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A RUN OF BAD LUCK

Did you ever have a run of bad luck, and no matter what you do, everything you touch goes wrong? Well, that is what is happening to me. It’s just one thing after another. I no sooner get one mess straightened out than something else happens. I’m at the end of my rope.

It all started about six months ago. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought, well, that didn’t go the way I had hoped, not even close. I had been recently laid off from my dream job. A job that I had worked hard for, one that I had planned over a long period of time. And then finally, I got the call it was my bosses boss that called me. He said, and I quote, “Jerry, this is Mort Thalman. We are considering you for the upper management position that just became available. Please come to my office for the corporate interview. It’s just a formality, but still, we would all like to have the opportunity to talk to you personally about what we have in mind for you. Are you interested?” 

I almost jumped up and down. I was so thrilled. And then I heard Mr. Thalman say,” Are you still there?” “Yes, yes, I’m here. I’m on my way up right now. “ And I practically flew out my office door and up three flights of stairs. When I arrived at his office, I knocked madly at the door about five times, and then I heard Thalman’s secretary say, “Come in, come in. For heaven’s sake.”

I tried to calm down a bit. I took a deep breath and tried to walk calmly into Thalman’s office, and I said, “Good morning, Mr. Thalman asked me to come up to his main office.”

“Yes, I know. Just go straight through the door right there. They are all waiting for you.” And then she put her head down and continued working on her computer. I headed towards the door. As I knocked on the door, I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I heard a gruff voice say, “Come in, come in. We’re waiting for you.”

I walked through the door and, low and behold, sat all the big wigs of the company, and they looked at me, and I said, “Good morning.” And one of the corporate bigwigs whose name I didn’t know said, “Please take a seat at the end of the table. We will try not to make this too difficult.”

And what followed was nothing short of an inquisition. I kid you not. They asked me about every job I ever had, starting with my high school job of delivering newspapers in the small town I grew up in, which was Mt. Ephraim, New Jersey. After at least forty minutes, they arrived at my current position of Account Executive for new accounts. And then Mr. Thalman said, “Let’s take a few minutes break. I had my assistant order some coffee and donuts.” “We will be discussing with you what opportunity we have in mind for you. Oh, here comes the coffee and donuts. Relax for a few minutes.” They all started eating the donuts as if they hadn’t eaten in a week, and gulping coffee like it was the last cup they were going to get. My mouth was dry, and my stomach was turning. I sure wasn’t going to eat donuts. I sat down and took a couple of deep breaths. And I waited for them to go forward. I took several drinks of water and tried to swallow it without choking. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous except when I was applying to Temple University, and I was interviewed by the Dean of the School.

I tried to maintain a calm demeanor. But, that couldn’t stop my hands and forehead from sweating. My throat felt dry and raspy. Finally, I asked if I could have a drink of water. I gulped it down so fast that I started choking. The secretary handed me a napkin and smiled down at me. Somehow, that smile did the trick, and I started breathing more normally and calming down. After all, I told myself this wasn’t the only job in the world. If I didn’t get this one, I had confidence that eventually, I would be hired, and I would excel at whatever I set my mind to.

After about twenty more minutes of questioning me, they asked me to step out of the office until they called me back. It seemed like a lifetime before that happened. Finally, the secretary said, “They’re ready for you now. Please follow me.” And so I did. When I reentered the office, I looked at each of their faces, but no one gave anything away. And then Mr. Thalman said, “Congratulations, we have all agreed that you are the man for the job. And he stood up and shook my hand. It was the best day of my life.

And so, I started my new position the following week. And for five years, I worked from morning until night. And I was successful. I received raises in my pay grade every year. And in the fifth year, I was offered a new position at the corporate headquarters. And I accepted it, thinking I’ve had the world at my feet, and that nothing was going to stand in my way to the top.

And then suddenly, without any warning that I can ascertain, little things started to go wrong. At first, it seemed inconsequential. My computer developed some weird glitches, and the IT department couldn’t find the problem. In the end, they decided to provide a new computer. So, for a little while, it was smooth sailing.

The next thing that happened was one morning, I was running late, and the traffic was heavy and unbelievably congested. It was bumper to bumper. And then, out of the blue, two cars ahead of me, a guy driving a Volva hit his brakes. And the car in front of me did the same, and I rear-ended him. It was awful. And just when I thought, oh, it’s not that bad, a car rear-ended me. Now, my car, one that I loved with all my heart, was ruined front and back. I started crying right then and there. I was still crying when the state trooper came over to my driver’s side window to see if I was injured. He found me crying like a baby. I couldn’t even manage to calm down enough to answer his question. I just sat there and cried as if I just lost my best friend. About a half hour later, a tow truck came by and towed my car, with me sitting in his front seat, crying the whole way. 

A couple of months after the CAR ACCIDENT, That’s how I always referred to it in all caps, THE CAR ACCIDENT. I was finally ready to buy a new car. I had been carpooling with a co-worker of mine. I was still somewhat trepiduous about driving, but I was somewhat confident in my ability to drive again. For the most part, I was right, but if anyone got too close, I would start hyperventilating and break out in a sweat, and my heart would start beating like a snare drum.

The next unexpected event was that my immediate boss quit because he found a better-paying position with a competing corporation. It took a while for my group to come together again and work as a team. I eventually was moved up to a higher position. Which was great, except I was now working twelve-hour days, and I was totally exhausted mentally and physically worn out.

As a result, my health started to fail, I started having asthma, and I hadn’t had any symptoms in years. It was just awful. I decided perhaps it might be psychosomatic and made an appointment to see a therapist. The therapist listened to my whole tale of woe and decided I had developed PTSD. He put me on Seratonin. It evens out my behavior, so I don’t overreact to any event that might occur.

There was a peaceful lull that lasted about four months. And I thought, oh thank god, that’s over. And things can finally go back to normal. And for a while, it did. And then, late one night, I received a call from my mother’s neighbor. She told me that my mother, who was in her mid-seventies, had taken a fall and was taken in an ambulance to the hospital. Either I come and take care of her, hire someone to stay at the house with her, or put her in a nursing home. She wouldn’t be able to live on her own anymore.

So, I had to take time off from my job and go down to Florida to take care of my mother. I hadn’t been there in over a year. My boss tried to be understanding, but he told me to please come back in a week’s time, or there was going to be a big problem.

I flew to Florida to save time. It was a short flight considering how far Florida is from where I live. I had called several Home Care companies in the area where my mother lived and arranged to meet four possible home caretakers. I was sure I could handle the whole issue and be back to work in less than a week. But, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I had contacted my mother’s physician to see if it was possible for my mother to go home two days after I arrived in Florida so I would have time to interview the possible caretakers. He said, “Yes, of course. We wouldn’t be able to release her unless there was going to be a family member or a skilled caretaker in her residence. I thanked him and gave him my contact information.

I interviewed two women and a young man. I was surprised when a man showed up because I guess I never really considered a man would want to care for an older woman. And when I put some deeper thought into it, I realized that there are men who are nurses and caretakers and doctors. So, of course, there would be men who would work as caretakers.

That afternoon I waited for the first woman to show up. I hoped that she would be willing to do some housekeeping and laundry because my mother’s house looked like a bomb had hit it, literally. There were clothes, dirty towels, filthy sinks, and food that was spoiled sitting on every surface from the kitchen to her bedroom. I kid you not. It was absolutely disgusting. My first impulse when I walked through the front door was to turn and run back into my rental car and back to the airport.

I spent the first several hours cleaning the kitchen from floor to ceiling, changing the filthy sheets and bedspread on my mother’s bed, but worst of all was her bathroom. It looked like the bathtub and the shower hadn’t been clean in, well, forever. The more I saw, the quiltier I felt my mother only had me, and obviously, she hadn’t been able to depend on me. I had failed her completely. She had been living in a pigsty. I cried for the first half-hour I was there. I had to stuff tissues in my nostrils to keep the stink out. Because the smell made me want to throw up, I vowed that I would never allow this to happen to my mother again, I was going to have to get a full-time caretaker or have her move into a facility for aged people who could no longer live independently. I knew my mother would hate it, but anything was better than how she had been living up until now.

That afternoon I interviewed three people for the caretaking position, two middle-aged women and one young man named Joseph, who looked to be about twenty years old, but told me he was twenty-nine and he had amazing references and had done this kind of work since he was twenty after he had taken care of his own mother who developed early onset Alzheimers. I hired him after checking all his credentials. He said he would arrive the morning of my mother’s release from the hospital and was even willing to go and pick her up from the hospital.

All that night, I tossed and turned in the hotel bed. I kept waking up and having flashes of the condition of my mother’s house when I first saw it. At one point I started crying. I felt so ashamed of myself for not keeping in contact with my mother and being completely unaware of her circumstances. I vowed once again that I would never allow such a thing to happen again.

The next morning I slowly rolled out of the fold-out bed and stood up. I felt hungover, even though I didn’t have anything to drink. I was just exhausted from no sleep and worry. I took a quick shower, threw on my clean clothes, turned on my GPS, and headed to the hospital to pick up my Mother. Steven, the new caretaker, promised that he would be at my mother’s house and make sure everything was in order. And I believed him.

I took a deep breath, and when I arrived at the hospital, I spoke to my mother’s physician. And he assured me that, luckily, my mother was not injured physically, but was quite frail, since it appeared as if she hadn’t been eating properly. And probably skipping meals since she stated that she didn’t like eating alone. I felt a tear run down my face, and many more followed. The doctor put his arm around me. And that made me cry even more. And I kept apologizing for the state my mother was in and what had happened to her. And I was lucky she hadn’t died. He kept saying,” Now, now, you’re here now. And I know you will do everything you can to make sure nothing further happens to your mother.”

The nurse followed me into my mother’s hospital room and said, “Mrs. Taylor, your son, Jerry is here to take you home. I’m sure you are more than ready to get out of this hospital bed and back in your own bed. You have my number, or you can call your personal physician if you have any problems or if you have questions. I hope you are back to your own self asap. And with that, he turned his back and was gone. I stood there next to my mother, who I hardly recognized since she had lost so much weight. I started to cry again. I tried to gain control of myself. I wasn’t a crier, but the guilt of my mother’s condition and the condition of her home was overwhelming. My mother said in a low tone, “Please, Jerry, it’s alright, you are here now. Please, please, can you get me out of here? I hate hospitals. I was so afraid I was going to die here alone in this room. I’m so happy to see your handsome face.”

These were the kindest words that my mother ever said to me, and once again, more tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I said, “Yes, yes, let’s get you home now. I want you to know that I hired a wonderful young man to help take care of you and your house until you have fully recovered. And maybe you will decide that you would like him to continue staying with you after you feel better. But, I let you decide.

About twenty minutes later, I had my mother checked out and taken in a wheelchair out to the car that I had waiting at the curb. We had a quiet ride home to her house—neither one of us knew what to say. Finally, my mother said, “Oh, Jerry, thank you so much for coming. I love you so much and have missed you with all my heart. I’m sorry the house looks so terrible, I just haven’t had any energy to keep up with it, and maybe I didn’t care anymore. I felt so alone in that house, and I couldn’t think of a reason to go on anymore.”

When we arrived at my mother’s house, my mother said, “Yeah! We’re home. I awkwardly helped my mother to the house, and when we got up to the door, Joseph was standing there with a wheelchair and said, “All aboard.” My mother looked at me and then looked at Joseph and laughed. And Joseph easily lifted her up and placed her gently onto the wheelchair. “Here we go, hold on, Madam.” My mother said, “Oh my, two young men taking care of me, how wonderful.”

And that, my friends, was a wonderful new beginning for my mother and me and an end to the “Bad Luck.”

 

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I’d Rather Eat My Hat

“There’s about as much chance of that happening as me eating my hat. Said, Stella.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Said her friend and neighbor, Helen.

“Not that bad, Well, I hate to know what could be worse.”Said, Stella

“OK, five things that could be worse than having to drive your beat-up old car that doesn’t have a working air conditioner all the way to Florida and back again. And then having to pick up your mother-in-law and bring her back to your house to live with you. Well, I can think of a hundred things. Have your teeth pulled out one at a time, all in one day. Or having burnt popcorn kernels stuck between your teeth permanently, falling down the cement steps at the Art Muzeum in Philadelphia with a whole crowd of people watching you. Going out to lunch with your boss, and he hits on you. I could go on all day. Your mother-in-law can not be all bad. I bet you could think of several positive attributes about her if you tried. 

“No, none of those experiences outdo living with my mother-in-law for the rest of my days. Absolutely nothing is worse than that. Dear god, I’m sure I will lose my mind. She will no doubt talk non-stop all the way home about how I should be making a lot more money, getting a better job, and living in a bigger house. And to top it off, she absolutely hates all my cats.”

“OK, so that doesn’t exactly scream you’re going to have a great time on the eleven hundred and eighteen-mile drive, which will take approximately seventeen hours if you go non-stop. But you never know; things could get better once you get used to living with her. Maybe she will mellow as she gets older. You never know. Maybe deep down, she is a decent person. Give her a chance, why don’t you?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve known her for over thirty years. I know her inside and out. And there is no way in hell that I’m going to suddenly realize that she’s not as bad as I thought. She criticizes everything I do and say. And beyond her god-awful personality, she is a cleptomaniac. I kid you not. Every time I went shopping with her, she stole everything she could get her hands on.

One time I took her food shopping. She opened food packages, bite big chunks out of them, and then put them back on the shelf. When we went to the department store, she once pocketed a one thousand dollar gold watch and stuck it in her purse. I wasn’t aware of it. As we were leaving the store, alarms went off, and five store security officers ran over to us and dragged us back to the security office. I had no idea what was going on. They made us strip and empty our pockets and our purses. And low and behold. They found the gold watch worth thousands of dollars in her purse, wrapped up in her hanky.

When they found it, she acted like an innocent little lamb. She said, “Oh my, how did that get in my purse? And then she said, “Helen did you put this in my purse? How could you?”

I said, “What? How dare you accuse me? Sir, my mother-in-law is a cleptomaniac. She could snatch the teeth right out of your head, and you wouldn’t notice it until you tried to eat a steak dinner. I kid you not.”

“Oh, Helen, how can you say that? I’m as innocent as a newborn baby.”
“A newborn baby what? “Peranna?”

“Look, officers, she’s an old lady. She’s out of her mind. She didn’t know what she was doing. Can you forget this happened? Since you retrieved the watch. She doesn’t have a clue. It’s all a game to her. She already has a watch. She’s nuts. That’s all I can say. She’s out of her god-forsaken mind. I promise I will keep her out of the store from now on. Can we please go?”

After the officers went back to speak to his boss, they came back in and said, “You can go, but you may never come into this store or any of our branch stores ever again, and if you do, you will both be arrested. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, we understand. Don’t we, Mom?”

My mother-in-law shook her head up and down. But I could see she had her fingers crossed behind her. I felt as if I might go to go out of my mind. The next day I took her back to the airport to send her back to Florida. I hoped never to see her again. When she was going through the security check, the alarms went off. She was surrounded like she was the Unabomber. They had their weapons drawn and were pointing them directly at her. I screamed at the top of my lungs,” What the hell is going on, Mom? What did you do now?

They took her into the security office, and she had to strip down to her skivvies. By the way, you won’t believe this, but she was wearing bikini underpants and a purple and gold bra. This woman is nearly eighty years old and dressed up like a Playboy Bunny from the 1970s. I have never been so humiliated in my whole life.

And here’s the kicker, she had a small revolver in a secret pocket of her purse. It was a pocket inside of another pocket. When she went through the scanner, it lit up like a Christmas tree. When they asked her why she would bring on board an airliner, she said, “Well, what do you think to protect me from hijackers? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“She was barred from ever using that airline again. I don’t know if she is just loco, or she has dementia, or she’s just plain stupid. Or, and this is what I really believe, she doesn’t think that rules and laws apply to her. Do you really believe that, at any level, I would be willing to spend the rest of my life with her??? I rather spend my life in a prison with hardened convicts and murderers. I kid you not. Why don’t you offer to pick her up and let her spend the rest of her life with you? Or better yet, why don’t you take her in for a couple of weeks? And if she doesn’t cause any problems like blowing up your house or robbing your neighbors blind, I’ll reconsider taking her in?”

“OK, I’ll do it. But what do I get out of it?”
“Well, you get to say, “I told you so. And I can’t think of anything else because I know in my heart of hearts that there is no upside with this woman. You will be pulling the hair out of your head in two” days, if not on the ride home.”

“OK, you’ve got a deal, but you have to pay for my expenses for picking her up and driving her back here. I’m not made of money, you know.”

“No problem, but I’m sure by the time you get home with her, you will be more than willing to give me your last dime just so you never have to see her again. When can you go get her?”

“ I can go this Friday, It’s a holiday, and I’ll be back late the next day.”

“ Take my advice and get plenty of rest the day before you go to Florida. You’re going to need it. And bring food with you. She eats like a horse, and she likes to stop at every restaurant she sees. And as little as she is, she eats like a starving horse.”

“Well, that’s fine, I love eating at roadside restaurants. I haven’t taken a road trip in years and years. It will be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”

I just stared at her and said, “I wish you all the luck in the world. You are going to need it. Let me give you her full name, address, and phone number. Whatever you do, do not give her your cell phone number. She will start calling you all night and day. “

“Oh, you always make a big deal out of everything. You have a tendency to exaggerate even the smallest thing. And blow it out of proportion.”

Two days later, Helen left me a message to let me know she was on her way to pick up my mother-in-law. I crossed my fingers and hoped that Helen wouldn’t murder my mother-in-law on the way back. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a little voice saying, “ I hope Helen doesn’t murder my mother-in-law, but then again, it would not be unheard of an old lady dying from a heart attack because my neighbor and friend, Helen is one of the worst drivers that I ever had the displeasure of riding in a car with. I only went on one trip with her driving, and I was praying the whole way that I would make it out alive. She rarely kept her eyes on the road, and she would fiddle with the radio and look in the mirror at her reflection over and over. She would eat a sandwich with one hand, drink a coffee with the other, and steer with her knee. I kid you not. It was truly a terrorizing experience—one which I will never repeat. Maybe the two of them were meant for each other.

So, I let my mother-in-law know that my friend Helen was coming to get her and that she was going to spend part of her time at Helen’s house since I was still working from home and needed quiet and isolation. I gave her the pertinent information about Helen, what she looked like, Cruella Deville. That might be a slight exaggeration. Because compared to my mother-in-law Helen was a raving beauty.

The next couple of weeks went by quickly, and before I knew it, I received a call from Helen telling me she was leaving tomorrow for Florida. And she would give me a call when she arrived. She was going to stay at my mother’s house overnight and leave early the next morning.

I didn’t hear from Helen or my mother for three days. I wondered if something bad happened or if Helen got lost or she tried to kill my mother or vice versa. A couple of days later, Helen called to let me know they were almost home and would call me again when they arrived at her house. She didn’t say anything about my mother, the long ride, or anything. I was gobsmacked to tell you the truth. Oh, gobsmacked is an Irish expression for shocked.

Helen called me the next morning and asked if I would like to come over and say hello to my mother. To tell you the truth, I had to think about it for a few minutes. Because, in all honesty, I had no real desire to see my “dear” mother any time soon. But, all the same, I changed out of my pajamas and into the cleanest clothes I owned. This doesn’t mean that they were actually clean, but they were the only clothes that didn’t have stains on them. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit of a slob. I hate cleaning, doing wash, yard work etc, etc. I love my stay-at-home job. That’s the one thing I like about my mother is that when she visits me, my house is immaculate. But the flip side of that coin is that she never stops nagging me about what a slob I am. But it’s my house, and if you don’t like it, you are welcome to leave any time.

I thought about running all around and straightening up the house, but I didn’t. About twenty minutes later, they arrived at my door, and they actually rang the doorbell. I walked over to the door nonchalantly and did my best to give them a big smile of welcome. But, to tell you the truth, my stomach was in turmoil. And then I saw my mother’s face pressed to my back door window, and she had a big smile on her face. And get this, she had a bunch of red roses in her hand. And what looked like a casserole dish with a cover on it. I could see steam rising out of it. She was holding it with oven mitts.

I opened the door and said,” Wow, you two look great, What have you been up to?”

“Well, we both went to the hairdresser this morning and had the works. And then, when we came back, I made this casserole for you so that we could make lunch. I knew you probably didn’t have time to cook. Since you are working from home, can we come in?” I looked at Helen, and she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. I looked at her like she must have lost her mind, and maybe a few days with my mother pushed her over the edge. I let them in.

“Why don’t you two have a seat, I’ll get you some iced tea and put out some dishes for lunch.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Mom. Have a seat.” I stared at Helen, and she still had that look of a cat that ate my canary.”So, how’s it going? How was the trip? What have you two been up to?”

Helen said the trip was fine. We stopped along the way, ate lunch and dinner, and stopped at a couple of local tourist places. And then we drove straight here to Helen’s house. We are having a great time together. We like the same food and the same TV Shows. And Helen is so neat her house is neat as a pin. She’s like the daughter I never had.” Helen looked at me after my mother said that, and what she saw was a tear running down my face. Because my mother still had the power to hurt me to my core. Helen said, “she doesn’t mean that. She did talk about you the whole way home, how much she missed you, how she was so proud of you. And she couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”

“Is that true, Mom?”

“Yes, it’s true. But I always thought that you didn’t love me. So, I guess I have always tried to protect myself from all the negative things you said to and about me while you were a teenager. And how you never wanted to visit me or rarely called me.”

“Mom, I always loved you. But I never felt loved by you. I guess we were never really good at understanding one another. It didn’t help that you lied and were a cleptomaniac etc, etc. “

“ Well, I have been seeing a therapist for the last year, and I feel like I have resolved most of those issues. I haven’t stoled anything for over eight months. And I stopped buying things I don’t need. In general, I’m trying to be a better person. And if you give me a second chance, I will try to be a better mother.”

I looked at my mother with disbelief. And then she came over and hugged me tight. And then we both started to cry. And Helen stood there with the biggest smile on her face that I have ever seen. And that my friends became the beginning for me, my mother, and my dear friend, Helen. We became a family. And that was the best day of my life, bar none…

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NASTY NEIGHBOR

Sebastian slowly made his way down Main Street toward the bakery. He was looking forward to a breakfast of fresh, homemade bagels and cream cheese. He favored his right leg, as he had injured it many years ago, and it was never the same. When in the distance, he saw one of his neighbors one Jeffrey Duggins, walking towards him. Sebastian considered turning around and returning back home. He always got a bad vibe whenever he came within shouting distance of his neighbor, Jeffrey.

In fact, at times, he felt that his very life was at risk if he rubbed Jeffrey the wrong way. And as far as he could tell, everything he had ever said to Jeffrey seemed to set him off. Sebastian could say the most innocuous thing, and Jeffrey would read something nefarious into it. One day, he said, “Hello, Jeffrey. How’s it going? Did your trash get picked up yesterday? They never picked mine up?”

Jeffrey’s face distorted into an angry mask. And then he shouted,” What the hell is your problem? You’re always complaining every time you talk to me. How the hell would I know if everyone had their trash picked up or not?” Sebastian stared at Jeffrey, flabbergasted, and then shook his head, trying to clear his mind. And then Sebastian quietly crossed the street. He vowed silently to himself that in the future he would avoid any interaction with Jeffrey in the future. The guy had some serious issues, and Sebastian didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger. Jeffrey was a real nutter, for sure. Sebastian often wondered what excessive lengths that Jeffrey had gone to with other people who made some harmless comment to Jeffrey.

As Sebastian crossed the street, he shook his head and thought, what in the world would make a man of Jeffrey’s advanced age act so angry and belligerent for no reason at all? Sebastian continued on his walk. And just as he was about to cross the street to his house, it occurred to him that perhaps Jeffrey’s unfriendly behavior was deliberate. And his ultimate goal was to avoid any interaction with anyone. So as not to ignite any interest or curiosity about him with any of his neighbors or people in general. Sebastian crossed the street and made the decision to ignore or avoid Jeffrey in the future. He was a bad egg, that’s for sure. As he open his back door, he could smell what could only be his wife’s delicious breakfast waiting for him on the kitchen table. There was a cover over it. His wife was several years younger than he, and she still worked part-time.

Sebastian sat down to eat his breakfast and thought, where did all the years go? How did his life fly by so quickly in the blink of an eye? This was supposed to be a time to relax and enjoy life, doing the things you loved to do and didn’t have time for during your working years. And here he was, sitting at his kitchen table, worrying about what he could and couldn’t do because he didn’t wish to awaken the Jeffrey’s ire and directing that anger towards him.

While Sebastian was sitting at the table, it occurred to him that perhaps he could invite Jeffrey over for dinner one night would win him over. His wife was a fantastic cook, and she was known to be quite the charmer with people. She could take the most unfriendly and belligerent person and win them over with her friend chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, and one of her world-famous chocolate cakes.

And the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. But, he would have to get his wife, Millie, to go along with it. She kept telling him to leave her out of this whole business with our nasty, old so-and-so neighbor. She didn’t think he was worth the trouble. And then he thought he would take a walk over to the florist downtown and buy her a dozen red roses. They were her favorite, and she wouldn’t be able to say no after smelling them and putting them in her favorite crystal vase in the middle of the dining room table.

As Sebastian was on his way home from the florist, who should he see but Jeffrey coming from the opposite direction? There was really no way to avoid him other than quickly reversing his direction and running away. And Sebastian was way past that kind of shenanigans. So, he took a deep breath and kept walking. And then he felt someone staring at him. And who was it but none other than Jeffrey? Maybe Jeffrey would keep walking and cross the street? But no, he kept walking in his direction. And

Sebastian could feel his cold stare on him. And as he got closer, Jeffrey said, “Are you stalking me now?”

“Me? Stalking you? Why in the world would I do that? Listen, I haven’t done not one thing to you. You are the one causing conflicts in our neighborhood. You antagonize everyone you come in contact with around our neighborhood. Everyone else avoids you. You are obnoxious and cause conflict with everyone. Stop blaming your behavior on everyone else. You don’t have to talk to anyone. Just mind your own business. Nobody cares what you do. Just leave everyone else alone. And then there won’t be any further problems.”

“Yeah, I bet the whole neighborhood would love to see me fall off a cliff. I guess that would make you happy, wouldn’t it?”

“No, Jeffrey, I never wished you or anyone else any harm. I have tried being friendly to you since we moved here. And you put up a literal brick wall between our two properties. And that sure doesn’t say, “Welcome to the neighborhood to me.”

Jeffrey stood there with a strange expression on his face for several minutes. It seemed like a year to Sebastian. He was about to say something else to Jeffrey, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what to say. He was getting tired of the whole situation, including the friction in the neighborhood where he hoped to live out his final years.

“Well, Sebastian, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s my name. I introduced myself to you right after we moved in, and you just walked away from me without saying a word.”
“Well, yes, I guess I did. I didn’t want to go through the whole rejection scenario again. It’s getting old. I thought it would be better to reject you instead of the other way around.”

“Well, that didn’t turn out too well, did it?
“No, Sebastian, it didn’t. But, I have a tendency to be bull-headed, and once I get an idea in my head, it’s hard for me to change my mind.”

“OK, well, that’s a beginning; how about we start over? My wife and I would like to invite you to dinner. How about Saturday evening? It’s my wife’s day off, and she is a fabulous cook. What do you say?”

“ I say, what time? My wife was a great cook too. But she passed away about ten years ago from cancer. And I guess that’s when I gave up on life. It just felt so empty without her by my side. And when I saw everyone in the neighborhood going out and having fun with their families, it just made me madder and madder. We were never able to have kids, and I’ve just been alone all these years. And I guess I resented everyone else’s happiness. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, Jeffrey, I’m so sorry you lost your wife. That is a big loss. It would affect everyone who lost their closest loved one. But you just made it worse by pushing everyone away who tried to befriend you all these years. Your wife wouldn’t want you to be miserable all these years. So, why don’t we start over, and you come over tonight for a great dinner? And then maybe in a few weeks, you will feel up to coming to a neighborhood bar-b-que. There is no reason on earth for you to spend your remaining year lonely and unhappy, and angry. So, how about it? Are you interested?”

“ Yes, I would like to come over and have dinner. It’s been a long, long time since I had a home-cooked meal. I eat mostly take-out or frozen dinners.” 

“Alright then, let’s head home, and you can come over to our house at six o’clock sharp. What do you say?”

“ I say, I’ll be there with bells on my feet.” And they continued home, and Sebastian started telling Jeffrey what he had done for a living while they were walking home. And Jeffrey was surprised to find out that they had similar occupations. And he started telling Sebastian about his early years after he and his wife were first married. It turned out that they had many things in common.

 

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Dear Write On Followers

Hello, I wanted to let you all know that as of this week, I will be posting my new short story or memoir on Fridays and posting one of my previously posted stories on Wednesdays. I hope all is well with you. Best Wishes, Susan A. Culver

Write On Followers

Dear Followers, I am reposting one of my older stories and taking a week off writing. Here is the link:https://susanaculver.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=4188&action=edit&classic-editor&classic-editor__forget

Susan A. Culver

Catholic School in the 1950’s

Every time I think, I’ve written my last memoir about my experiences as a young girl who was raised as a Catholic and attended twelve years of Catholic School. I remember yet another experience that has lain dormant deep down in my oldest memories.

Catholic School Classroom in the 1950s

In fact, almost every experience I had up until my eighteenth birthday affected my relationship with the Catholic Church and the nuns that taught me everything from basic math to calculus, how to read and write English Grammar properly, and how to read Latin and speak French. I still retain the ability to read French after almost fifty years. Thanks to Sister Renard, my French teacher, for three years. And more than any other lesson I learned was self-control and knowing when to keep my mouth shut. And keeping a secret is not necessarily a lie.

I come from a fairly large Catholic family. I had five sisters and one brother. My twin sister and I were the youngest. We were born in 1951. And my middle sisters were seven and eight years older than me, and my twin. My older sister Jean was thirteen years older than us, and my brother was nineteen years older. Both my older brother and my sister Jean have passed away.

My next two older sisters both attended Catholic School through high school. I do not know how their Catholic School education affected them, but I do know how it affected me. Of course, since my older sisters and my twin, and I attended school, we were all affected and part of the baby boomer generation. After World War II there was a tremendous increase in the number of babies born after World War II when American soldiers returned from serving time in the military during WWII and the Korean War.

Elementary Catholic School classrooms were overcrowded. In first grade, I didn’t have my own seat. At first, I sat on the windowsill, and later I got my own desk and chair, but it was parked directly behind a large post that supported the ceiling. And I could only see the blackboard if I stuck my head out on either side of the pole. I could hear everything alright, but I could see anything but that pole, including what was written on the blackboard. At first, I would raise my hand to get the attention Sister John Michael’s attention, but she either couldn’t see my arm flagging her down, or she was intentionally ignoring me.

I was a quiet kid and tried to keep my head down and out of trouble for the most part. Really, the last thing you wanted to do was gain the attention of any of the nuns during your tenure as a Catholic School student. Because if you did, you would get your name written on the blackboard, and you would have to stay after school and do chores or write things like I will not talk during class one hundred times. I used to go down the page and write each word one hundred times and then do the same for all the other words until they were written one hundred times.

During my elementary school years, I had two lay teachers, Miss Norris and Mr. McElliot, my fifth-grade teacher. It just so happened that Mr. McElliot knew my older brother and had worked with him at the Maple Shade Post Office. And he told me that my brother was one of the smartest people he ever met. I had always been extremely proud of my brother, Harry, because he was the first person in my family to go to college and earned his Ph.D. in Psychology.

Later, my sister, Elizabeth, went to college. She earned a nursing degree and also taught high school. I went to college when I was thirty-six to the Tyler School of Art in Pennsylvania and earned two degrees in art by the time I was forty. My English teachers at Tyler always asked me if I attended Catholic School because of my grasp of grammar and literature. And the ability to write a coherent sentence and spell correctly.

Aside from learning reading, writing, and Arithmetic in Catholic School, I learned self-control. Because if you didn’t know how to sit quietly in the classroom, you would get your hand whacked with a wooden ruler with a metal edge. Over the eight years I attended Catholic grade school, I had my head bashed into the blackboard multiple times. Usually, it was for passing notes to other students. But, more often, it was because I had a difficult time doing math, especially the higher maths like geometry and algebra. You will be happy to know that eventually, I did finally grasps math. But, it didn’t occur until much later when as an adult, I decided to volunteer to teach basic skills to adults who didn’t graduate from high school and were trying to earn their GED. I purchased a math book and then went through it from beginning to end and finally taught myself math. And I was then able to teach that skill to my GED students. But, I really owed the nuns for their perseverance in trying to teach me math for twelve years.

When I look back at the twelve years that I spent in Catholic School, the year that stands out the most for me was fourth grade when Sister Joseph Catherine was my teacher. My fourth-grade class was held in the basement of the Catholic School on the stage. Because the school was so overpopulated by students that they ran out of classrooms. Sister Joseph Catherine was petite. In fact, she was only a few inches taller than I was at nine years old. But within her small stature was hiding a whole lot of repressed rage and anger. I have no idea what she was so mad about, but it was clear to everyone that had ears and eyes in their head that they better not cross her. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.

But for no reason that I was ever able to discern Sister Joseph, Catherine picked me to be her constant companion and slave. Everywhere she went, I went. And I had to carry her books and whatever else she needed to be transported from one place to another. In class, it behooved everyone to do as she told, or there would be hell to pay. I can not remember what I did in her classroom to aggravate her, but one day she called me up to the blackboard to solve a math problem. As I have mentioned, math was not a strong point for me. So, Sister Joseph Catherine wrote a problem on the blackboard with chalk and called me up to solve it.

Of course, my mind went completely blank, one reason being my difficulty with math and, secondly, because she was standing behind me berating me at the top of her voice about how stupid I was. This did not encourage me. I just stood there dumbfounded, my mind blank, shaking like a leaf. She came up behind me and banged my head repeatedly into the blackboard in front of the whole class. Who for once was completely silent. Not a word was said. I don’t remember how the incident ended. I did know that my days of being her slave were over. And I refused to follow her around and carry her stuff. When I went home, I told my parents what happened, and my mother said she was going to go and talk to Sister Joseph Catherine. And I begged her now to because I thought it would get worse for me in the classroom.

Looking back on it, I think I should have let my mother have a word with her, a harsh word. Maybe it would have prevented all of Sister Joseph Catherine from physically attacking any future students. Fortunately, the following year in the fifth grade, I had Mr. McElliot as a teacher. And he was a great teacher that made learning fun and interesting. He encouraged us to ask questions and have opinions. Needless to say, I did much better in his class. And he encouraged us to go to the library and read and learn about the world. And that is exactly what I did for the rest of my life.

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THE COLLEGE GRIND

Sara had always considered herself to be an optimist. She looks forward to each new day as a new beginning. And an opportunity to do better than she had the day before. She is one of those people who always see the light at the end of the tunnel. Each morning when she wakes up, she looks out her bedroom window, and rain or shine, she is happy that she has the opportunity to begin a new day.

Princeton University

When Sara hits any roadblocks in her life, she finds a way around it and believes she was better for having overcome them. Her confidence in herself grew and grew. She had always been an independent person who prided herself on her ability to create her own success and not rely on other people.

Sara is a person with a big heart, and she is always willing to lend a helping hand to anyone who needs it. Sara has always set goals for herself from the time she was a little girl playing hopscotch on the sidewalk in front of her house. She wouldn’t give up until she hopped all the way to the end of the hopscotch and back again without touching her other foot to the ground. And when she succeeded, she would smile from ear to ear and jump up and down. Her girlfriends always laughed at her for getting so excited over a game of hopscotch.

As Sara grew up, she set higher and higher goals for herself. She always wanted to have the highest grade point average in her class, and she was the president of her class all through eight years of grade school and four years of high school. She was the valedictorian of her senior year in high school at graduation. And she was accepted into every college she applied to during her senior year. She decided that she would only attend the best university in the USA. She was accepted at Harvard, Princeton, and Yale. She decided on Princeton University since it had the highest rating of all the universities in America. She was offered a full scholarship.

Girls dorm Princeton University

Girls Dorm Princeton Univesity

Sara had a lot of girlfriends but hadn’t dated at all during high school since she felt her education was more important than dating, which she considered to be a waste of her time. She had no plans to get married any time soon, if at all. Her parents had divorced when she was in the third grade, and her memories of the time before that were of her parents arguing and disagreeing with each other all day and night. She had no desire to replicate that experience in her own life.

Her Freshman year at Princeton was challenging, to say the least. Princeton had a beautiful campus, and only the cream of the crop was accepted as students who would be expected to direct all their energy and time to their studies which were a preparation for their future. Sara had planned on her future being driven by her desire to make new strides in Biological Research. Sara believed that biological research helps us understand all of the living world and its many species, including humans, to function and evolve. And ultimately will advance improvements in medicine, biotechnology, and many other areas of biology, which will improve the quality of life for all the life on our planet.

During her third year at the university, Sara had to declare her major. This was always a stressful time for students since it was not unknown for students to be conflicted by their many interests, and picking one major was a kind of litmus test to see which students had evolved enough in their years at the university to make adult decisions about their future lives. And how they wanted to use that time. Sara had always known what she wanted to do with her life. But still, because of the high pressure, Sara found herself questioning her choice to the point that she was having difficulty falling asleep in the few hours of sleep that she allowed herself. And in addition, she found her appetite had decreased to the point that between little rest and poor appetite, she had lost considerable weight and energy.

Finally, one of her friends at the university stopped by Sara’s door room and ask if she could take a few minutes out of her studies for a short discussion. Sara looked at her friend and thought that she must be having some boyfriend issues. Sara had no experience with boyfriends since she didn’t date and had no desire to waste her time on the drama of young love that she saw all around her at the university. When her friend, Miriam, ask her if she could come in, Sara sighed and said, “Well, just for a little while. I just started doing the research on my thesis, Miriam.”

“Well, you are probably not going to like what I have to say, but here goes. I and the rest of your friends are concerned with your well-being. You don’t get much sleep, you never do anything that is fun or relaxing, but most of all, you are concerned about how much weight you have lost. Are you eating at all? Have you developed some sort of eating disorder? You know that the university has people that can address issues like this. What do you say? How about we go set up an appointment and see if there is a real problem or you just not getting enough sleep and not eating regularly?”

“What, I don’t have an eating disorder; I’m busy. I have a lot of work and research to do in a short amount of time. I supposed I do forget to eat occasionally. But it’s not a big deal. I’m young, and I will rebound, and in time I will finish my studies and move on to the real working world. Which I’m sure will be even more challenging than going to university, don’t you think?”

Miriam responded,” Could you please just stand up next to me and look in the mirror? If you remember, we were both about the same weight and height when we arrived here on campus three years ago. So, would you please come to look in the mirror?”

Sara hemmed and hawed for a moment, and then she said, “Alright, but this better not take too long. I have a great deal of work to do. And then she walked over to the mirror and stood next to Miriam, and looked into the mirror. They both looked in the mirror and then at each other. And Miriam said, “Well, how do you think you look?”

“Well, if I were, to be honest, I’d have to say that I do look somewhat thinner. But that’s not surprising; I have been working night and day. And so do most of the students here that wish to excel in their studies. Their futures depend upon it. “

“Do you notice your clothes are hanging off of you? How about how thing your face is compared to mine? Your clothes are falling off of you. You don’t eat much, you rarely sleep. How do you expect to excel at anything when you’re starving yourself and not sleeping at all? And you work night and day. You never take a break, ever.”

“Yes, I can see I lost some weight, and we are all tired. But, we are working towards our futures, and that takes time and lots and lots of effort, sometimes going without sleep.”
“Yes, but how far are you going to get if you are starving yourself and not sleeping? Shouldn’t your health and well-being be the number one priority?”

“Yes, but sometimes I just don’t have enough time to think about eating and sleeping.”
“How about if you make a compromise? How about if every morning you come down to the cafeteria with me and eat a light breakfast, and then at dinner time, we go down and eat dinner together? Maybe once in a great while, we can splurge and go out for pizza or something. What do you say?”
“Breakfast and dinner too, oh come on, that’s too much. And then Sara began to laugh. “OK, OK, breakfast and dinner, and once in a great while, go out for pizza. But that’s it.”

“Awesome, let’s celebrate by going out for that pizza right now. What do you say?”

“ I say, I’m slammed but OK, but then I have to come right back here and get busy working on my research paper, deal?”

“Yes, deal, so throw on some shoes, grab your purse, and let’s get that pizza with all the toppings. What do you say, Sara?”

“OK, let’s hit the road and get a pizza. I can almost taste it right now.”

“Me, too. Let’s hit the road.”

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