Category Archives: My Memoirs

GROWING UP CATHOLIC IN AMERICA IN THE 1950-1960’s

I was born in 1951at the height of the Baby Boom, which followed WWII. Hence the name Baby Boomers. I was one of a pair (of fraternal twins) Baby B was born seven minutes after my sister, Karen. Catholic families often had many children due to the fact that the only form of birth control that was allowed by the Catholic Church was the” Rhythm Method. Not a particularly reliable birth control method.

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

We were a part of the ever-growing number of families in the working class. My father was the dispatcher for SEPTA the public bus company in Philadelphia. I grew up in a neighborhood of similar but not identical homes. We all had big backyards. We always had food on the table and clothes on our backs. I was the youngest so it was not uncommon for me to get the hand-me-downs. As did all the youngest in large families in our predominately Irish and Italian neighborhood in Maple Shade, NJ.

There was no “extra money.” However, since most of my friends were in the same boat, I did not consider it a big deal.

Being Catholic in a Catholic neighborhood also meant attending Catholic School. All other kids who didn’t go to Catholic school were called “The Publics.” And for some reason, we were told that this was a fate worse than death. If we misbehaved, we would be threatened with being sent to public school. Something akin to being sent to the third circle of hell.

The Classrooms were often too small for the large numbers of students occupying them. We often had to share books and desks. In first grade, I didn’t have my own desk right away and had to sit on a windowsill.

We were taught by nuns. Who considered themselves to be “brides of Christ.” In elementary school, I had St. Joseph nuns in high school I was taught by Franciscan nuns. The Saint Joseph nuns were a particularly strict order of sisters. They wore heavy woolen habits. Made from yards and yards of fabric. Their “habits” were fitted at the waist with voluminous skirts and a “belt’ that resembled a large rosary with a huge crucifix that hung down in the front. It clicked and clacked as they floated by seemingly without touching the ground. On their foreheads, they wore a “wimple” which was stiff as cardboard. And another piece that covered their chins. And a huge, white bib, that covered them from their necks to their chests, shoulder to shoulder.

I often wondered if they had hair underneath their veils. We were told never to touch the sisters for any reason. They were untouchable. I often wondered if they had ever been regular human beings or entirely another species. We were never brave enough or bold enough to question their words or their behaviors. No matter how unfair or unfathomable it seems to us.

Part of my Catholic School experience was wearing “uniforms.” The Our Lady of Perpetual Help uniform (OLPH) for girls was a maroon jumper with a white short-sleeved blouse, and saddle shoes, which were black and white. And a “beanie,” which was a maroon wool cap with a maroon wool-covered button on the top. Girls had to keep their heads covered at all times, especially in church. The boys wore dark pants, a white shirt, and a tie. The wool uniforms were itchy and uncomfortable especially as the weather became warmer. In the winter, girls were allowed to wear pants under their uniforms outside. But once inside, we had to take them off.

We were expected to stay neat and tidy at all times. My mother was kept busy washing and ironing our uniforms. The nuns kept order in the classrooms at all times. We were not allowed to talk back, or ask questions. Or heaven forbid chew gum in school. If anyone was caught with gum, they were forced to wear it stuck to the end of their nose for the rest of the day. If your behavior was out of line, you would sit in the corner. Your name would be added to a list on the blackboard. It was on there more than three times, you would be in for a world of trouble. And you warned it would go on your “permanent record.” Which we were told would follow you around for the rest of your life. The final threat was you would be expelled and never heard from again. This would be the ultimate embarrassment for your family, of course. What would the neighbors think? The sisters were not beyond using physical punishment, either. Rapping the knuckles with a metal-edged ruler, slapping, knocking the more rebellious boys down a short flight of steps. And name-calling, such as stupid, or lazy, was all too common a punishment.

There were some rewards in Catholic School too. You could become a hall monitor. Or you would be given a responsibility such as clapping the blackboard erasers. The greatest honor was being the child who crowned the Blessed Mother statue in the May procession.

On the first Friday of every month, we were all marched up to the church for Confession. There was a lot of pressure involved in going to Confession. Which was considered a Blessed Sacrament. Coming up with good sins to tell the priest, aside from the usual I got in a fight with my brother or sister, I lied. I was a quiet child and didn’t always have good “sins” to tell the priest. Sometimes, I felt compelled to “make up” more interesting transgressions. After Confession, we all had “pure souls.”

On Sunday mornings, we all went to the Children’s Mass at 9 am. During the Mass, if you were foolish enough to commit a transgression, the sisters would come up to the aisle where you were sitting and click a little metal clicker they had in their deep pockets.

My aisle often got into trouble because I always felt a compulsion to make all the girls in my aisle to start laughing. I would do this almost every Sunday without fail. Make a face or fart and cause a domino effect when my friend next to me would laugh, and then each girl next to them to giggle. The nuns would be clicking like crazy. We would be kept after school and punished by having to diagram sentences. Over fifty years later, I can still diagram a sentence.

In Catholic School, the curriculum was basic: reading, writing, arithmetic, history, spelling, science, spelling, English, and, more importantly religion. We had religion every day. In this class, we were given questions and we had to memorize the answer. If you weren’t good at memorizing your career in Catholic School was at risk. It turns out that I have an excellent memory. And I always received straight A’s in Religion and History and spelling. We’re not permitted to question these Religious beliefs. You were expected to believe on Faith. Anything less was considered a sacrilege.

Another important skill all good children needed to learn was the Palmer Method of Writing. We spent endless hours writing in blue books. We filled these books with strokes and ovals. It was tedious and a waste of time, and I was terrible at it since I was bored. We were using dip pens in bottles of ink. By the fifth grade, there were cartridge pens.

At that time there was a great deal of excitement about the Space Program. And a TV was brought into the classroom so we would all observe a space rocket being launched from Cape Canaveral. Not everyone had televisions back then. It was exciting to watch.

As far as sex education, in the eighth grade, we received a lecture. Of course, the boys and girls were in different rooms. The girls learned about menstruation. A very vague explanation was given and pictures of something (supposedly sperm) swimming towards a waiting ovum. No questions were allowed, and we were warned not to discuss this with the boys. One girl was assigned the important task of smuggling the little booklets out of the room under her jacket.

God knows what version of the truth the boys were told. I was still trying to figure out what a hickey was, let alone how someone got pregnant. No one bothered to tell me about the physical manifestations of menstruation, and I had three older sisters.

When it was time for my sister and me to attend high school, we had to take entrance exams. We were both accepted into St. Mary of the Angels Academy and Holy Cross High School. My parents made the decision that we would attend Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy because it was an all-girls high school.

I was a shy girl all through my high school years. St. Mary’s was located in Haddonfield, NJ. Which was a higher income area than Maple Shade, NJ, where I grew up. There were some benefits to attending an all-girl school. One was girls didn’t have to fight for attention because there were no boys. In grade school, the nuns always called on the boys. Girls were told it was a known scientific fact that we could not comprehend Math or Science. Many girls at St. Mary’s found out that they were quite intelligent. In fact that they could excel in both Science and Math. We also had a basketball team that competed with other girls’ teams throughout the state of NJ.

The Catholic School system taught me many things: reading, writing, math, history, and basic knowledge of Science, French, and a smattering of Latin. It also taught me self-control, discipline, and determination.

However, it took me years to overcome the lack of self-esteem and inhibitions that sometimes overwhelmed me. Catholic high school did protect us for four additional years from the harsh realities of life. But I don’t know if they did us any favors considering the turmoil of the seventies that awaited us.

CORONA VIRUS- JUNE 6th, 2020

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Another week has passed. Spring is nearly over and Summer will arrive in two weeks. I can’t imagine that this summer will be similar to any summer I have experienced during my lifetime. It’s true the heat and humidity will be here and extended daylight too. But few people will be taking vacations at the beach or anywhere else I imagine.

Cows cooling down in the pond

In my travel to my volunteer job at Animal Edventure, I have been fortunate in being able to observe the beautiful farmlands of North Carolina come to life. Two weeks ago, I noticed that the farmers were plowing their fields and that because of all the rain we receive, the grass was greener, and the wildflowers were appearing along the side of the roads.

NC rural farmlands- photos by Bob Culver

Yesterday I noticed that the crops that were just planted a week ago were about ten inches tall. I was amazed at how quickly they grew. Thanks to the hardworking farmers and the Latino migrant workers that come here every year to do the backbreaking work to provide food for our tables. I have never lived in a rural area before, and I have come to have a real appreciation for this landscape.

We will appreciate our friends and family because we now understand how essential they are to our lives and our happiness. And appreciate them all in a new way. We will no longer take anything for granted. Because we realize that any of it or all of it could be lost in a moment.

We know life seems to slip by quickly as we get older. And every moment of our lives should be treasured. Now is the time for all of us to tell people how much we love and care for them. From my own experience, I can tell you that time passes quickly. It seems like yesterday when my children were young and playing in the little blow-up pool in the backyard of our first house. And now they are both adults. It seems in the blink of the eye.

When I was a child, Summer was my favorite time of the year. It was a magical time. I had complete freedom, no school, and so no homework. Endless days of playing with my friends, riding my bike all over town and swimming in my neighbor’s pool, roller skating, walking downtown and going to the 5 & 10 Store, and going to the Matinee downtown every Saturday afternoon. The only bad memories I have was being eaten alive by the mosquitoes.

So no, this won’t be the idyllic Summer we would all love to have. But we can enjoy watching movies with our children or grandchildren, swimming in our backyard pools if we have one. Riding bikes in our neighborhoods or even hiking in the woods if there is one located near where you live. We can still create good memories. It is up to us.

It is strange that with all the unrest in our country that the Corona Virus has barely been mentioned even though it is clearly still here. And the death rate has continued to increase. And we will a surge in the number of people infected because of people protesting and more people attending churches and not observing social distancing or not wearing masks while among crowds of people.

I believe that because of all the pain and loss we are all feeling at this time, we will learn a new appreciation for we took for granted all these years. The violence that has been visited upon American citizens for lawfully protesting the death of yet another black American citizen by police is difficult to digest. There have been rallies across the world to support Black Lives Matter. There have been riots.

I do not support rioters destroying private businesses or looting. This type of action is not acceptable at all. It hurts everyone in the community. But I do understand the emotions behind the looting and rioting. The anger, the frustration, the resentment they have experienced by being treated as less than white people over many generations has an accumulative effect.

As your lives return to normal and you return to your jobs, please keep in mind that the virus is still very much alive and among us. Please continue to social distance and wear masks. I know it’s easy to forget doing to do this. I enjoy talking to people and often have to suppress my inclination to walk over to people and start talking to them. I miss that interaction. I wave at them from a distance and yell out,” Hello, how are you doing?” It feels weird and artificial to me. But I continue to do so because I don’t want to inadvertently become infected or infect someone else because I wasn’t careful enough. We must always remember to first do no harm.

Some day I hope that all of this will just become a distant bad memory. But there are lessons to be learned here. That all lives have value and make a contribution. A contribution that perhaps we never valued before and, now we do. I hope we remember this when all is said and done.

That in order for us to continue to have a free country, there is a price we all have to pay, is to guard that freedom. That our actions have consequences. That every person’s life matters. Regardless of their race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation.

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CORONA VIRUS-MAY 30,, 2020

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Here in North Carolina this week, we have had more than our share of rain. It has rained nearly every day during the past week. I’m an avid gardener, so I realize that if I want to enjoy flowers and vegetables growing in my garden, rain is necessary. Today it rained so much that the ground in my back yard is sodden. In NC, if you dig down to about ten inches, you will find red clay.

Calla Lillies- photo by Bridget Culver

The clay inhibits moisture from going deep into the soil. And the accumulated rainfall after a week of rain just sits on top of that clay. When I go to my back yard, I wear boots. The first Spring after we moved here, we planted several young trees. One week it rained so hard one of the young trees, a beautiful dogwood just floated up out of its soil and fell over. I’ve never seen that happen before. We replanted it, but it didn’t survive.

Some people love rain, the way it sounds on the roof as it falls, the fresh smell after the storm. I, too, enjoy these things. But still, I love a sunny day so much more. I feel so happy when I look out the window and see the sun shining. It lifts my spirit.

Jalapeno – Photo by Bob Culver

Today it started to drizzle on my way to Animal Edventure. A thunderstorm is predicted at about 10:30 AM. I arrive at about 7:15 AM. And so, I think I can accomplish my work done before the rain starts. But the rain starts early. The bird building I work in has a metal roof, and the sound that the rain makes on the roof is tremendous. The parrots and Macaws love noise, and they increase their volume as the rain hitting the roof becomes louder. I have to go out of the building several times, and I am thoroughly soaked.

By this time, I accept that it will probably rain all day. I stop letting it bother me. I turn the radio on in the building. The only station that I’m able to tune in is a Country Station, not my favorite kind of music. But I go with it. The birds, including three Macaws, three cockatoos, and twenty parrots, all begin to chime in. They love the rain. And would probably love nothing more than to be out in the rain taking a shower. So all and all we had a good morning in the bird building, singing, and some screaming, screeching and talking.

After I took care of my parrots in the bird building, I go outside to feed the pheasants, chickens, and doves. They don’t seem to mind the rain either. I cleaned out all their water dishes and checked who needed more feed. And I rake out the waste, and I’m finished. I put all my tools away and walk out to my car. The sun shows its face. I was happy to see it even if it is only for a little while.

I hit the country road and start home. When I ‘m about one-half mile from Animal Edventure, I notice a Red-Tailed Hawk sitting on a post of a split rail fence. And flying over the hawk’s head is a wren who is repeatedly dive-bombing the hawks head, hitting it over and over. I realize the wren wants the hawk out of his territory. Possibly she’s protecting her nearby nest. I want to stop and take a picture, but I realize they would both fly away if I did. So, I just slowly drive by them and watch the show. The hawk ignoring the wren as if were little more than a gnat. And the wren unafraid and unrelenting in her desire to protect her nest and babies.

Nature is continuing to do its job, rain upon the earth, offering us the occasional glimpse of the sun, the wren protecting the future generation of wrens.

When I arrive home, I fill up the bird feeders in my yard while the sun still shines. As long as we live upon this planet, nature will continue to provide for the cycle of life. About an hour later, the heavy rain returns, and I watch the storm from the safety of my porch.

As I sit there on my porch chair, my dog Douglas jumps up next to me, and I pet his head. He’s happy that I’m home and is content to lie next to me and continue his nap.

As I sit there, I contemplate all the things that occurred during the past five days, and some of it is heartbreaking. A man’s life was lost because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his skin was not white. The city he lived in is in turmoil, and his community is angry and reacting.

It is a heartbreaking event, one that we have all heard too many times. I can’t imagine how this will resolve. I wonder how much longer it will take for America to recognize that the color of one’s skin is one small aspect of that person. Would you define a person’s worth by their eye color? This man’s future is forever gone. His family and friends will miss him for the rest of their lives.

The number of people that have died from the virus in America has risen to over 100,000 people. A number so large it’s hard to comprehend. But every single digit represents a single person who is forever lost to their family, their friends. Anything that they could have contributed to our society, to our planet is forever lost.

Anyone who states that the “numbers” aren’t that bad, is a person who does not value human life. A person that values “things” more than life. The accumulated loss of all that this 101thousand lives could have accomplished and could have enriched our lives is incalculable ways and will forever remain unknown. But the loss will be deeply felt for generations to come.

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COMING OF AGE

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In May of 1989 I turned 38 years old. In July of that same year I celebrated my 14^th wedding anniversary to my husband, Bob. I had two young children Jeanette, who was seven years old, and my youngest daughter Bridget was almost four.

Susan Culver- Tyler School of Art ID

In September of 1989 I entered Temple University at Tyler School of Art as a full-time Freshman. I was the first and the only adult to begin undergraduate studies as an adult at the Tyler Campus. I looked young for my age, but by no stretch of the imagination did I look seventeen or eighteen years old.

In 1987 my mother passed away from congestive heart failure. My father died eight months before her from lung cancer. The years that my parents became ill and eventually succumbed to their illnesses were the most difficult and painful I had ever experienced. Their absence from my life was almost unbearable.

But I learned many lessons from those experiences and the most important one I learned from my mother. She revealed to me in the last year before she died that her biggest regrets were not the mistakes, she made. But the things she had not done in her life. I made a vow to myself that I would not make these same mistakes. I didn’t want to come to the end of my life regretting the things not accomplished. I wasn’t going to allow anything to stand in my way for any reason, including fear and money.

I also learned what a strong woman I had become in the years between eighteen and forty. I learned to trust myself as a person with strong values. I realized I had courage and intelligence. It took all those years to believe in myself. I made a conscious decision to not allow anyone to dissuade me for any reason. And that is exactly what I did. I did not listen when I was told I was too old or didn’t have an art background.

Once I made the decision to go to Art School, I spent almost a year building my portfolio. And ultimately, I was accepted into all the art schools I applied at including Temple University and Hussian School of Art and Moore College of Art which is a women’s college.

I chose to attend Temple Tyler School of Art, which was then located in Cheltenham, Pa. I felt this school offered me the opportunity to not only attend a prestigious art school but access to all the classes at the main campus in Philadelphia. Pa., I wanted to learn more than art but also history, science, women studies, and literature.

At one point before I decided to major in art, I also considered becoming a writer. The second reason I choose Temple Tyler School of art was the University offered me full financial aid for the entire Freshman year. This offer was based on my being a woman of a certain age. And the scores I attained in the University entrance exam. And I believed my determination to go to this school played a big part in my acceptance and financial aid.

The first week as a full-time student was a momentous one for me. Here I was in the mid-point of my life and I was a college Freshman.

The First Day

I leave Bridget in the car seat while I walk Jeanette up to the baby sitter’s front door. The baby sitter had a child had in Franklin Elementary School as well. Her daughter happens to be Jeanette’s best friend. She’s one year younger than Jeanette. I have been babysitting her during the summer months for years since she was a young child. They agreed to walk Jeanette to school along with their own child. The school was just down the street. “Bye Jeanette, I’ll see you after school. I love you.” Jeanette was so happy to be spending time with her best friend Laura, she didn’t look back, she just yelled, “Bye Mom see you later.”

I jump back into the front seat behind the wheel. I look at Bridget. She’s smiling as usual, always a happy little girl. Her eyes were as big as saucers. “OK Bridget you’re going to the First Baptist Christian Day School. And you are going to make a lot of friends and have tons of fun. You’re so lucky.” She smiles at me. I have to admit I felt a little guilty. But I had spent seven years being a stay at home mom. And I thought they would benefit being with other children and adults. They both had a tendency to be somewhat reticent with people they didn’t know.

I held Bridget’s hand tightly as we walk into the school, and into her classroom. I met her teacher, Mrs. Miller. She looks as if she is about seventy-five years old. And I think, Oh how is she going to handle all these little kids?

“Hello, Mrs. Miller, I’m Susan Culver and this is my daughter, Bridget. She’s starting pre-school here today.”

“Well Mrs. Culver don’t you worry Bridget will be just fine here with me.”

“I’m sure she will, however, she has never been in school before or even had a babysitter before now.”

“Yes, yes Mrs. Culver not too worry, she’ll be just fine, be on your way now.”

“Oh yes of course, let me say goodbye first.”

“No, it’s better if mothers don’t make a big fuss when leaving their little ones here.”

“Oh, alright and I walk to the door and then turn back and took a final look at my little girl. Thinking, oh I hope I haven’t made a mistake doing this. “As I look across the room, I see Bridget sitting in a circle with the other little kids singing like she’s been coming here all of her life. She looks happy. I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a bit.

My first day at school was about to begin as well. And I was feeling equal amounts of excitement and fear. I had graduated from high school in 1969. And so, it had been a long, long time since I was in a classroom as a student. But this was the first time I wanted to go to school. I’m excited about learning and being challenged. All the teachers at Tyler wanted the students to learn and grow as an artist. They were all artists as well.

As I pull out into the street next to First Baptist Christian Day School. I am about to meet my first challenge. I have to drive from Merchantville, NJ to Pennsylvania. And that meant I had to cross the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge to North East Philadelphia and then on to Cheltenham, Pa.

What challenge is that you may ask? Well, the challenge is my fear of bridges and heights. The Tacony Bridge is a drawbridge that allows large ships to go under the bridge to the port at Philadelphia. And I am terrified of bridges. Why, because one time when I was young, under five I was in the car sitting on my mother’s lap. And we were going over the Walt Whitman Bridge. I leaned against the door and the door swung open and I fell out onto the bridge. Luckily my father was at a standstill waiting until the drawbridge closed that was allowing a ship to pass under the bridge.

Tacony-Palmyra Bridge, NJby Arorlin 55 2009

I don’t remember much more than this. Except how angry my father was at me. Even though obviously it wasn’t my fault I was a child, the door wasn’t locked and I was sitting on my mother’s lap and not in my own seat in the back. Of course, back then there weren’t car seats or seat belts for that matter. And my father was mad because it scared him witless when I fell out. And ever since that day I was afraid of going over bridges.

I found out that the first day that I drove over the bridge was I wasn’t afraid anymore. Why, because I was the one doing the driving. Before this, I had always insisted that my husband drives to Philadelphia. Now I had control of my car, and I was safe. That’s the day I overcame my fear of bridges. And it was a good thing because for the next four years sometimes I had to go back and forth twice a day. So, I met that first challenge.

My second challenge was getting to the Tyler School without getting lost. One of my shortcomings is a complete lack of a sense of direction. Never had one, still don’t. My husband Bob wrote clear and precise directions to and from Tyler. And he drew a map. I taped the map to the dashboard to the right of the steering wheel. Thanks to him, I made my way to school and back without getting lost once. Of course, at some point I remembered the route without the map. Although for some reason my brain often has difficulty figuring out how to go home even though it is the same except for the direction I’m headed. It always takes me longer to learn the way back from just about anywhere I go.

As I made my final right turn into the stone walled parking lot of Tyler, I was torn between excitement and trepidation at making it this far in my dream of becoming an artist. Spending a year getting my portfolio prepared, applying to the art schools and participating in the portfolio reviews, and waiting for news of whether I was accepted or not. I was thrilled when I was accepted by all the schools where I applied. And even more thrilled to get financial aid and grants.

As I sat in my car in the parking lot, I look around I realize my car was the only one there. I look at my car clock and I realize that I was once again I would be the first one to arrive. This is a life-long habit, arriving early. After twelve years of Catholic School I was neurotic about being late. As this was practically considered a “Mortal Sin.” And for the next four years I was always the first student to arrive in every class. Which was of benefit to me because it gave me time to study. Time is valuable when you in college. I scheduled every minute of my day. Especially for me a Freshman student who was married and has a house and two small children to take care of. In addition, I made the decision to have two majors, graphic design and art education.

As I walk out of the parking lot, I realize I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I broke out in a sweat. Then I remembered I had a campus map in my backpack. My first class was the Freshman Graphic Design Class. I look on the map for the building and found my way there. I walked over to a man who was trimming some bushes and said,” Hello, my name is Susan Culver. I’m just starting here today. Can you tell me if this is the Graphic Arts Building?”

He said, “yes, it is right through that door at the top of the steps, but you may be a mite early.”
“Thanks so much, I’m a bit nervous this is my first day here. What’s your name?”

“My name is Patrick. I’m one of the groundskeepers here. I worked here for years.”

“Oh, really it’s nice to meet you. Thanks for your help.”

“Your welcome, good luck, Susan.”

After that morning I made it my business to say hello to Patrick every time I saw him. He was my first friend at Tyler. Always pleasant, kind, and welcoming to me and all the other students.

I made my way to the top of the steps and down the hall and found the right room number, no one else was there. Surprise. I sit in the first seat of the front row. I didn’t want to miss a thing. As the students start to arrive almost every one of them asked me if I was the teacher. And I responded, “No, I ‘m a student.”

And they each gave me a funny look and found a seat. One of the students came up to me and said, HI, y name is Lynette Brown.”

“HI Lynette, I’m Susan Culver. My mother’s name was Brown and she was born in Philadelphia. Maybe we’re related.”

She took a long look at me and said,” Somehow I doubt it.” We both laughed. She was a young black student. She was eighteen years old. We both laughed and we started talking. It turns out that we had almost identical class schedules and she was also majoring in Art and Art Education. We spent the better part of the next four years together. We became great friends despite the age difference. We even did our teaching practicums together in our junior and senior years. She was extremely talented, and intelligent. She even enjoyed my sarcastic sense of humor.

One of the promises I made to myself before I started my student career was to make friends with as many people as I could while I was a student. This was not an easy challenge for me since I spent my entire life up to that point being quiet and reticent with people I didn’t know. But starting from that first day of school I made it my business to introduce myself to every student I came into contact with and most of the staff at the campus.

When I went to the student lunchroom for break or lunch if there wasn’t an empty table, I would walk over to one of the tables with an empty seat and say,” Hi, I’m Susan Culver. Would you mind if I sit here and have lunch with you?’ They always said, “Yeah, sure.” And then I would ask everyone at the table, “what class are you taking?” And this is how I became acquainted with every student at the school.

The teachers kept it professional at all times. Even though quite a few of my teachers were about my age. They soon realized that I always had my assignments done on time. And they would call on me to put my artwork up to be critiqued first. And they showed me no pity. I believe all the other students benefited by these critiques because they didn’t want their work to be so harshly critiqued as mine was every day. They learned what not to do, and what was expected by my mistakes.

That first day was only a small taste at what I would experience as an art student. But by far Freshman Life Studies Drawing class was the most challenging for many reasons. It was four hours every day. You had to draw standing up at an easel and the models were mostly young people male and female. One time one of the maintenance workers modeled for our class and he was about fifty. I had a hard time talking to him when I met him in the hall after that. The models had to stand for hours in the same position and they were nude. About five of the Freshman students dropped out of class that first day because they were not prepared to draw nude models. After a time, I started looking at the models as just one more object to draw that reflected light and shadow. And it stopped bothering me altogether.

And so, ended my first day. It was a day that challenged me and changed me for the better.

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Corona Virus- May 23rd, 2020

Corona Virus- May 16th,2020

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Corona Virus-May 16^th, 2020

This week has brought equal parts of both good and bad. Reminders that life’s challenges help me to become a stronger person. This week I have observed that the Magnolia trees are in full bloom. I so look forward to seeing those majestic flowers every year. And it’s a reminder that life goes on despite what is happening now.
I look forward to the magnificent Crepe Myrtles blooming in a couple of months. We must allow ourselves these moments to enjoy the good things in life that are all around us.

Magnolia Flower- Photo by Bob Culver

One of the animals that I came to love at Animal Edventure met an untimely death. I will so miss her each day when I go there. She was the first one who greeted me, And I pet her from the top of her head to the end of her tail. I would bring her into the main building and feed her and give her something to drink. Such a beautiful animal. Such a short life.

I have faced many difficult times in my life. I believe I faced these times head-on. I look at each challenge and think about what will make this situation better or a least less painful. What can I do?

In 1985 my parents, who were then in their mid-seventies, became ill. My father developed lung cancer, he already had emphysema. He was a heavy smoker his whole life. My mother’s personality and behavior changed drastically. My mother was blind from glaucoma. She lost her vision slowly over time. She didn’t tell anyone what was happening. Her loss of vision affected her profoundly and she became frightened and paranoid. Perhaps it was dementia or as my brother who was a psychologist thought a psychosis. There aren’t words enough to explain how devastatingly painful to see my loving and caring mother change before my eyes to someone I didn’t recognize. I miss her still to this day. Not the person she became at the end of her life but the loving and devoted mother I knew for my whole life up until that time.

My children were only two and five at the time, and I was a stay at home mother for several years. And so, I was able to spend a great deal of time with my parents. My father gave me the power of attorney. I took over their finances and paid their bills and made medical decisions for them. When the time came, I bought their burial plots and their caskets, headstones, and flowers.

Lung cancer is an unforgiving disease and it progressed rapidly. By the time my father shared his symptoms with me, he had large inoperable lesions in his esophagus and right lung. At that time, there was no treatment for him, as the cancer was too advanced. My mother’s mental health deteriorated over this time. I have to admit I have never felt as low at any time in my life as I did during their illness and after their death. My entire family, which was a large one, stepped up to help take care of my parents. It was a sad time for us all.

After my father passed, it was apparent that my mother wouldn’t be able to live by herself. And I hired a woman whose name was Doris Cook to come in and stay with my mother during the week. My siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our homes on the weekends. It was painful seeing my dear mother’s sweet and loving personality disappear day by day. She passed eight months after my father.

I know every member of my family felt this loss deeply. As for myself, I woke up every day and felt that loss and waves of sorrow would wash over me. Until I felt I was drowning in it. I thought I’m an orphan now, I have no parents. It took a long, long time for me to overcome this sadness. And still, to this day, I feel a deep emptiness when I realize that I will never see my parents again. Despite the fact that it has been over thirty years.

I have realized that loss is just as big a part of life as is joy and happiness. Loss offers us the opportunity to grow and mature and become a stronger man or woman. If we stand up to those challenges if we face then instead of running away or denying their existence.

Right now, at this moment, at this time, we are all facing the biggest challenges on every front that we never imagined would come our way. Not in our wildest imagination. A pandemic never crossed my mind, not once, not ever. I knew there was a pandemic in 1918 when my parents were young. But I certainly never thought it would happen in the here and now. In fact, I never thought about it at all. It belonged to the distant past. But here it is. And we are in the middle of it. Not just here in American but every single place big and small across our planet. So far, 308,985 people have died from this disease. Over 80,000 in the United States alone.

By nature, I am a caretaker and a fixer of sorts. In one way or another throughout my life, I have striven to give assistance and care to the people I come in contact with me. If I see a need and I am able to mitigate it in some way, I have. There are so many people now that are not getting their basic needs met with food, shelter, and clothing. I help in my own limited way.

We are all in this together. And if I could just offer this bit of advice please, please wear masks when you are out and about. They are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign that you care about others, including your own family members’ health and well-being. They protect “other people” whose masks protect “you.” Even if you never did anything for anybody your whole life, you can do this small thing NOW. Wear the mask to protect others and they will do the same for you.

We are not able to reliably project when the pandemic will end. It could appear as if it is and then flair up again and more people will die. Or it could become a seasonal disease that returns again and again. We will not become safe again until there is an antiviral available to protect us from this disease. And when this happens, get inoculated. Please. Do the right thing. If you never made a good decision in your life, why not start with this.

As you go about your daily life, try to be kind. I know it is difficult considering all the stress we are all under, not enough money to live on, buy food, pay our bills. People want to go back to work and provide for their families and they can’t yet. We miss spending time with our friends and family. And going out for fun. And a million other little and big things too long a list to mention. But, somehow, sometime in the future those of us who are still here will look back on this time and think, “I’m stronger than I realized. I did the right thing for myself, my community, and the world. I survived this, so I certainly can meet any other challenge that comes my way. Please do the right thing, not just for you but for all of us. We are all in this together.

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Corona Virus- May 9th,2020

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Susan A. Culver writing- photo by Bob Culver 2020

I noticed this week traveling from my house to Animal Edventure that there has been a definite uptick in the number of cars on the roads. And cars parked at the local bar-be-que place that is located on route 50 just before I get onto route 210. I noticed people were waiting in their cars for take out, but at least half of the vehicles were empty, indicating that they were inside the restaurant eating. This restaurant delivers the take-out to the cars, this despite the state mandate that no one can eat inside of restaurants yet.

When my husband went to the drugstore to pick up an order, he told me he didn’t see any people wearing masks except the employees. This is concerning since yesterday at 5 o’clock began the first step in three steps to open up NC. And people do not appear to be keeping six feet apart. Few people are wearing masks in the stores in this area. I am afraid of the consequences of this behavior. I can’t understand why they just don’t take these easy steps to keep the infection down. The outcome will be a tremendous increase in the number of people infected and possibly dying. I find this disturbing.

In my little neighborhood of twenty houses, I have observed some changes in our neighbor’s behavior. There is a house across the street where a couple who appear to be in their early forties live with their two teenage daughters. The mother is a math teacher in middle school. Currently, she’s teaching remotely. Since we moved here almost four years ago, I ‘ve observed her running early in the morning before she leaves for work. However, since she’s been home in these past weeks, she has increased her exercise routine, and her young daughters are included. The girls do all sorts of gymnastics, I think,might be related to being cheerleaders. But the Mom is now including weight lifting, including carrying large barbells over her head and briskly walking up and down half the street and then back again to her driveway. For some reason, I’m not sure why I find this comical. I’m fairly certain I would be unable to lift up these barbells of the ground, let alone carry them over my head up and down the street.

The UPS man is making deliveries to almost everyone on the street during the week at some point. I have to say that in some ways, people have adapted quickly to our current way of life.

Some of our neighbors who are out of work right now are doing projects on their homes. Upkeep, they have put off for years. Three families have replaced their mailboxes that were falling over or the mailboxes fell off. Every time I take a walk down the block, I pick up their mail and shove into the back of their mailboxes. Two families had their septic tanks pumped out. I don’t think I can take too much more excitement.

Our next-door neighbor cleaned their front porch of all the things that have accumulated on it. He also began painting his porch railings that had little paint left on them. I thought, oh great; he’s painting his porch. But unfortunately, an unexpected visitor arrived, and that was the end of the painting. Now his porch is half painted, and the paint and brushes are sitting on the porch deck. That was disappointing. What can I say we live in a quiet neighborhood except for the dogs barking all night and not a whole lot going on? It’s not Mr. Rodger’s neighborhood. But it is the quietest place I have ever lived.

In our garden, the Irises and Flags and Peonies are finished blooming. And now the roses and Calla Lilies are coming into bloom. I have come to enjoy sitting on our little deck and looking at our small pond beneath it. We have one large Koi; he seems to be the boss. And there are about twenty other smaller fish who swim in circles all day and seem quite happy to do so. Not realizing how small their pond world is since it is the only world they know. If you know nothing else, can you miss it? I don’t know. I put up hummingbird feeders from the railing of our deck and have yet to see a single hummingbird. I live in hope that they will appear sooner or later.

As for myself, I finished a long-term project this week. About nine years ago I recorded oral family histories from anyone in my family who wanted to participate. After they were edited, they were transferred to disks. I included letters to each of my family and instructions for copying the disks for their children and grandchildren. I mailed them off to them since I now live in North Carolina. And they live in New Jersey.

I interviewed each family member about their lives, the high points, and the lows. I found out many things I didn’t know about them. Since I’m the youngest in my family of six and my older siblings are fifteen and twenty years my senior. My brother told me that when my mother went into labor with my twin sister and myself, he drove her to the hospital. He was almost twenty at the time.

Unfortunately, my older brother passed away two years ago. But I know that his children will love hearing his voice again relating stories about his childhood and his life up until the time when I spoke to him. He led a good life and an interesting one and a productive one. He was a psychologist; he specialized in family therapy. And my oldest sister, Jeanie, died at forty-one from emphysema in 1979. She was beautiful and intelligent and kept her sense of humor throughout her long illness. I still miss her.

About ten years ago, I finished a book I made, which included family history and pictures of both my mother and my father’s side of the family who came from Ireland. And a family health history and pictures of each part of my family and their early life, married life, and their children. Also, I included copies of letters that my mother and father wrote to me in the seven years that I lived in Florida and California in the early years of my marriage. It took me three years to complete, and I gave everyone a copy at Christmas.

I haven’t decided on my next project yet. I am considering writing a children’s book and illustrating it. For the last year, I’ve been writing and publishing my memoirs on my blog. I’m not a famous person, but I believe that every life has value, and we have lessons to share and truths to tell. And we can learn from other people’s mistakes.

In my middle years, all I read was autobiographies because I have found the lives of people to be fascinating no matter if they were rich and famous or ordinary people like myself not afraid to share their secrets, their fears, their hopes, and their dreams. I’m and you are a book worth writing and a book worth reading and sharing.

I hope this coming week that you will keep safe and healthy and keep your eyes open for all the interesting things that life brings to you, whether it is birds nesting in your yard or your neighbor jumping up and down with barbells above their head.

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Corona Virus- May 2nd, 2020

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Another week has passed, and I’m still here, and so are you if you are reading this. I ‘m glad for that. May is my favorite month. Probably because my birthday is May 24 and it’s Spring. The season I love the most.

Early Spring – our small Koi pond

As I look out my kitchen window, I see our little pond that we made three and a half years ago when we first moved here to North Carolina. The Irises and Peonies are in full bloom, and I can see the Koi swimming happily around in a circle. Their world is small, but they never knew any other life, and so they are content.

Unfortunately, none of us can say the same. It was such a short time ago that our lives were so different. I wake up every morning and remember again that my life and yours and everyone’s has changed perhaps forever. We will probably never feel the same again. We will never feel completely safe or that our loved ones are safe either. On the news, on the internet, we are reminded that this Virus will probably return every winter to threaten our very lives and way of life.

This fact is a reminder that we humans never had control of many things in our world. We all believed that we were in charge, but we are not. We live on this planet, but it does not belong to us. We have not respected it, we have polluted the land, the air, the water. We are steadily depopulating our world of hundreds, if not thousands of species that shared the earth.

We are greedily killing them by deforestation, or murdering them as a recreational activity. We have polluted the ocean with our plastics waste and garbage and trash. We have caused the climate change that is occurring as I write this.

The weather here in NC is schizophrenic during this past winter we had days when the temperature was 87 degrees and then the next it dropped down to the mid-thirties. We were inundated with rain and wind. You never knew what the next day’s weather would be. Last summer, the heat was unbearable, and the hottest Summer ever recorded. Natures way of reminding us that we are not in charge. And that actions have consequences.

And yet because we humans have to isolate ourselves at home, there have been positive changes. The air quality is improving all across the globe because we are not driving our cars on the roads and in our cities.

Animals feel safe coming out and visiting areas that they haven’t been seen in decades. There is a healing taking place on our planet, and it is a clear message that we humans are the cause of the problems. That all our thoughtless, selfish actions have had devastating consequences. Can we learn this lesson? I hope so. This time of loss for us has given us perhaps our last chance to change our behavior and save ourselves and our home, the earth. We have an opportunity to look at a distance and gain a better perspective,

My hope is we do acknowledge that we have perhaps our last opportunity to save our planet, our home. And we can start making the changes that will ultimately rescue this planet and ourselves.

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CORONA VIRUS- APRIL 25, 2020

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Another week has passed. Each day seems to be moving at a snail’s pace at the same time it feels like the weeks are flying by in the blink of an eye. I’m a person that enjoys living a productive life. I set daily goals for myself. I’m my own taskmaster. If I’m tired, I push myself to accomplish my goals anyway.

Jalapeno, Eclectus Parrot- Photo by Bob Culver

Unfortunately, I have a tendency to hold my family to the same standards. “What did you do today? What else? You mean you just looked at the internet all morning? I guess you could say I’m a bit of a nag.

I have a high energy level; sometimes I forget everyone isn’t like me. They don’t necessarily feel an internal pressure to be busy every moment of the day. Even before I retired and I was working full-time, I did volunteer work on my days off. I taught English As A Second Language, and Basic Skills Classes and helped people get their GED. I was a mentor for Big Brother/Big Sister. I have always wanted my life to have value and make a contribution to our society and help other people do the same.

For the past three and a half years, I have been volunteering three mornings a week at an Animal Sanctuary in Coats, NC. I take care of parrots, Macaws, and Cockatoos. I love animals. And I loved these birds. But I have to admit it is exhausting work, especially for someone my age.

Sparky- Photo by Bob Culver

As I was driving home yesterday from Animal Edventure, I realized that one of the things that I enjoyed the most now is the drive back and forth from my house to Animal Edventure. It is only a fifteen- or twenty-minute ride. But it allows me to be alone with my thoughts and reflect on what has been happening in my home. And what has or may occur while I’m at Animal Edventure.

I live in a small development, and I drive through farmlands to the Animal Sanctuary. I had the opportunity to observe the long winter pass and Spring arrive one day at a time. The crops are beginning to grow, wildflowers are springing up, giving me hope.

There are fewer cars on the road. It’s a quiet ride that offers me the opportunity to see the cows and chickens and the horses and beautiful steer with their magnificent horns. And I see the crops growing a bit taller every day. It lifts my spirit. That somehow, our life will move forward to better days. It fills me with gratitude for all our planet has to offer.

I arrive at 7:15 at the Animal Sanctuary, and I’m usually the first one up and about. The eight dogs that live there greet me with their doggy smiles as I walk down the path from the front gate, and I hug and pet each one. Sometimes I offer them each a dog biscuit too. Dogs are such wonderful creatures we are lucky to have them in our lives.

I get ready to head out to the bird building by filling the water jugs and getting any supplies I may need for them and put it all in a little wagon to bring out to their building. Before I go there, I give each of the Foxes a treat. I can see they are eagerly awaiting it. They show their excitement with a high-pitched whining and wide, toothy grins.

As I’m about to go into the bird building, Tuni, the blind pig greets me, and I pet her from her bristly head to her little tail. She grunts at me and waits patiently for her small snack. She is such a sweet soul.
I look forward to seeing her.

Sometimes, Matilda, the Emu is waiting for me, she isn’t patient and always seems to think I’m late. If she is in a particularly bad mood, I have to step aside quickly, or she will peck me with her sharp beak. She has quick reflexes and keeps me on my toes.

As I enter the building with two of the outside cats, Camo and Orange Julius Paco scream out, “helloooo.” I call out, “Hello, birds, how are you all doing today?”

I take out the cat food and put it on the floor for my little cat friends. And as they start eating, I pet Camo but not Orange Julius she doesn’t like more than a pat on the head. I go over to each of the birds and ask them how they are? They each answer in their fashion. Sometimes they say hello, sometimes they scream. It’s noisy in the bird building; it takes getting used to. I have been working there for three and a half years. And I have learned to block out most of the noise. Jalapeno is a bright green Electus. He jumps on my shoulder. Sometimes he likes to ride in the hood of my jacket. He always wants to be fed first before all the other birds. If I don’t feed him first, he will go over and start eating the cat food. He isn’t one bit afraid of the cats. And the cats run out of the building when they see Jalapeno coming towards them.

I spend about three and a half hours in the bird building. I feed all the birds and clean their water and food dishes. I clean their cages inside and out and rake the floor. I have come to love these beautiful creatures—each different from the next in their personality and their moods. I talk to each one and ask them how they’re doing. I feel lucky to have the opportunity to know them.

Sometimes the kangaroos come by and try to break in, but I shoosh them away. And occasionally Jack the Blood Hound stops by, and bangs on the door, and I hand him a dog biscuit. He often lies down outside the door in the morning sun and takes a nap.

It’s a busy morning in the bird building but the time goes by quickly. Before I leave, I say good-bye to my feathered friends. And tell them I’ll see them in a couple of days.

I return the wagon to its parking place and head toward the exit. I say good-bye to all the animals, as I pass them. Adelaide the Kookaburra is one of my favorites; she always sings out for me as I pass her by and, I say, “hello, Adelaide, I see you’ve woke up.”

When I arrive home my husband and daughter ask me,” Ok, what happened today? And I relate stories about each one of my animal friends and what they were up to.

Then I go outside and eat lunch on our screened-in porch and look at our garden and the little pond that we put in the first year we moved to North Carolina from New Jersey. That was almost four years ago. The irises and peonies that I brought with me from NJ look so beautiful this year. And our little Koi fish are getting so big. My dog, Douglas, greets me as if I’ve been away for ten years instead of four hours. I love that little dog so much.

So yes, this is a tough time, a sad time in so many ways. But mother nature has done such wonders this Spring and it gives me hope that someday life will return to a version of what it used to be. I hope we learn whatever lesson we are supposed to learn from this experience. I know one thing is to appreciate your life and the lives of your loved ones. It is precious and fragile and can be lost so easily. I try not to take it for granted. And that our planet is irreplaceable as well we must protect it as if our life depends on it. Because it does.

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Corona Virus- April 11th, 2020

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Corona Virus- April 11^th, 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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WRITE ON

Writer's Blog by Susan A. Culver

Category Archives: My Memoirs

GROWING UP CATHOLIC IN AMERICA IN THE 1950-1960’s

CORONA VIRUS- JUNE 6th, 2020

CORONA VIRUS-MAY 30,, 2020

COMING OF AGE

Corona Virus- May 23rd, 2020

Corona Virus- May 16th,2020

Corona Virus- May 9th,2020

Corona Virus- May 2nd, 2020

CORONA VIRUS- APRIL 25, 2020

Corona Virus- April 11th, 2020