Category Archives: My Memoirs

LIFE ISN’T ALWAYS A BED OF ROSES

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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

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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

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

The Tyler School of Art in Elkins Park, Pa.

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

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

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

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

Noah’s Last Voyage

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

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

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

The Race, one of my pencil drawings

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

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

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

The Trinity - one of my oil paintings

The Trinity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ONE TOOTH TOO MANY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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MY FIRST BEST FRIEND, MRS. MCFARLAND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, let’s eat on the swing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Tyler School of Art 1991

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

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THE BOOB TUBE

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1950’s television

When I was quite young, perhaps about nine years old, my father bought our first Television. Most of my friends who lived in Maple Shade, New Jersey, already had one. It was black and white, meaning it was not in color. There were only three channels on our TV. They were three, six, and ten. That’s it, three channels.

One of the first shows that I watched was Captain Kangaroo. It was a children’s show, and I never missed a single episode. That is until I turned seven years and I began going to school. Luckily for my mother, we lived only two houses down from the Catholic Church and the Catholic Grade School. Which was called OLPH (Our Lady of Perpetual Help).

Captain Kangaroo

I was absolutely heartbroken when I realized I would never be able to watch the Captain Kangaroo Show. But, I was happy to find out there were children’s programs on TV after school.

Sally Star

I rapidly became a faithful follower of The Sally Star Show. The show also featured short movies starring the Three Stooges and the Popeye Theater. When this show was on TV, I focused all my attention on it. It didn’t matter what else was going on. My mother would often remind me that dinner was ready. But, it was nearly impossible to unglue me from the TV while the Sally Star Show was on.

I’m sure I was among a great number of children of my generation who rapidly became addicted to watching television. Television became available to the general public in the mid-1950.

My father would often remind me not to sit directly in front of the TV as he was sure I would go blind. Don’t worry, and I didn’t go blind. But, it turned out I did need glasses for seeing anything that wasn’t up close. I didn’t get eyeglasses until I was in high school, unfortunately. And watching TV up close was not the reason I was near-sighted.

Once I outgrew watching Captain Kangaroo and Sally Star. I used to watch American Bandstand, which was a live dance show where local teenagers danced to the latest hit music. I was still in elementary school at the time, but my older siblings loved the show, and one time one of my sisters attended one of the shows.

With the advent of TV came commercials that advertised products and companies in the local area. In fact, TV assisted in spreading American culture around the world. 

Until the early 1970s, the majority of people who appeared on TV were Caucasian. The occasional person of color who appeared on TV was portrayed as lower caste people, like servants. In the town I grew up in, I clearly recall seeing signs stating no blacks were allowed and on some of the entrances to the local bars, “no women allowed.” Or there was a separate entrance for women. I can not recall any TV shows in the first years of TV that included people of color. But that did happen over time.

It wasn’t until about the mid-sixties, when Bill Cosby starred as a detective on a show called I SPY, that an actor of color was seen on TV. In my own experience, there was only one black girl who attended our high school. There were no people of color living in the town I grew up in until the Fox Chase Apartments, which was located on the outside perimeters of Maple Shade, allowed people of color to reside, and this was in the late sixties and early 1970s. TV shows reflected the American Culture at the time.

I have to admit that TV had a great influence on my early life and how I came to believe the world to be. In many ways, TV was a reflection of American lives, and American culture affected what we saw on TV. And with the advent of cable TV came new channels and networks.

As a young girl growing up watching TV every day, I noticed that girls and women were almost entirely portrayed in subservient positions to boys and men. I couldn’t help but think how unfair this was. I always considered myself to be equal to any boy, and often I thought I was smarter than they were. But, TV didn’t portray girls and women as equals. And in our own home, our mothers did all the cooking and cleaning and the wash. When I began high school, my mother found employment working at Wanamakers Department store in the employee’s kitchen. It was hard work, and she worked full-time. And when she came home from work, she still had to cook and clean and do the wash.

Housewife in the 1950’ss

It wasn’t until the early 1970s that women began actively seeking equal rights and opportunities. I was just out of high school when this movement began. And TV reflected the lack of opportunities for women in the real world and television.

It was about this time I began watching less TV and reading more and more. And as a result, I learned that my life and the world were not the same reality that appeared on TV. But, that TV was a somewhat distorted view of the world. And that I needed to open my eyes to reality and not fictionalized reality. And when I did, I found that although more than half of all women were employed, they were only getting paid sixty percent of what men were paid. Presently, most women still earn about 82% of what men do working in the same job. Can anyone explain how this is fair or equitable? I certainly can’t.

And I have to admit that my own father once told me it was a waste for girls to get an education since they would get married and have children. And that is when I made up my mind that someday I would go to college, and nothing was going to stop me. And that day did come but not for a long time. After I got married at twenty-three and moved to Florida and then to California, I put my husband through college. And we returned to New Jersey and bought a small house, and eventually had two children.

When I was thirty-six years old, and my children were six and three. I decided that I was going to apply to colleges and earn a degree, and I did just that. I applied to and was accepted at Temple University in Philadelphia, and after four years of hard work and studying, I earned three degrees, including a degree in Art Education. And my husband and I bought a large old home in Pitman, NJ. A doctor formerly owned it. But, it was in disrepair as it had stood empty for eight years. My husband and I spent years renovating the house. And I opened up my own business called The Art Room, and I taught art to children and adults for many years.

Over my lifetime, I found that you will receive many messages on television, in the movies, from the media, and from all the people around you. But, you must trust your own instinct and believe in yourself. Make choices and decisions that are right for you. And ignore all the noise around you. I have come to believe that television no longer reflects “real life.” That stories are fictionalized and edited until there is little that reflects reality.

I do believe that it can affect, to some degree, how people view important issues such as politics, race, and gender equality. But we need to take it with a grain of salt. Because what you hear and see on TV can be both misleading if it is not verified. And also, you shouldn’t interpret anything on TV literally. And remember, television was called a “Boob Tube” for a reason.

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IN LIFE YOU LEARN AND GROW THROUGH PAIN, STRUGGLES, LOVE AND JOY

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I find it hard to believe at times, but I’ve gotten to that stage in life when I realize my most valuable possession is the time I have left to live and what I do with it. It seems like a blink of an eye since the day I sat in the church auditorium waiting for my name to be called as one of the graduating Seniors at St. Mary of the Angels Academy high school. This was an all-girl academic Academy in Haddonfield, NJ. It was June of 1969. My graduation marked both an ending and a beginning for me. The end of my Catholic School career and my childhood, and the beginning of my future as a working adult.

To be perfectly honest, I had never given any real thought about what I would do when I graduated from high school. And no one ever asked me what my plans were. And if they asked me, I would have had to say, “I have no clue, honestly.” That is until one day at the end of my final semester at SMAA (St. Mary of the Angels Academy). Sister Eileen Marie, the principal at SMAA, called me to her office and told me that she had a job for me. Apparently, Sister Eileen Marie found jobs for students who were not going to go to college. She informed me that she had recommended me for a job as a dental assistant for Doctor Edward Wozniak, who lived in and practiced dentistry in Haddon Township, New Jersey. It was about a thirty-five-minute drive from where I lived in Maple Shade, NJ. 

Sister Eileen told me that Dr. Wozniak’s wife had attended SMAA back in the day, and she wanted to hire a graduating student from St. Mary’s to come and work at her husband’s dental office since she had two small children and couldn’t work in the office. I was told I should arrive at Dr. Wozniak’s office on time, dress properly, speak up, and make a good impression. I recall having the interview with Mrs. Wozniak, but not how I got there since I didn’t have a car. I have to assume that either my father drove me there or I took public transportation. It was a short interview, and Mrs. Wozniak explained what my duties would be and my hours, and my pay. The only money I had ever earned previously was babysitting which I probably made about a dollar an hour. Mrs. Wozniak ended her description with the question,” So when can you start?” I told her my graduation day and said,” Any day after that.”

I can’t say I remember being nervous about starting my first job, but I probably was. But, as it turned out that although I never had any work experience, I was a quick learner. And in no time, I was learning how to be a dental assistant, develop dental xrays, answer the phone and make appointments, and call patients to confirm their appointments. I also was a chairside assistant, cleaning the rooms and setting up the instruments for each patient. I escorted each patient into the room where their dental work was going to take place. I talk to each patient and try to calm them down if they were nervous or just past the time of day with them. I also had to clean the rooms, including the lab, at the end of the day.

It was a challenging job. But I have to admit I really liked it. Dr. Wozniak was a kind man and always thoughtful to both myself and his patients. I worked there for about four years. I believe that working at Dr. Wozniak was an excellent experience for me. I became more confident in my abilities and more outgoing. Since I had to talk to all the patients and reassure them, answer all the phone calls. I learned to be organized, efficient, and friendly to the people I came in contact with me.

In fact, every job or position I have held over my lifetime has been of benefit to me. I enjoyed some jobs more than others. But, overall, every experience prepared me for the next one. I was no longer shy and reticent. I was outgoing and confident. Life, after all, is full of learning experiences that benefit you from that day forward if you are open to them.

I have to admit that I have had and held many jobs over the years. And that not every job was a dream job; some I downright hated. But, still, I learned something along the way. And I met many interesting people. After I stopped working at Dr. Wozniak, I decided I wanted to do something more challenging and different. And I did just that. I applied for a job as a psychiatric aide at Ancora State Mental Hospital. It was a good hour and a half drive from where I lived. My brother, who was a psychologist, had at one time, early in his career, worked at Ancora. He gave me the contact number of one of the people he worked with at Ancora. And so, I called her and got an appointment for a job interview. I did well at the interview and was hired. I was informed that I would have to take several weeks of training before I could work with the patients in the active psyche ward. I said, “But I told you I wanted to work with children. And she told me not at this time, but perhaps at some point in the future.

So, I had to take a thirty-day training with several other candidates. We had to take a written test at the end of the training. It turned out that a young woman named Joan Hall and I were the only ones who excelled in the test. The instructor told us we should both consider getting further formal education since we had both stood out from the crowd. Joan was assigned to a different ward than I was, and I never came in contact with her again.

I was assigned to the Active Psyche Ward. And I have to admit that “active” was not the best description of the behavior I observed in the first couple of days I worked there. You have to remember that this was in the early 1970s, and few medicinal drugs were available to treat mental illness. Most of the patients I encountered were taking Thorozine. They often walked around like zombies, or they slept all day. In the children’s ward, I often saw young children running around without clothes on. I have to admit I was shocked since my own life. I had always been sheltered to some extent by my parents.

At one point, I was assigned the duty of supervising women’s showers. There really aren’t any words to describe that experience. Seeing so many females, young and old undressed and standing in the showers. I was told they were not allowed to share showers with other patients. So, the first time I supervised the female patients in the shower, I spent my time separating grown women who kept trying to shower with other women and kept touching one another. This was not a good experience for me, and I informed my immediate supervisor that there was no way I could do that anymore.

In addition, I had to accompany patients from one part of the hospital to another. In inclement weather, I would take the patients through a system of underground tunnels. It turned out this was a place where many patients would arrange clandestine meetings with one another to have sex. I learned to avoid looking at these interactions and tried to block them from my memory.

It turned out that I was put on the three to twelve shift. And because I had to drive for nearly an hour to return home, my parents didn’t want me to continue working there. I requested to be assigned full-time to the children’s wards since their work shifts were during the day. At one point, the doctor in the ward where I was working told me he wanted me to observe an electroshock treatment that was being done on a young woman.

I never observed such medical treatment before since I was only out of high school for three years. I was somewhat terrified as I stood there and watched the young woman being treated. Since she was strapped to the table and had no recourse, she started reacting negatively, crying and asking them to stop. The doctors laughed and kept going. They made fun of her. It was just awful. It turns out that patients treated with electroshock treatment suffer memory loss. I’ve never been able to forgive those “doctors” for degrading the poor woman. Who was supposed to be treated with kindness and understanding and be on the road to recovery?

At this point, I decided this was not my job. Because my core beliefs would not allow me to stand by and let another person, one that was struggling with life, be treated with such disregard. I gave them two weeks’ notice and quit. It was a learning experience for me. I quickly realized who I was and what I was and was unwilling to do to earn a living for myself.

I never told anyone what I had observed while I was working at Ancora. Because I didn’t really have the words to express the horror I felt at how my fellow human beings who were supposed to be helping this poor miscreant treated the people they were supposed to be supporting to a return to mental health. I felt the system had totally failed these people. And I could not imagine spending any more time working there. So, it became apparent that I was going to have to get busy looking for another job. And I was successful in doing just that. I applied for a job at Ellis High-Risk Auto Insurance Company on Haddon Avenue in Haddon Township, New Jersey. And it turned out to be a good choice. But, I will speak to that experience in my next memoir about jobs I have had over my lifetime.

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CREATE A LIFE THAT HAS PURPOSE AND MEANING

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I’ve always been a bit of a loner. Even as a child, I seemed to be content to sit at home and watch TV or read a good book. In fact, I spent much of my free time at our local library. I could spend hours and hours going through the book stacks to find that perfect book to read. For many years I read mystery books and Horror. Stephen King and, Kean Kootz, John Grisham were my favorite writers.  

I have to say I preferred my own company. I was not adverse to the company of cats, my dog, birds, and my hamster. So, I suppose that seems a little odd. I guess most people who knew me knew that I was not a run-of-the-mill kid. I liked taking long walks by myself around town or to a lake that was located in the town next to where I lived. I had a wild imagination and told people stories that they often found hard to believe.

I always had plenty of things to keep me busy, reading, watching cartoons, riding my bike all over the place, drawing, and making things. I was always a highly creative person. Reading is what eventually drew me into writing and telling stories. Anyone who is lucky enough to be born with an active imagination is unlikely to be bored or lonely. At least, that has been my experience.

It’s not that I didn’t have friends. I had school friends and neighborhood friends. And yet I always had a desire to spend a large portion of my time alone. As I grew up, I found that my desire to spend time on my own creative pursuits outweighed my desire to go out with friends as often. And believe it or not, that desire to create art is what drove me to eventually make the decision to go to art school at the grand old age of thirty- six. I had two children at the time, who were six and three.

I was the only adult student to enter as a Freshman at the Tyler School of Art, which was part of Temple University of Philadelphia. I made a decision that while I was going to college, I was going to make every effort to befriend every student I met along the way. I looked young for my age, but by no means did I look eighteen. I also decided that not only would I complete my college education, but also that I would excel in every way possible. And to some degree, I did just that.

Tacony Bridge

I had to drive from Pennsauken, New Jersey, to the Tyler Campus, which was in Cheltenham, Pa. This was about a forty-minute drive from where I lived. And I had to cross the Tacony Bridge from New Jersey to Pa. That was my first hurdle since I was terrified of crossing bridges. And the reason for my fear was that I had a scary experience when I was little. My father took me and my mother with him to Philadelphia, and I was sitting on my mother’s lap. I think I was about five years old. And I was leaning against the car door. We were temporarily stationary as a bridge opening backed up the cars. And the passenger door flew open, and I fell out the door onto the bridge. Luckily we were in the far right lane, and no other cars were to the right of my dad’s car. And from that day forward, I was afraid of bridges. So, as I was saying, that was my first hurdle to overcome my fear of bridges since I had to go over that bridge at least two times a day. And fortunately, I did just that.

It turned out that I was the only adult student in my Freshman class. During that first week of school, I was always the first student to arrive in each class. Since I always had a phobia of being late. As soon as the other students started arriving in the classroom, they would ask me if I was the teacher. And I would laugh and say,” No, I’m a new student.” And then they would stare at me for a couple of minutes. I didn’t let this bother me. By the end of my first year at Tyler, I had befriended nearly every student in my class and a couple of the teachers.

By the end of my senior year, I knew all the students in the school and had become friends with them. On the afternoon of our graduation, I graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Art and Teaching Certificate with a 4.0 average and in the top ten percent of the entire graduating classes at Temple University. I have to admit I was proud of my accomplishment. It wasn’t easy going to college with two young children. At times it was really difficult. During the Spring and Summer Break, I took care of my children and the child of a friend whose father babysat my children after school during the school year. I wouldn’t have been able to complete my education without their help in caring for my daughters.

When I graduated from college, my oldest daughter was ten, and my youngest was seven. And then, I began searching for an Art teacher’s position in the public school system in New Jersey. And after months and months of applying to every public school in South Jersey and Pennsylvania, I found that the public schools were no longer providing funding to Art programs in their public schools.

I can not describe how disheartened I was when I couldn’t find employment teaching art. So, after months and months of looking for a job that didn’t exist, I decided that I would have to create my own job. And so, I began a search for a house that was big enough to be our new home and also had room to teach art to the students who lived there. And finally, I did just that. I found a home that had formerly been the home and office of a doctor Dr. Sooy in Pitman, New Jersey. He was a Neuroo psychologist. And apparently, he only saw patients at nighttime. 

The house was large and had been empty for almost ten years. It was in need of a new roof immediately. There were seventeen rooms in the house, including a third floor and an attic,, and two basements. It was built in 1910. It was an amazing house but needed repair from the roof down. And over the next twenty-four years that we lived there, we did just that. We did all the repairs ourselves except for putting on the new roof and new heater.

There were three rooms and a bathroom in the section of the house that had been the doctor’s offices. And upon seeing it, I knew I had found the home for my family and my art classes. After a year of renovating the house and the offices, I launched The ART ROOM. It wasn’t easy by any means. I had to notify everyone in the town via the local newspaper. And I had to appear before the township counsel to explain exactly what my plans were for the Art Room. And how I envisioned that it would be of benefit to the children and adults in the local community.

Several of my new neighbors were kind enough to speak before the township leaders on my behalf. One of my neighbors, in particular, Doctor Bob Batten,, and his wife, Marie Batten, were my biggest conrads in arms if you will. And finally, my plan and my classes were approved, and I could launch my business and my school. I was lucky enough to teach art to many children and adults over the years that I lived in my home in Pitman. It was a wonderful experience, and I became friends with many of the town folk and watched my students grow as artists and move on to go to finish high school and on to college.

My oldest daughter Jeanette attended my classes for years and applied to and was accepted at the three of the best Art Schools in Philadelphia and ultimately attended The Hussia School of Art in Philadelphia. And she has become an extremely talented artist in her own right, including designing and making her own clothing. My youngest daughter is a gifted ceramic artist and, to a large degree, self-taught. She had taken some basic ceramic classes in college but has taken it to a much higher level of competency because of her innate artistic talent.

Not all the students that attended my classes became artists, but their lives were enriched by their experience in learning how to express their imagination through painting, drawing, and three-dimensional art. As a matter of fact, two of the Pitman administrators took night classes for several years at The Art Room.

In addition, I was blessed by getting to know and spend time with many of the people that lived in Pitman and their children over the years I lived there. I can’t tell how much their friendships enriched my own life. I found watching people grow as human beings and be able to express their own creative drives regardless of their age inspiring.

And finally, I can say that my experience of putting myself out there in public view was certainly a positive experience. One which I can not put a dollar amount. I look back on that time as a happy and positive experience of which I am proud. It was an enriching experience and a memory that I will always cherish. It imbued me with a new understanding of my fellow human beings and how many people have an innate desire to grow and continue learning as humans. These experiences improve their quality of life.

As for myself, even though I have reached the twilight years of my life, I still want to continue learning and growing both as an artist and a writer. And as a human being, I continue to engage with all the people I come in contact. I hope that contact has a positive effect on them in some way. I have realized over my many years that doing good in your life, it will give your life purpose and meaning. And hopefully inspire people to do the same.

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LIFE’S HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS

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I guess you could say I’ve always been somewhat of a loner. Although throughout most of my life, I’ve always maintained a “best friend.” My best friend has not always been a fellow human being. Currently, my best friends are my dogs. And so far, they have proven to be the most loyal and loving, and accepting best friends. I suppose my peculiar ways have a tendency to “put people off.”

Watercolor I painted of my house where I grew up in and the Catholic Church that defined who I became as an adult in many ways.

Oh, you’re wondering what traits I have that put people off. Well, my sense of humor. I have to admit I’m a sarcastic person. Not mean sarcastic, but funny sarcastic. Although not everyone ‘gets” my sense of humor. I have something of a trigger finger when it comes to responding to people’s comments. It’s no sooner out of your mouth than I have a sarcastic remark to counter it. I think I’m a riot, but not everyone would agree.

And then there’s my almost total lack of interest in my outward appearance. Especially if I’m at home and working around the outside or out in the garden, I will definitely be wearing my oldest, most worn-out clothes I own. So, you happen to come over to my house without forwarning me. Well, you can expect me to look pretty much like I haven’t showered or washed my clothes recently. If you let me know you are coming in advance, you can be sure that I will take a quick shower and change my clothes. And I will have something for you to eat when you arrive. Without warning and I most likely will have an empty fridge, and you’ll be lucky to get more than a glass of water or tea. What can I say?

Downtown Maple Shade in the 1950s

Oh, there I go off the track again. I was explaining how I am somewhat of a loner and usually only have one close friend at any given time. And in recent years, most of my closest friends have been dogs, cats, and birds. And they may not even be my dogs, cats, or birds. They could very well be my neighbor’s pets. In fact, my best and closest friend when I was a young child was a stray cat named Strottles. He was an ancient orange cat. He was covered with scars from his many battles with neighbors’ male cats. He came to our side door every day and would meow until I came outside and gave him his share of hugs, scratches, and petting.

And in addition, I befriended all the neighbor’s pets, including cats and dogs. I went out of my way to talk to all the older people in the neighborhood, who often lived alone. And they were more than happy to make my acquaintance and befriend me. I found that they were good listeners and were never in a hurry. And they always seemed entranced by the stories I would tell them about the adventures I experienced in our neighborhood and the rest of the town that I lived in as well. My parents gave me full rein. As long as I was home for lunch or dinner on time, all was copesetic. In fact, they rarely asked where I had been or what I had been up to in fact. Even at the age of six, I was allowed to go out on my own as long as I wasn’t late for meals or bedtime. I kid you not.

I met some interesting people on my excursions. And once I was old enough to ride a bike, there was no stopping me. I traveled to all the surrounding towns on that bike. There was no stopping me. And like I said, my parents never asked where I had been or what I had been up to. Go figure.

My family in the 1950s

My family in the 1950’s

One of my favorite haunts was the local library, which was only two rooms. I used to go there at least once or twice a week, even before I was old enough to get a library book. I would pick out a bunch of books and spend several hours perusing them from the front cover to the last page. Sometimes, the librarians would greet me with ‘Oh boy, do we have a book for you.” And then I would be in book heaven for the next couple of hours. I made friends with all the local merchants. Needless to say, the local bakery and its employees became best friends of mine. I was their official taste tester. I can’t express just how much I loved all things sweet, from cakes to pies, to cookies.

And then there was the shoemaker. His shop was right around the corner from the Ben Franklin 5&10. I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, Tony the shoemaker was one of my favorite people to visit because he was always happy to see me, and sometimes I brought him a treat from the bakery. He came from Italy, and I loved hearing him talk with his Italian accent. He liked to hear all my stories about the people I talked to around town. He knew most of them as he was the only shoemaker in town.

Then, I would stop at the Rexall Drug Store and then the 5&10 cent store where you could actually purchase things for a nickel or a dime. I liked to collect foreign stamps when I was a kid. And you could buy a whole bunch of used stamps for fifty cents or a dollar if you had that much money. There were so many treasures to be found in that 5&10 store. I could spend hours in there just walking up and down the aisles. Sometimes, I would find some coins on the sidewalk when I was walking around downtown, and then before you could say whoop de doo., I would run down the street to the 5&10 and spend that money like it was burning a hole in my pocket.

Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy, where I attended high school.

Oh, but the best thing of all was the Roxy Theater, where every Saturday, you could watch a movie for twenty-five cents. I used to go with all my friends, sometimes school friends, and sometimes neighborhood kids. I would bring my lunch with me in a brown paper bag. My best neighborhood friend lived three houses away from me. We did everything together. At least everything during the summer, but during the school year, she used to sleep in late on Saturday morning, and then she would have to clean her room. So, I didn’t usually see her until we went to the children’s mass on Sunday. I was always talking and laughing during Mass and causing some kind of ruckus, and getting in trouble with the nuns.

After Mass, I would run home and eat a big Sunday breakfast with my family, and then I would be off on my bike. On Sunday,I spent most of my time alone because my friend’s family spent the day together. I didn’t have to be home except for breakfast and then at dinner time. I spent Sunday riding my bike around or taking long walks. Where I would stop and visit all the neighbor’s dogs and cats. And sometimes, I would go and visit all the older people in my neighborhood who lived alone. They always seemed happy to see me, and sometimes they offered me cake. And you know, I never said no to a piece of cake. And they all loved hearing my stories about the people in town, sometimes, I embellished the stories somewhat, but that just made them more interesting. I guess that’s when I began my journey of being a storyteller.

One time during Summer vacation, all the neighborhood kids were all outside playing Hide and Seek, and I was with my best friend. And I decided to tell her a story. I told her that I was actually an alien from outer space and came from another planet. And I was going to take her back with me to my planet. Apparently, I told the story so well that she believed me. Even though she knew me all her life, anyway, she said she didn’t want to go live on another planet, and she started crying buckets of tears. I couldn’t calm her down enough to tell her I was just telling a story. And it wasn’t true.

So, I had to take her home so her mother could calm her down. I tried to explain to her mother that I was just telling her one of my stories, but she was mad all the same. I have to admit I never told my mother and father about making my best friend cry. Because they had told me many times that one of these days, I was going to get into trouble for telling my tall tales.

I became friends with the old lady that lived across the street from my house. She was a widow and lived all alone. My best friend and I used to go over to Mrs. McFarland’s house and play with our dolls on her big swing. Once, Mrs. McFarland brought her childhood doll outside to show us. It was made of China and had real hair on its head. I loved Mrs. McFarland because whenever I came over to her yard, she would come outside and talk to me and tell me stories about her life. Mrs. McFarland only had one and a half arms. She told me that she was born like that, and her one arm only went down as far as her elbow.

But that didn’t stop Mrs. McFarland. She took care of herself and her house and did all the gardening in her yard. Her favorite flowers were roses and tulips. She used to tell me all the names of the flowers and how to take care of them. She inspired me to become a gardener when I grew up. And here I am, the age she was when I first became friends with her. And now I am a gardener and like nothing better than spending the day outside, tending my flower. Mrs. McFarland had a gigantic Weeping Willow in her yard, and she used to let me climb it. And now I planted a Weeping Willow in my yard here in North Carolina. When I was about sixteen years old, she passed away, and every time I looked across the street at her house, I missed her.

Over the course of my life, I have always found my own company to be satisfying. And I have always had many hobbies and interests. I love to read, draw and paint, and make things. I made all my own clothes for years and my children when they were young. When I was thirty-six, I made the decision to go to college and learn how to draw and paint. I graduated from college when I was forty with a degree in Art Education and a Bachelor of Arts Degree. I taught art for years, and often my students would sit out in my garden and draw or paint pictures of my plants and flowers. Along the way, I started writing short stories, and when I retired here to North Carolina, I decided to start a writer’s blog on the internet that was six years ago. And here I am, still going strong. You never know what life will have in store for you and where it will take you. I have lived in New Jersey, Florida, California, and the past eight years in North Carolina. I met some interesting people when I was working for the Elizabeth Warren Campaign. And at the Animal Sanctuary, I have been volunteering for the last eight years, three mornings a week.

As long as my heart and mind are still working, I will keep active and motivated to learn, meet new people, and grow as a human being. Life is short and goes by quickly, so whatever you do, make the most of it. Be kind to all you meet along life’s highways and byways. You never know what life has planned for you. Keep an open heart and an open mind, and a smile on your face.

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