Author Archives: Susan

ADVERSITY CAN BE A GOOD SCHOOL

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Catholic Elementary School

I’m older than most of the people who may be reading this, but still, I think my experiences may resonate with some of you at some level. I believe that the experiences I had and endured made me the person I ultimately became. When I was quite young in elementary school, I can remember making the decision to be true to myself at a young age. Even if that meant some people didn’t like me, including some of my family members. In a way, I became my own best friend.

The fact is that I’m not your run-of-the-mill person. I never follow the crowd. I didn’t try to fit in. I don’t and never felt the need to follow trends. I attended Catholic Parochial School, which means that I was forced o wear a uniform and shoes that everyone else wore. And woe be him or her who didn’t obey those rules and regulations.

I followed the rules regarding wearing the uniforms, including the hideous shoes, and wore a beanie. I didn’t have a choice. But, I didn’t agree with or follow all the rules regarding believing every word taught by the nuns. I was a quiet child, but I had my own mind and my own thoughts, and they often conflicted with the rules and the punishment that the nuns subjected children to in the 1960s. We were told in Church and our classrooms that wherever two or more of us gathered, there would be love. That certainly was not true in my experience for the twelve years I attended Catholic school.

I was a quiet child in the classroom. But, outside the classroom, I was always making jokes and telling tall stories to my friends and anyone who would listen. I’ve always had a highly active imagination.

Because I had a tendency to joke around with m fellow students, I found myself being hit with rulers with metal edges and being put in the boiler room for hours by the nuns. Or worst of all, being ridiculed in front of the class if I was asked a question. My mind would often go blank when I was asked a question out of the blue. And I would just stand there, struck dumb.

After twelve long years of these types of experiences, I developed the mindset of a prisoner of war. I recall one experience when I was in fourth grade. Sister Joseph Catherine, who was teaching us, called me up to Blackboard and asked me to complete the arithmetic problem. I was so frightened that I couldn’t think straight.

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

And she yelled at me, came up behind me, grabbed me by my ponytail, and slammed my head repeatedly into the blackboard. After that, I tried to keep myself on guard against any type of behavior that might draw attention to myself around people with whom I was unfamiliar. People always described me as shy, but I wasn’t shy. I was protecting myself.

Some of my school experiences helped develop my imagination. For instance, this was a release from my everyday experiences that I had no control over. We had to go to confession on the First Friday of the month. As a child, I didn’t believe I really committed any mortal or venial sins as the nuns suggested that we all did. So, the week before I had to go to Confession, I used to spend some time making up some “good” sins to tell the priest in the confessional. I did this every first Friday of every month for the eight years that I attended Catholic grade school. Father Nolan (the priest I always confessed my sins to) said, “And are you sorry for all these sins you committed?’ And I would answer,” Yes, Father.” And then, for penance, he would tell me to” say three Hail Marys and three Our Fathers.” I  hadn’t committed any sins other than lying to the priest once a month about my sins.

Although the nuns were strict with all kids, they were particularly strict and tough on the boys, especially in the eighth grade. The nun that taught my eighth-grade class didn’t seem to have a problem pushing a boy down a flight of stairs if he acted out. I never understood why they were allowed to do that to anyone. At one point, I decided to tell my parents what was going on in school. And my mother said, “Do you want me to go up and talk to the nuns?” I said, “No.” Because I was afraid, that would make everything worse. Looking back, I wish I had told my parents to talk to the nuns to stop abusing me and the other kids.

In addition, my parents shouldn’t have left it up to me to decide what should be done. They should have taken matters into their own hands and complained to the school or perhaps removed me from Catholic School and enrolled me in the local public schools.

In addition, I live two houses away from the Catholic School, so whenever the nuns needed help in the classroom after school, during Summer break, or after a snowstorm, I was called in to help. Also, I had to go up to the convent where the nuns lived. It was about five blocks from my home. And I had to clean the storage room where the nun’s canned food was stored. And clean the cans and the room from top to bottom once a week. I’m not sure, but it’s possible that my parents were getting a discount on the Catholic School tuition because of the work we did in the convent, and in the school, in the summer and in the winter.

Of course, not all my experiences in Catholic School were negative ones. I made a great many friends. And I learned how to spell and do basic math. But, what I learned most thoroughly was English Grammar and writing. And to this day, I appreciate this skill that I’m still benefiting from in my writing and my ability to express myself verbally and in the written word.

I learned self-discipline and how to work hard and be thorough in everything I attempted to do in life. And overall, I have to say in every job I ever had in my life, I always excelled. I benefited from what the nuns taught me, albeit hard-won lessons.

This is me writing a new story.

I don’t really know how Catholic School children are disciplined nowadays. But, I hope by this point, the Catholic Schools and teachers have some deeper understanding and knowledge about child development and keeping control of a classroom without verbal and physical abuse of any kind. When I got married and had children, I enrolled them in public school. There was no way I would have wanted them to have the same experiences that I and my generation had to endure in the 1950s and ’60s.

So, overall, Catholic School was not entirely a negative experience, but it is one I wouldn’t want to repeat. It helped shape who I am to this day, and that is a strong, moral, hard-working, intelligent, and creative person who is not afraid of trying something new to this day. I am self-confident about my skills and my abilities. I’ve had to face many challenges during my life, but here I am, still intact and ready to face anything life has to offer me. In other words, What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger comes from an aphorism of the 19th-century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. It is generally used as an affirmation of resilience.

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AND THEY’RE OFF

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As far back as I remember in my childhood, I recall my father talking about the Garden State Race Track in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. My father was a man who liked to gamble, play cards and bet on the horses. For years he bought lottery tickets. He even bought 55O cards from the Catholic Church. On one occasion, my mother and my father celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and they spent a weekend at a hotel on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City. My father played the slots and played cards. The trip was a wedding anniversary gift for my parents from my siblings and me. It was the first time my mother actually had a vacation of any sort.

I recall my father calling his bookie on our kitchen phone and placing bets. And occasionally, my father would bring my mother and me with him when he drove into Philly at night to place a bet directly with his bookie. For my mother and myself, it was an outing to the city. As we rarely went anywhere out of town, let alone visiting Philadelphia.  My father- 1960's

But one of the most outstanding memories I have is of my father and the Garden State Race Track, which was located in Cherry Hill, New Jersey—a town next to Maple Shade, New Jersey, where I grew up. My father won a photography contest through the local newspaper, the Courier Post. He took two photographs of a race at the Garden State Track. One was a panoramic image of the crowd watching the horses take off, shouting and screaming and jumping up and down. The second shot was of that same crowd looking in the opposite direction tearing up their tickets and throwing them in the air, and then slowly floating down to the grounds if they lost their bets. My father submitted these pictures, and they appeared on the front page of the Courier Post, and he won prize money.

I don’t know how much money my dad won. But it was probably more money than he ever had in his pocket at any one time. And so my father invited all my siblings, including myself, to go out to dinner at a restaurant that my sister-in-law’s brother owned. It was the one and only time that we all went out to dinner together with my parents. And it is one of my best and fondest memories of my family together and laughing and enjoying our time together as a family.

The Garden State track spurred a lot of activity and entertainment-oriented growth in Cherry Hill. In addition to the Garden State Track, a man whose name was Mori developed the Race Tack. He built the Cherry Hill Inn and the Cherry Hill FarmLogdge, and then finally, the Cherry Hill Shopping Center. Not to mention the fabulous and luxurious Rickshaw Inn on the opposite side of the Garden State Park Race Track. And eventually, The Latin Casino, where stars such as Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Liberace appeared to entertain the locals near and far. 

And addition, I took an adult night class at Cherry Hill High School, and it was being taught by none other than Jack Engelhard, the writer. He is known for his love of horse racing at the Cherry Hill Race Track and for writing books such as The Horseman, which became almost automatically a best seller, Indecent Proposal, and many more. It was his night class that inspired me to continue writing and growing as a writer. He often spoke of his love of horse races and the Garden State Track. And I have been doing just that. I have written a book and over three hundred short stories. You can find these stories at:https://susanaculver.com.

And then, I was offered an opportunity to show some of my Art Work at the Garden State Track, and I jumped at the chance. You can see one of my more popular artworks, a drawing illustrated in this blog. It is called “The Race.”.

The Race

So, as you can see, my father’s love of Horse Racing and gambling has been an inspiration of sorts. Although I had never been a gambler at heart before I moved to North Carolina, I hit the gambling machines at Trump Casino in Atlantic and took home $900.00 right out of his {Trump’s} pocket, you could say. So, when you play, you win some, you lose some. But you just got to know when it’s time to fold up those cards and hit the road. At the same time, you have more than lint in your pockets.

And maybe sometime in the future, before my time runs out, I’ll find my way back to Cherry Hill and revisit my father’s favorite place on the planet. Although it has changed and evolved over time since my Dad passed away, he probably wouldn’t recognize it. So, maybe it’s better to keep those memories safe and hidden away. I will always treasure those memories of my father and what an interesting and complex man he was. He was a voracious reader on every subject, including Eastern religions, although he never went to church.

My father inspired me with his example to continue to learn and grow and be creative. In fact, his lifelong example of his thirst for knowledge inspired me to go to college when I was thirty-six. I applied to all the art schools in the Philadelphia area and was accepted at all of them. I chose to attend Temple University, Tyler School of Art. And I graduated at forty in the top ten percent of Temple’s graduating class. It was one of the best experiences I ever had and one that I am immensely proud of. And I want to thank my father for his example of continuing to grow and learn throughout my life.

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God, I’m so fricking tired of this shit. Every morning I get up early, wake the damn kids up and feed them their fricking Cocoa Puffs. This is the thanks I get. That piece of shit won’t start again. I just had the battery replaced. So, what the hell is wrong with that bucket of bolts now? I’ll have to wake up Gerry and see if he can get it started. I have to take those brats to school. I have to go to traffic court for that trumped-up DUI ticket.

 “Gerry, wake up. The hoopty car won’t start again. Get up.”

“What, what the hell do you want now? I just got to sleep a couple of hours ago. God, can’t you keep those kids quiet and turn down that damn TV.”

“Don’t you go to sleep again, you lazy good for nothing? You’re just another example of how I try to help people, and they end up taking advantage of me.”

“Alright, alright, let me put some pants on and take a piss. Can you give me five minutes?”

“Five minutes, that’s it. You get your sorry ass out on the curb and help me. You have been living here for a year and a half, and you never lift a hand to help me. And I let that brat of yours live here too. When you leave, she’s going with you. Keep that in mind.”

God, it’s so cold out here. What am I going to do if he can’t fix it? I’m tapped out. I used up all the child support this month already. That old bag of a mother won’t lend me another dime. I spend the SSI money on heating oil. My exes won’t fork over any more money. My credit cards are maxed out. Crap.

“Well, it’s about time you got your sorry ass out here. What took you so long?”

“I’m here now; let me try it. You probably just flooded it.”

“Well, can you fix it or not?”

“Not. I don’t know. Maybe the alternators dead, or it needs a new ignition system. You’ll have to take it up to Pep Boys and get it checked out. I’m going back to bed.”

“The hell you are. If I don’t get this piece of crap running, we’re all screwed. Do you have any money you didn’t tell me about?”

“Oh yeah, my hidden assets. You take my disability check the second I get it. Where would I get any money?’

“You think I don’t know that you’re selling meth out of my trailer out back. Come on, hand it over right now, or get the hell out of here. And take that skanky daughter of yours with you. I’m sick of her waking me up all night with her constant hacking. She always seems to have money for her smokes. Where’s she getting that money on her back?”

“Hey, don’t you talk about my daughter like that? Here I’ve got fifty bucks, that’s it.

“That’s not enough. I have to find some more money fast. I’m just going to take a credit card out in Harry’s name. I did the same thing with the older two. I don’t have any choice.”

“What the hell are you talking about? A credit card in Harry’s name; he’s only seven years old. And you did that to the other two too? Man, you really are one crappy mother. You’re always calling them names and knocking them around. Now you’re screwing up their credit too. What are you going to do next? Make Sissy prostitute herself?”

“She probably already does. But she won’t give me any money. Right now, I’m going to call my mother. See if she can come and pick up the kids and take them to school and then drop me off at court. I have to take care of that bogus DUI.

After traffic court, Meghan stands outside the police station trying to decide what to do next when her cell phone rings.

“Meghan, it’s your Aunt Tilly.”

“I know who it is, Aunt Tilly. What do you want? I’m having a hell of a bad day, and it’s not even lunchtime.”

“Meghan, it’s your Uncle Morty; he’s really bad. If you want to see him again, you better get your ass over here now. He isn’t going to last much longer.”

All I ever do is give, give, and give.  All I ever get back is crap. Nobody appreciates anything I do. How I keep food on the table and clothes on their backs. They never lift a hand to help me. Now I have to go visit my Uncle. What’s next? Do I have to serve food at the homeless shelter? Next thing I know, I’ll be living in the shelter along with those two brats of mine.

“Hi, Aunt Tilly. I got here as fast as I could. I had to go to court today. My car broke down again, and I had to take the bus to get here. It’s cold as hell out here. Can I come in? Can you give me a cup of coffee? I could eat too. I haven’t eaten anything today. I’ll go see Uncle Morty while you’re doing that.”

 Oh, Jeez, look at him. He looks like he is about to breathe his last breath. God, it freaking stinks in here. I hate old people. They stink. I ought to get a medal for this.

“Hi, Uncle Joe, it’s me, Meghan, I came to see how you’re doing. Aunt Tilly called this morning and said you weren’t feeling too well. Uncle Joe raises his limp hand and signals for Meghan to come closer. She leans in, and his breath almost knocks her over.

“Jeez, Uncle Morty, would it kill you to rinse out with some Listerine once in a while? So, what do you want to tell me?”

She hears him whisper, “Here. You were always my favorite.”

He hands her a paper. She looks down, and it’s a check. At that moment, she sees his hand drop-down, and he releases a long sour breath. She looks at him and lifts one of his baggy eyelids. He’s dead. She screams at the top of her lungs. Her aunt comes running in.

“For the love of god, what are you whaling about? You scared the hell out of me.”

Meghan points at Uncle Joe. Aunt Tilly says,” Well, if that don’t beat all. The first time I’m out of this dam room for more than five minutes, and he croaks. He was always such an inconsiderate bastard. What’s that in your hand?”

Meghan looks down at her hand and says, “I forgot. He handed this to me and told me I was his favorite. “It’s a check for…oh my god, it’s for one hundred thousand dollars. Is this for real?”

“Yeah, it’s real. He said he was going to leave you something. But I thought he was going to leave you his baseball card collection. He said that you and he used to collect those when you were a kid. And he took you to all the Phillies games. I guess you were his favorite. He didn’t leave your mother anything.”

“Holy crap, this is the answer to my prayers. Thanks, Aunt Tilly. I gotta be going. Let me know if I can do anything to help with the funeral. I have to get home to pick up the kids from school. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, you’re leaving now? Aren’t you going to at least wait until the mortician comes to pick up your uncle?”

“Naw, I can’t now, Aunt Tilly. I’ll call you later.” Meghan takes the 402 express bus home and gets off in front of the bank. She wants to cash the check before her aunt decides to stop payment on it or something. She walks up to the bank teller and hands the check over. “I want to cash this check. Can you put it all in one-hundred-dollar bills?”

The bank teller takes a look at the check and gives Meghan a look over too. “Can you wait a minute, please? I have to talk to the manager. I don’t know if we have enough cash on hand at this branch. We may have to contact the main branch to get this amount.”

About twenty minutes later, the manager calls Meghan over to her office. Here you go, Ms. Mullen; sorry for the wait. We had to get the cash from the main bank. I put the money in an envelope for you. I don’t recommend you walk around with this much cash. Perhaps you would like to open up a savings account and place some of this money here for safekeeping.”

“What? No, no, I’ll be taking it to… to my accountant tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about it. Thanks.”

 Oh, my freaking god, I’m rich, rich. Finally, I got what I deserved all these years. The first thing I’m going to do is get rid of that freaking piece of shit car and get those freeloaders out of my house. Then I’m going to take a vacation by myself. Maybe I’ll get lucky and meet a rich guy on a cruise or something, somebody with class.

One month later, Meghan returns from a gambling cruise on the Mississippi.  Her pockets are empty, and no rich guy in tow. Her mother meets her at the door.

“Well, it’s about dam time that you showed up, Meghan. These brats of yours are driving me half crazy. I had to let Gerry and his daughter move back in. I couldn’t cover your bills by myself. You neglected to leave me any money while you took your vacation. Your car still isn’t working. I hope you saved some of that money to get a new car or at least get that junker fixed. The least you could have done was stay for your Uncles funeral. Aunt Tilly was really pissed when you didn’t show up.”

“Goddam, it all to hell. Can’t I ever catch a break?

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SPRING BREAK

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Dear Write-On Followers: I am taking a Spring Break for the next two weeks. I will be spending my time working in my garden. I will be posting four of my best stories, and you are free to read any of my other 285 stories that I have written in the past five-plus years. Here is the link to Write ON blog:https://susanaculver.com

Susan A. Culver

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COMING OF RETIREMENT AGE AS A BABY BOOMER

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I have spent the last seven years since I retired reflecting on my life and experiences. And how those experiences have influenced the person I have become. I believe my parents had the most effect on the development of my personality.

My father worked hard his entire adult life as the Head Dispatcher for SEPTA for over forty years to provide for our family. He was strict and had high standards. He expected his children to achieve. He also had a short fuse, and woe be the person who behaved in a way that he disapproved of. My mother was a kind and loving person who never said anything hurtful to anyone in her life. At times she worked outside of our home, cleaning other people’s houses and cleaning the public school, and occasionally she did ironing for other people.

     When I was attending St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy, she worked in the employee’s kitchen at Wanamaker’s Department Store to help offset the cost of the tuition. She was in her early sixties at the time. She was a deeply devout woman and went to Mass every day of her life.

St. Mary of the Angels Academy

Every afternoon she could be found saying the rosary in her bedroom.

I was born into a family of four children, and I have a fraternal twin. Having six children was not an unusual size family when I was born in 1951. I had friends who had eleven children in their families. Since there was no reliable form of birth control at the time. And the Catholic church frowned on birth control.

I grew up two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church and elementary school. I attended twelve years of Catholic School and eight years at OLPH Parochial school. And then four years at St. Mary of the Angels Academy. Which was an all-girl school located in Haddonfield, New Jersey.

For those of you who are not familiar with the Baby Boomer Generation, I have noticed over the years that many of us share similar characteristics. Characteristics were no doubt modeled by our parents. We have a strong and focused work ethic. We worked hard for everything we achieved, and it was not handed to us. We are not afraid of challenges.

     And even now, those of us who are retired engage in volunteer work. Before I retired, I took a class to learn how to teach English as a second language to people who migrated to the USA and spoke limited English. In addition, I taught Basic Skills to people who didn’t have the opportunity to finish high school and wanted to get a GED so that they were able to get better-paying jobs.

The Boomers learned how to be self-reliant and independent and have strong work ethics. We are self-reliant and confident and are not afraid to challenge any practices in our workplace. We had to learn to be competitive in our search for employment since there were so many people in our generation and, therefore, competition for employment in the workplace.

For those of us who wanted to attend college but whose families could not afford to send us, we set goals to do so outside the norm—for instance, going to junior college and going to school over time to earn college degrees. As for myself, I made the decision to attend college at the age of thirty-six. I had two children at home at the time. I applied to Temple Tyler School of Art and the Hussian School of Art, and Moore College of Art, which was a woman’s college. I was accepted at all the schools I where I applied.

Tyler School of Art

      I made the decision to attend Temple University in Philadelphia because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year based on my portfolio. I graduated from Temple University when I was forty years old. My children were ten and seven at the time. It was a challenge to balance my role as a parent, wife, and college student. I often only had two or three hours of sleep at night during the week. And during the summer, I used to babysit the daughter of a friend of mine. I graduated in the top ten percent of Temple University with a 4.0 average and two degrees, Fine Art and Art Education.

When I  graduated from Temple University, I found that there were precious few teaching positions in public schools for Art teachers since public schools in the early 1990s were cutting back their budgets in Art and Music. After applying to every school in the three surrounding counties for almost a year, I decided that I was going to start my own school. We decided to move to a bigger home that could accommodate teaching art. And we found it in Pitman, New Jersey. The house was over 4,000 square feet and used to be owned by a Doctor of neuropsychology. He and his wife had passed away over eight years before that. And as you can imagine, the house was in need of a great deal of work since the house had remained empty for all those years. And so, the first thing we had to do was have a new roof on the home. 

I spent many months working and painting the doctor’s three patients’ rooms and preparing them for classrooms to teach art. I spent many years teaching students that came to my classes, both children during the day and adults at night. I taught classes in drawing and painting and the basics of three-dimensional art.

     It was fulfilling and challenging work. We lived in that house for twenty-four years. We sold it when we were preparing to retire to North Carolina. It was extremely difficult to leave our home since we had put so many years living there and improving it for years. This  Included a garden that I created over many, many years. We ended up selling the house to a younger couple that had two children. The husband was a lawyer who set up his office in what had been my art studios. I have to admit the day that we went to the settlement was one of the most difficult days of my life. I still miss that house and all the friends and neighbors that we had come to love in our twenty-four years in Pitman.

I believe that my personality and the influences that surrounded me growing up in the Baby Generation gave me the confidence and willpower to meet challenges in my life that were often difficult. Over my lifetime, I moved from my parent’s home to my own apartment when I was twenty. I moved to Florida when I was twenty- two to be near the young man I fell in love with. And eventually, we were married and moved to Santa Barbara, California, where my husband attended Brooks Institute to study Photography. We moved back to New Jersey when he graduated and bought a small house in Pennsauken, NJ, where we lived for fourteen years and had our two children, who are now adults.

Animal Edventure Susan talking to Montana a cocatoo

Animal Edventure Susan talking to Montana, a cockatoo.

And now here I am in North Carolina, where we moved to at retirement. And we didn’t know a soul here but made our home here all the same. I volunteered as a Guardian Ad Litem in the Smithfield Court House, representing at-risk children. And for the past seven years going on eight years, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary called Animal Edventure, where I have taken care of Macaws, Parrots, and Pheasants. I’m still going strong and don’t have any plans to stop at any time in the near future. I almost forgot to mention that I created WRITE ON, my writer’s blog on the internet, and have been writing and publishing a new story every week going on six years.

I don’t know what else I may do in the future but have no doubt I will continue to create and grow for the remainder of my life, for however long that may be. I will keep on, keeping on. Have no doubt—Susan A. Culver, artist, and writer.

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A RUN OF BAD LUCK AND A GREAT FUTURE

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I heard my alarm clock go off and blindly reached across my pillow to turn off the alarm. There is no more annoying noise than an alarm clock. I suppose that is its sole purpose in life, making a horrible noise that people can not sleep through.

As I lay there after I slammed my fist down on the alarm clock, I tried to think of a single reason why I should get up and shower and get dressed. And then I looked over at my desk and saw a stack of bills that could pass for the Leaning Tower of Pizza. I had recently been laid off from my job. Apparently, the company I had been working for was having its own run of bad luck. Since I found out the day I was called into my boss’s office and informed that, unfortunately, I was being laid off. Because the company was going bankrupt, apparently, the vice president had been slowly bleeding the company dry in the past year. And no one caught on until it was too late. Since, apparently, he had been cooking the books. Can you believe it?

Business towers

I slowly lowered my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. My head was spinning like a top. That’s when I noticed the empty bottle of Macallan Lalique whiskey, a bottle my father had left me in his will. It was probably the most expensive hangover I ever had. And at that moment, I realized that I had to get to the toilet now, not in a minute, this moment. Unfortunately, I didn’t get there fast enough. I felt tears run down my cheeks as I looked at my newly installed carpet, which would no doubt retain the smell of that Macallan Lalique whiskey until the end of my days. I  rose from the putrid puddle and slowly made my way into the bathroom and ran the cold water, and put a cold washcloth on my face. It was going to be a long day.

Just then, the phone rang, and I thought my head was going to explode. There was no way I was going to answer the phone, and it rang and rang until I thought I would lose my mind. And finally, the answering machine picked up. I heard my ex-wife’s strident and shrill voice speaking. Apparently, she was extremely annoyed that my last alimony check hadn’t arrived yet. God, would it ever stop?

Well, she was going to become even more annoyed when I told her I didn’t know when I’ll be able to send any more alimony checks since my cupboards were bare, as well as all my bank accounts. I was dead broke. And so far, I didn’t see any end to it until I was able to get a new job and start paying all my bills. And that she was at the bottom of my priority list. She could sue me, but it would be a waste of time and effort since I was renting my apartment and selling all my furniture and belongings that had any value at all. Not to mention that I also had to sell my wedding band and the gold watch I was given when I got my last promotion before my company went under.

I had already explained to her several months ago that I wasn’t holding out on her and that I was at the end of my string. Honestly, sometimes I felt like pulling my hair out. But that would be an impossible task since I had very little hair left on my head. In the last year, I aged tremendously, and I looked ten years older than I did before my wife asked for a divorce.

The only reason I have been holding on to my sanity at all is because of my children. They mean the world to me. And I make every effort not to miss any days that I am able to see them. In fact, I have spent more time with them since the divorce than when I was married to their mother.

When I was a kid, I was really into playing basketball. But, once I got married and was working long hours at a high-pressure job, I rarely spent any time with my boys. I worked late every night and had to go on business trips that took me away for weeks at a time. I missed so much of their childhood. So, after the divorce, I made it a priority to spend as much time with my kids as possible. I feel like I’m really starting to know them. Before the divorce, I barely knew them. And now I feel like I’m not just their dad. We have become friends.

I really had no clue what I should do next. I had sent out so many resumes that I ran out of companies to send them to. I called everyone I knew from my past employment and let them know that I was available for a new position asap. I was about to give up, but I realized deep down that wasn’t an option. If I just had to worry about myself, it would be one thing. But I couldn’t give up because my kids depended upon me to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.

The other day I took a public bus, and I overheard two people talking who were sitting directly behind me. And the older guy was talking to a much younger man and telling him that he should consider applying for unemployment and food stamps. Because if he had worked and contributed when he was working that now that he needed this help, he should apply for it.

As I sat there contemplating the older man’s advice, I realized he might as well be talking to me since I was in the same predicament. It’s not that I didn’t know it existed. It was just that I never thought I would find myself in a place where I would need financial assistance from the government. I guess I was embarrassed to admit it. But, at that moment, I realized that I did need that help. And it occurred to me that I should also apply for a job through the unemployment office.

And that is just what I did the very next day. First, I applied for unemployment benefits, and then I went to the unemployment office and applied for a job. When I spoke to one of the employees there, I explained my situation. And I applied for a job at every business that might have an opening in my field. And now I was desperate, and I was willing to take any job to pay my bills and help pay my child support. I was asked to fill out a myriad of forms explaining my experience, previous workplaces, and what my income had been during my most recent employment.

The man who interviewed me told me that I had no reason to feel embarrassed because I had lost my job. Many people have found themselves in this position at some point in their working life. I filled out all the forms, and I told him I needed work right now. And he showed me several jobs that needed help right now. He also told me that the pay rate was lower than in my previous jobs. But I could start working by the end of the week if I was willing. I said, “yes, I’m more than willing. And he picked up the phone and called, and then he said to me, “well, here is a job that you can start today. But be aware this is not a corporate job. This is a small business owner that is looking for a partner. It is a small restaurant. Have you ever worked in a restaurant?”

“Well, I put myself through college working in a small restaurant on campus. And, of course, my experience in the corporate world gives me the experience of how to grow a business. I have many contacts with companies that might be interested in using the restaurant’s services for corporate meetings. What do you think?”

“That sounds like a good fit or a least a beginning for you with an opportunity for you to move up if and when this restaurant owner wants to enlarge his restaurant or add more locations. Here is the address. You have an appointment tomorrow morning at ten thirty. Make sure you arrive on time. It never looks good if you are late for an interview.”

The restaurant was only a twenty-minute bus ride from the Employment office. I was somewhat nervous about the interview. And then I realized that I had no reason to be. I had been talking and dealing with heads of major corporations for years. And keeping that in mind, I calmed down. About five minutes later, I got off the bus and looked up and down the street, I saw the restaurant was at the end of the block, and it looked larger than I thought it would.

I walked down to the restaurant, and I could see that it was more upscale than I thought it would be. This lightened my heart and put a spring in my step. I pulled open the door and approached the young woman at the front. “Hello, my name is Adam Carter. I have a job interview with the owner. Oh, yes, Mr. Argento has been looking forward to meeting you. I’ll let him know you are here. “

I only had to wait a few minutes, and then I saw a rather rotund man with jet-black hair coming from the kitchen area. He was wearing a white apron with what looked like sauce on it. “Bonjourno, Mr. Lombardi, I am so happy to meet you. Can you tell me a little about yourself and your background?”

“Well, I have a long history of working in large Corporations. But unfortunately, my most recent employer laid me off last year along with about one-half of the staff that had been working for him for years. Apparently, he had invested a great amount of money in the wrong investments, and he lost it all. As a result, all the higher-echelon employees who earned the highest salaries were let go. I was one of them. I have spent the last six months looking for a new position with no luck due to a downturn in the economy. Or at least that is what I believe happened. If you take a look at my resume, you will see that I have always excelled at whatever challenges I face. Unfortunately, the only restaurants I ever worked at were when I worked my way through college. And as it turned out, it was an Italian restaurant. Here is a copy of my resume.”

“Yes, I can see you have many years of experience behind you. And you have done quite well for yourself. It is so unfortunate that it came to an abrupt and unfortunate ending. I would like to hire you as I can tell you are a hard-working, intelligent, and experienced man. However, I am unable to pay you the salary you have earned in the past. But, what I can offer you is an opportunity for a steady income and an opportunity to become a partner in my restaurant, which I intend to open a chain of restaurants across the North East. Here is an explanation of your pay, benefits, and a plan for expansion of this restaurant and where I plan on expanding. And what your responsibilities will be and your future with my company. Be aware that it will take time and hard work. What do you say?”

“I say thank you for offering me this opportunity, and I accept. I promise I will not let you down. And I believe we can build a strong and durable partnership. And over time, we can look forward to a bright and successful future. When do you want me to start?”

“Well, how about tomorrow at 7 AM? That is when I go to the market and purchase vegetables, fruits, meat, etc.”

“Well, I have to admit that will be a challenge. I have a lot to learn. And I will be here first thing tomorrow morning at 7 AM. I thank you so much for this opportunity. They shook hands. And the owner of the restaurant said, “Bye the way, please feel free to call me Carmen, And may I can you Toni.”

A family is eating dinner at the Pizza Parlor—part of the Utah RedRockaLypse4 North.

“Of course, I look forward to tomorrow and all the days that follow it. I’ll be here tomorrow bright and early. Ci vediamo domani come prima cosa.” (See you tomorrow first thing).

 

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MY PARENTS WERE THE GREATEST INFLUENCE ON WHO I AM TO THIS DAY

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I take after my father in many ways. My father would squeeze a nickel until the buffalo shit. I kid you not. Now don’t get me wrong, we never went without our basic needs met. We ate well, we got new shoes every year, or whenever we outgrew the shoes we were wearing. The four youngest children in my family, which included myself, all attended Catholic School through high school.

My father worked for over forty years at SEPTA, which is the South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Company. He was the head dispatcher in charge of scheduling buses, trolleys, and drivers. As a child, of course, I didn’t realize the responsibility of my father’s job. I just knew that I didn’t see him every day, depending on the shift he worked. For most of my childhood, he worked on the second or third shift. And therefore, he was often asleep when I arrived home from school, and we weren’t allowed to make any noise. Because we would wake him up, and woe was he or she that woke my father up.

In addition, my father had an active personal life outside of his job and home. He spent time at the Cherry Hill Race track, following and betting on the horses. He also played cards for money. He had friends that my mother and siblings and I had never met.

He was also a highly creative man. When I was a child, he had a workshop in our basement complete with power tools from drills and routers, planers, jigsaws, etc., etc. Our cellar was kept in pristine order at all times. My father was extremely orderly and neat. The floors and walls, and ceiling in the basement were painted white. It was so clean you could eat off the floor. He had a desk and a typewriter down there. And eventually, he added a dark room because he became interested in photography. In fact, once he won a photography contest that the Courier-post (our local Jersey paper) was running. And he won a sum of money that allowed him to take our whole family out to dinner—something we had never done before.

One year my father decided to build a fence in our front yard, and he made the front section which tuned out beautifully, but I guess he lost momentum or interest because he never finished the side sections.

Mom sitting at the kitchen table,

My father had a unique view of the world, and because of that, the things he created in the basement were one of a kind. He made a glass fireplace in our living room which was lit from within with Christmas lights. And instead of a fire burning in the fireplace, there was a mirror. And we had a chandelier hanging over our kitchen table that was a wagon wheel that he attached lights that he had purchased at the Pennsauken Mart. The Pennsauken Mart was a precursor to a Mall in that there was a large building that held many different stores within it. Oh, the treasures he found at the Mart! My father was an old fashion man in some ways since he was born in 1911.   Occasionally he took me with him to the Pennsauken Mart, and I would meet some of the people that worked there whom he had befriended over the years. One of those people owned a fruits and vegetable store. And my father referred to him as the Chinaman, as if that was his name. And my father had been going to this man’s store for years.

My father liked to garden as well. He built an arbor over our front step and planted climbing red roses that grew over it throughout my whole childhood. He also planted a Lilac bush next to the front sidewalk that emitted a glorious aroma all Spring and Summer Long. At one time, he planted a rose garden in the backyard. And it was gorgeous. But, at some point, my father decided he no longer wanted roses in the backyard and mowed them all down. My mother was heartbroken. He never told her he was cutting them down. He also cut down the enormous Willow Tree we had without any warning. I remember how much I used to love to sit under that tree in the summer and read. I never understood what forces drove my father to do some of the things he did or some of the things he said to people.

House where I grew up

My father was a voracious reader as well, he was not a religious man, but he was fascinated by Eastern religions like Buddhism and Confucianism, and he studied them for years. The peculiar thing was that he never attended church or Mass even though we lived two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church. And my mother used to go to Mass every morning. He did, however, often go to the church or rectory if they needed anything repaired. He was a complex person. I often wanted to ask him if he was an atheist. But I never did because my father did not like anyone to ask him personal questions.

As I grew older, my father started sharing some of his childhood experiences and his early adulthood with me. My father’s father died when he was quite young, and his mother struggled to survive. She ended up placing my father at Girard College, where he lived and was educated until he was sixteen. His mother was allowed to visit him once a year. At that time, Girard College was a school for young boys who had lost their fathers. I can not say how this experience of growing up in an orphanage shaped my father, not to mention losing his own father at such a young age.

Upon reflecting on my father over my lifetime, I realized that although the circumstances of our lives were different, I had developed many of the same traits as he displayed over his lifetime. I am a highly creative person who enjoyed making things from a young age. I loved to draw and make things from found materials. I like to garden, and once I learned to read in first grade, the Maple Shade library became a favorite haunt of mine. All the librarians knew my name since I came there so often that I wore out my library card. My ability to make things from bits of random things was certainly a talent that I derived either by watching my father or an inherited trait.

However, the trait that I share to this day is that I never waste anything. I use everything up. I use my creativity to create art or sew clothes, and my great love of reading inspired me to start writing stories, both fiction, and memoirs. It goes without saying that my desire to treat all people equally, my empathy for all people, and my desire to help people wherever and whenever I can from my dear mother, who never had a hateful thought in her entire life. She was the kindest, most hard-working person I ever knew.Childhood Home

I don’t know how many years lie ahead of me, but I hope I will not waste a single moment of it. My plan is to keep going without taking a breath and continue to do good in the world. And to continue writing, painting, and making things. And without a doubt love animals that have always given me love, acceptance, and companionship throughout my life.

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THE BEST AND WORST MOMENTS OF MY LIFE

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I have arrived at that time in my life when I reflect on the most important and life-changing events I have experienced. One of the biggest challenges I have faced in recent years is acknowledging that I am no longer young and have arrived at the final years.

home in Pitman, New Jersey, 1994- 2016

Over the course of my life, I have had ups and downs. I have suffered losses, and I have experienced successes. At the end of May, I will be celebrating my seventy-second birthday. I often find myself wondering how time passed so quickly. I can say that I have few regrets about my decisions and choices.

When I graduated from high school, I found a job as a dental assistant through my school counselor. Back in the day, in the ‘70S, dentists hired inexperienced young women and then trained them to be chairside assistants who ran the office, answered the phone, made appointments, and confirmed appointments. In addition, I developed the xrays and was responsible for sending out the bills and cleaning the office. Occasionally I even babysat the dentist’s children.

I was given a great deal of responsibility for an eighteen-year-old girl. But as it turned out, I proved myself to be highly efficient at running the office. And I enjoyed working there for a number of years. I worked for Dr. E. G. Wozniak in Haddon Township, NJ.

I was able to purchase a brand new 1970 yellow Volkswagen, rent my own apartment, and live on my own. That job taught me so much more than the skills it took to be a dental assistant. It confirmed to me that I was able to meet any challenges that came my way. I was a confident young woman from that point forward.

When I was twenty-two, I started dating my best friend’s cousin, Bob. And  I decided I wanted to move to Florida, where Bob lived. We got married when I was twenty-three, and he was twenty-five. I was laid off from the insurance company the week after we came back from our honeymoon. I wasn’t able to find a job. And made the decision to go to a hairdressing school, the West Palm Beach Beauty Academy. After completing the eighteen-month program, I was hired to work at the Collonades Hotel, located on Singer Island.  I did hair and facials.

Bob decided that he wanted to attend Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara, California, two years later. Brooks was a school for Photography. We lived in California until he graduated from school three years later. My first job in California was at Robinson’s Department Store selling hats and wigs. I can not tell you how boring that job was. However, I made a friend named Terry Ropfogel, and she told me there was a residential school, St. Vincent’s School, where she volunteered. She told me that they were looking for full-time childcare workers. I loved little kids, so I applied for a job. I kept calling them once a week until they agreed to interview me for a job. I was hired shortly thereafter.

Working at St. Vincent’s turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life. The kids were mildly retarded, and some of them had behavior problems.  I must admit that I came to love them like they were my children when Bob graduated from Brooks three years l after we decided to move back to the Philadelphia, New Jersey, area. I wanted to move to the New York City area because I believed Bob would be able to get a job as a photographer there. Bob decided he wanted to buy a house, and he got a job as an electronics technician. And at that point, we purchased a house with the assistance of the Veteran’s benefits that Bob earned while he was in the Navy.

Picture of me and one of my co-workers Stacy Smitter at St. Vincent’s School in California

A year later, Bob and I had our first child, Jeanette. by then, we had been married for seven years. Three years later, I had a second daughter, Bridget. I had always loved kids and wanted to be a mother. And it turned out to be one of my most challenging life experiences. We lived in that small, three-bedroom house in Pennsauken, New Jersey, for thirteen years when our children were young.

My parents passed away eight months apart in 1986 when my children were five and two years old. My dad had lung cancer, and my mother passed away from a complete respiratory and coronary arrest. My mother told me before she passed away that she didn’t regret any of the decisions she had made during her life but only regretted all the things she hadn’t done. Her words had a profound effect on me. The year after she passed away, I decided that I would go to college, which I didn’t have the opportunity to do when I was of college age since I had to get a full-time job when I graduated from high school.

And so, I prepared a portfolio of my artwork and applied to the Hussian School of Art and the Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia. I was accepted at both schools. But, I made the decision to attend the Temple Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year and financial aid for the second, third, and fourth years.

Tyler School of Art

And so, at the age of thirty-six, I began college as a Freshman, the only adult student. The rest of the Freshman students was seventeen or eighteen years old. Some of them hadn’t even gotten their driver’s licenses yet. I could write an entire book about my art college experience, and perhaps I will someday. Needless to say, it was a challenging and sometimes difficult four years. I graduated Summa Cum Laude at the age of forty with teaching credentials. My class stood up at graduation and clapped when my name was called out as a graduating senior. I have to say going to college was probably the best choice I ever made. And although it was challenging, to say the least, I never regretted it for a single moment. My children were ten and seven when I graduated.

After graduation, I applied to every elementary, middle, and high school for an art teacher position. Unfortunately, it turned out that the New Jersey public schools were eliminating the art programs in their schools, and I wasn’t able to find a public school teaching position.

After about a year, I realized I could create my own private art school. And my husband and I started looking for a house that could accommodate our family and several rooms to be used for my art classes. And after several months of looking at residences, I found a house in Pitman, NJ, that had been owned by a neuropsychologist that had been empty for several years since his passing. After several months we were able to purchase it. It had been empty for several years, and we spent the first several; years repairing it and had to put a new roof on it. We lived there for twenty-four years. And I taught art there for many years to kids from four through high school and adults in the evening. Overall it was a wonderful experience, and I met and befriended many of the people who lived in Pitman while teaching there.

When we were ready to retire, we spent the last year we lived there preparing the house for sale. We loved that house so much, and it was difficult to leave it, but it was necessary to sell it since we couldn’t afford to keep it after we both retired from working.

We chose to retire to North Carolina and bought a house about forty-five minutes from Raleigh, NC, in Willow Spring. We have been living here for seven years. During those seven years, I have been doing volunteer work in the Guardian ad Litem in the NC Court. The Guardian Litem are citizens that volunteer to investigate at-risk children and make decisions about their care and where they should live if there is a problem within their homes. And in addition, for the last seven years, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary caring for Parrots, Macaws, and Pheasants. The sanctuary is called Animal Edventure, and it is located in Coats, NC. I have always loved animals, and it seemed a perfect match for me at this time of my life. 

In addition, five and a half years ago, I started this blog and write short stories and memoirs for WRITE ON. I write one new story a week. I also continue to create my artwork in my free time. Who knows what the future holds for me? I am a person with a high energy level, and I hope that in the future, I will continue to contribute in some way for the rest of my life. I can not imagine not doing so. I have always had the desire to do good in my life and be kind to the people I met along the way. I can not imagine wanting to do else wise.

So, here we are, living out our lives in North Carolina. Our youngest daughter lives with us. And although the last several years have been challenging because of the pandemic and inflation, we keep moving forward from one day to the next.

I can not say what lies in my future and that of my family, but I hope my good health will continue, life will give us challenges to meet, and we will succeed in all our endeavors.

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SOMETHING TO DO,SOMETHING TO LOVE, SOMETHING TO HOPE FOR

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I have been looking forward to this day for over a month. I have been working for over six months straight with no day off. It’s true I had earned time and a half pay, but still, you can only work so much, and then your mind and body say, “that’s enough.”

My job at Pratt and Whitney required absolute attention to every detail. Our company has invested heavily to bring our company into the next century. Presently Pratt & Whitney is a world leader in designing, manufacturing, and servicing aircraft and helicopter engines and auxiliary power units. There is a high demand for our products. I am responsible for making sure our success continues. My job is a difficult and demanding one. I must admit I really need a break because of the constant pressure at my workplace. And finally, I see there is a light at the end of the tunnel since my department head has given me the go-ahead to take a week off with pay.

Now you may or may not be wondering what a person like myself does for fun. You probably think I spend my whole time solving complex mathematical problems that heretofore haven’t been solved by anyone. But no, nothing like that. But you must promise not to share my secret with anyone else. So, mum’s the word. My secret hobby, if you want to call it a hobby, I call my raison d’etre. Or, as some less extraordinary person might call it, their reason to live.

Do you think you can guess what it is??? I know you never will, so I will let you in on my secret pastime. On my day off, I go to all the thrift shops within thirty miles of where I live. And I search through all the coats, pants, and jacket pockets. I make sure that I try on all the coats and jackets that have designer names. And if I have the time, I go through the pockets of all the pants, jackets, and coats. You probably think that this is a complete waste of time. But, you would be wrong, so wrong.

Allow me to illustrate why checking all the pockets of high-end clothing is not a waste of time. The reason is that people who buy expensive clothing often stash money and jewelry in their pockets and often forget about them. And after wearing something for a while, these wealthy people decide it’s time to donate their old clothing and buy new. I know if you are anything like me, you can’t imagine being so self-indulgent and wasteful. Let me illustrate with examples all the money and jewelry, including silver and gold pieces that I have found in the pockets of clothing.

One day I was at a thrift store outside of Tampa on the main highway. I used to go to this shop at least once a month because many of the people that donated high-end clothing were employed as Management Executives and highly paid techies. They often replaced their wardrobes quite often because they interacted with many wealthy people during their work days. And they couldn’t afford to be seen wearing that same blue or black suit week after week, and that including women and men.

The week before a big corporate meeting, I decided to stop by one of my favorite haunts, a thrift Shop called It’s All Good. I found a three-piece woman’s suit with a vest to match. And I was lucky enough to find a white silk blouse, all for less than fifty dollars.

I tried it on in the changing room at the thrift store, and it fit like a dream. It looked like it was made for me. I decided to have it dry-cleaned. When I arrived home, I tried it on again. And I put my hand in the pocket of the vest, and I found a fifty-dollar bill. When I pulled it out of the pocket, I almost passed out. I never really ever had any good luck.

I took this as a good omen. My luck was changing for the better. So, I adopted a more optimistic point of view. I felt like the meeting was going to be a success, and more would follow. The corporate meeting was going to last three days at a nearby hotel. I decided I better find at least one more suit to wear and another blouse. I didn’t want anyone to think I only had one suit to my name. So, the Saturday before the corporate meeting, I stopped at the thrift shop. And I found they had acquired a new selection of woman’s high-end business wear. I was thrilled, to say the least. While I was there, I found a knee-length leather coat in my size that was to die for. I snatched it up and took it into the dressing room. And the suit and the leather jacket fit like a dream, like they were made for me.

When I arrived home, I took my bounty out of the bag and looked it over. I decided that first thing tomorrow morning, and I would take it all to be dried clean and get it freshened up. I decided to look through the pockets in the vest and the jacket, just in case. And  I found a leather wallet in the inside pocket of the vest that I hadn’t noticed before. And unbelievably, it had five one hundred dollar bills in there. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This was my lucky day, and I had no doubt that I would have more good luck in the future.

That week I felt so buoyed up by my run of good luck, I felt like the Corporate meetings were going extremely well, and I felt highly motivated to keep on top of things and keep my good luck going in the right direction. And then, it occurred to me that I have had lots of luck in my career, but there has also been a lot of hard work. In other words, yes, I had a streak of good luck, but perhaps my strong work ethic and years and years of preparation are what was the cause of my good luck.

The last day that we were meeting, my boss came over to me and said, “Jeanette, I want to give you a little advance warning during the lunch meeting. You are going to be called up to the dais. Because of all your hard work and skill, you are getting promoted to vice president of the sales department. So, you need to be prepared to say a few words. Congratulations, you deserve every bit of your success. I know you are somewhat superstitious and believe in luck. But the truth is hard work and dedication are what has taken you to this point in your career. I have no doubt that you will have more success in the future.”

I was so flabbergasted by my boss’s kind words that I stood there momentarily like the cat got my tongue. I finally snapped out of it and said, “Thank you, Mr. Cooper. Your kind words mean more to me than I can say. I promise I will continue to give all the energy I have to our continued success.”

“ I have no doubt that you will do just that, Jeanette, none at all. Now take a deep breath and prepare for the great future that I do not doubt is waiting for you.”

My boss shook my hand, and I went back to my seat and took a deep breath. I felt a smile spread across my face, and I looked around the room at my fellow employees. I realized that it was the hard work and long days and nights that I devoted to my responsibilities, not good luck, not a new suit. It was me. And I felt that I would indeed have a great life and future ahead of me. And I would live one day at a time and plan for my future.

I knew I probably wouldn’t have to shop at thrift stores anymore, but I would most likely continue to do as I considered it yet another challenge to dress well without spending all my earnings on clothes.

As I sat there at my table, I reached into one of my jacket pockets to get a tissue, and low and behold. I felt a folded-up piece of paper. I looked at it closely, and it was handwritten, not apparently from the original owner of the suit that I was presently wearing. The writing was a beautiful handwritten script. It said, “to the new owner of this beautiful suit, my wish for you in your life is happiness, contentment, and appreciation of all the good things in life. Keep in mind that material things add to our happiness, but they do not ensure it. You should look for your happiness to come from being kind and generous to the people you come in contact with over the course of your life. Do not be blinded by the accouterments of life. Recognize what things bring you true happiness and contentment throughout your days. They are family, friends, good health, home, your pets, a good night’s sleep, a job that you enjoy, a clear conscience, and beautiful music.

I knew I couldn’t have said it more beautifully. That is truly what makes us happy and content in our lives. Yes, nice clothes and all the other things that we enjoy in life are nothing compared to our friends, our families, and the things that bring us joy and make us feel fulfilled.

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