THE MOST DIFFICULT TIME OF MY LIFE

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My childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ

My childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ

If someone asked me what the most difficult time of my life was, I would have to say that it would be a difficult question to answer. Why? Honestly, I have had many difficult experiences over the course of my lifetime. I am seventy-three years old, and most of my life is spent behind me rather than in front of me. Like everyone else who has lived as long as I have, my life has had many ups and downs.

I believe the most difficult years I experienced in my life were 1986 and 1987. This is how it began. In 1986, my husband and I moved back to New Jersey. He had just graduated from Brooks Institute, a photography school in Montecito, California. We stayed with my parents for a short time. I then purchased a small house in Pennsauken, about fifteen minutes from my parent’s house. Bob had served in the military to secure a home mortgage without a down payment. By that time, he had found and been hired for a full-time position in the Philadelphia area.

I had long anticipated a time when we would be able to start a family. We were married for seven years before I had any children. In 1981, I tested positive on a pregnancy test, and nine months later, I gave birth to my first child, whom we named Jeanette after my eldest sister, who had passed away from emphysema. My mother and father were happy for us. Three years later, I had my second child. Our family was complete.

I visited my parents often since I only lived a short distance from Maple Shade, where my parents lived and where I grew up. One day, I drove with my children to my parent’s house to visit them. As I was sitting at the kitchen table, my father, who was retired by this time, called out to me. He was in the hallway outside of the bathroom. When I got to the hallway, my father indicated wanting me to look in the toilet. I looked at it was filled with blood. My father had a stroke several years before this, and he was aphasic, and it was difficult for him to speak and make himself understood. 

I contacted my siblings and informed them about my father’s health issue. I was the only one who was not working at the time since I had two young children at home, and all my other siblings were working at that time. I made an appointment with his primary physician for my father, who then referred him to a specialist. After the specialist examined my father and had xrays taken, he determined that my father had lung cancer and it was advanced. And there wasn’t any treatment available for him.

The next several months were difficult. My father’s cancer advanced and worsened over the next several months. It became clear that he wasn’t going to survive much longer. My father had been smoking two packs of cigarettes a week for many years.

My mother would then be alone. My father had given me power of attorney, so I was responsible for my parents paying the rent and all expenses. I spoke to my siblings and asked if they would all be able to take turns coming to my parent’s house at night during my father’s illness. And they agreed to do so.

I won’t lie, this time of my father’s illness was one of if not the worst experiences of my life up to that point. And it was clear that my mother was broken-hearted as well. She had been married to my father since she was nineteen years old. They did not have a perfect marriage. But they certainly loved one another and had a strong bond. And they had six children together. I can only imagine how frightened my mother was at that time. My mother had glaucoma, limited vision, and heart failure.

It wasn’t long after that my father started to refuse to eat or take all his medication. He coughed and coughed all night. And my dear mother was unable to sleep. She said the rosary all night, hoping that my father would be delivered from his pain. I made every attempt to hire a night nurse to help take off my father since it was getting more and more difficult to take care of him. He was refusing food and his medication, and he kept falling out of his bed. Eventually, I ordered a bed with sidebars to keep him from falling out. And it was difficult to get him up when he fell. He was a big man. Finally, I secured a night nurse to assist with my father’s care. My siblings and I began to take turns staying overnight at my parent’s house. So, my mother would not be alone with my father if sometihing unttoward happened at night. It was difficult for all of us since we were all married and had young children at home.

We began keeping track of the liquids and solids my father took in because of his diabetes. My sister Karen gave my father his insulin shots. In general, nights were the most difficult since neither of my parents could sleep during the night. My father began having a difficult time breathing at night and had to be checked often during the night.

The following day, my dear father passed away. It was a big loss for us all, but my father had suffered long enough. My dear mother was heartbroken, to say the least. I can not express the depth of my sense of loss when my father passed away. Not just myself but all my siblings and, of course, my dear mother, who had been married to my father since she was nineteen.

My mother could not live alone, and I felt she would feel most at ease in her own house since she was blind. I decided the best resolution was to hire someone to come and stay with her during the week. And she could cook and clean the house and keep my dear mother safe. I advertised and received several responses, and after interviewing several people, I hired a middle-aged woman named Doris Cook. She was a kind and caring person, and my mother felt comfortable and safe with her. She stayed at my mother’s house during the week. And then went home for the weekend. My siblings and I took turns having our mother stay at their houses on weekends.

My mother was depressed by the loss of her husband but managed to maintain her equilibrium for the most part. My mother suffered a heart attack and complete respiritory arrest about ten months after my father passed. It was a very difficult time for myself and the entire family. I can not express the loss I felt after losing both of my parents. My father passed in Oct. of 1986, and my dear mother passed in August of 1987. I still miss them to this day. The loss of one’s parents is a big loss and difficult to move forward from. My children never had the opportunity to get to know them since they were so young when my parents passed.

Life is so difficult at times, and you may believe you will never get over the losses you suffer. But somehow, you do. There are no other alternatives. I had to keep moving forward because I had two young children to care for, and I knew my mother and father would not want me to do otherwise. There are many challenges in life, and you have no alternatives but to overcome them.

 

 

 

The Days Of My Working Life In The 1970’s- Ancora Mental Hospital

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In the early 1970s, I made the decision to change my occupation. I had been working for several years as a dental assistant. I had a desire to help people, especially children. I decided to apply for a job at Ancora Mental Hospital in New Jersey. My brother was a psychologist, and he had done an internship at Ancora while he was earning his PhD. And he told me to contact one, Mrs. Coffee, who worked at Ancora. I had never driven to that part of NJ before, and my sense of direction was not helpful since I had no sense of direction. But, somehow, after studying a road map, I made my way there. It is located in Hammonton, NJ, which was about a thirty-minute to one-hour drive, depending on the time of the day and the traffic. 

I had an appointment with Mrs. Coffee. I spoke to her on the phone and sent her my resume, brief as it was. I requested to be placed in the children’s ward after my training. I was notified that I was accepted and told when and where to arrive for my Psychiatric Aide training, which would require several weeks of classes and then passing a test. If I pass, then I will be placed in my permanent position. Which I believed would be with children. One of my classmates excelled in the class and was told soon after the final exam where we would be working. I hope that my fellow classmates will be placed in the same ward as me. Her name was Joan Hall. Unfortunately, that is not how it played out.

I was assigned to the Active Psyche Ward. Joan was placed elsewhere, and we were given different shifts. I would be working the late shift; she would be working during the day. So, there was little chance we would see each other soon. I started working the following week. And honestly, it‘s hard to describe what the active psyche ward was like in the early 1970s. My first day I was told that I was in charge of supervising the woman’s shower.

I was informed where to go and who my supervisor would be. I found my way to the showers, and to say I was shocked is the understatement of all times. I had never been in a woman’s shower before. And I had never seen other naked women before, even when I was attending an all-girl high school I managed to avoid having to shower in the girls shower after gym. The noise level and the out-of-control behavior with grown adults were shocking, to say the least. Some of the patients were severely mentally ill, and they were medicated to the point of acting like zombies.

At one point during the first week, I started working with the patients, I happened to pass by a treatment room. There was a middle-aged woman strapped to the table. She was getting electric shock treatment. There were several “doctors” in the room. They made jokes about how she looked and reacted to the electric shock treatment. I was totally appalled by their lack of humanity and harsh treatment of her. I complained to the doctor in charge. He just stared at me, telling me to return to my work.

After showers, I supervised the patients in the dining area, where they ate all their meals. The noise in the dining room would be difficult to describe. Some patients would quietly eat, while others were screaming and yelling about I don’t know what. I would go from one table to another and tell the patients to quietly go to get their meals and then return to their seats to eat. The quiet part never happened. There was always some kind of out-of-control behavior going on. Or, some of the patients were sedated so heavily that they were like zombies. And rarely showed any emotion.

On some evenings, I was assigned to supervise the patients while they were in the community room. It was such a strange environment, the people who were patients, the doctors, the caretakers. It was not a pleasant place to be. The patients had no say in what they could do. For the most part, they were powerless.

Ultimately, I realized I would never have the opportunity to work with the children who were patients at Ancora, so I gave my notice. I do believe that if I had been given an opportunity to work with the children, I would have been able to make some difference in their lives, be it big or small. But I never had that chance.

I didn’t know that in my not-too-distant future, I would move to another state far from New Jersey and become a counselor working with mildly handicapped children I would love and with whom I could make a big difference in their lives. You never know what barriers you will face in life or what challenges. But, I have learned that you shouldn’t give up and that you have to keep striving to do your best in life, no matter what it is you are doing. Always do your best. You do not know what may or may not happen in your life. But never give up on yourself.

As for myself, I faced many challenges after working at Ancora. I did not allow this one negative experience to stop me from moving forward and upward. I never stopped believing in myself or what I was capable of doing. I didn’t allow anyone’s criticle words affect my self-confidence I knew that I could do anything I set my mind to.

I also realized that every life experience I had taught me a lesson, and it would help me at some point in my future experiences. I never allowed anyone I interacted with to undermine my self-confidence in what I was capable of doing and achieving. As a result, I have led a full and rich life. Because of my choices, I met and interacted with many types of people, some rich, some poor, the highly educated, and those who barely got through elementary school.

I have learned from every experience and everyone I met along the way. Life is a journey, and you never know where and when your journey will take you. I have no regrets about my choices along the way. Keep an open mind, do not be judgmental, be kind, and be generous. Do good in life, and do not judge people that you meet along the way. You do not know what barriers and obstacles they have faced and overcome.

But fear not, I made my opportunities, over the course of my working life I worked with children in California at St. Vincent’s School in Santa Barbara. And I believe this was the opportunity I was looking for all along. The children there were intellectually handicapped to a degree. I was the assistant counselor and worked the three to twelve shift. They were girls between the ages of twelve and seventeen. And I came to love and care for those girls as if they were my own. The years I spent there were a blessing to me. It taught me patience, understanding, and acceptance for all the people I have met along my life’s highway. I certainly benefited from the time I worked with these girls. It was hard to leave them when the time came. My husband was attending Brooks Institute for Photography, and when he graduated, we left so that he would have an opportunity to find a job in photography. But that is a story for another day that would have to be told by my husband, Bob.

TIME FLIES BY IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE

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Today, I was looking at a post on Facebook called 1970’s Memories. I enjoy looking at this page because I was young in the 1970s and have many good memories from that time. The page is geared towards Baby Boomers, of whom I am one. Baby boomers were born between 1946 and 1964. we had several character traits that define our overall character. People in our generation often were known for their workplace visibility and prided themselves in their work ethic and their competitive natures in the workplace. Now, I can not prove this is true for every boomer, but I’m sure I was a person who, once I graduated from high school, found a job immediately with the help of the high school I attended, St. Mary of the Angels Academy in Haddonfield, NJ. It was a Catholic all-girls school.

     Once I started working, I found that I enjoyed it. I was hired as a dental assistant for Dr. E.G. Wozniak in Oaklyn, NJ. Dr. Wozniak trained me, and I worked there for almost five years. During those early work years, I purchased my first car, a 1970 Yellow Volkswagon Bug. I loved that car like it was my first child.

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

The only problem was I had to work several night shifts in addition to working during the day. And I had to work on Saturdays. This limited my free time to go out and have fun with my friends. At the time, we used to go to nightclubs with bands and go dancing. During the Summer, my friends and I used to all rent a hotel room together in Wildwood, NJ (a beach town) and spend Friday night at the nightclubs and Saturday and Sunday on the beach and the boardwalk.

     I decided that I wanted to change jobs to have more time to have fun, less work on Saturdays, and several late nights each week. I decided to find a new job that would allow me that flexibility. At that time, I was twenty-one years old and lived in a small apartment in Haddonfield, NJ. My parents were unhappy with me moving out but did not try to stop me. My father came to the apartment I was going to rent before I signed the lease. And I guess he decided it was in a safe enough area, down the street from Haddon Avenue, which was the main street in Haddonfield, which is an affluent area in NJ. Still, it was clear both of my parents missed me living at home as I was the last of their children who lived at home. All my older siblings were married, and most had started their families years before as my two eldest siblings were twenty years older than I was, and the two other sisters were seven or eight years older and married with children.

     After giving my notice to Dr. Wozniak, who was not happy with me leaving but nonetheless gave me a positive resume and reference after I found a job in Collingswood, NJ, located at Ellis Insurance Company, which sold high-risk auto insurance, I worked in the office with two other girls my age. I enjoyed not being the only employee. Harry and Evie Ellis were from a wealthy family and lacked strong work ethics. They would take me and my two co-workers to breakfast almost every morning. Overall, it was a fun place to work, and I continued to work there for a couple of years.

     That is until I was fixed up for a date with my best friend, Joan’s boy cousin, who just got out of the Navy. He had visited his cousins in NJ before returning to Florida, where his parents and younger siblings lived. And that, my friend, was the beginning of a whole new chapter of my life. After “Bob” returned to Florida, he and I began writing letters to each other. One thing led to another, and I decided to move to Florida, so I gave my notice at work, made arrangements to take the auto train to Florida, and, of course, told my parents what I was up to. As you can imagine, they were not too thrilled. But nonetheless, they did not try to stop me. Although, it was clear that they were not happy with their youngest child moving over a thousand miles away from them. They didn’t try to talk me out of it. The day I left, both of my parents stood outside and watched me while I drove away. They were crying.

     A close friend told me about an auto train I could take. I had to drive from Lorton, Virginia, to Sanford, Florida. Then, my car would be loaded onto the train, and I would be seated in the passenger section. I had never driven this far from home but was somehow I managed to figure out the best route to take to the auto train and get there without any problem. I did manage to arrive several hours early, and I had to wait in my car until the auto-train arrived. It was extremely hot that day. Luckily, there was a toll phone in the parking lot, so I could call my parents and let them know I arrived safely in Lorton, Virginia. This was long before cell phones. So, I sat and waited for the train to arrive. It was a long, hot wait all alone. My parents were relieved that I arrived safely. And asked me to please call when I arrived in Florida and met up with Bob.

     It turned out that it was a seventeen-hour ride from Lorton, Virginia, to Sandford, Florida. It was a long ride; I didn’t have the opportunity to be bored because a mother and her two small toddlers were sitting next to me. So, between crying, never sitting still, and trying to climb over me, it was a long, long seventeen hours. I had many years of experience babysitting my nieces and nephews when they were little. But, I never had to sit for seventeen hours with two little kids crawling all over me and alternately crying, screaming, and having their stinky diapers changed right next to me.

At some point, out of sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep for several hours. When I woke up my stomach was empty and my bladder was full, I got up and looked for the laboratory, and found there was a long, long line to wait. But, what could I do, I waited. And the bathroom was “not large, to say the least. And the smell was overpowering, but luckily, I had a poor sense of smell, so I survived it.

     When I got back to my seat, the mother of the two kids had laid the older of the two toddlers to sleep in my seat. I stood there and stared at her because there was no place for me to sit. There were no empty seats. So, I finally said, “ Please move one of your babies. I have to sit down. I can’t stand in the aisle all day. She gave me a sour look and then growled and moved the smaller of the two toddlers. Who immediately started screaming. All I can say is it was a long, long, long ride.

     When we finally arrived at Sanford, Florida, we had to wait to get off the train, and there was a long, long wait for my car to get out. Because I was the first person to arrive, and my car would be the last one to be unloaded. It took what seemed like a lifetime because of the ungodly heat. But I survived, and then I saw my yellow Volkswagon coming down the ramp. I mistakenly believed that Bob would arrive shortly, but he didn’t since he had worked the night shift at Pratt and Whitney and had to drive to Sanford, which took several hours. I had no way of contacting him, so I just had to wait until he arrived. And he did, and I was never so happy to see someone. He looked tired but also happy.

     That, my friends, was the beginning of my new life. We began with a long drive to my new home, a one-bedroom apartment in a small complex called Nighh Haven Apartments. The apartment was owned by a middle-aged couple that seemed old to me at the time since I was twenty-two. But they were probably in their early fifties and had many years ahead of them. They were nice people.

The next step in my new life was getting a job. Bob had a cousin who recommended that I apply at an insurance company where she worked when she was living in Florida, and that is exactly what I did. And I was hired to sell high-risk auto and homeowners insurance. I worked there for several months. And then Bob and I got married, and when I returned to work, I was called into the main office and was notified that their company was having difficulties and that they were laying off all the older employees and all the new ones. And just like that, I was unemployed and had a limited amount of money.

     I looked for a new job for weeks, only to find that the economy in Florida at that time was not good. And companies were laying off employees right and left. And they weren’t hiring new employees from out of state at all. After months of looking for a job, I attended a hairdressing school. West Palm Beach Beauty Academy. I enjoyed the experience, and it turned out I was pretty good at cutting hair, perming hair, and styling, especially among the older ladies. I made a lot of friends in the hair-dressing school. Some of whom I kept in contact with for many years after we left Florida and moved to California. And that, my friends, is another story.

 

TIME GOES BY BEFORE YOU KNOW IT

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I grew up in the early 1950’s. Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re going to say. I must be as old as the hills. Well, I’m not that old, but I have lived a long time. And I have some stories to tell. So, let me begin with well, the beginning. My parents were married a long, long time ago, in 1929. Just in time for the crash of the economy, The Great Depression. Oh, you never heard about that before? Really, I’ll catch you up. The Great Depression occurred in 1929 when, in a period of ten weeks, stocks on the New York Stock Exchange lost 50 percent of their value. As stocks continued to fall during the early 1930s, businesses failed, and unemployment rose dramatically.

Girard College Philadelphia

I can’t say how the Great Depression affected my parents in great detail because my parents did not talk about it in detail. Other than my mother telling me at some point when I was a young child that they were married in 1929. The beginning of the Depression. My mother and father proceeded to create a family that included my brother, Hugh, my oldest sister, Jeanette, my sister’s Eileen and sister, Liz, and my fraternal twin, Karen and myself of course, Karen was born seven minutes before me.. My mother gave birth to twin boys, who were named Charles and Girard. They only lived a few weeks since they were premature at birth. And came only a year after my twin and I were born.

My father worked for PTC (The Philadelphia Transportation Company), the bus and trolley company in Philadelphia. Later, in the early 1960s, it was renamed SEPTA (South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Company). My father was a bus driver and apparently loved his job. But his mother, who was a widow, had other plans for him. She thought he would have more prestige if he worked in an office. She put a great deal of pressure on him, and he eventually complied with her decision.

For the next five decades of his life, my father worked in the office, eventually becoming the head dispatcher at PTC. He developed the system that still regulates the scheduling of the drivers’ buses and trolleys to this day. My father was a highly intelligent man. He was not a perfect man or father. He had faults and shortcomings. He liked to gamble, he played cards for money, he placed bets on horse races. In fact, he was a regular at the Garden State Race Track in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. He made many great friends through his “hobbies.” In fact, my father had a whole different life outside of his family life and outside of his employment as head dispatcher at SEPTA. His nickname was Smiley, which I always had a hard time understanding since he always seemed to be in a bad mood when he was home.

Maple Shade, NJ in the 1960’s

My life growing up in the small town of Maple Shade, New Jersey, was a childhood that any child would be lucky to experience. The baby boomer generation was born between 1946 and 1964. I was born on May 24th of 1951. I can speak to this from my personal experience. Aside from my experience of attending twelve years in Catholic School (which is a different experience altogether compared to public school), My generation had almost total freedom. My mother never asked me what I had been up to all day. If I came home relatively in one piece, no questions were asked. This was especially true during the Summer months. When we were out of school, we were allowed to stay out every night until dark, and then our parents would call for us to come in about the time that the mosquitoes were eating us alive.

I was never given any chores to do. My mother used to sit with me every evening during the school year after dinner and help me with my homework. She never complained. She was the most loving and caring person I knew in my life.

My father was not an affectionate person. He wasn’t one to give hugs and kisses, even when I was quite young. My father grew up in a place called Girard College. It was a school for fatherless boys. Funded by a wealthy American man whose name was Stephen Girard. My father’s father passed away when my father was about five years old. When my father came of age, his mother was able to get my father accepted at Girard College, which was a type of boarding school for boys who didn’t have fathers. My father’s father had passed away, and my father lived and was educated at Girard College until he was almost seventeen years old. He only saw his mother once a year on Christmas until he graduated from Girard College, where he was ultimately hired to work for PTC. He spent his entire working life there until he retired when he was sixty- two years old.

My father was not a perfect man. He rarely expressed affection or love toward any of us. But I believed deep down that my father loved each and every one of us in his own way. He just never learned the tools of expressing his love and affection for us because he grew up without a father and a mother that he rarely saw and didn’t grow up with since he lived at Girard College until he was an adolescent.

Still, my father had a great influence and impact on the development of my personality. He often said hurtful things if any of us were not being cooperative with whatever his agenda was at that time. I was always something of an argumentative kid, and if I didn’t agree with what someone was saying to me or telling me to do something, I didn’t want to do it. Well, I would argue and refuse to do what I was told. My father was always telling my mother,” That kid would argue with the pope.’ And I suppose as I look back at my childhood and adolescence, he was probably right. I would argue with the Pope. Or anyone else that tried to tell me what to do. And I didn’t want to do it.

In addition, I just was not your regular run-of-the-mill kid. I had strong opinions about what was right and wrong. I was not afraid to stick up for myself at home or at school. My personality didn’t quite mesh with the behaviors that were expected from the students in a Catholic Elementary School or an All Girls School that I attended, which was located in Haddonfield, NJ. Which was an upper-class neighborhood, to say the least. St. Mary of the Angels Academy. I continued to be the same sarcastic, argumentative, stubborn girl I was in elementary school.

My parents had to work all through my elementary and high school years because the tuition was high, especially at St. Mary’s, where most of the other students came from upper-class neighborhoods and upper-class families. My mother worked at Wanamaker’s employee kitchen, cooking meals for the Wanamaker employees, and my father, well, continued to work for SEPTA as the head dispatcher until he retired at sixty-two.

Looking back on those days, I realize that my parents had to sacrifice a lot to send all their daughters to Catholic School. And I never heard a word of complaint from either one of them, especially my mother, who not only worked at Wanamaker’s kitchen but also ironed other families’ clothes and cleaned houses on the side. There was never a moment when my mother wasn’t working hard every single day.

The only time I saw her rest was late in the afternoon when she would sit in her room, quietly say the rosary and read her prayer books. She also went to Mass every morning and said the rosary with the Altar Rosary Society.

Some people grow up in dysfunctional families, where they never feel loved or accepted. And I won’t lie here; sometimes, I don’t feel completely accepted. Why, you may ask? Well, the fact is I was not just your ordinary kik. Yes, I had a lot of friends in my small-town neighborhood. But somehow, I was different in some subtle way from the other kids in the neighborhood, even my best girlfriend.

OLPH Church, Maple Shade, NJ

I always had my own point of view about things. I wanted to do things my way. I wasn’t big on compromise. And then there was the fact that I was an exceptionally creative kid who liked to draw, make things, and tell stories. Sometimes, my siblings or even my parents didn’t know when to believe me because of what my mother called my wild imagination. They weren’t always certain if I was telling the truth or making it up. Or what my father always said, “ Marie, she’s putting the Irish on.” And I guess, at some level, I was.

Probably, because I just didn’t see things in black and white. I saw them in every color in a rainbow. I told stories that my parents could never completely believe. But, somehow, I did. But, still, they continued to listen and, at some level, enjoyed the most far-fetched story I told them.

So, here I am some sixty years later. I’m still telling far-fetched stories. And maybe I’m full of malarkey. But, all the same, I would change things about my past or present life. You know what Popeye used to say, “ I am what I am.” Well, people, I am who I am. Sometimes I will tell a long tale or sometimes I just might paint a beautiful surreal painting. But, it will be all me from top to bottom and from beginning to end. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.

YOU HAVE TO DREAM, TO HAVE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE

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I just stepped out of the shower when I heard my front doorbell ring. I grabbed a towel and quickly dried myself off. And then, just as quickly, I pulled my robe off the door hook and put it on. I couldn’t help but think, who the hell is ringing my doorbell at seven o’clock in the morning? Have they lost their minds?

I rushed to the living room and peeked out the front window. I couldn’t see anyone standing there. I opened the front door a crack, and I saw…. No one. But on the top step, I saw a package about the size of a six-pack of beer. I quickly put my hand out and brought the package to my living room. I opened the package, and the only contents were a large envelope with an engraved invitation in it. Apparently, I’ve been invited to a secret underground event. And the invitation was titled “You Only Live Once.”

I stared at the invitation for at least five minutes. And all I could think was, “This must be some mistake. Or one of my crazy friends’ ideas of a joke. Plus, there wasn’t any name on the invitation. The address was one I wasn’t familiar with at all. And in parenthesis were the words “dress formal.”  

I wasn’t familiar with the area, but I thought, well, isn’t that why I have a GPS and a cell phone? They sure didn’t give me much of a heads-up. The party was tonight. I considered the options: I could tear up the invitation and forget it. Or, I could look through my closet and see if there was anything in there that all my friends hadn’t seen before. My first impulse was to tear up the invitation and forget about it.

And then I thought, well, why shouldn’t I go? It might be fun, and I might meet “someone.” And I hadn’t really gone out in a long, long time. Well, since the break-up with Michael. It was possible I could finally meet “The One.” The one guy who would love me despite my flaws and who would see that I was a “hidden gem.” And so, I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and looked through my clothes closet to see if I had something special. Then I remembered the Dior designer dress I had never worn before, which was hiding in a plastic bag at the back of my closet.

I riffled through my clothes, and low and behold, I found it. It looked pristine. I thought this was the one that would finally help me find my Prince Charming. No one would be able to resist me in this dream of a dress. And I had my aunt Jennifer’s pearls that would be the perfect final touch. The next thing I had to do was get an appointment with my hairdresser and get a new hairstyle.

For the next three days, I prepared to unveil the new me. I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t sleep. I thought the day would never come, but then it did. I spent the morning at the salon getting my hair and nails done, and then I put on “The Dress.” When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t even recognize myself. I looked like a new me, a new and improved version.

I decided to call a limo service to drive me to the gala. I sure didn’t want to arrive in a 1974 Volkswagon Bug, one that I had been around since dinosaurs roamed the planet. Well, maybe not that far back, but it was ancient, that’s for sure.

My limo arrived at eight on the dot. I believed that this opportunity would only happen once. And this was a big chance for me to start anew and find my one and only true love. The limo driver was friendly after I told him I was going to a big celebration, a gala. He said, “Well, I’m sure you will be the bell of the ball. You look beautiful.

I said, “Thank you.’ But I was sure he just complimented me to get a big tip. We arrived at the gala, and I have to admit it was a toss-up between excitement and terror. I had never been to such a big event before. The limo driver said, “What time would you like to be picked up?” Picked up?” I stared at him and said, “I completely forgot about being picked up. All I’ve been thinking about was the gala and meeting Prince Charming. The driver said, “Any Prince Charming would fall in love with you at first glance. But here is my business card with my phone number on it. Just in case you need a ride home. By the way, my name is Charles Prince. If you need a ride home, or if you ever need a driver in the future. Be careful, I hope you have a wonderful evening.” I was about to get out of the limo, when suddenly the driver of the limo was at my door and he said, “allow me to help you out of the car, and walk you up to the entrance of the Ball. I felt my face blush from head to toe. But, I took his hand, and he gallantly led me to the entrance of the Gala. And then he released my hand and bowed deeply from his waist. When he looked at me, I blushed so deeply it must have looked like I had a fever. He said, “if not tonight, I know we will meet again, ” and bowed again. And I walked toward the Gala’s entrance and turned momentarily to look back, but he was gone, and so was the pristine limo.

I walked up to the double doors and pulled open the door in front of me. I could hear music and laughter. I was feeling a mixture of fear and excitement. I was sure this would be the best night of my life. I knew this would be the night I would meet the man of my dreams, my prince charming. I had no doubt.

As I walked into the ballroom, the flashing lights and loud music startled me at first. But after a few minutes, I grew accustomed to the sounds and sights around me. It wasn’t easy to find any of my friends. So many people were milling around the hall, and it was dark, and the flashing lights made it difficult to get my bearings.

A couple of minutes later, I saw my best friends, Christina and Helen. I’ve known them since elementary school. They looked amazing. “Alicia, you finally arrived. We were afraid you chickened out.”

“Chickened out, no, why would I do that? I have been looking forward to attending this event since I was in high school. Not to mention, I spent all my babysitting money on this dress and shoes.” Christina and Helen laughed. I said, “What are you two laughing about?”

“Because we just said the same thing right before you got here.”

“Oh, I thought it was just me.”

“No, everyone here feels the same way.”

And we all started laughing, and then Helen said, “Hey, I’m starved. Let’s go see what the eats are, shall we?”

“ Yeah, let’s say I’m starved. I have been starving myself for two weeks, so I would fit into this dress.”

They looked at each other and started laughing again. “Now, what’s funny?”

“We have to. I’m going to eat until I explode,” Christina said. And off we went to the dining tables. We each grabbed a plate and tried to fit a little bit of everything on our plates. Then we found a table where some of our friends were sitting, stuffing their faces and laughing. I said, “ I guess all of you have been starving yourselves too?”

They all looked at us, and we looked back at them. And we all laughed. I finally took a break from eating and said, “I’m stuffed. If I eat one more thing, I’ll throw up. Then, everyone moaned. And said, “Me, too.” We just sat there quietly for about fifteen minutes and began gossiping about the popular girls and their boyfriends. And we sighed, “ I don’t see any guys who are not dancing with someone. We must be the only ones without dates. Then, a quiet girl in our group said, “So, who says we can’t get up and dance with each other? That’s better than sitting here and stuffing our faces until we get sick.”

And that is exactly what we did. Christina went up to the band and asked them to play our favorite songs, and then we all made our way onto the dance floor. We spent the next several hours dancing, singing, and having a great time, boys or not.

About two hours into the gala I saw the doors swing open and I saw a tall, familiar young man waving in my direction. I wasn’t sure who it was. But he was the first guy ever to look my way. I waved at him, and he came towards me. And that is when realized who Prince Charming was, he was my limo driver. And if he didn’t look like Prince Charming, I don’t know who would. My girlfriends were all whispering, “Oh my god, who is that gorgeous guy? Who is he looking for?”

I said,’ That is my prince charming, well, not my prince charming, but my limo driver. I guess he got tired of waiting for me outside. And then, in the blink of an eye. Prince Charming said as he walked up to me.’Pardon me for interrupting your gala. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t take this opportunity to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.” I looked at him, and I could feel my face flush. I couldn’t manage to get a word out, but I took his hand, and he led me out to the dance floor after requesting a song. It was “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” He said, “This is one of my favorite songs’ Elvis Presley originally sang it.”

We danced together until the band began playing their final song. “Last Dance.” by Donna Summer. I felt like I was floating on the dance floor. I had never experienced such a night. And I never thought that my first Prince Charming would be the limo driver that drove me to the event of a lifetime. Who knew that falling in love for the first time would feel this wonderful?

A BEST FRIEND WHO LIVES FAR AWAY, MY PEN PAL

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Remember when you were a young child, and your mother used to tell you stories to help you fall asleep at night? I have a story to tell, but it doesn’t have a good ending. So, here goes. It all began when I was a young child. I absolutely loved going to the Ben Franklin Store in my hometown, where I grew up. It was actually called the Ben Franklin 5 & 10 Cent Store. Because many of the items in the store could be purchased for five or ten cents, I would spend hours walking up and down the aisles at all the treasures that were for sale. And all I needed to have was a dime, a quarter, or a pocket full of pennies, and I could get one of the treasures for a mere penny, nickel, or dime.

I would walk around town, up and down Main Street, with my head down, looking for a penny, a dime, or a nickel. And on a lucky day, a quarter. I could buy a whole lot at the 5&10 for a quarter. For me, it was like a treasure hunt. Just looking for the loose change lying on the sidewalk was exciting. It was exciting to go to the 5&10 and buy something with its aisles and aisles of cool stuff. The ladies that worked in the store were always so cheerful and welcoming. They never lost patience with me or any of the other children that used to go there. They would often make suggestions on what to buy.

One day, I was walking around in the back of the store, and I happened to find an envelope filled with canceled stamps from all over the world. Next to it was an album for sale for a dollar where you could store all your stamps. The lady who worked in that part of the store came over to me and explained that all the stamps had been canceled. Meaning they had been used by someone in another country and mailed to another part of the world. The lady who worked in the store told me that for a dollar, I could buy an empty album and fill it with canceled stamps worldwide. She also suggested that I try contacting some kids my age from other parts of the world and write back and forth to them. She said they were called Pen Pals.

I talked to my fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Mc Elliot, who told me about a Pen Pal Program I could join that the school I attended promoted. Several weeks went by, and I didn’t hear anything more about my pen pal. Then about five weeks after that I received a letter with a weird looking stamp on it. And it said Ireland. I had no idea where Ireland was located. So, I showed my father, and he said, “You don’t know where Ireland is?” And I said, “no.” So, he said, “Why don’t we take a walk downtown to our library and look at the globe.” I was so surprised that he said he would walk with me that I started jumping up and down. My father rarely went anywhere with me alone. Since we had a big family. But, sure enough, he said, “Let’s go.” Off we went down to Main Street and to the library, which was located right next to the town police department.

As we entered the library, my father said, “Do you have a library card?” And I said no. What’s a library card?”

“It’s an official card that says you can borrow library books. You have to take good care of them and return them on the due date. Otherwise, you get charged for being late.”

I started jumping up and down and saying, “Yes, yes, yes, I want a library card. I love to read.” The next thing I knew, we were in the library. It wasn’t really big, but it was packed with books from the floor to the ceiling.

Then, my father said, “come on I’l show you where Ireland is on the globe. So, he took me to the middle of the room, where a round globe was sitting on a table. “ Here it is, here is where we live, and here is where Ireland is located. He pointed to it, “See where I have my finger? That is where my mother and father were born, in County Down Patrick in Ireland. My mother came to America in 1904 from Ireland. And I was born in 1910 here in the United States. I looked at my dad and said, “Wow, you are really old.” Then he said, now you know that your family came from Ireland to America. And they came to have a better life and more opportunity than Ireland since it was such a small country.

Then, my father went up to the librarian lady and asked if I could apply for a library card. Believe it or not, she said, “But of course, she can.” My father spelled out my name and address and showed her his driver’s license. The next thing I knew, I had my very own library card.

Now that you know that your family came from another part of the world, you can find a pen pal from Ireland if you want to start writing them. Or you can write to anyone in the rest of the world who speaks and writes English towrite to you.

So, that very same week, my teacher gave me the name of a student about my age who lived in Ireland. And I started writing them. It turned out to be a girl about my age, and she even sent me a picture of herself. And she looked to be about my age. I didn’t understand the words she used in her letters, but I kept writing back, and she wrote me. She told me in her last letter that someday she would like to come and visit me in America. I couldn’t sleep for a week after that. I thought she was going to come any time now. But, she meant someday in the future, she would come.

Anyway, her name was Coleen O’Cabri, which my father said was a big coincidence because that was his father’s last name. However, when he moved to America, he changed his name to Carberry. O’Cabri meant driver of the chariots, which my father said was also a strange coincidence since he started out his working career driving trolleys and buses in Philadelphia.

Unfortunately, my father’s mother had other ideas for him. His mother believed working in the office and Philadelphia Transportation Company, or PTC, was more prestigious, as my father called it. And so, he worked for the rest of his working life, scheduling the buses, trolleys, and drivers. It was a good job, but he had to work nights. And he used to sleep during the day. I rarely saw my father since he often slept during the day, and I was supposed to keep quiet so I wouldn’t wake him up. And he went to work at night.

Anyway, as I was saying, I decided to keep writing my pen pal Coleen O’Cabri, and I told her that O’Cabri was my dead grandmother’s name. When she wrote back, she told me that O’Cabri was a fairly common name in that part of Ireland. I told her that we had people from all over the world living there in America. And that my best friend was a mixture of Irish and Italian. She thought that was really weird. I explained to her that people from all over the world came to live here in America. I asked if she would like to come and visit me someday. And she said she would like that. Maybe when she grew up and had some money saved.

Coleen said there were some things different in Ireland. She said Ireland’s nickname is the Emerald Isle. Believe it or not, there are something like 30,000 castles in Ireland, and one of the oldest lighthouses is in Wexford, Ireland. Contrary to popular belief, the shamrock is not a national symbol of Ireland. Some people in Ireland spoke Gaelic, but most people since the eighteenth century spoke English in Ireland. Which I thought was weird. But then I realized that she had been writing me in English since we started being pen pals, and I didn’t even think about that at the time.

Another thing she told me that I didn’t know was that six million Irish people moved to America. At that time, it has been estimated that nearly two million people—about a quarter of the population—emigrated to the United States in a ten-year period.

That is how my family came to live in America: my father’s mother emigrated to the United States at the turn of the century. My father was born in 1911, and I was born in 1951. My mother’s family was also from Ireland. My mother’s last name was Brown. Marie Gertrude Brown until she married my father in 1929 and became Marie Carberry.

The Irish have contributed to America in many ways. They and their descendants made incalculable contributions to politics, industry, organized labor, religion, literature, music, health care, and art.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that people from Ireland or any other country that came to the United States were not that different from us. Some of their customs might be slightly different, or their food might not be the same as ours. But we are all people trying to make our way through life. Sometimes, having to struggle from one day to the next. But people are all the same. I kept writing to Coleen for a long time. Believe it or not, we became good friends by writing letters to one another. And I hope that one day she will come to visit me. And that I can go visit her. Do you remember what Forrest Gump said? He said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.”

But I know my friend Colleen and I will eventually get together. I don’t know if she will come here, or I will go to Ireland. But, one day, we will meet. And it will be my dream come true.

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THE JOY OF SPRING AND THEN SUMMER, WHO COULD ASK FOR MORE

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As far back as I can remember, I loved flowers. I suppose this was a strange attachment for a young girl to have. Nonetheless, it is true. It all began when I was old enough to go outside my neighborhood alone. One day, I was sitting on our front step and noticed the arbor extending over our front door. I suppose it had been there for a long time, but I didn’t notice it until that moment. I looked at the arbor, and I saw that it was adorned with beautiful and fragrant red roses. My father had trained them to grow on the arbor. And every spring, the roses would begin to grow, and by mid-summer, they would cover the entire arbor. The fragrant smell of the roses would greet me as I left my house and returned.  Last Day of School before Spring Break

It was so comforting that I could look forward to seeing and smelling their elegant perfume every year. And their wondrous beauty never let me down. They were a comforting presence and made me feel safe and loved somehow. As I stepped down the front stairs, I walked by my mother’s Lilac Bush. My father had planted it long ago. He told me it was older than I was. It was also one of my mother’s favorite flowers, and I found it comforting that my father would plant and care for these beautiful blooms because of the love he had in his heart for my mother. Who was the kindest and most thoughtful person I knew? I always believed that she deserved all the roses and the stars that lit the sky at night. I could not imagine having a mother who loved me or took care of me more than she did every day of my life.

Occasionally, when I was over at my best friend’s house down the street, I would look at all the flowers that they had growing in their yard and wonder where their roses were. One day, I asked my best friend, Joanie, where all their roses were. And she said, my mother doesn’t like roses. She likes hydrangeas. And she pointed to these crowded bushes with large blue flowers that almost resembled bouquets. They were so big. I said, Joan, can I bring one of those flowers to my mom? She said, well, I don’t know, I might get in trouble. I’ll have to ask my mom. And she did just that. She ran in through the front door, and a couple of minutes later, her mom came out with some scissors.

Joan’s mom was pretty; she had bright red hair. And she was always laughing. I loved visiting Joan’s house because her mother made delicious cookies. And she always told me to sit down at the kitchen table, and she would hand me a tall, cold glass of milk with two cookies. That she said were Italian Cookies. I didn’t know what Italian Cookies were, except they were delicious. Then, she said, “After you two are finished with your cookies and milk, I’ll cut a hydrangea for your mom. She looked over at me and said the same thing she always said, “You better be good to your Mom. You know she is an absolute saint.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I think she greatly liked my mom. I said,” Thank you for the flower. My mother will love it. And I was so excited about the flower that I grabbed it and ran home. We lived three houses away, so it took only a few minutes to get home. I burst into our kitchen through the side door. My mother was standing at the kitchen sink doing the dishes. Whenever I came into the house from outside, she did the dishes. Sometimes, she washed the floor on her hands and knees. And she would say,” Don’t walk on the wet floor. So, then I would run outside again to our backyard and go into the house through the cellar door. And then I would run up the steps to the hallway which was right next to the kitchen and I yelled, “Mom, look I have a beautiful flower for you. She would look up at me and said, “thank you, I love it. Can you wait a few minutes until the floor dries? Then I’ll put the flower in my vase.”

I waited patiently for my mom to bring the vase, and finally, she did. She put the hydrangea in her favorite crystal vase and put water in the vase. She placed the vase carefully in the center of the kitchen table so everyone could see it. “Please tell Marion I said thank you, she is such a kind woman.” I said, “OK, Mommy, I will.” 

I ran out the front door and up the street, three houses down, and burst in their front door. And I yelled, “My mom said,’ Thank you. You are such a kind woman.’” Joan’s mom said once again,” Your mother is a saint. Why don’t you two go out and play? It’s a beautiful summer day.”

It was springtime, and I loved that the sun was shining most of the time and getting warmer outside. Easter was just around the corner, and I couldn’t wait. First, there was a big Easter Egg Hunt. And then, on Easter Sunday, I couldn’t wait for Easter morning when I finally got my Easter Basket. I loved, loved, loved candy. Especially Easter candy. My mother would dye hard-boiled eggs, and I just loved looking for them in our big backyard. On Easter Sunday, we would all dress up in our best Sunday clothes and go to Easter Mass. All the kids from my school sat together. And the adults would sit behind us. It was a long, long mass. I couldn’t stop thinking about all that Easter candy waiting for me at home.

After Mass, my mother made a big Easter Breakfast for us, and my older brother and sister would come to visit my parents after Easter Mass. It was a fun day. Later in the afternoon, I would change into my play clothes, and all my neighborhood friends would come out and play. Even though most of us felt a little sick from all the candy we were eating, It was a great day, and at dinner time, my mother would have made a big dinner for my whole family to attend.

Easter Egg Hunt

Although Easter was the beginning of Spring, it wasn’t the end. We spent most of the time outside until dark after our homework was done. And we started planning what we would do this summer vacation. It was in the middle of June, which seemed a long, long time away. But it wasn’t only about six weeks. I couldn’t wait. Summer vacation was when all the kids looked forward to no homework and no going to school from first thing in the morning until three o’clock. We absolutely counted the days down until the last day of school. After final exams, we didn’t do much work. Sometimes, we had to help clean up the classroom to prepare it for next September. But that always seemed like a lifetime away.

And there was nothing in the world that I loved more than Summer. There was no school, no teachers, no nuns, just a day after day of freedom, visiting all my friends and riding our bikes all over the place. My parents never asked me where I was going; they just warned me to be home on time for lunch and dinner. I didn’t have any chores or homework. It was a dream come true.

Summer finally arrived, and the fun began, with endless days of riding our bikes all over town. I could visit all my school friends whenever I wanted as long as I came home on time for lunch and dinner. My parents never really questioned where we were or what we were up to. And at night, we would be allowed to stay out until dark. The only thing we had to fear was the mosquitoes would eat us alive. Then, the mosquito truck used to go up and down the streets, killing the mosquitoes, and we rode behind it. I’ll never understand why not one of our parents told us that it was toxic. Maybe they didn’t know or think about it at the time. I must admit the mosquitoes were a nightmare all summer; there were too many to count and too many to kill. They were horrible. But we all got used to it. And tried to ignore them. After all, they were just another part of Summer, the bad part.

As I look back over that time, it seems like a lifetime, but it was only about eight years ago when I attended grammar school. It remains one of my happiest memories. And one I wouldn’t exchange for anything in the world, not even if it meant the mosquitoes were still a nightmare to this day. Life is short; the innocence of childhood passes too quickly. I only hope the children nowadays have the same wonderful Summer experiences that I had. Enjoy the Spring and the Summer. It passes too quickly, doesn’t it?

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New Beginnings Are Often Disguised As Painful Endings.” — Lao Tzu

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Well, the long-awaited day has finally, finally arrived. I had mixed feelings about retiring; I looked forward to having the freedom to sleep in late, dress as I pleased, and do what I wanted to do when I wanted to. I was no longer going to be a slave to my nine-to-five job. In fact, I was going to do whatever I wanted to with the rest of my life. The main problem was I didn’t really have any clue what I wanted to do.

But, the fact is today is my last day of work. It was the last day I had to climb that corporate ladder to the top. I had reached the top. And now I would collect my reward for all those years of hard work climbing up that corporate later.

I was somewhat concerned that I would be bored and lonely. I had been married once upon a time. But my spouse, Ellen, long ago grew tired of my absence from the dinner table. In fact, I was often gone for weeks or months at a time since my job required me to travel a great deal. I felt my generous corporate paycheck would more than compensate for my frequent absences. But alas, my wife, Ellen, disagreed. One night, when I arrived home from work quite late, around midnight, I was informed by a voicemail from Ellen that she had filed for divorce. And I could expect to be contacted by her divorce lawyer sooner rather than later.

At first, I thought it was some joke, but it wasn’t. And here I thought my wife and I would spend our retirement years taking cruises and traveling the world. Apparently, she had grown tired of waiting for me to have time for her. She found someone else, and it was her best friend, Which I have to admit was a real kick in the ass.

Well, live and let live, I thought. There wasn’t much I could do or say to change her mind. We never had kids, so I guess that was a good decision. I tried contacting her many times. Her lawyer informed me she had no desire to talk to me again, not now and not anytime in the future. It almost felt as if she had died suddenly, I never had the opportunity to say good bye. I have to admit I felt a big empty space in my heart where she used to live. But it was my own fault because I was a workaholic.

I tried to let go—I really did. I went to clubs with some of my office mates a couple of times. But I couldn’t imagine dating or loving anyone else. It didn’t matter how beautiful or intelligent they were; I couldn’t imagine having a relationship with anyone else. After about a year, I decided to stop dating anyone else. I decided that somehow, some way, I would win Ellen.

So, I began a campaign to win her back; I sent her long-stemmed red roses every week for several months. The florist informed me that every time they delivered flowers, they got a call that she didn’t want them. Or they would be arrested for trespassing on their private property. And the police would be informed that I was stalking her.

When the florist told me this, I laughed and said, “Stalking with long-stemmed red roses, that is totally ridiculous.” 

“I’m sorry Mr. Landers, we won’t’be able to deliver anything to that address again, we can’t afford to have the police at our door.” And then he hung up the phone. And that was the end of that. For the rest of the day, I tried to think of other ways to change her mind. I wrote her at least ten long, long letters begging her forgiveness.

I bought two tickets to a three-month cruise to the location of her choice. NADA sent me the tickets torn into shreds three days later. I sent a letter of contrition once a week for a month and begged her to forgive me, but there was no response. And then I got a telegram. I didn’t even know telegrams still existed. It said I never want to hear from you again, not now, not in the future, never. You are dead to me. I have a restraining order against you. If you contact me ever again, you will be arrested. In the end, do you understand, as far as you are concerned, “YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end. There was no place to go but away. Far, far away from my “wife.” It was over and done with. For a while, I considered committing suicide. I thought of all kinds of ways to do it. This is all I thought about for a good month. And then one morning, I woke up and said to myself, “ Have you lost your freaking mind, stop all this nonsense and start over, find a new job, or move to a desert island, or travel the seven seas, or just stop feeling sorry for yourself and start over.”

And my dear friends, that is exactly what I decided to do. I gave my notice at work. I put my house up for sale, and I sold all the contents of my house. I decided to retire early. I had tons of money in my retirement investments since I had been working over time for decades. I decided that I would take a cruise. In fact, I am taking a cruise that will take me to forty countries in five months. By the end of that trip, I will have decided which country I want to live in for the rest of my life.

The first cruise I signed up for was a 116-night voyage around the world departing Rome. It would take me to fifty destinations across twenty countries and include seven, yes, seven overnight stays. I would see and experience everything from the Mediterranean and South America to the beautiful South Pacific and get this Australian and Asian.

I couldn’t believe my luck. The ship was fully booked when I first contacted them, but at almost the last minute, I received a call that there had been a cancellation if I was interested. “Hell, yes,” I screamed into the phone. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had to prepare quickly since the ship would stay for forty-eight hours. 

I ran around like a fool, getting packed and finding someone to come to my house while I was gone to care for my plants and parakeets. My wife had taken our dog. I couldn’t believe she was so cold-hearted. I loved that dog with all my heart. I decided that when I returned from my long cruise, I would adopt another dog. And nobody would ever be able to take him or her from me again. I missed that dog more than my former wife. Maybe that was one of the reasons she filed for divorce. She always complained,” You love that dog more than you love me.” She wasn’t wrong, I did.” My lawyer tried every trick in the book to get Andy (that’s my dog’s name.) back for me. But the judge disagreed.

Before I knew it, my trip was only two days away. I had hired a housesitter and a lawn care service. My next-door neighbor was going to pick up my mail for me. She’s a fantastic woman, but unfortunately, she’s old enough to be my mother.

The next thing I knew, the taxi came to drive me to the cruise ship. Then, it seemed like, in the blink of an eye, I was boarding the ship and unlocking the door to my room—a small cabin, not too small. Besides, most of my time on board would be spent having fun, drinking at all the different bars, singing, and dancing. And the best thing of all is a Casino. I have limited how much money I’m bringing with me. So I won’t get carried away. And I froze my accounts temporarily so I wouldn’t do anything too crazy.

I arrived in plenty of time to board the ship, and I couldn’t believe how big it was. It was really big, and I didn’t realize how big it was until I was standing next to it. Many people were milling around, waiting to get aboard, and an even larger crowd was there to see the passengers board the ship. It was almost overwhelming. People were laughing, crying, and waving at everyone they saw, whether they knew them or not.

After everyone, including the ship staff, boarded, we all went our separate ways to find our accommodations. My room was small, but not too small. The bathroom only had a shower, but I think I would survive with just a shower for the next couple of weeks that I would be on the ship. The first night I went to the dining area to eat dinner, I was a little late, and the only open seat I could find was a table with senior citizens, except for one woman who looked to be my age. At least, I think she was my age. She had a big sun hat on her head, which I thought was rather odd since we were in the dining room.

I took my time walking over to the table. There weren’t any waiters. It was a smorgasbord-type affair as tables were set up with different types of food, and you had to bring your plate to each table and help yourself. I filled my plate as much as possible since I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. And that was leftovers from the night before. I got carried away and brought back two large plates piled high. When I sat down, everyone at the table glanced at my plates. The woman with the big hat on started laughing, and then she pulled her straw hat down so I couldn’t really see her face.

I heard her laugh at one of our tablemates’ remarks, but I still couldn’t see her face clearly. But, she had a wonderful laugh, it sounded familiar. But I couldn’t place it. As I sat down and started eating, everyone was staring at me. Finally, the lady with the big hat took it off and said, “Well, it’s nice to see you haven’t lost your appetite completely, Bill. Bon Appetite.” I turned my head to get a better look at her, and I almost choked to death. The woman with the big hat was none other than my dear departed ex-wife Ellen. I stared at her and tried to swallow the food in my mouth. When I finally finished swallowing the food in my mouth, I said,” What in the world are you doing here, Ellen?”

“Well, I could ask you the same thing. It wasn’t planned. It’s a small world. You could move to another table if it’s that bad.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I lived with you for decades, so I guess I can tolerate one night in the ship’s dining room.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew it was a mistake. But, as usual, I opened my big mouth and stuck my big left foot into it. Ellen looked at me and said, “Yes, I guess one more time wouldn’t make that big a difference.”

For the next week and a half, Ellen and I kept running into one another. I began to think it wasn’t a coincidence, but it was deliberate. And it wasn’t Ellen stalking me; it was me stalking her. The last thing that happened was one evening. I was standing on the ship’s deck, looking over the side at the waves splashing on the deck. When suddenly, I heard someone come up behind me and say,” This reminds me so much of the first time you took me sailing on the ocean near Atlantic City. We had a great time that weekend. And come to think of it, we always had a great time together when we went out somewhere. The only time we fought was when we were home together.”

I stood there trying to decide what to say to her when she said, “You know, I always loved spending time with you. The problem was that you became so enmeshed with your job that you rarely came home until late at night after I went to bed. And I began to feel like you were avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you, and I was working my ass off so you could have the big house, the new car, designer clothes. All those things you said you couldn’t live without.”
“I guess you are right, I did want those things. But what I wanted more was a house, kids, and you being at home spending time with our family.”

“Yes, not being able to have children was a difficult blow. But, you know, we could have adopted kids.”

“I guess it’s too late for all that, isn’t it?”
“No, Ellen I don’t thinks it’s too late, we could still have a family, the two of us, and perhaps older kids, not babies. What do you think?”

“ I think we have to see if we can have a stable life together and then consider adopting older kids. I still love you Ellen, I always will, what do you say?”

“ I say, let’s see how we get along during this cruise, and when we get back home, we start talking, really talking, not just sitting in the living room watching TV movies together. And by the way, I still love you and have missed you so much.”

For the final week of the cruise, they spent all their time together and did their best to listen, really listen to one another for the first time in years. By the time the cruise was over, they fell in love again, and they looked forward to all their tomorrows and a happy ending.

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MAKING MY WAY ACROSS LIFE’S HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS

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As I look back over the many years of my life, I realize that the years I was most content were the years when I felt loved and accepted by the people whom I loved and cherished the most. In addition, to be perfectly happy, I absolutely felt a need to have animals that I loved, and that loved me in return. Be they cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils, or birds. Without them, my life would have been lonely. That was as true for me when I was a young child as it is today. 

The Dali Lama said, “The very purpose of life is to be happy.” But when our understanding of happiness includes everything from simple pleasure to rapture—all of which are temporary, as is the nature of feelings in general—how can a person know when he’s truly happy? And is it a state that can be attained and/or sustained?

There were times when I was a child when I did not feel loved. The memory that has stayed with me since I was quite young, perhaps nine or ten years old. I was in my backyard, I can’t remember what I was doing out there except I was sitting under our large Willow tree and listening to the birds that were nesting there. I was by myself. My father came out back and said, “We are going to go visit one of my oldest friends, Dar, and his wife, Jehana.”

I didn’t particularly appreciate going over to this particular friend of my father’s because they had children who had a tendency to play roughly and say mean things to me. If I didn’t go along with whatever they wanted to do. As I stood there looking at my father, I made up my mind that I would refuse to go with them. I said, “ I don’t want to go.” My father responded, “Children who don’t obey their parents are not loved by their parents. And no one will ever love you if your parents don’t love you. At that moment, I felt my heart break. I never told anyone what my father said to me, but I never forgot it. For many years, I didn’t believe my father loved me; even as an adult, I had difficulty believing anyone loved me. Because it never occurred to me that my father said what he said in a moment of anger and frustration. I truly believed he did not love me anymore. And that there was nothing I could do to change how he felt. 

But the truth of the matter was that I loved my mother and father with all of my heart. And I would never stop loving them, even long after they passed away. My father passed away in 1986 from lung cancer. He used to smoke two packs of Pall Malls a day. It was a horrible way to die. It was even more horrible to watch since there was precious little I could do to help him. He died in 1986. My mother seemed lost after my father passed away. They had been married since 1929. My dear mother passed away one year later from congestive heart failure. At that time, there was little the medical profession could do for her aside from giving her pain meds for angina pain.

I, too, was diagnosed with congestive heart failure in my mid-fifties. I am luckier than she since the present treatment for congestive heart failure allows me to continue living for many years. I will be turning seventy-three on my next birthday in May. In general, I feel fine most days. I only have to go to the cardiologist once a year. When I was first diagnosed, I had to go every three weeks for a long time. But, the medication and time healed my heart to some extent. And every day, I’m glad to be here still.

In addition, I have seen my two daughters grow up to be honest and decent people. And not every parent can say that. Now that I am retired, I find I have the time to do all the things I wanted to in the past and didn’t have time or energy to do. I spent a great deal of my time taking care of my family and working full-time until I was sixty-two. Then I decided to file for Social Security since I didn’t know at the time just how long my life would be.

Each day, I make every effort to do the right thing, work hard, and take care of my family and my pets. Bring happiness into each day. I fill my days, weeks, and years doing the things I love and being creative by writing. I have written memoirs and short stories for the past eight years. And at some point in the not-too-distant future, I will attempt to have the book I have written published. It is called GRIND. In addition, I want to begin painting and drawing again. When I was thirty-six, I was excepted at Temple University, Tyler School of Art, and graduated cum laude at forty-one. I taught art for many years. We were living in a large home that had been owned by a doctor, who had his practice in part of the house. I also taught art to children and adults in those three rooms for many years.

In my remaining free time over the last eight years, I have been volunteering at Animal Edventure in Coats, NC, taking care of parrots, macaws, and pheasants. Although it is hard work, I love every minute of it. In addition, there are some 200 other animals that live there that I can see and love.

Life offers us many opportunities; it is up to us to decide how we want to spend the limited time we have on this planet. I believe that I have spent my working years well, and I have tried to help people along the way in every way I could. That included working at NJ State Mental Hospital as a psychiatric aide and many years of working in Social Services with at-risk adolescents who were incarcerated in the locked-down facility called Ranch Hope in Alloway, NJ.

In addition, I worked at the Center for Family Services in Camden, NJ at Center for Family Services with Wilson Good, the first black mayor of a major city in America. I worked with five churches in Camden, NJ, and matched at-risk kids with members of the five churches as mentors, and I worked along with Big Brothers and Big sisters. I would visit the children’s parents, explain the program to them, and then match the adolescents up with mentors. Who were members of the Antioch Church. Often, I had to visit prisons, both state and Federal prisons, where some of the parents were incarcerated, explain the mentor program, and get permission for their children to have mentors. It was a challenging job, but I do feel that what I did benefited these kids. And the people that vollunteered to be mentors.

I can not say how long I have left to live on this planet, but I know that as long as I have breath in my body, I will put forth every effort I can to make my little part of the world a better place. In addition, I will continue to support the people I know and care for in any way it is possible for me to do so. I know that when my time ends, I have done my best. And I can only hope that the world was a somewhat better place when I was a part of it. And I keep in mind that I must first do no harm. I attempt to keep my heart open to those I meet along the highways and byways of my life.

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