided I didn’t want to go to school anymore. And I ran all the way home and ran into the house. My mother was in the kitchen, and she said, “Kathy, you are home early. Are you alright?”

“No, I have to go to the bathroom and the teacher kept yelling at me. I hate school and I’m not going back, ever.” And that is when I ran into our bathroom and locked the door. After a few minutes, my mother came knocking at the door. She said, Kathy, please come out. The school called and they said you have to come back to class and stay until lunchtime.”

I finally opened the door and my mother was standing there waiting. She said, “Please come into the kitchen so we can talk. She gave me a glass of water and said, “Kathy, everyone has to go to school. It is scary in the beginning. But, you will get used to it. You will learn a lot of new things like reading. And you will make some new friends and they can come over and visit with you sometimes after school. Come in and eat your lunch. And after that, you will have to go back to school. And stay until three o’clock. And then you can come home again. You are not allowed to run away. “Do you understand?”

“I looked at my mother and said, “Yes, I understand. I hate school, I hate the teacher.”

“ As I said, “You will get used to it. But, you have to go to school, it is a law. Now, how about eating your lunch and I will walk you back to school and your classroom.”

When my mother dropped me off at school. All the kids were out in the schoolyard running around. They all looked alike I didn’t see my new friends right away. And I started to feel scared again. And then I heard Christine and Irene calling out my name, “Kathy, come play with us.”

So, that is what I did. We played together until we were told we had to come back into the classroom. I sat at the desk the teacher told me to sit in. I looked around and I noticed some of the other kids looked kind of scared too. So, I knew I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like it there. But, they were listening to the teacher. So, I tried to do the same thing. I didn’t understand everything she said, but I tried hard to understand her.

It seemed like the afternoon went on and on. I started feeling sleepy. And I felt my eyes closing. The next thing I knew the teacher was rapping a stick on my desk. And she said,” none of that. Go to bed earlier tonight, if you are still tired. You are not allowed to take naps during class.”

It seemed like there were a lot of rules in school. It was only the end of the first day and I was sick of it. When I got home my mother said,” so, Kathy how was school?” I hate it. But, I did make two new friends. And they asked if they could come over here after school one day and play.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. Do you have any homework?”
“Homework, you meant I have to do work at home for school. That’s not fair.”

“Well, Kathy life doesn’t always seem fair. But, it’s all about growing up to become an adult and being able someday to take care of yourself.”

“Do you mean I’m not always going to live with you and Dad?”
“Well, probably not. When you become a grown-up you will eventually want to have your own apartment or house.”

I looked at her like she was out of her mind. I knew I would always want to live with my mom and dad. Why wouldn’t I”

As it turned out all the things my teachers and my parents told me about going to school, learning to read, and growing up and getting a job were true.

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