Category Archives: My Memoirs

Corona Virus- May 9th,2020

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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CORONA VIRUS – 4/3/20

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As I look back on last month, I realize that I’am finding it increasingly more difficult to accept the drastic changes that have taken place in such a short period. I wonder, is it just me? Or do other people feel a sense of disbelief? Is this happening? A pandemic, a virus that has taken over the planet, changed the way we live, causing havoc in our daily lives. People are dying. One moment I think well it can’t happen to me. And then I think yes, it could. Why not me when I consider my age, my health issues. It could happen to me if I somehow contract the virus from another person or touching something that I shouldn’t have touched.

I miss my older daughter and her husband, who lives in Pennsylvania, outside of Philadelphia. I worry that she might get sick, and I wouldn’t be able to see her or take care of her. I want to protect them, but I can’t.

The front garden

And then there is anxiety. I keep thinking maybe I already have it and I don’t know it yet. I find myself taking my temperature before I go to bed. Insomnia is my new companion. It’s a long when you wake up at 4 AM.

Here in North Carolina, there is a plethora of pollen. Everything is coated with it. People are sneezing and coughing, blowing their noses, including me. It is unnerving. People are afraid if you sneeze or cough. I understand because I’m one of those people.

I have attempted to keep busy every minute of my day. I volunteer at an Exotic animal sanctuary called Animal Edventure. I have been going there for three mornings a week for three and a half years, since right after I retired to NC from New Jersey.

Matilda the Emus

I take care of twenty parrots and three Macaws. I decid that I will go in early and avoid interacting with the other people that work there. So I can decrease my chances of contracting the virus. I arrived at about 7:15 AM and leave by 10:30. I have come to love all the animals that reside in this sanctuary. And I would miss them if I wasn’t able to see them anymore. In North Carolina, people that work at animal shelters and animals, sanctuaries are permitted to go to work. Over 220 Animals are living at Animal Edventure including farm animals like horses, donkeys, a yak, a camel named Isaac, pigs, ostriches, emus, peacocks, monkeys, lemurs, rabbits, all types of reptiles, pheasants, turtles, tortoises of every size, and foxes. Just about anything you can think of.

After we moved to NC , we found a little restaurant in Garner, NC, about a half-hour drive from where we live. It is called the Toot and Tell. And we have been going there for breakfast on Saturday mornings for over three years. It is a family restaurant, but all kinds of people go there, young and old, black and white and brown, gay and straight. You name it. All are welcome. The people that work there know the customers. They are friendly and welcoming to everyone..They joke and laugh, and it makes you feel like your part of a family.

My husband and I always sit at the same booth. And the waitress at our table is the friendliest person you can imagine. I worry now that the restaurant is closed, how is she and all the other employees are making a living. What is going to happen to them? How will they survive without a job? I hope they don’t go out of business. I am concerned that the people who work there will have difficulty finding new jobs. I am a worrier by nature. And then I worry about all the people out of work, how will they get by with no money or little money?

I decide to take one day at a time. I”ll fill my time with activities I enjoy. I wrote two new stories this week and started a sewing project that I hope to finish tonight. I still have a couple of hours before I have to cook dinner. So Douglas and I go out to our back yard. And I finish weeding our garden.

The sky is blue and the sun is shining on my back, There’s a slight breeze blowing. It really is a beautiful day. I try to live in the moment.

Our Koi Pond

My dog Douglas starts barking and he runs all around the yard. Enjoying the day and just happy being a dog.

So yes, this is a difficult and challenging time for me for all of us—some more than others. I realize when I feel my life is out of my control if I help someone in some small or big way. I feel better. I’m in control. If you can reach out and help people, do it..

And take solace in a sunny day, the Spring flowers blooming and in these few moments, peace. And let that feeling carry you through the next day and the next until this dark time is behind us—one day at a time.

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THE OLD BEAR

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Did you ever meet someone that seems to wake up on the wrong side of the bed every day? Well, I did. And that man was my father. My father was a grouch. At least that’s what I believed when I was a child. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized that my father was not so much a grouch as a perfectionist and with a dash of pessimism.

My father with his dog Andy

I look over at my dad on the other side of the dinner table. He doesn’t always eat dinner with our family. It depends on what shift he’s working on at the Philadelphia Transportation Company. He’s the head dispatcher for the city bus company. If he’s working the second shift, he works four to twelve pm; if he works the third shift, he works 12 Pm to 8 AM.

When my dad works the third shift, we have to be very quiet in the house. Because he is sleeping during the day. Luckily for us, he is deaf in one ear and has a tendency to sleep on his good ear. But woe is to you if you make too much noise and wake him up.

If he’s working the second shift, I usually get home from school right before he leaves for work. As I walk down our sidewalk, I look into the kitchen window and see my dad sitting at the kitchen table. As I rush through the door, I see my mother putting my father’s dinner plate on the table. He is sitting there with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other. With his elbows on the table. The king of the kitchen. I see my mom is giving him his favorite dinner six hotdogs sliced up into little pieces and ketchup. My dad loves ketchup. Sometimes he water’s it down and drinks it. He likes to use the left-over pickle juice from the pickle jar and add all kinds of weird foods to it, like hard-boiled eggs and beets and relish and any other really spicy things. “Oh no, dad you’re eating that weird pickle juice stuff with the beets.”

“Ah, you don’t know what you’re missing, Susabelle.”

“Yuck.” One day I looked in the refrigerator and I saw a glass jar in there. I kept staring at it. Finally, I asked my mom, “What’s that in the jar in the back of the refrigerator?”

“Oh, that’s just your father’s cow tongue. He slices it and makes sandwiches.”

“Make’s sandwiches out of cow tongue?” I thought I would puke. How disgusting can you be? Sometimes it’s better not to ask questions in my house.

One night last week, I was sitting at the table and watching him eat. He kept telling me to stop picking at my dinner. It wasn’t one of my favorite dinners, so I didn’t want to eat it. Sometimes, my mother would say, Susan, don’t waste your food. Think about the poor starving children in Africa.”

I really couldn’t understand why not eating my dinner would hurt the poor starving children in Africa. Where ever that was. So, I kept pushing the food around on my plate to make it look like I was eating. Then my father said,” Stop playing with your food, Susan.” I didn’t start eating, but I did start rocking my chair back on its back legs. My father got louder, “stop rocking your chair back and forth, Susan.” But, I didn’t, and all of the sudden my father reached across the table at me. I guess to smack me. Although he never hit me before. I guess I got on his last nerve. I figured he was going to smack me and I rocked back further on the chair legs. And over the chair went, taking the tablecloth with me and half the stuff on the table. As you can imagine he was really angry at me by then. And he roared at me, I can’t remember just what he said. But he did put the fear of god into me. And I started bawling like there was no tomorrow. “Get up, Susan, sit up. Are you happy now?”

I can’t really say I was happy, but I was relieved that he didn’t smack me. Although I probably deserved it.

My father kept his collection of pens on the counter behind his seat. And anyone who touched his pens was at risk of their lives. So, I always felt compelled to go over and move them around when he wasn’t looking. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. All the important things happened in our kitchen while we were sitting at the table. This included all of the conversations that we had as a family. Although, I tried to keep my mouth shut since I usually put my foot in it.

My father would sit in his seat, and behind him, he had a metal table fan that ran all year round. My father was a large man and he always felt hot and uncomfortable. He was the only one to have an air conditioner in his room and it ran all year round. In the dead of winter, he would go outside with just a wool scarf and a fake fur hat on his balding head.

My father is a creative man. He likes to make things out of stuff he finds or buys really cheap. He makes collages. He collects pictures out of magazines that he buys at the Lions Club. One of his favorite magazines is National Geographic. One of the collages is very large and hangs over our glass fireplace. Perhaps four by six feet wide. Within the collage are pictures of naked women. This collage became a silent battleground between my father and mother. My mother is a quiet person and a religious who doesn’t believe that pictures of naked women belonged on the living room wall for all the world to see.

My parents never talk about these pictures. Every time my father goes out to the store, or the track or to work my mother puts Holy Cards over the naked women in the collage. And when my father comes home, he uncovers the ladies. This went on for a long time until my father took up making String Art. The one hanging in our living room now is a huge piece over the fireplace. He made a spiderweb out of nails and string, and he found a giant plastic, hairy spider. When my friends came over, they all stare at it with their mouths hanging open. They look at me for an answer or explanation, I just shrug my shoulders. It doesn’t seem odd to me, because I love making things too, my father and I had that in common.

Yesterday my father said, “Susabelle, do you want to take a ride with me?’ I didn’t have to think twice. My father rarely took me anywhere.”

“Yes, I would. Where are we going?”

“Oh, not far.”

“We got in the car, and my father drove maybe five or ten minutes away. We were still in our town of Maple Shade, NJ. He drove down a street and pulled over to the curb and parked in front of a house. It looks similar to our Cape Cod house. “Do you see that Susie?”

“What that house?”

“Yes, that house, my friend Dar and I built that house?”

“It’s really great.” I looked at my dad and thought, my dad, can build houses. Wow. And then we went home, I never mentioned the ride I took with my dad to anybody. Because it made me feel like I was special because my dad took me to see it.

My father had our cellar filled with woodworking tools. He remodeled our kitchen and built a fence that was in our front yard for years.

Sometimes my father is in a bad mood, and he doesn’t want to talk to anybody. He’ll sit in his chair in the living room and watch one of his shows. Andy, our dog, will sit next to his chair, and my dad will pet his head all night. Until it is time to go to work or go to bed. Depending on the shift, he is working. When he is in a bad mood. I stay far away from him. He can say cutting and hurtful things to me and my siblings when he is in a bad mood.

For instance, Christmas time is not always a good time for my father. He will put the Christmas lights on the rose arbor outside the front door. And put the big plastic Santa on the front step. And hang all the grandchildren’s stockings from the fireplace mantle. But then there are those times that Christmas seems to make him sad. He doesn’t want to talk too much. Everyone in my family goes out of their way to buy something that he will like. Sometimes He often refuses to open Christmas presents. Sometimes he will laugh and smile, sometimes silent.

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March 27th, 2020 Corona Virus

I HOPE THIS GOES VIRAL – PLEASE SHARE ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA- WRITE ON

SUSIE-KAREN

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My sister and I were born on May 24^th, 1951. We were the fifth and sixth child born to Marie and Hugh Carberry. My mother didn’t know that she was going to have twins, and so when I was born seven minutes after Karen, I was a surprise. I have always hoped I was a pleasant surprise.

Carberry Home Maple Shade, NJ 1950

We lived in a small stucco house in Maple Shade in what was then considered to be rural New Jersey. My family had moved from Philadelphia, Pa. to NJ. They didn’t own a car at that time and arrived in Maple Shade by taxi.

Mother, Harry, Jeanie, Eileen, Betty,, Karen and Susie 1951

My brother Harry was nineteen years old at the time, my sister Jeanie was fifteen, Eileen was eight, and Betty was seven. This was back in the day when birth control was not all that reliable. My mother gave birth to twin boys a year after Karen and I were born. They did not survive. They were called Stephen and Gerard. My fraternal grandmother Elizabeth Carberry moved with my parents.

One of the unfortunate experiences of being a fraternal twin is that people seem to be unable to remember who is who. When we were young, people often called us Susie/Karen or, more often, Karen/Susie. Whenever anyone saw me, people would ask, “Where is your better half?”

My twin and I couldn’t have been more different in our appearance. She had dark brown curly hair, and I had straight blond hair. She grew faster and looked older than I did. And I well I was quiet and shy and imaginative. She was outgoing. Throughout our childhoods, My sister and I were often compared although Fraternal twins are no more closely related or similar than and other siblings.

It is only recently that I found out just how uncomfortable that Karen had me for a twin as a child. Although of course, there were many indications throughout our childhood and our lives.

I started this blog a year ago and began writing my memoirs, my sister, Karen took exception to my interpretation of my childhood experiences. And she felt the need to explain to my readers her feelings about me. And she posted this comment on my blog. I have to say I was hurt. Although it wasn’t all negative. Here it is:

“This is Susan’s twin sister.
We couldn’t have been more different in our likes and dislikes, and our thought processes Susie was a person that kept almost everything to herself. So, there are many things I never really knew about her until we were older. And she was able to transform herself and to a normal and open person. We really didn’t become friends until we were adults and married. We are close now and have been since we were young adults not that we haven’t had our differences of opinions and outlooks that we came to appreciate and respect one another for our differences and more interesting she is always surprising me with the different pursuits that she continues to develop throughout her life she never sits down she’s always going. It has made her a wonderful person.

At the end of September, She called me. She was angry. My sister let me know in no uncertain terms that she didn’t like the memoirs I have written, and she wasn’t going to read them anymore. She didn’t explain what I had said or why it bothered her so much. Karen also said she wasn’t going to read my fictional stories either. This upset me since I have always supported her in everything she has done. And this was the first time I ever asked her to do anything for me. As a result, she hasn’t spoken to me in five months. Even though one of the final things she said to me was that she had always been able to forgive people quickly, apparently, that ability did not apply to me.

In the last several weeks, I decided to attempt to gain a better understanding of why my sister, as a child, felt having me as a sister and a twin, was a liability. I have reflected on my childhood behaviors. At one point in our late adolescence, she yelled at me, “if I ever run away, it will be because of you.” I recall responding,” Me, what did I do?” I have pondered this question many times of the years, and I believe I have finally come up with the answer. Karen just wanted to be an ordinary girl with an average family. And then there I was big as life, and somehow inadvertently calling attention to myself by being so different. And because I was an unusual child, my differences reflected on her. Because we were in the same family, and in the same classroom for the majority of our school experiences.

These same differences are what have enabled me to become an artist, a writer. These are not character flaws.

I have to admit that many of my closest friends were of the four-legged variety. I befriended every cat and dog in my neighborhood and any ones I met along my path in life. I also had a best friend that lived two doors down from me and neighborhood friends and school friends. Karen and I had some friends in common we just never went to visit them at the same time.

As a child, I was often content spending time by myself and recalled going out and sitting in the backyard and watching the birds flying in the sky. And I have clear memories of being able to imagine myself being a bird and flying across the sky. One-year, when we were probably seven or eight. My sister and I were given chicks for Easter. I named my chick Maverick after a character on a TV show I watched. I used to walk around my neighborhood with Maverick on my head. It never occurred to me that it was unusual or weird. But even if it did, I would have done it anyway.

I recall watching a movie called “The Flower Drum Song” about a beautiful young Japanese woman. I was about eight or nine years old . I became enamored with the music and how beautiful the woman was, and for a few weeks, I pretended to be Japanese. I put my hair in a similar style as she did and walked with the kind of shuffle she had because she was wearing a kimono and wooden shoes. Of course, I wasn’t wearing the shoes or the kimono, but that didn’t stop me. I don’t recall my parents or siblings asking me, “what are you doing” Why are you walking like that?” I would have explained it if they asked, but they never did. I suppose they just thought I was acting weird again.

My sister and I shared eight years in the same classrooms in Catholic Parochial School. She avoided interacting with me. She never acknowledged that I was her sister. It was not uncommon for the other kids, not to know that we were siblings. Many people thought my friend Helen and I were the twins. In high school, My sister and I were in different classes, and I rarely saw her. At home, if we talked to each other at all, it was usually an argument.

It’s unfortunate that Karen didn’t get to know me when we were children. Possibly she would have realized that I was an interesting and intelligent person with a wide variety of interests, including art, sewing, animals, writing stories, and reading on every subject imaginable.

Someday hopefully not too far in the future, she will reevaluate her feelings towards me because the clock keeps ticking and time is slipping away. And none of us know when that time will run out for us. Perhaps she will come to realize that what other people think about our family makes little difference. What is important is what we mean to each other. And our acceptance of who we are with our strengths and weaknesses. I’ll always love my sister. She is in my heart.

As a final note, I would like to add that I have observed that creative people share some common traits. They can have a rapid flow of ideas, sometimes, multiple concepts at one time. Also, they have acute sensory skills, strong intuition, heighten awareness, empathetic, and tuned into other people’s emotions and feelings. I have some of these traits myself. Also, when I attended Temple University at Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia at the age of 36-40, I observed these traits in my fellow students. Being creative can be both a gift and a challenge. You are often seen as too sensitive, too much of a perfectionist. I can not stress how often I have was told I was too sensitive throughout my entire lifetime.

And finally, I would like to say in a world where you can be anything, be kind.

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My First Job

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The year is 1969. The most significant year in my life. The year I graduate from high school. This is the twelfth year that I have attended Catholic Schools. In the first eight years, I attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help Grade School, and now I’m graduating from St. Mary of the Angels Academy in Haddonfield, NJ. It’s a private all-girls school.

St. Mary of the Angels Academy Graduation 1969

Graduation photo by Hugh Carberry

St. Mary’s is a college prep high school. I took four years of Math, History, English, Religion, and four years of Latin and French. I have to say the most useful skill I learned in high school was typing and English grammar. I can still read French quite well and Latin, not so much. But I did learn self-discipline. I learn to keep my mouth shut around the nuns.

These are changing times, turbulent times. The world is changing. The United States has become involved in the Viet Nam War. A war that ultimately will take the lives of 54,000 young men of my generation.

But I, for the most part, remain blissfully unaware of what is going on in the world. The only news I hear if I bother to listen at all is the 6 o’clock news with Walter Cronkite. The NJ Bulletin is delivered to our house like clockwork every day. But I only read the comics on Sunday morning. Girls are not subjected to the draft as young men are of my generation are.

In the last half of my senior year Sister Eileen Marie the principal at St. Mary’s called me into her office. A terrifying experience for me. And one I had avoided for four years. “Susan it has come to my attention that you have enough credits to graduate. I have been informed that you won’t be going to college as some of our students are going to do. Therefore, I have arranged for you to be interviewed for a job at a dentist’s office as an assistant. I’ve spoken to your parents about it. And they are agreed that this will be an excellent opportunity for you.”

I find Sister Eileen Marie to be quite intimidating. She is an old school nun in that many of the younger nuns are taking off their veils and shortening their skirts. She never smiles and has a stern and off-putting demeanor. This is all news to me since no one discussed my future with me. Not by my parents and not by any of the other dear sisters.

My main goal in high school is to graduate, I naively haven’t considered for a moment what I would do after I graduate. I stare at Sister Eileen momentarily and then mumble, “Yes, Sister.”

“Miss Carberry, here is the address to the dentist’s office. It’s in Oaklyn. A town not too far from here. You can take the bus from Kings Highway in Haddonfield to Haddon Avenue in Heather Rd. in Oaklyn. If all goes well, you’ll be working there in the afternoons until you graduate and then start working full-time afterward. The dentist’s name is Dr. Wozniak. You will have an interview tomorrow afternoon. Here’s the information you need.”

“Yes, Sister.” As I walk out of the office. I begin to tremble. I can’t fathom what has just happened so unexpectantly to me. I gulp and stuff the paper in my pocket. I try not to think about it for the rest of the day. When I get home that day, I mention what Sister had said to me in her office today. “Mom, Sister Eileen Marie told me I have a job interview tomorrow at a dentist’s office as an assistant.”

“Yes, that’s right, Susie, you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. You can take the bus.”

I look at my mother, and I’m shocked. She knew all about it and didn’t tell me.” But Mom, I don’t want to go to work in a dentist’s office. I hate the dentist.”

“Don’t be silly, you’ll be fine. I’ll give you the bus money, and you can come home by bus too.”

“What I have to go by bus by myself?”

“Of course, you’re a big girl now, everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

I stare at my mother. Dumbfounded. I repeat,” Everything will be fine.” I feel a tear run down my cheek. I go to my room, and at dinner time when my mother calls me, I yell,” I’m not hungry.” I didn’t come down for the rest of the evening. I have trouble sleeping that night. In the morning, I get up and put on my navy blue uniform and knee-high navy blue socks and shoes and take the bus to school. I have to take the bus from Main Street in Maple Shade to Federal Street in Camden to Haddon Avenue and Kings Highway and then walk about a quarter of a mile to St. Mary of the Angels Academy.

That afternoon after lunch, I walk up to the bus stop on Haddon Avenue and Kings Highway and catch the bus to Kings Highway and then walk from the White Horse Pike to Heather Rd. It turns out to be a fairly long walk. I was a little sweaty by the time I arrive. I walk up to the door that says Dr. Wozniak DDS and knocks. The office is attached to their house where I presume they live.

My mouth is dry as sandpaper. I’m terrified. I’m not sure what I think is going to happen, but I feel unprepared. I’ve only been to the dentist myself for emergencies. I don’t know anything about working there. The only job I’ve ever done is babysitting my nieces and nephews since I was about eleven or twelve.

A young woman with short, blond hair answers the door. I look at her and I don’t know what to say. She says to me, “Susan?”

“Yes, I’m Susan Carberry, is Dr. Wozniak here, I have an appointment for a job interview as a dental assistant.”

“Yes, I know I’m Dr. Wozniak’s wife, Connie. I’m going to interviewing you. Come in.”

She opens the door wide to a small room with chairs and a coffee table. And at the end of the room is a window with doors on it. She looks at me and says, “Come into the office. We’ll talk in there.”

l glance at her. I don’t know where it is. But there’s only one door in the room beside the outside door. So I walk up to and pull open the door to another small room with a desk, chair, and a filing cabinet. There are two doors in this room and an open doorway on the right.

“You can sit down at the desk, here is an application for you to fill out. There’s a pen there in that cup. I’ll come back in a few minutes and check on you and show you around.”

“Alright.” I sit down and look at the job application. I never filled one out before. I don’t have any experience. There isn’t much information for me to fill in. I write down my name and address and our phone number. I write in I attend St. Mary of the Angels Academy in Haddonfield. And I write in my graduation date. And the times I will be able to work here if they hire me until my graduation. I write down my parent’s names as people to contact in case of an emergency. I’m briefly concerned about what type of emergency might happen to me in a dentist’s office. I wonder, will someone bite me? And then I let out a chuckle. The next thing I hear is, “Are you finished, Susan?”

“Yes, I think so.”

She smiles at me and picks up my application, and reads it over in about a minute or two. She asks me, “So, why do you want to work here, Susan?”

I look at her somewhat panicked, I don’t really know how to answer. “Well, I’m graduating in June. And I’m not going to be going to college because my father says that women don’t need to go to college. Because they’re just going to get married and have children. So, it’s just a waste of money. As far as he’s concerned. And then Sister Eileen Marie the principal at St. Mary of the Angels Academy, called me into the office and told me this is what I’m going to do, and, so did my parents. So, here I am.”

Mrs. Wozniak smiles at me. Well, Susan, I think you will do just fine here. You probably don’t know this, but I went to St. Mary of the Angels Academy too. I remember Sister Eileen Marie very well. She made quite an impression on me. I was terrified of her when I was going to school there. But as I grew up, I realized she was trying to help me. And she had faith that I was going to do well in life. And she must feel the same about you because you were the first person she thought of for this job.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. When can you start?”

“When do you want me to start?”

“How about this Monday, you will have to buy a couple of white uniforms and white shoes and wear stockings. Dr. Wozniak will be training you. Let me show you the other rooms and explain some of the things you will be doing.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“So, the room straight ahead of you is the darkroom. It’s small but there is room for everything you need to do in there. You will assist Dr. Wozniak in taking the x-rays. And then you will come into the darkroom and develop them. Mrs. Wozniak shows me a room and turns a small light on in there. There is a double sink in there and a faucet. And above the sinks is a wire with dental x-rays hanging from it. “This is where you will be developing and drying x-rays. Don’t worry it’s easy. Doctor will teach you.

In the next room is small. There are dentures on the counters. I recognize them because both of my parents wear dentures. ”This is where Dr. Wozniak adjusts dentures or repairs them. They are made in a dental lab and then sent here. Dr. Wozniak makes molds of patients’ mouths and then sends the molds to the lab to create the dentures. Sometimes the dentures don’t fit the patients’ mouths perfectly, and he has to alter them slightly.”

The next two rooms are where the doctor does the dental work fillings and extractions and takes the X-rays. You will be assisting him. He will teach you all about the dental tools and which ones to put out for each procedure. And that machine over there is an autoclave you will put the instruments in there to sterilize them.’

“You will be standing in the operating rooms with him and assist him by handing him the appropriate dental tools. And then cleaning the room after each patient and setting new tools out for the next patient. And bringing them into the room when it is there appointment time.”

I stare at her with my mouth open. I feel overwhelmed by everything she told me.

“Don’t worry; you’ll learn everything a little at a time. Dr. will teach you. He knows you don’t have any experience. But I have no doubt that you will do just fine.”

“You do. I hope so. It sounds like a lot to learn.”

“It seems like that at first, but in a couple of weeks, you will be an old hand in it. And if you have any problems, you can talk to me or the Doctor and we’ll help you.”

“So, does that mean I have the job?’

“But, of course it does. Susan. I know you will do a great job. So, I expect I’ll see you next Monday at one ‘clock wearing uniform and white shoes and stockings. Here is my phone number if you have any questions.”

She starts walking me towards the door. I open the door, and she says,” Susan, it was a pleasure to meet you. See you next Monday. I step out the door, and she closes it behind me. I stand outside the door momentarily. I realize that I have taken the first step in what will be the rest of my life. I smile and start walking down the street to the bus stop.