Category Archives: My Memoirs

THE BIRDS IN MY LIFE, A BIRD”S EYE VIEW

 

As long as I can remember, I have held a fascination and deep love for birds. I can remember sitting in my backyard in Maple Shade, New Jersey, under our Weeping Willow tree and quietly observing all the birds flying overhead. There were several birds nest in the Willow Tree. And I loved nothing more than to sit there for long stretches of time and listen to the baby birds squeaking for their mothers to feed them. Their hunger was all-encompassing. And it seemed that they didn’t care for anything except for being fed and having their mother sitting on their nest and keeping them warm. 

As the Spring transitioned into Summer, I continued to observe them quietly while I sat under our beautiful Willow Tree and by the time Summer came to an end, the baby birds had grown up, and before long, they flew away from their nest and headed south for the winter. I would miss their presence over the long, late Fall and cold winter days. But, I knew that come next Spring new birds would arrive and build their nests and create their own new baby birds. This experience would come and go, and over the years, I grew up as well. One of the last Springs that I remember watching for the arrival of the Spring Birds, our Willow Tree, and all the other Willow Trees on Fellowship Road, where I grew up, became infected by some disease that was called Willow Blight. It was a type of fungus that killed off all the Willow Trees where I lived and across the state of New Jersey. And eventually, my father had to cut down the now blighted tree.

After the tree was cut down and the trunk removed, I experienced a period of loss. Not only did I miss my beautiful Willow, but I missed the birds and the baby bird and the hatchlings that used to occupy the Willow in the Spring and early Summer. I missed sitting on the bench that my father had built where I used to sit and listen to the birds. And I often read one of my many library books during my Summer vacation,

As I grew older, I found other things to do during the Summer, like swimming in the community pool and digging in the clay pits, roller skating, riding my bike all over the place and playing with all my neighborhood friends, going swimming in my friend’s swimming pool next door and catching and releasing fireflies at night.

Strawbridge Lake, Moorestown.J

Sometimes, I and one of my friends would ride our bikes all the way to Moorestown and go to Strawbridge Lake. People used to go fishing here. My friends and I used to walk around in the shallow part of the lake and cross the dam where the waterfall was located to the other side and back. There were all kinds of trees and shrubs located at Strawbridge Lake. We often brought our lunches with us and sat on the edge of the lake and ate our bologna or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I used to save some of the scraps and give them to the ducks that swam on the lake. Birds would come from near and far to visit the lake and rest in the trees that shaded the park and the pond. Strawbridge Lake was an oasis for both children and adults and the many birds, squirrels, fish, and reptiles that lived in the area. I have so many beautiful memories of my experiences there as a child. So much so that when I grew up, married, and moved back to New Jersey, I brought my own children and some of my nieces and nephews to Strawbridge Lake to enjoy the lake, the sun, and the beautiful birds that lived there during the warmer months. In the winter, Strawbridge Lake would freeze over, and we would go ice skating there.

As time passed by, I left my childhood behind. But I never let my love of birds and animals slip away. My mother had a pet parakeet in a cage in our kitchen, and that little bird re-ignited my love of birds. And as a result I haunted my mother and father for years to have a pet. As a result, over the years, my family adopted and loved several dogs and all the neighborhood cats I befriended.

One cat in particular, whose name was Strottles, was a large orange cat that our next-door neighbor had owned. Who grew tired of him and put him out. I used to feed him on the sly because my father was not fond of cats. And then, one unfortunate day, my mother was taking the trash outside to put in the garbage, and she had inadvertently left the side door open. Strottles went into the kitchen, and he killed my mother’s beloved bird. And my mother was devastated by the loss, my father blamed me because I was friends with the cat. And he made me go down the cellar for several hours.  Strottles

My mother never wanted another bird after that. She was brokenhearted. So, once again, I was left to love the wild birds that populated our neighborhood and the wild geese and ducks at Strawbridge Lake. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that my father bought me several finches and a cage for them because I kept begging my parents to let me have a pet. He also let me have a hamster who turned out to be an escape artist—the last time he escaped into the heating ducts, my father had to cut a hole in one of the heating ducts in the cellar to get him out. This did not make my father a happy camper by any means. The finches were the last birds that I had while I was living at home with my parents. 

And it wasn’t until I married my now husband and moved to Florida and then California that we bought our first cockatiel. We named him Pepey. We had him for quite a long time. And over the many years, we had several more.

Jalepeno

Jalepeno

And here I am, ten years into my retirement. And we are living in North Carolina. As soon as we settled into our new home, which is in a small development, I decided that I wanted to volunteer to work with animals. And in fact, that is precisely what I did. I searched the internet, and voila’ I found a place called Animal Edventure located in Coats, NC.

I contacted them, and I told them I was looking for a part-time volunteer position taking care of animals of some kind. They made an appointment to come in and talk to them about a volunteer position. And that is just what I did. The first thing they told me was they needed a Bird Person to take care of their many birds. And I said, sure, I would love that. That was almost nine years ago, and I have been taking care of parrots, Macaws, and pheasants of every size and description.

In addition, I have adopted four parrots, six finches, and two dogs. I go to Animal Edventure on Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday morning and take care of these beautiful and, yes, loud birds. So, what can I say, “Some things are just meant to be.” Me and Birds, it’s a thing.

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THE BELLS OF ST. VINCENT’S

The older I become, the more I find myself looking back on my past instead of looking forward to my future. I suppose that’s normal to some extent, given my present age. I will give you a hint: I retired at sixty-two. And that was ten years ago. I enjoyed working, but unfortunately, I developed a health issue. I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, and the left side of my heart was enlarged.

Apparently, this heart problem can be an inherited trait. My mother had the same heart issue and still lived to see seventy-seven. My mother was one of the most caring and unselfish people I have ever known. She always put everyone’s needs ahead of her own. I never heard her say a hurtful word to or about anyone. 

I am a person who has spent a large portiion of my working life working in Social Services. In my own way, I think I have always tried to emulate my mother. At the beginning of my work life, I was a dental assistant, and at one point, I was an oral surgeon assistant when I was living in California. I worked with Doctor Snyder. His office was a long distance from where I was living in Lompoc, and so I looked for employment that was closer to my residence. In 1977, I found a job working at Robinson’s Department Store in Santa Barbara. I have to admit it was not a job that I enjoyed, in point of fact I hated it. I was selling hats and wigs. It was by far the most tedious and isolating job I ever had. I had to stand in the middle of four long glass display cases, style the wigs, and keep the counters and hats free of dust. I had no place to sit down and no one to talk to.

However, I did meet several people who I befriended, and one of them told me about a residential school for mildly mentally handicapped children. It was within the Santa Barbara boundaries. I had talked to her about how much I enjoyed working with children. And that I had come from a big family and had many nieces and nephews. Who I always enjoyed spending time with when I was living in my home state of New Jersey. I contacted St. Vincent’s School to find out if they were hiring counselors. And they said that they were and I requested an appointment for a job interview.

The day I showed up for the interview, I was surprised to find out that Catholic nuns were running St. Vincent’s. They were the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent DePaul. It seemed to me at the time that no matter how old I was or where I lived, the “Sisters” and I would find our way to each other. I say this because I spent twelve years in Catholic Schools, first with St. Joseph’s Sisters and then with the Franciscans.

I grew up two houses away from Our Lady Of Perpetual Help Church and School in Maple Shade, NJ. So, not only did I attend eight years of elementary school there, but I was basically on-call along with my twin sister to come and work at the school. But also at the convent where the Sisters lived, which was about a ten-minute work down Main Street in Maple Shade. In the Summer, I had to cover all the students’ textbooks so that when School started in September, they would be ready for the students. The rest of the year I had to go up to the Convent at least once a week and clean the pantry that held all the canned goods and dry foods that the sister’s ate. My sister Karen had to iron the Altar Vestments for the church’s altar.

I was glad that I didn’t have to do the ironing.; I absolutely hated ironing. I saw my poor mother bent over an ironing board every day of her life. This was before permanent press clothes were invented. Everything had to be ironed back then. Unless you wanted to walk around looking like you slept in your clothes. My mother also had to hang our family’s clothing out on a clothesline. This was back in the day before there were dryers for clothes. My mother had an old washing machine that had a wringer on it. The clothes had to be pushed through the wringer and then hung out to dry. This was an all-day job. In fact, if it rained, you would have to go through the whole ordeal again.

So, here I was again, face to face with one of the dear sisters. Only this time I was an adult albeit a young one. I was volunteering to apply for a job as a counselor at a Catholic facility to work with children. Who came from many backgrounds. Some of the kids were mildly retarded or what is now called Intelectual Disability. The school had children of many age groups, and it housed both boys and girls. Luckily I was hired and as a “counselor’ in the Laboures Group. I worked a split shift, first shift where I woke up the “girls” and prepared them for the school day, they got dressed, and made their beds. And ate breakfast together in a small dining room. Then, I went home and came back when it was time for the kids to get out of school. I walked over to the school and gathered up my kids. It was all girls from twelve to sixteen. After school, I gave them a snack and helped them with their homework. I was relieved when a night proctor took over at 11 PM.

All the kids had chores after their homework was done. I, with the help of one of the girls, set the tables for dinner. After dinner the girls had free time and most often would watch TV. I always watched with them.

I can not express how much I came to love these girls. And how much they meant to me. Every weekend, Bob and I took one of the girls out for the day. Sometimes, we went hiking or swimming in the pool that was at the apartment where Bob and I lived. Once in a while, we went to the movies. They loved to go out clothes shopping just like any young girl would. At night, after dinner, I often helped them write letters to their families. In my heart of hearts I could not fathom why their parents didn’t want them living at home. Perhaps the schools in their area were not prepared to teach children with learning disabilities. I don’t know for sure. This was about 1978.

Bob was attending Brooks Institute ( a Photography School), and he also worked part-time at night. So, we did not spend a great deal of time together. When Bob finished school, we decided to move back to New Jersey with the hope that Bob would be able to find employment as a photographer.

It was tough to tell my kids at St. Vincent’s that Bob and I were leaving and moving far away. But, we couldn’t afford to live in California any longer since there weren’t many jobs available for photographers at the time. I left a big chunk of my heart with my kids at St. Vincents. It was so hard saying goodbye and knowing that it was highly unlikely that I was ever going to see them again. They wrote me for a couple of years after we moved. And then I didn’t hear from them from then on. As some of them had gotten jobs, or moved back with their families. And life moved on for them as it did for me.

Bob and I bought a small house in Pennsauken, and I proceeded to have a baby, who we named Jeanette, and three years later a second daughter, named Bridget. They filled in that big hole I had in my heart and then some.

Life throws us many curves, and we don’t always know which way to turn. We have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope for the best outcome.

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A NEW YEAR, A NEW BEGINNING

Well, people, here it is again. New Year’s Day. Yet another year has flown swiftly by. As I look back upon the last three hundred and sixty-five days I can’t help but wonder where did all those days go? What did I accomplish? Although it is not a long list, I did manage to write and publish forty-eight short stories. And as far as I’m concerned, that is no small accomplishment.

In addition, I was informed by my heart doctor that my heart had shown improvement, and he took me off Entresto, a drug that not only saved my life but improved my heart health overall. I have been taking Entresto for many years, and it costs me $900.00 every three months, which is no small amount of money. So, that has benefited our finances; when I was first diagnosed with congestive heart disease fifteen years ago, I was told I might survive another five years if I was lucky. And yet here I am.

I am retired and living in North Carolina. We made the choice that once we retired, we would move South because the cost of living was so much lower than in the North East. It was not an easy decision to make because my extended family and my eldest daughter lived in the North East. The fact is that the real estate taxes in New Jersey are quite high. We managed to get by because we were both working full-time. But, I realized that once we retired, we wouldn’t be able to continue living in our home in Pitman any or anywhere in NJ. Upon selling our home, we packed up all our worldly belongings and moved to North Carolina to a three-bedroom home in a small development in Willow Springs, NC, which is about a forty-five-minute drive from Raleigh, NC.

Moving away from my family was not an easy decision to make, and we did not make it lightly. We thought about it for a long time. There were members of my extended family who were not happy about this decision—and made that fact clear. That was unfortunate, but we believed it was necessary. If we wanted to continue living the lifestyle we had been living. The somewhat peculiar fact is that one family member who will remain anonymous, one who was rarely seen over the years, was the one who seemed the most angry. Life is difficult. Sometimes, you have to make decisions that not everyone will appreciate. And they can accept it and try to understand your situation, or they won’t.

In the years that we have been living in North Carolina, I have kept myself quite busy. I became politically active and worked on the Elizabeth Warren campaign and was active in the protest marches. I went door to door, talking to people about the election and what was at stake. I had never been politically active before, save for voting in every election.

In addition, I took a college course that was required to volunteer in the Guardian Ad Litem. A Guardian ad Litem (GAL) is a trained volunteer who is appointed by the court to advocate for the best interest of children at risk who were abused or neglected.

Last but not least, I have been volunteering at an animal Sanctuary for almost nine years. I volunteer every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday morning. I take care of all the parrots, big and small, including five Macaws. I’ve come to love them dearly like my own feathered children. In addition, I have had the opportunity to be exposed to over two hundred exotic animals from every continent. In addition, I have come to love the eleven dogs and several cats that call Animal Edventure their home. As I look back at this experience, I know that the child that I had once been would absolutely have loved to be in the midst of so many different kinds of animals. When I was a child, I had a great love of all animals, big and small, furry or feathered. And for many years believed that I would eventually become a veteranarian.

As it turned out, as I was growing up from a small child to adolescence, I developed an interest in drawing, painting, and sewing. I was a highly creative child. In addition, there was nothing I enjoyed more than telling stories to anyone who would sit still or stand still and listen to me. It wasn’t until I was married and had two young children that I made the decision to go to Art School. I spent several months preparing an art portfolio that I would need to be accepted into an art school. at the grand old age of thirty-six, I applied to three different Art Schools in Philadelphia. I was accepted at all three. And I made the decision to attend The Tyler School of Art, which was a part of Temple University.

I was the only adult student in my Freshman Class. I have to say that the decision to go to college was the best decision of my life. Before starting college, I decided to introduce myself and become familiar with all the students in my classes. And I did just that.

Attending college full-time in Philadelphia was difficult because I also had the responsibility of taking care of my two young daughters and all the household responsibilities of cleaning, cooking, shopping, etc. That goes along with marriage and children. The only time I had off was in the summer. But somehow, out of sheer will and determination, I made it through four years of college and graduated at the top of my class Magnum Cum Laude. I received a standing ovation from the rest of the student body when my name was called out at our graduation.

But, of all the choices I made in the course of my life up to that point, my decision to go to college was the one that benifitted me on a personal level the most. However, it was extremely challenging to go to college full-time, raise my girls, and take care of my home and all the responsibilities that go along with it. And when I look back to that time, I often wonder how I did it all. I am proud of myself for not letting fear stand in the way. Whenever I have a difficult decision to make now, I think back to that time, and I realize that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to.

So here I am, living in the south. Although this is not the first time I lived down south. When I was twenty-three, I moved to Florida as I wanted to be with Bob, who is now my husband of forty-nine years. And here we are still together. Some people can not tolerate the heat and humidity. But, I grew up in New Jersey, which had its own brand of high humidity, and let us not forget the mosquitoes. And the long, cold, and snowy winter months.

I can not predict what I will be doing in the future. But, I do know this, that once I set a goal for myself whatever that may be, I will set upon a course to succeed as I have in the past. There may be a few rough spots along the way but fear not, I will make my way and reach my goal. And my best advice to anyone is that although you may be afraid to do something, don’t let that fear stand in your way. See past it into your future and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

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The Christmas Spirit

Christmas time is here again. At my age, it seems difficult to summon up the Christmas spirit.

Maple Shade, NJ Christmas 1960’s

But when I was a child, it was a different story. I remember the days leading up to Christmas seemed to go by at a snail’s pace. I would ask my mother every day, “How many more days until Christmas, Mom?

She answered, “One less than when you asked me yesterday. Now, why don’t you go find something to do and keep yourself busy.”

I know if I kept bugging her, she’s going to find something for me to do. “OK, Mom, I think I’ll take a walk. I’ll be back in a little while.”

I decided to walk downtown and look in the windows of the stores. We live in a little town in Southern New Jersey called Maple Shade. And all the stores are decorated for Christmas. We even have a Christmas parade. And Santa Clause takes a ride all over town in the fire truck. And he throws candy to all the kids that are lined up on the sidewalks. All my friends and I walked down the pike on Main Street to see it yesterday. We had such fun. It was really cold outside, so we all had our winter coats on and hats and gloves and snow boots. Because the day before yesterday, we got over a foot of snow.

As I walked down the street, I noticed that the repair shop had a TV in the window, and it was playing It’s A Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart. I’ve seen this story before, but all the same, I stand there and watch it for quite a while. I can’t hear the sound, of course, but I know most of the dialogue anyway since I’ve seen it so many times. I decided to walk down to the Five & Dime Store to look at all the cool toys in the window. I asked Santa for a Barbie doll. I hope I get one.

The Christmas Lights along Main Street are beautiful. Of course, they look better when it’s dark out. The volunteer firemen drove up and down Main Street in their Fire Trucks and put up the lights and the Christmas Wreaths with big red bows on them the week before Thanksgiving. I watched them. The Rexall Drug Store is next to the Five & Dime Store. They have a display with a train set riding around on the train tracks with little houses and churches and trees and tiny little people walking around. There is even a little dog in the front yard of one of the little houses. At least, I think it’s a dog, but it’s hard to tell because it is so little. Above the houses, Santa is flying through the air with his reindeer, including Rudolph with his red nose. There’s a little stream of smoke coming out of the smokestack of the train engine. I wish we had one of those going around our tree.

I walk down to the bakery and look in their window. There are so many delicious-looking cakes in the window. My stomach starts growling really loud. My mother says I have a sweet tooth. I’m not sure what that means. But I really do love candy and cake. I hope I get some candy canes in my Christmas stocking and some chocolate kisses with red and green foil wrapped around them. Oh, how I would love to have an éclair too. My mother is making a cake for Christmas. She is a really good baker. I hope she makes a vanilla cake with shredded coconut on it. I really do love coconut. Oh, I almost forgot that every Christmas, my mother makes a giant tin of Christmas cookies. She puts the cookie dough in a cookie press, squeezes out these cookies in all kinds of shapes, and puts different colored sprinkles on them. I always find where she hides the cookie tin in the cellar, and I eat a whole bunch of them before Christmas gets here.

As I’m walking down Main Street, I see a police car coming in my direction. The car pulls over, and I hear the policeman calling out my name and saying, “Merry Christmas, Susie.”

I walk over to the curb, and I see it is Mr. Lombardi, our next-door neighbor. He is a policeman in our town. “Merry Christmas, Officer Lombardi,” I scream at the top of my voice. And then he waves again and drives away.

I continue walking down the street, and I see a couple of kids from school. I hear them yelling, “Hey Susie, do you want to go and play behind the church?”

“Sure,” I say. When I caught up with them, I saw it was my friend Helen and Ann Marie.

“What were you up to, Susie?”

“Nothing, just walking downtown and looking in all the store windows. What do you guys want to do?’

“We were just going behind the church and seeing who is playing in the snow out there. Are you getting anything good for Christmas, Susie?”

“I don’t know what I’ll get, but I asked for a Barbie doll and some art supplies. How about you guys? What did you ask for Christmas?”

“I ask for two games, Operation and Twister. I love games, said Ann Marie. “

“I ask for an Easy-Bake oven. said, Helen.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

We rounded the corner at Main Street and Fellowship Road, and I said, “Let’s have a race to the pump house behind the church. Ready, set, go.”

And we all ran as fast as we could. And at the last minute, I slipped on an icy spot and fell flat on my back. Ann Marie and Helen ran up to me and said all at once,” Are you alright?”

“Yes.” I manage to say, even though the wind really got knocked out of me.

“Ok, then I bet I can beat you to the pump house Helen yells.” And before I even got up from the icy sidewalk, they were running at top speed to the pump house. I scramble up and start running as fast as I can. I was just about to catch up with them when I heard them yelling, “We beat you; we beat you.”

All the same, I kept running, and before you knew it, I was scrambling up the side of the pump tower to the top along with them. There were a whole lot of kids from Our Lady of Perpetual Help school there and some of the public-school kids too. And they were climbing up hills of snow and sledding across the parking lot. We laughed hard, and the air was so cold I could hardly breathe. I don’t know how long I stayed out there. But I knew by the time I heard my mother yelling, “Susie, it’s time to come home. It was starting to get dark outside. What a day it was, what a day!

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RANCH HOPE SNOWED IN FOR FOUR DAYS

It was 1994 and II was working at Ranch Hope in Alloway, New Jersey. Ranch Hope was, at that time, a residential, Christian residence for boys ages seven through twenty who were in crisis. Ranch Hope has existed since 1964. I began working there as the first female counselor, and as time went on, I was made the assistant supervisor at Ranch Hope at Turrell Cottage. The boys I was responsible for were between the ages of fourteen to eighteen. These boys had been adjudicated by the court to reside at Ranch Hope because of either family difficulties or breaking the law. And it was either Ranch Hope or jail. Ranch Hope was a last-ditch effort to save these kids who came from rough backgrounds and give them a new chance to start over again. Some of the boys ended up living their entire adolescence at Ranch Hope.

At the time I was working a split shift from seven AM in the morning until ll AM. And then went home until my second shift began from 2:30 until 11:30 PM. That is when the night proctor arrived. And he was often late. Sometimes, I didn’t get home until midnight. And the next day I was tired all day.

On that particular day, it started to snow lightly in the morning at first, and then later, heavy snow began to fall about the time the boys were dismissed from school. All the boys attended Strang School, which was a school that was located on the Ranch Hope Campus within walking distance from the cottages. Most of the teachers were anxious to leave that day since the snow was beginning to accumulate rapidly, and they didn’t want to be stuck there overnight.

I wasn’t too concerned at first. Because I thought the snow would slow down as it had recently, and I would be able to go home as usual. But that isn’t what happened. The snow continued to come down heavier and heavier during the day, and by nightfall, there were several feet of snow. I knew there was no way I was going to get home that night. And that I was going to end up sleeping on the lumpy couch in the living room.
After several hours of heavy snow, I knew for sure that I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. And that was exactly what happened. The night proctor was not able to make his way from his residence to Ranch Hope because the roads had become impassable, and almost impossible to see where you were going. Ranch Hope is located out in the middle of nowhere, and the roads were rarely plowed. There weren’t any street lights on the roads leading in and out of Alloway and the nearly forty-minute drive home. And on this particular night, the roads were unpassable altogether.

The boys were all excited because of the snow and the fact that they wouldn’t have to attend school for several days. Of course there was other staff from the rest of the cottages that were not going to be going home anytime soon either. Fortunately, Ranch Hope had its own cafeteria and kitchen staff that prepared food for the boys and the staff, and it was only a short walk from any of the cottages to the cafeteria.

As the day went by, I knew for sure I was not going to go home anytime soon. But, at least I was in a warm and safe place. What I didn’t realize right away was that the snow wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. In fact, I ended up staying at Ranch Hope for several days. One of the main problems for me was that the rest of the staff who worked in the residential cottages were men. And I, well, I was the only female. So, there weren’t any female facilities like bathrooms, showers, etc.

By the end of the third day, I was feeling uncomfortable since I had been wearing the same clothes for several days, my hair felt dirty, and I didn’t have any other clothes to wear. At this point, I decided to call the staff at Camp Edge. Camp Edge was a place for the boys to camp and learn some life skills outside of their own background, which was mostly inner city, Camden, or worse. Most of these boys grew up in poverty; many were from broken families or families with addiction problems, or their parent or parents were incarcerated. And Ranch Hope was their last chance to redeem themselves before they ended up incarcerated themselves.

I was able to get ahold of the married couple that ran Camp Edge and asked if would be possible for me to come there and get a shower and borrow a change of clothes. Since I didn’t know when I would be able to get home. Meanwhile, I had to find someone to come to Turrell Cottage and watch the boys while I was gone. After finding a staff member to fill in for me at Turrel for an hour or so, I headed slowly on the snow-covered back roads to Camp Edge. I have to say, even though I grew up in New Jersey and learned how to drive in all kinds of weather. It was a bit scary to drive on back roads with several feet of snow, even though some had been plowed at some point in the last several days. They still have a couple of feet of snow I would have driven through, and I wasn’t up for that. So, I stayed put at Turrel Cottage until the roads were cleared for the most part.

Some of the roads that were plowed had melted and frozen over again and again, and they were sheets of ice. I won’t lie, it was scary. I knew if I had an accident there were very few people on these back country roads that would find me. And then I thought, oh, the couple at Camp Edge knew I was coming, and if I didn’t show up, they would come looking for me. Or at least they would know and inform Ranch Hope staff that I never arrived.

But my luck held out, and I slowly made my way to Camp Edge and drove down their rough driveway and up to their house, which was really more of a cabin than a house. But, still, it had heat, and I could take a shower and change clothes, which would be a blessing. They were waiting for me on their front porch and welcomed me into their home. It was so warm and inviting I hated the idea of leaving and going back on the snow covered, icy roads back to Ranch Hope. And I didn’t know how long it would be before the roads were clear enough to go home and get a good night’s sleep in my own warm bed.

After I showered and changed clothes I thanked them and said, “hopefully, the next time I see you I won’t smell to high heavens.” And they laughed. And I got into my car and slowly made my way back to Ranch Hope. When I arrived, all the boys were in the cafeteria eating lunch. And I went in and grabbed something to eat, and sat down at the table with my boys at Turrell Cottage’s table. They were still really worked up and excited by the snow and no school. And they were being rather boisterous, but not for long. Because when they saw me come into the cafeteria, they knew better than to be acting out. I was a kind caretaker, but I stuck to the rules. I took a good look at the boys. And they were all there but spread out over two tables. And I saw a couple of the older kids were working in the kitchen.

In fact, all the boys, after they had been there for some time, were given jobs if they were being compliant in the cottage and in the school. They were given the opportunity to work and earn money. And if they earned enough points, they would allowed to go on outings. At some point, when the roads cleared up and it was safe to travel, they would be able to go out to the Malls in the area and speed some of their hard-earned money. I won’t lie. Sometimes, some of the boys would try hard to do the right thing, but other times, they tried to sneak around and do things that they weren’t allowed to do. And they would lose points and privileges. And they wouldn’t be able to go off campus or even out of the cottage if they were out of compliance with the rules.

About a day and a half later, I was able to go home, take a day off, and catch up on my sleep. I decided that from then on out, I would bring a change of clothes with me just in case. I worked several more years at Ranch Hope, and although it could be stressful working there, I loved it. And I came to love all those boys. Even the difficult ones. I think it was one of the most rewarding yet stressful jobs I ever had. I can only hope that I helped those boys through a challenging time in their lives. They learned some self-control and came to understand that they were in charge of making their lives and their futures flourish or fail. It was up to them. Over the course of my working life, which started when I was seventeen and extended into my early sixties, Ranch Hope was the job I loved the most and the one that has held many good and bad memories. But, the job that I will always be proud of was the one in which I hope I guided young boys to turn into men with a conscience that knew right from wrong. And to make it their business to treat all people with care and concern and good will.

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LIFE ISN’T ALWAYS A BED OF ROSES

Did you ever hear the expression that life is not always a bed of roses? Well, I did throughout most of my childhood. Anytime that I complained about something, it didn’t matter what it was, my father would say, “Life is not a bed of roses, so you better get used to it.”

Somehow, I never felt that this was helpful advice. Obviously, I already knew that life was not a bed of roses since I had already encountered many obstacles in my way. Often, I had the impulse to respond to my father. “Dad, a bed of roses is full of thorns, so isn’t it what life is about? Beauty with hidden dangers?”

Camden, NJ

But I never said that because my father did not like anyone expressing an opinion that was oppositional to his point of view. In fact, woe to anyone who had the nerve or the temerity to argue with my father about anything. His response would be how would you like a Fat Lip? One day, I said, “No thanks, no fat lip for me today.” That was a mistake because he sat up straight and leaned forward as if he were going to grab me by the neck. And that was my cue, to say I said, “I’m finished, I’m going out for a bike ride.” Then, I took off on my bike ride until I knew my father would have left for work. He worked the second shift and didn’t get home until after midnight.

Time went by as time does, and I eventually grew up and decided to move out on my own. My parents were not happy. But I was over twenty-one and earning my own living, and I didn’t have to live at home anymore. One of the lessons I learned when I started working full-time was that although my father wasn’t telling me what to do, my boss was filling in for him. Although he cared about me one way or the other, he was looking out for his business and how well I fulfilled my job.

One of my first jobs was working at a high-risk auto insurance company. There were two bosses, they were brothers, Harry and Evie Ellis. I have to say they weren’t good role models. They came from a wealthy family and, didn’t feel any real ambition and didn’t need to work. There were three young women working in the office. And if truth be told, we did all the work.

The brothers went out for breakfast and lunch. Sometimes, they invited us along, too. I have to admit I loved going out for breakfast and sometimes lunch as well. One of the brothers was married and had children, but he had a girlfriend on the side. And several days a week, he would take off from work and visit her for most of the afternoon. He was quite open about it. I had never experienced any older adult telling me about their sex life. And if I knew that what was good for me, I should keep my mouth shut. But I have to admit I disapproved of what he was doing. But it didn’t bother me that much. I didn’t think it was any of my business. This wasn’t surprising, considering I spent twelve years in Catholic School. And didn’t have a great deal of life experience up to that time.

It was an interesting place to work for several reasons. The first, of course, was the brothers, and the second reason was that because the Insurance Company sold only high-risk auto insurance, I met a great many people that I had never interacted with before. After twelve years of Catholic School, where my interactions with people were highly scrutinized and controlled, I found it refreshing to meet people who grew up in different neighborhoods than I did and who had different views of life than I did. I experienced a broadening of my life experiences. And I learned that regardless of how much money people had or how little money people had, they were still human beings. Who had their own experiences and beliefs that were just as valid as my own. It opened my mind up and allowed me to think in a more global mindset.

I realized that for these people, life had never been a rose garden. They had to struggle to survive from the get-go. Their families were living in poverty. They didn’t always have the money or the means to survive from one day to the next, let alone be able to afford luxuries in their lives. And it was not long before I had the opportunity to find out what real struggle was about.

After working at 101 Haddon Avenue Corporation for several years, I decided to try something different. I always wanted to help people in some way. So, I found a job that fit the criteria for the kind of work I was looking for at that time.

I applied to and was interviewed for a job in Camden, NJ. It was a non-profit called The Center for Family Services. The office that I worked in was at the Antioch Church on Ferry Avenue in Camden, NJ. They were partnering with Big Brothers and Big Sister and five of the churches in Camden. I would be the contact person who would go out to the at-risk children’s homes who had a parent or parents who were incarcerated in prison and match the children up with volunteers from the five churches. In addition, I visited all the prisons in New Jersey and the Philadelphia, PA area. And spoke to the female prisoners who were from Camden and were interested in having a Big Brother or Big Sister matched with their children.

At first, I was somewhat concerned for my safety going into some of the worst neighborhoods in Camden, but as it turned out, I never had any difficulty with the families or in the low-income areas in Camden. The families and the neighbors were always welcoming and friendly. The children looked forward to having the opportunity to go out with mentors, have fun, and participate in different activities in the area.

St. Mary of the Angels Academy in Haddonfield, NJ

My own experience growing up was in a middle-class neighborhood in South Jersey. It was located two houses down from the Catholic Church and the Catholic Elementary School that I attended for eight years. When I went to Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield for four years. So, my experiences up until then did not include going into high-risk areas with gang activity, murders, or drugs. At first, I was somewhat trepidacious going into the Camden neighborhoods. But as I became more familiar with the neighborhoods and the people, I felt more at ease. I always treated everyone I met with respect. And they treated me the same way. Regardless of their economic level, these parents wanted the best for their children. And did the best they could with their limited resources.

Working at the Center of Family Service was a valuable experience for me, and I learned a great deal from it. I learned that all people, regardless of their race, ethnicity, religious affiliation, or their economic standing, want the best for their children and community. And in general, people attempt to do their best in their lives.

But, sometimes, there are so many barriers in their way that it is almost impossible at times to move forward. Sometimes,  people need assistance. People who have been fortunate and whose families had more resources have to step up and step out of their comfort zones. And lend a helping hand to those who are struggling from one day to the next.

And I have made every effort in my life to assist people I met along the way. It has been a long time since I worked for the Ellis brothers’ company and the non-profits I worked for after Center for Family Services. I learned a great deal through these experiences and the people I met over the years. And I am a better person because of it.

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Family Consists Of A Safe Environment And A Loving Family

Watercolor painting of my childhood home

As far back as I can remember, my parents had to struggle to get by. I’m talking about my entire life from my early childhood forward until I moved out when I was twenty-one. My parents were hard-working people. They never took a vacation or a day off, for that matter. We had a large family with a lot of mouths to feed. My mother would clean houses and do laundry for extra money.

My father worked the third shift as the Head Dispatcher at PTC, The Pennsylvania Transportation Company in Philadelphia, PA. On his days off, he worked at Johnny’s Auto Supply Store, which was located on Main Street in Maple Shade, NJ. The auto supply store was within walking distance from where we lived.

As a child, I was completely oblivious to my family’s financial situation. My siblings and I always attended Catholic Schools. I was the youngest, and as in most large families, the clothes were handed down from the oldest to the youngest. I didn’t really care about clothes that much, so it didn’t bother me. After school, I would change out of my uniform and get in my play clothes and go play with my friends, or ride my bike all over town.

On weekends my friends and I would go to to the Roxy Theater and watch the latest movies for a quarter or take a bus to the Riverside roller rink and spend the afternoon there roller skating. Or I would ride my bike all over town and visit my friend’s house. I would skate around the roller rink until my legs started hurting me or until I fell down one time too many. And I would sit on the floor next to the wall until it was time to take the bus home.

Roxy Theater in Maple Shade, NJ 1960’s

You may be curious about how I had money to go to the movies or the roller rink. I had money because, after school, I would take long walks downtown Maple Shade and look for lost coins and empty soda bottles that could be returned and get the deposit returned.

I would often go to the Roxy Movie Theater on Saturdays when there was a new movie playing., if I wasn’t going roller skating. It only costs twenty-five cents to see a movie. My friends and I would bring our lunches with us. In that way, we didn’t have to spend money on candy. I always brought Lebanon Bologna sandwiches, which was my favorite food at that time.

One time I asked my parents if I could get a bike for my birthday so I could ride around town with all my friends. And sure enough, my father gave me a bike. It was a used bike, but he cleaned it up, painted it, and put new tires on it. And I loved that bike and rode it for years. It didn’t matter to me that it was used.

Gerard College Philadelphia, PA, in the 1920-s

My father was a man who pinched a penny until it cried. He was born in 1911, the only son of a widowed mother. My father spent his childhood growing up in a residential school in Philadelphia called Gerard College. It wasn’t a college but was a live-in residence for boys who had lost their fathers. He lived there most of his childhood until he was about sixteen years old. He only saw his mother once a year at Christmas.

My father worked hard his whole life, and he spent most of his working years working for the Pennsylvania Transportation Company. He started out as a Trolley driver, but his mother decided it was more prestigious to work in an office. My father loved driving a trolley and the bus, but his mother insisted that he apply for an office job. And so he did. He spent the next forty years working as the head dispatcher until he retired.

As a child, I don’t recall ever feeling that I had less than any of my friends. That is until Christmas time. When my mother would ask me what I wanted. We were allowed to ask for one gift. And I would receive it and be content about it. Until I went over to my best girlfriend’s house, and under her Christmas tree was a mound of gifts two feet high or more. And then I would feel bad for a while, but I got over it. It made me realize that “things” are not as important as having a good home and caring family. And a dog, if possible. I always loved animals.

When I was in high school, my mother got a job cooking for an employee’s lunch room at the Wanamakers Department Store in Moorestown, NJ. She did this so that my sister and I could attend a private girls ’ school in Haddonfield, NJ. Many of the students who attended Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy came from wealthy families in Haddonfield, but as far as I was concerned, I fit right in and made friends there. It was a good experience for me.

My parents were examples of people who worked hard their entire lives and were role models for their children and grandchildren to follow. Nothing came easy for them, but they continued to do the best that they could for all of us. They were not perfect humans; they made mistakes, as we all do. My mother never complained about anything. She took one day at a time and put forth her best efforts. I never saw my mother lose her temper, no matter what happened. My father could and did show his anger at times and would say hurtful things. But, as I look back on my life with my family, I know I am the person that I am today because of their example. They taught me to work hard, not to complain, and to make good choices over the course of my lifetime.

I have made every effort to do good in my life and show kindness towards the people that have come into my life over my many years. I don’t know if I was as good and loving as my mother, but I know I did my best. My father, who was a highly intelligent man who was an example of someone who rose up from being an orphan living in a boy’s school, got a job in management for the PTC—and had a long-term marriage of over fifty years. He fathered six children and supported them in every way possible. And had seventeen grandchildren.

Because of my father’s setting such high standards as an adult and later as a parent, I hope my own children learn to have faith in their own abilities and work hard for what they want to achieve in their lives. And most of all, to do the right thing. That’s all a parent can hope for in their lives. Our children will ultimately make their own decisions. They will make mistakes, as we all have, and hopefully, they will learn and grow from them. And that they, too, will experience happiness, success, meaning, and live a life of integrity.

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

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

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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MY FIRST BEST FRIEND, MRS. MCFARLAND

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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