I am taking a week off from writing Dear Followers this week. Please feel free to go to WRITE ON website and read any of my nearly three hundred stories and memoirs. Best Wishes and Happy New Year, Susan A. Culver
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Christmas time is here again. At my age, it seems difficult to summon up the Christmas spirit.
Maple Shade, NJ Christmas 1960’s
But when I was a child, it was a different story. I remember the days leading up to Christmas seemed to go by at a snail’s pace. I would ask my mother every day, “How many more days until Christmas, Mom?
She answered, “One less than when you asked me yesterday. Now, why don’t you go find something to do and keep yourself busy.”
I know if I kept bugging her, she’s going to find something for me to do. “OK, Mom, I think I’ll take a walk. I’ll be back in a little while.”
I decided to walk downtown and look in the windows of the stores. We live in a little town in Southern New Jersey called Maple Shade. And all the stores are decorated for Christmas. We even have a Christmas parade. And Santa Clause takes a ride all over town in the fire truck. And he throws candy to all the kids that are lined up on the sidewalks. All my friends and I walked down the pike on Main Street to see it yesterday. We had such fun. It was really cold outside, so we all had our winter coats on and hats and gloves and snow boots. Because the day before yesterday, we got over a foot of snow.
As I walked down the street, I noticed that the repair shop had a TV in the window, and it was playing It’s A Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart. I’ve seen this story before, but all the same, I stand there and watch it for quite a while. I can’t hear the sound, of course, but I know most of the dialogue anyway since I’ve seen it so many times. I decided to walk down to the Five & Dime Store to look at all the cool toys in the window. I asked Santa for a Barbie doll. I hope I get one.
The Christmas Lights along Main Street are beautiful. Of course, they look better when it’s dark out. The volunteer firemen drove up and down Main Street in their Fire Trucks and put up the lights and the Christmas Wreaths with big red bows on them the week before Thanksgiving. I watched them. The Rexall Drug Store is next to the Five & Dime Store. They have a display with a train set riding around on the train tracks with little houses and churches and trees and tiny little people walking around. There is even a little dog in the front yard of one of the little houses. At least, I think it’s a dog, but it’s hard to tell because it is so little. Above the houses, Santa is flying through the air with his reindeer, including Rudolph with his red nose. There’s a little stream of smoke coming out of the smokestack of the train engine. I wish we had one of those going around our tree.
I walk down to the bakery and look in their window. There are so many delicious-looking cakes in the window. My stomach starts growling really loud. My mother says I have a sweet tooth. I’m not sure what that means. But I really do love candy and cake. I hope I get some candy canes in my Christmas stocking and some chocolate kisses with red and green foil wrapped around them. Oh, how I would love to have an éclair too. My mother is making a cake for Christmas. She is a really good baker. I hope she makes a vanilla cake with shredded coconut on it. I really do love coconut. Oh, I almost forgot that every Christmas, my mother makes a giant tin of Christmas cookies. She puts the cookie dough in a cookie press, squeezes out these cookies in all kinds of shapes, and puts different colored sprinkles on them. I always find where she hides the cookie tin in the cellar, and I eat a whole bunch of them before Christmas gets here.
As I’m walking down Main Street, I see a police car coming in my direction. The car pulls over, and I hear the policeman calling out my name and saying, “Merry Christmas, Susie.”
I walk over to the curb, and I see it is Mr. Lombardi, our next-door neighbor. He is a policeman in our town. “Merry Christmas, Officer Lombardi,” I scream at the top of my voice. And then he waves again and drives away.
I continue walking down the street, and I see a couple of kids from school. I hear them yelling, “Hey Susie, do you want to go and play behind the church?”
“Sure,” I say. When I caught up with them, I saw it was my friend Helen and Ann Marie.
“What were you up to, Susie?”
“Nothing, just walking downtown and looking in all the store windows. What do you guys want to do?’
“We were just going behind the church and seeing who is playing in the snow out there. Are you getting anything good for Christmas, Susie?”
“I don’t know what I’ll get, but I asked for a Barbie doll and some art supplies. How about you guys? What did you ask for Christmas?”
“I ask for two games, Operation and Twister. I love games, said Ann Marie. “
“I ask for an Easy-Bake oven. said, Helen.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun.”
We rounded the corner at Main Street and Fellowship Road, and I said, “Let’s have a race to the pump house behind the church. Ready, set, go.”
And we all ran as fast as we could. And at the last minute, I slipped on an icy spot and fell flat on my back. Ann Marie and Helen ran up to me and said all at once,” Are you alright?”
“Yes.” I manage to say, even though the wind really got knocked out of me.
“Ok, then I bet I can beat you to the pump house Helen yells.” And before I even got up from the icy sidewalk, they were running at top speed to the pump house. I scramble up and start running as fast as I can. I was just about to catch up with them when I heard them yelling, “We beat you; we beat you.”
All the same, I kept running, and before you knew it, I was scrambling up the side of the pump tower to the top along with them. There were a whole lot of kids from Our Lady of Perpetual Help school there and some of the public-school kids too. And they were climbing up hills of snow and sledding across the parking lot. We laughed hard, and the air was so cold I could hardly breathe. I don’t know how long I stayed out there. But I knew by the time I heard my mother yelling, “Susie, it’s time to come home. It was starting to get dark outside. What a day it was, what a day!
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
I woke up abruptly this morning. I heard something tapping on my bedroom window. I tried to ignore it for quite a while. I put my pillow over my head. I plug my ears. The noise is relentless. My bedroom is on the second floor. So, really, who could be knocking on the window? A window washer, Superman, and a drone. Oh no, perhaps it’s a second-story man. All highly unlikely suspects. I toss and turn and try to fall back to sleep. No luck; I’m wide awake. And once that happens, I have to get up. I walk over to the window and throw open the curtains.
CROW by Capri 23auto
I’m startled. I see a Crow with bright, black eyes staring back at me. He begins tapping on the window. Tap, tap. Tap. I tap back. Tap. Tap. Tap. He’s hanging on the screen. “Hello,” I yell loudly. He opens his beak wide. I believe he might be saying hello back to me. I smile. He opens his beak again. And then tap. Tap, tap. What does it mean? He flies away and lands in the Dogwood Tree that I planted next to my Koi pond last year. It’s just now beginning to bloom—my favorite tree.
I’ve always been very fond of birds. I think you might call it some kind of harmless obsession. I’m a painter, and almost all my paintings have birds in them. I spend a great deal of time in my garden, planting flowers that will attract birds, butterflies, and bees. I have nesting boxes and bird feeders all over my yard.
But all that is beside the point. I have enjoyed my momentary interaction with the Crow. Since I’m awake, I decide to get an early start on my day. I dress, go into my studio, and continue working on my latest painting. Several pleasant hours pass by. I notice a growling noise. It’s my stomach; I realize that it’s nearly lunchtime, and I haven’t eaten anything yet today.
I rummage around inside my frig and decide to heat some vegetable soup. That I made yesterday, it’s a gorgeous sunny Spring day. I choose to go outside to my screened porch and eat my soup and crackers. I take a deep breath. The air is sweet and fresh.
I so enjoy watching the birds fly from one feeder to another. There are six Cardinals at the feeder next to the back fence. I notice that a Blue Bird and her mate are building a nest inside the Blue Birdhouse. I smile. What could be better than this? I look forward to seeing them raise a family there. Spring, by far, is my favorite season. It inspires hope when the earth wakes up from its wintery sleep. It inspires hope, as all new beginnings do.
As I sit on my porch, I think, what could be better than this? I finish my soup, and I must admit it’s delicious. Nothing tastes better than something made from vegetables that you grow in your garden from seed. As I’m about to go back to the house, I notice a crow in the cul-de-sac. He’s standing in the middle and is bowing over and over again. Four crows are walking in a circle around him. It looks so absurd that I burst out laughing. I wonder if he’s the same crow that was taping on my window early this morning. Perhaps he’s the King of the Crows.
The next morning, I’m still fast asleep. And I hear a tapping noise once again. I groan and look over at the clock. It’s 6:45 am. I pull my pillow over my head so as not to hear the tapping. It’s relentless. I can still hear it. Tap. Tap. Tap. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and walk over to the window. And Pull the curtains aside. And behold, it’s the King of Crows. Once again, I tapped on my bedroom window. As I study him, I realize that he isn’t the uniform black that I first observed. He had a light violet on his torso. And his wings were a fantastic, greenish-blue.
“What? What are you trying to tell me? Please stop waking me up so early in the morning. I realize he can’t hear me through the closed window. I open it up slightly. He begins to caw loudly. I still don’t understand what he wants me to do. I decided to do some research on Crows that will enlighten me on this behavior.
The next morning, I woke up bright and early. I wonder if the Crow will tap at my window. I’m somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t arrive. I get up and walk over to the window. I pull one of the curtains back just far enough to the lookout. My crow is hanging on the window screen. He looks directly at me. I see his beak opening up wide. I know he‘s cawing at me. I decided that this is just his way of saying Good morning or hello. I laugh. He opens his beak again.
He flies away, and I watch as he lands once again in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Four crows fly down from the forty-foot evergreens on the opposite side of the cul-de-sac. They form a circle around him once again, and he bows as they circle him. I open the window, and I hear him cawing. The four other crows join in. It’s a mysterious ceremony. I feel a compulsion to join in. I know it’s absurd, but still, I want to do it. Perhaps I was a crow in a former life? Then I say out loud, “former life, I’m losing it. I’m going off the deep end.” I’m spending too much time alone in my studio. I need to get out more. See more people, join in. Go to the gym. Something.
I ended up going to the library and researching Crows. I know I can find information about them online. But then I wouldn’t be getting out of the house, would I? And I would also miss going to my favorite place in the world, the library. Yes, that’s right, the library. I have memories of a lifetime of experiences within the walls and between the stacks at my childhood library, the library in my college, and, of course, my local library. The bastion of knowledge, a literary jackpot. The somewhat cheesy smell and touch of old books and ink on paper. The oily residue of a hundred hands. Old books have their history. How many people have touched the pages and digested the words? The possibilities are endless. For me, it is a sanctuary, a respite. Yes, even nirvana.
I decided I should approach the research librarian. I’m somewhat ambivalent, though I have a fierce love of the library and its contents. I fear the librarians. It has been my experience that librarians are not social creatures. I believe they each chose this calling because they don’t care about interacting with their fellow human beings. And that is precisely why they chose this line of work. Because they mistakenly thought, they would spend their entire working lives with their beloved books. But alas, no. They soon realized that they would be interacting with people. Beings capable of disrupting the quiet. They might become noisy, even boisterous at times. And god forbid dogearing the pages and, most hideous of all, desecrating these sacred volumes by marking the pages.
I stealthily approach the research librarian’s desk. She has her head down. Several ancient-looking tomes are open on her desk, and she’s running her index finger along the line of printed words. She is scrupulously not to touch the page lest oil from her hands mar its precious surface. I consider telling her to use finger cots, but I imagine she might slap me for making such a crude suggestion. As if I might be suggesting she use a condom.
“Excuse me,” I say in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. “Excuse me.” No response. I clear my throat several times. Nothing. I say in a somewhat louder tone, “Hello, madam, could you please help me? I need some assistance. I wish there were a bell on the desk. But no such luck. I imagine she may stroke out if I did ring a bell. She slowly raises her head. She gives me a cold, dead stare. Her eyes are pinned on me. I fear she might make a sudden move and attack me in some way.
“Yes.”
I smile my very friendliest smile. One that I reserve for dogs and babies. A smile that rarely fails to ingratiate me. It does not affect her. She continues to stare. It’s unnerving; I decide to jump in and spill it all out at once. “Could you please help me find information about the crows that live in this section of the country?”
She begins by typing rapidly on her computer. I wait patiently. After no more than a minute, she says, ”Corvus brachyrhynchoz, American Crow. Common to this area.”
“Can you tell me if you have any books in this library that I can take home to study?”
She accesses her computer once again. “No, not here. But I can put in a request from one of our other branches. If you give me your library card and contact information, I will notify you when we receive it at this branch. She slides me a form to fill out. I quickly do so. Then, she writes down some numbers on another paper and says abruptly, “Here, go to the stacks listed on this paper, and you will find several books on birds that inhabit North Carolina. They’re reference books, but you can copy pages that interest you.”
She puts her head down; I’m dismissed. And I have disappeared from her conscious thoughts. I count my lucky stars. I came away from this interaction relatively unscathed. I look at the call numbers for the books. And I’m off to the reference section of the library. I notice that my teeth are clenched and my shoulders are hunched. I take several breaths and try to relax. At one time, I had considered becoming a librarian. I can see that I would then have become a clone of this woman. And I don’t know for sure if that would have been a good thing or a bad thing.
I find the books noted on the paper and sit down for several hours immersed in my current obsession, the Crow. It’s fascinating. I wonder where this experience will take me. I could study this particular species and be done with it. Or perhaps once I read about it, I’ll then want to observe the “Crows” behavior. Or maybe I’ll take it further. There’s no knowing at this point. But I have been down this path before. And have only regretted it once before. Only time will tell.
After spending numerous hours reading about crows, I realized that this would become a long-term project. OK, some may call it an obsession. But I say tomato, tomato—same difference. I would spend the evening creating my strategy, and tomorrow I would begin.
I set my alarm for sunrise. Last night, I studied the research that I gleaned from my visit to the library. It was enlightening, to say the least. Most importantly, I have discovered that Crows are highly intelligent creatures. More intelligent than Parrots. They are capable of making and using rudimentary tools in their pursuit of food. They have phenomenal memories. They can distinguish and remember a human face over a long period, even if they haven’t seen that face for several years.
They are known to band together to mob predators and even humans that they consider a threat for some reason. They mate for life, and both the male and female and older siblings care for the baby birds communally. And what I found most profound of all is that they mourn the death of a fellow crow, even if it was formerly unknown to them. And it’s at that point I know I have entered the first stage of a full-fledged obsession. I welcome it. I’m never more complete than when I’m immersed, whether it be a new painting, creating a new garden, or solving a mystery.
Last night, before I retired to my bed, I gathered different types of food that I believe would entice my new avian friend to stay longer at my window. And that I might become better acquainted with him. I had read during my research at the library that Crows are omnivorous. And they will eat whatever food is readily available. That could include anything from vegetables to insects—or even dead animals and garbage.
I collect an assortment of food, from hard-boiled eggs to a spider I captured in my basement. I carefully placed it in a small cup that I attached to the siding underneath my bedroom window.
The following morning, I heard a scratching sound followed by cawing outside of my window. I carefully peek through the curtain. I see my crow studying the food cache I left for him. He’s eyeing it thoroughly, and then he reaches down and gingerly picks up a grape and eats it. He looks directly at my face and caws. He picks up the piece of boiled egg and flies off with it in his beak. I watch him until he’s no longer in my field of vision.
Later that afternoon, I peeked out the window. And I realize that all the food I left is gone. And in its’ place is something shiny. I shove the window open and pick it up. A small cut stone. I realize it is an emerald. It looks familiar, somehow. I stare at it. And then it comes to me. It looks just like the emerald that I lost last Spring when I was working in the kitchen garden. I rush over to my jewelry box and pick up the ring that’s missing its stone. I remember how upset I was when I lost it. I looked everywhere for it. It was a birthday gift from my mother on my sixteenth birthday.
My mother passed away last summer. I put the stone in the setting. It fits perfectly. A wave of emotion fills me up, and tears flow out of my eyes. I feel like I have regained a little piece of my mother again. I can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. I think that King Crow and I were somehow ordained to meet. And I’m somehow meant to help him in some way in the future.
About a week later, I enjoyed a bowl of hot oatmeal on my back porch when I heard a loud ruckus. I realized that it was a murder of Crows cawing at a hawk swooping down on a fledgling that was eating seeds on the ground underneath my birdfeeder. I stand up pick up my binoculars, and look at the bird on the ground. It’s a fledgling crow.
I’m finally able to drive off the Hawk by walking around the backyard banging a pot and pan together. After I go back onto the porch, I sit and watch as four crows come down and surround the fledgling. They walk all around him, bobbing their heads. I know he will be safe for now. But I have to come up with a plan to keep the hawk out of my pond and away from the crows.
I decided to create a scarecrow. I‘m going to dress the scarecrow in my old gardening clothes. I know the Crows recognize me and aren’t going to be scared away by a scarecrow, but the hawk would be. My Koi will be safe, and so will King Crow and the fledglings. I go into the garage and begin to build the frame for my scarecrow and put my old clothes on it. I have to admit it looks like a decent facsimile of me. I even put my old straw gardening hat on its head.
As I place the scarecrow near the back fence, I notice that at least a hundred crows are roosting in the trees in the woods behind my fence. They are cawing to one another. Then, one crow flies down and lands on the ground about five feet away from the bird feeder. He watches me with great interest. He doesn’t leave until I start walking away. I look at him and bow, and he bows back. I‘m certain it’s King Crow. He caws loudly, and I caw at him. I walk back to my house and then turn and wave at the crows. He brought the ring back to me, and I gave him and his fellow crows a haven. It’s. No one will ever convince me of anything different.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
I have been fascinated by the town of Haddonfield, New Jersey, ever since I attended high school at Saint Mary of the Angels Academy. I graduated in 1969. And after I graduated from St. Mary’s I worked for a high-risk auto insurance company in Collingswood. I rented a small one-bedroom apartment in Haddonfield. It was only a block away from the Haddonfield library and within walking distance of downtown Haddonfield. Some years later, after I was married, my husband and I were looking for a larger house to purchase, and I suggested looking at homes that were located in Haddonfield. And what I found fascinating was the local legend that all the local businesses had relationships with the local ghosts. Of course, I didn’t tell Steven about this. And I kept my fingers crossed. 
Actually, we found one house that we liked, but it needed a great deal of repair. And we decided we couldn’t afford to have all the repairs done. Unless we did the repairs ourselves. In addition, the taxis in Haddonfield were high, very high. We would have to find another way to save money. Steven was going to have to rent an office too.
But then there was the experience we had when we were viewing the large Colonial house we were considering purchasing. How can I begin to explain our experience without coming off as some kind of nut case? Let me start at the beginning. And we had an appointment to meet with our realtor at the house we were considering purchasing. But when we arrived, our realtor wasn’t there. However, there was a note taped to the outside of the front door. It stated, “So sorry I couldn’t wait any longer for you. I’ve left the key in the mailbox so that you can view the house. Keep in mind that this is a house with a great deal of potential but needs work. As I previously explained to you during our last phone conversation.
Please give me a call if you decide you want to make an offer. This house has great potential, it is located in a fantastic neighborhood. And the schools in Haddonfield are top-notch. It is a safe and inviting place to live. The house is located close to the downtown area where you will find a great many wonderful restaurants. Not to mention the beautiful homes in that area. It would be a good investment, and with repairs, this house will eventually be a valuable asset for you. And if you start a family, the schools in Haddonfield are, without a doubt, the best in the area. Give me a call and let me know what you decide to do. Marion Lombardi.
My husband went over to the mailbox and opened it. And low and behold, the keys to the front door were indeed waiting there for us.
Steven put the key into the front door, and with some difficulty, he was able to turn the key and unlock the door. The door creaked open. We took a step forward into the entryway, and we found ourselves looking into what must have been the formal living room. We stepped inside, and to our left was a staircase that looked as if it must have been truly outstanding back in the day. To our right was a brick fireplace with a marble mantlepiece. Above it was a huge mirror that reflected the whole living room.
The floor looked like it was mahogany, but it was in very bad shape as it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a very long, long time. On the walls was a blue and silver wallpaper that looked like it had been hanging there for a century or more. And may well have been.
There were double doors between the living room and what we thought might be the formal dining room. It was empty save for what I can only describe as a long bar with a huge mirror behind it. Steven and I looked at one another, and finally, I said, “Why in the world is there a bar in the dining room?
Steven took a look behind the bar, and there wasn’t anything there except dust, years and years of dust. He blew at it, and he was able to see that the top of the bar was beautiful marble. He said, “Wow, I’m sure we could make use of this beautiful marble somewhere in this house.” I just nodded my head, and Steven said, “Kelly, let’s keep looking at the rest of this floor. There was a small pantry with shelves and drawers and a small pantry closet, and we walked through the doorway into a kitchen that looked like we were stepping right into the last century. There was an old, perhaps ancient stove that looked as if it hadn’t been used for decades and white cabinets that were tall and had glass windows. I said, “Oh wow, this kitchen has a great deal of potential.” Steven didn’t respond. So, I said, “Shall we carry on to the second floor?”
“But first, let’s go look out the back door. And see what kind of yard it has. And off we went to the back door. It was locked, and we didn’t have a key for it. And the front door key didn’t fit it. We looked out the back entrance and saw steps that were in bad shape, many bricks were missing, and the hand railing was in place but extremely rusty. The backyard was small, and we could see a two-car garage and a long driveway. There were large trees lining the driveway, and we could see the side of a neighbor’s house behind the trees.
Then we went to investigate the second floor there. When we arrived at the top of the steps, there was a railing to our right and a closed door in front of us. Steven walked over to the door and opened it. It was a bedroom with a large closet. I could see it had great potential. Steven said, “Nice, let’s keep going. The next closed door was just ahead of us. It turned out to be a huge bathroom with black and white tiles on the floor, a large tub with feet, and an empty medicine cabinet. As I looked in the mirror, I saw my reflection, and then, for a moment, I glimpsed another face. It looked like an elderly woman with many wrinkles and white hair that was pulled back into a bun high up on the back of her head. I saw her wink at me. And that is when I let out a blood-curdling scream. Steven said, “What in the world is the matter with you? What are you screaming about?”
I said, “There was a very old woman looking at me in the mirror?”
He said,” What in the world are you talking about” No one else is in the house.“
“I don’t know. It must be my imagination getting away from me again. You know, “a spooky old house and creaky steps. Oh, I don’t know. It’s just that I don’t feel like we are alone in the house. It feels like there are other people here, too.”
“Oh boy, you are letting your imagination get away from you once again.”
“Ok, Ok, that’s enough. Stop making fun of me. But, I promise you, I did see some old woman’s face in the mirror. She had long, grey, and white hair that was up in a bun with a metal clasp. And she had a wrinkled face. She looked ancient, really.”
“Oh brother, you are really letting your imagination get away with you. Let’s keep looking. We walked down the hallway, and to our right was another bedroom twice as large as the first one.” It had floral wallpaper on it. It was faded, but I imagine that once upon a time, a long, long time ago, it must have been beautiful. And some young lady loved it.”
“Let’s continue on, shall we.”
“Yes, let’s continue. As we stepped out the bedroom door we realized that there was a wrong iron gate ahead of us. But luckily, there wasn’t a lock on it. So, we just pushed it out of the way. And we walked into yet another bedroom. It was painted pink. Albeit a faded pink. “Good Lord, pink?”
“Well, maybe it was a baby’s room?”
Then we found a bathroom and a dressing room to the left. It was small but not in bad shape. I thought oh, maybe a bigger mirror. And as I looked in the mirror, I saw the old woman’s face again. She was staring at me so hard I could almost feel it. I screamed, “Good Grief! It’s that old woman again, “Why? Oh, Why? Do weird things always happen to me?
”Did you see her face in the mirror this time?”
“No, dear. I didn’t. You have an active imagination. It is a bit of a spooky house. It is old, and it’s been empty for a long, long time. Maybe it’s just energy that built up here over a hundred years.”
Let’s keep going. And they stepped back into the empty bedroom and towards a closed wooden door. That looked ancient. Steven stepped forward in the doorway. And then he let out a low whistle. “O my god. Would you look at the size of this room?”
I stepped through the doorway and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the biggest room I ever saw in any house I had ever seen in my own life. The ceiling had to be fifteen feet high. There was a huge chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. There was a brick fireplace on the back wall. And the window on the opposite side of the room nearly took up the whole side. I could see the top of two trees at the bottom of the outside of the window. There was a bird’s nest on the top, and I could see baby birds being fed by their mother. I made a 365-degree turn around the room. And I just could not get over the sheer size of the space. And all along the walls of the room were bookcases. There was not a single book on the shelf.
“Steven, it would take us a lifetime to fill up these bookcases. It’s bigger than the library where we used to live. This place is simply unbelievable. “ I walked toward the window and saw another window to my left. And I couldn’t believe my eyes but there was a balcony outside the window. And just as I was about to call Steven to come over and look at the balcony, I saw the old woman on the balcony, and she was waving at me. She was wearing a long, long black dress with a white lace collar, and as I stared at her, I realized that her fingernails were very long and were painted a bright red. They were almost glowing. I turned around to get Steven’s attention. “Steven come here, the old lady is out on the balcony. Hurry, hurry.”
Steven nonchalantly walked over and then I heard a gasp come out of him. And he said, “What the…”
“ Steven what is it.”
“It’s the old lady, I saw her. She is standing outside the double doors. She’s on the balcony.”
“I told you, I told you. You never believe me. But, now you saw proof.”
“I guess I did.”
“Well, Kelly let’s get the hell out of here. It’s giving me the creeps.”
“What? You mean you were going to let some ghosts keep you out of this fabulous house? And you know this would be absolutely perfect. You could have a home office right here instead of renting space. That would save you money, wouldn’t it? How about we think about it overnight, and then we can make a decision?”
“OK, but I’m certain, I won’t change my mind. Let’s discuss it again tomorrow. Meanwhile, tomorrow I’m going to go to that library we passed on the way here and do some research.”
The following day, I spent several hours at the local library. What I found out was that many people who are Haddonfield residents or are owners of Haddonfield businesses have a cordial relationship with the local ghosts. Many residents have reported over the years or were aware of that creepy feeling of being watched in their own older homes.
And then one day that I will not forget, I was standing in the biggest bedroom when I heard what sounded like an older man clearing his throat and coughing vigorously. And then I saw smoke and smelled smoke rising up to the chandelier that hung from the fifteen-foot ceiling above me. It really freaked me out and I went downstairs looking for someone else to tell about my experience. But everyone had already left for the day. I thought about calling one of my friends but I knew they wouldn’t believe me. And most likely, they would go around town and tell everyone they knew that I was losing my mind. So, I decided to keep it to myself.
From that day forward I often felt the presence of an unseen person and often smelled the cigar smoke. I decided to keep it to myself. As I continued my research into the people who have lived in the house over the past one hundred or more years, that the most likely life force roaming the house was the original owner who died suddenly from a combination of lung cancer and heart disease. And it was believed by many of the older residence in the area that he still lived within the hallowed walls of the old house. And most likely there lived similar spirits in most of the older homes, especially in the Grove area where the oldest homes resided.
Over time I became comfortable with this belief. In fact, I found some comfort in the thought that I was never really alone. That old soul still visited or even lived permanently within the walls of my historical home. Then one day I woke up feeling fatiqued even though I had fallen asleep early the previous evening. And then I felt a shortness of breath and then a crushing pain in my upper chest. And that was the last thing I remember. And then one overcast day I became aware that I was looking down from the ceiling next to the large chandelier in the center of the ceiling in the large bedroom. And that is when I realized that I, yes, was no longer among the living but was now a spirit that lived within the walls inside my beautiful Victorian home.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
It was 1994 and II was working at Ranch Hope in Alloway, New Jersey. Ranch Hope was, at that time, a residential, Christian residence for boys ages seven through twenty who were in crisis. Ranch Hope has existed since 1964. I began working there as the first female counselor, and as time went on, I was made the assistant supervisor at Ranch Hope at Turrell Cottage. The boys I was responsible for were between the ages of fourteen to eighteen. These boys had been adjudicated by the court to reside at Ranch Hope because of either family difficulties or breaking the law. And it was either Ranch Hope or jail. Ranch Hope was a last-ditch effort to save these kids who came from rough backgrounds and give them a new chance to start over again. Some of the boys ended up living their entire adolescence at Ranch Hope.
At the time I was working a split shift from seven AM in the morning until ll AM. And then went home until my second shift began from 2:30 until 11:30 PM. That is when the night proctor arrived. And he was often late. Sometimes, I didn’t get home until midnight. And the next day I was tired all day.
On that particular day, it started to snow lightly in the morning at first, and then later, heavy snow began to fall about the time the boys were dismissed from school. All the boys attended Strang School, which was a school that was located on the Ranch Hope Campus within walking distance from the cottages. Most of the teachers were anxious to leave that day since the snow was beginning to accumulate rapidly, and they didn’t want to be stuck there overnight.
I wasn’t too concerned at first. Because I thought the snow would slow down as it had recently, and I would be able to go home as usual. But that isn’t what happened. The snow continued to come down heavier and heavier during the day, and by nightfall, there were several feet of snow. I knew there was no way I was going to get home that night. And that I was going to end up sleeping on the lumpy couch in the living room.
After several hours of heavy snow, I knew for sure that I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. And that was exactly what happened. The night proctor was not able to make his way from his residence to Ranch Hope because the roads had become impassable, and almost impossible to see where you were going. Ranch Hope is located out in the middle of nowhere, and the roads were rarely plowed. There weren’t any street lights on the roads leading in and out of Alloway and the nearly forty-minute drive home. And on this particular night, the roads were unpassable altogether.
The boys were all excited because of the snow and the fact that they wouldn’t have to attend school for several days. Of course there was other staff from the rest of the cottages that were not going to be going home anytime soon either. Fortunately, Ranch Hope had its own cafeteria and kitchen staff that prepared food for the boys and the staff, and it was only a short walk from any of the cottages to the cafeteria.
As the day went by, I knew for sure I was not going to go home anytime soon. But, at least I was in a warm and safe place. What I didn’t realize right away was that the snow wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. In fact, I ended up staying at Ranch Hope for several days. One of the main problems for me was that the rest of the staff who worked in the residential cottages were men. And I, well, I was the only female. So, there weren’t any female facilities like bathrooms, showers, etc.
By the end of the third day, I was feeling uncomfortable since I had been wearing the same clothes for several days, my hair felt dirty, and I didn’t have any other clothes to wear. At this point, I decided to call the staff at Camp Edge. Camp Edge was a place for the boys to camp and learn some life skills outside of their own background, which was mostly inner city, Camden, or worse. Most of these boys grew up in poverty; many were from broken families or families with addiction problems, or their parent or parents were incarcerated. And Ranch Hope was their last chance to redeem themselves before they ended up incarcerated themselves.
I was able to get ahold of the married couple that ran Camp Edge and asked if would be possible for me to come there and get a shower and borrow a change of clothes. Since I didn’t know when I would be able to get home. Meanwhile, I had to find someone to come to Turrell Cottage and watch the boys while I was gone. After finding a staff member to fill in for me at Turrel for an hour or so, I headed slowly on the snow-covered back roads to Camp Edge. I have to say, even though I grew up in New Jersey and learned how to drive in all kinds of weather. It was a bit scary to drive on back roads with several feet of snow, even though some had been plowed at some point in the last several days. They still have a couple of feet of snow I would have driven through, and I wasn’t up for that. So, I stayed put at Turrel Cottage until the roads were cleared for the most part.
Some of the roads that were plowed had melted and frozen over again and again, and they were sheets of ice. I won’t lie, it was scary. I knew if I had an accident there were very few people on these back country roads that would find me. And then I thought, oh, the couple at Camp Edge knew I was coming, and if I didn’t show up, they would come looking for me. Or at least they would know and inform Ranch Hope staff that I never arrived.
But my luck held out, and I slowly made my way to Camp Edge and drove down their rough driveway and up to their house, which was really more of a cabin than a house. But, still, it had heat, and I could take a shower and change clothes, which would be a blessing. They were waiting for me on their front porch and welcomed me into their home. It was so warm and inviting I hated the idea of leaving and going back on the snow covered, icy roads back to Ranch Hope. And I didn’t know how long it would be before the roads were clear enough to go home and get a good night’s sleep in my own warm bed.
After I showered and changed clothes I thanked them and said, “hopefully, the next time I see you I won’t smell to high heavens.” And they laughed. And I got into my car and slowly made my way back to Ranch Hope. When I arrived, all the boys were in the cafeteria eating lunch. And I went in and grabbed something to eat, and sat down at the table with my boys at Turrell Cottage’s table. They were still really worked up and excited by the snow and no school. And they were being rather boisterous, but not for long. Because when they saw me come into the cafeteria, they knew better than to be acting out. I was a kind caretaker, but I stuck to the rules. I took a good look at the boys. And they were all there but spread out over two tables. And I saw a couple of the older kids were working in the kitchen.
In fact, all the boys, after they had been there for some time, were given jobs if they were being compliant in the cottage and in the school. They were given the opportunity to work and earn money. And if they earned enough points, they would allowed to go on outings. At some point, when the roads cleared up and it was safe to travel, they would be able to go out to the Malls in the area and speed some of their hard-earned money. I won’t lie. Sometimes, some of the boys would try hard to do the right thing, but other times, they tried to sneak around and do things that they weren’t allowed to do. And they would lose points and privileges. And they wouldn’t be able to go off campus or even out of the cottage if they were out of compliance with the rules.
About a day and a half later, I was able to go home, take a day off, and catch up on my sleep. I decided that from then on out, I would bring a change of clothes with me just in case. I worked several more years at Ranch Hope, and although it could be stressful working there, I loved it. And I came to love all those boys. Even the difficult ones. I think it was one of the most rewarding yet stressful jobs I ever had. I can only hope that I helped those boys through a challenging time in their lives. They learned some self-control and came to understand that they were in charge of making their lives and their futures flourish or fail. It was up to them. Over the course of my working life, which started when I was seventeen and extended into my early sixties, Ranch Hope was the job I loved the most and the one that has held many good and bad memories. But, the job that I will always be proud of was the one in which I hope I guided young boys to turn into men with a conscience that knew right from wrong. And to make it their business to treat all people with care and concern and good will.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
For as far back as I remember, I loved going to the library. The day I was old enough to get a library card, I rushed home from school and ran through our red front door. And I begged my mother to let me go to the library and get my very own library card so that I could borrow books on my very own library card.. I finished reading my last book on Sunday afternoon, so I was really looking forward to finding a new book to read.
As I walked through the swinging doors of the library. One of my school friends was on her way out, and she said, “Hi, Terry. How are things going?” I said, “OK, I just finished reading my last Nancy Drew novel, and I wanted to find a new one. I absolutely loved mysteries. “
“Me too. My mother keeps telling me to go outside and get some fresh air. But, once I get started on a new book, I have to finish it. Or, I have trouble sleeping at night. Of course, while I’m reading a new book, I have trouble sleeping at night because I want to find out what’s going to happen.” 
“That’s weird. That’s exactly how I feel. Oh well, I better get into the library, so I have time to find a new book, and I won’t be late for dinner. I’ll talk to you later, bye.”
I walk through the doors and head towards the children’s fiction section. I wave at the librarians at the front desk. And they both wave back at me and say, “Well, we were wondering where our little bookworm, Terry, was today. LOL.”
“Oh, I was a little late getting out of school. And when I got home, my mother had made some cookies. And well, I didn’t want to miss having some because I knew my sisters would eat them all before I came home from the library.” The librarians all laughed and said, “Well, you better get busy finding a good book before they’re all taken.”
For a moment, I was terrified, and then all the librarians started laughing. And I realized that they were joking. I said, “Oh, that’s so funny. Ha, ha, ha…
I had a couple of books picked out and was looking for a third one when I looked up at the big clock on the library’s wall and realized that it was time to leave. Or I would be late for dinner. And that would make my parents mad. I decided I better check out my books and get home. Because tonight was one of the nights when I had to set the table for dinner. So, I grabbed my books and headed toward the check-out desk. All the librarians smiled at me because they told me they really loved all the bookworms. I didn’t tell them that I hated being called a bookworm because they were always nice to me when I came to the library.
I handed over my library card, which had my name on it, and the code MA236. And the tall, thin librarian asked for my books. I always thought she looked like Popeye’s girlfriend, Olive Oil. But my mother said, “Don’t call her Olive Oil. You’ll hurt her feelings.” I just said thank you, I’ll see you later after she handed me my books and my library card. I head off to the book stacks, and I begin my search for my next book is the Mystery section of the library. Even though I’m not an adult yet, the librarians know I have read all the books in the children’s sections and let me borrow adult books.
After perusing most of the mystery books, I finally found ‘the one.” It’s a mystery story about stolen jewels and a jewel thief, whose name is Larry Lawton, who apparently was a famous Jewel thief at one time. Terry took the book over to one of the tables in the adult section and began to skim the description of the book and the names of the chapters. Oh, she couldn’t wait to read. It was probably one of those books that she would read all the way through in a couple of days. It sounded so exciting. Terry took the book up to the check-out table and handed the librarian my card. She said, “Wow, I can see you are a big reader. Your library card has really had a workout.” Terry didn’t realize that the librarian was kidding. And she just said, Yeah.”
On her way home from the library, she ran into a couple of her classmates. They said in unison, “Oh, here comes the bookworm and laughed. Terry just ignored them and kept walking and then she started walking faster and then started running. By the time she arrived home, she was out of breath. When she arrived at her front door, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She never understood why kids were mean to her, especially when all she did was keep to herself and read books. Why would they care?
She made her way into their kitchen, and her mother said, “What happened to you? Why is your face all red? Were you running? Was someone chasing you again? Terry said, “No, Mom, I just decided to see how fast I could run home. That’s all.
“Well, I see you got a new book. What kind of book is it?”
“It’s a mystery, just like all the other books I read. You know, I like to figure out what is going to happen in the story by myself and then read the ending. It’s fun.”
“Terry, you are an interesting and intelligent young girl. I know you are going to do great things in your life. And you won’t let anyone or anything stand in your way. I think you are awesome.”
“Oh, Mothers always say things like that to their kids. It’s part of their job as a parent to help their children feel confident about themselves.”
“Terry, what you just said is an example of how intelligent you are. Few kids would even think to say anything like you just did. You are going to go far in life.”
Terry felt her face blush, and she said, “Oh, Mom. I guess I’m going to go into my room and read until dinner time.”
“OK, Terry, it will be at least one hour from now.”
Terry went into her room, pulled her chair next to the lamp, plopped down onto the rocking chair, and immediately opened the book. She opened the book and rocked forward on the rocking chair, and a slip of paper fluttered to the ground.
Terry didn’t notice it right away because she was already engrossed in the first chapter of the book. And the next thing she knew she heard her mother yelling up the steps that dinner was ready. Terry looked at her clock, and sure enough, it was dinner time. She reluctantly put a bookmark on the page she was reading and closed it. And then she put it on her bedside table. She was about to head down for dinner when she saw the slip of paper on the floor.
It said, “For whoever finds this note, please contact me as soon as possible. I desperately need help. Terry thought it must be some kind of prank that the last person who checked out the book must have left the note as a joke, for the next person that read the mystery book. Or maybe the librarians put the note in the book as a surprise for her. But, then she noticed at the bottom of the small note was a phone number. She decided to hide the note inside the book cover until she decided what to do about it. And she went back to reading her later mystery story. It was called, “ When the bell tolls, could it be ringing for you?”
Terry loved the title because it promised the story would be kind of scary and mysterious at the same time. Terry loved solving mysteries. She planned on being a detective when she grew up. She couldn’t think of anything she would rather do than solve mysteries and save lives. She wanted to make a difference in the world and fight evil. She knew she was a young girl, but somewhere deep inside resided the heart of a courageous heroine. And she looked forward to the day everyone else would recognize her as a true crime fighter. She truly believed that she would be a real fighter of crime and evil in the real world, as Nancy Drew was in the books Terry read.
The following day, after Terry arrived home from school, Terry remembered that her mother said she might be a little late and she would leave a snack out for her. And that she would be home in time for dinner. And sure enough, Terry found her favorite snack, Fig Newtons, and she dropped her school bag down on the kitchen floor and kicked her shoes off. Then she got a clean glass and poured herself a cold glass of milk. And retrieved her latest book from her room and sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy her snack. But, as she was sitting there it occurred to her that it was the perfect time to call the phone number from the note that dropped out of the library book she took out yesterday.
Terry decided to make the call out on the back porch, just in case her mother came home early for some reason. As she settled herself on the porch chair, she quickly called the phone number on the note. The phone rang several times, and Terry was about to give up when she heard someone say,” Hello, hello.” Terry finally got the courage to respond; she said, “Hello, my name is Terry. I found your note inside a library book that I checked out. Are you alright? Are you in trouble? Is Somebody hurting you? Do you want me to call the police? Tell me where you live.”
There was silence for several long minutes. And then Terry heard a young girl’s voice saying,” Can you meet me today at four o’clock? I need your help.
Terry took a deep breath and swallowed, and then she said, “that depends on where you are at. I will have to ride over there on my bike. Is someone trying to hurt you or won’t let you go outside? Do you want me to call the police to help you? Were you kidnapped?”
“No, I haven’t been kidnapped. I need you to come to my location to talk to me. It’s a secret location, so you can’t bring anyone else with you.”
“Oh, I don’t know. My mother has warned me to talk to strangers or go alone to a place I’ve never been before. How far are you from where I live? Do you know where I live?
“I know where you live, and I don’t live too far from you. I’ve seen you at school. I am in a different grade than you are. But I’ve seen you around. Do you want to come here or not?”
“What is this all about?”
“Terry, it is a test to see if you are ready to become an “investigator” isn’t that what you always wanted to be? We do not accept just anybody, and we have been watching you for quite a while. Only a few qualified people are invited to join. Are you interested or not?”
“Yes, I do want to be an investigator, but I’m just a kid. Did you know that?”
“Yes, of course, we have been watching you for a while. I am going to leave a note for you in your mailbox tomorrow after school. And there will be directions to my location. If you decide to participate, be there by 4:15 pm. We won’t wait passed that time. And then the voice gave Terry precise directions. Terry thought about it for several minutes and said, “OK, I’ll come tomorrow to your location. This better not be some kind of prank on me.”
“I promise this is not a prank I’ll see you tomorrow by 4:15.” And then Terry heard a dial tone. And she hung up. Terry didn’t know if she was scared or excited. She didn’t have any intention of telling her mother what she was up to. She had trouble sleeping that night. And the next day she had even more difficulty paying any attention at school. She probably failed her Math test because she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She kept thinking about what might happen the next day.
Terry all but flew home the next afternoon after school let out. She ran up to her mailbox and pulled open the door with such force that she almost broke the door off. And there it was, a note. Terry pulled out the note, and it was typed so that she couldn’t recognize any handwriting. It said, “You must arrive at the following address today by 4 PM. The address is 26 South Forklanding Rd. It is a white house with a red door. There are Holly Trees on either side of the front entrance. Go to the backyard. You will see a shed with a bell over the door. Ring the bell three times and then say your name. We will be waiting for you. Say the secret password, investigator.”
Terry followed the instructions to the letter. After she rang the bell three times, she said, “Investigator.” And then someone said, “You may come in.”
Terry’s heart was beating like a snare drum, but she stepped forward and pushed the door open. And when she looked inside she saw a whole group of kids from school huddled in there. She was afraid that this was some kind of prank that was going to backfire on her. But what happened next was a complete surprise. She heard them say, “Terry, you are now a member of the Investigator Squad. We solve all the crimes big and small that occur in our schools and our neighborhoods. You will be a great addition to our team. What say you?”
“What say me? I say yes, yes, yes. And then they all shook her hand and made her promise to keep the club and what they were doing to stop crime a secret. And Terry smiled so wide that you could almost see her tonsils. And that was the beginning of Terry’s secret life as an investigator. And who knew where that would take her in her life? She believed she would be the new investigator that would take Inspector Clouseau’s place someday in the French Sure’te.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Monday was an ordinary day like any other. I woke up early and lay in my bed for another twenty minutes or so. And then, I finally managed to gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed and throw my legs over the side. I slowly walked over to my bedroom window and gazed out across our yard and at my neighbor’s front yard. Suddenly, I heard a weird sound, and It sounded like a high-pitched moaning.
I couldn’t see what was causing the ruckus, so I opened my window even further and hung out as far as I could. My heart was beating like a snare drum. I could hear my heartbeat wildly. I felt somewhat lightheaded, and I feared I might pass out. or accidentally fall out of my window. I felt sick to my stomach. I have a tendency to be somewhat of a drama queen. At least, that is what my mother always says about me. I am afraid of everything, including bugs, snakes, mice, and big dogs. You name it, and I’m afraid of it. 
Ever so slowly, I pulled myself back into my bedroom window and flopped down on my unmade bed. I lay there until I felt my heart beating normally, and I was breathing in and out, in and out. And my head stopped spinning. Sometimes, I have the feeling that I must be one of the most neurotic people in the world. In my mind, every little thing can become a catastrophe.
I decided to go downstairs and out my front door to see what the heck was going on. As I exited my front door, I heard one of my neighbors scream stop, stop, stop, my son is in that coach. I thought, what in the world is going on? So, against my better judgment, I ran out the door in my pajamas and across my front yard to the curb where my neighbor, Mrs. Rice, was yelling, “Stop, stop, stop. For the love of god, stop.”
I screamed at the top of my lungs, “What’s going on, Mrs. Rice?” And she said, “ Oh, Jennifer, my son was sleeping in his coach, and I turned my back for a moment because I heard my husband calling me.” And when I turned back around, my baby was gone. And the car that was parked next to it was driving down the street like a maniac.
“Mrs. Rice, “call the police, call the police.” And she did. She was yelling on the phone that someone who was driving a lime green pickup truck grabbed her baby out of his coach when she turned her back for a moment. That she only looked away for a moment to pick up his bottle. That she had dropped out of the coach accidentally.
She described the man driving the vehicle. He looked middle-aged and had a balding head and a mustache. And he was smoking a big cigar. His car looked like it had seen better days. And it looked as if it had been used for target practice. It had bullet holes on it on the front hood and the back window. The car was headed toward Fork Landing Road at a high rate of speed toward Route 38. Then she told the police her address. She explained where she was standing on the sidewalk next to the street, and “Please hurry.’
I stood next to her and held her hand because she had begun crying her eyes out. And she kept saying over and over, “Oh please bring back my baby, please bring back my baby.” The police finally arrived about fifteen minutes later. One of the police cruisers came down the street and pulled up next to the curb where we were standing. What looked like a giant got out of the police car and said, “ Mrs. Rice? I’m Officer Brown. One of my officers has cited the car that you described. And no doubt he will be able to stop the car and retrieve your son as quickly and safely as possible. Please calm down.
And then he looked down at me, “Well, was that your brother that the man took? “No, I only have a little sister. She’s a pest. She’s in my house watching cartoons. I saw this Mrs. Rice out here screaming and crying, “Stop, stop, stop.” And she told me that someone had grabbed her baby. And that he drove away in a car. And I told her to “Call the police.”
“Well, that was a good thing for you to do. Otherwise, the stranger could get far, far away.”
I looked at the police officer and smiled, and I thought, maybe someday I could become a police officer and save someone’s life.
The police officer said, “Hold on I’m getting a call from the officer that is chasing the get-a-way car.”
I looked at Mrs. Rice. Her face was pale but had big blotches of red all over it. She looked as if she was going to be sick to her stomach any minute. I took her hand again. It was all sweaty, but I didn’t let go of it until I heard another officer speaking to Officer Brown on his walky-talky. At least, that’s what I think they are called. And then he hung up. And looked at Mrs. Rice right in the face and said,” Good news. The kidnapper has been apprehended, and Officer McMullen is bringing your baby back. And he is perfectly fine and slept through the whole ordeal. They’ll be here any minute.”
And then Mrs. Rice started crying again. Big tears ran down her face. I couldn’t figure out why she started crying again. But I squeezed her hand and said, “Now, now, it’s going to be alright.” My mother always says that to me when I’m upset. And for some reason, she cried even harder. The officer looked at me and said, “You did a good thing telling her to call the police and staying with her until she got her baby back.
“Oh, here comes the squad car. Everything will be alright. You will need to come to the police headquarters first thing tomorrow to make a statement. Can you do that?”
Mrs. Rice shook her head up and down, and tears continued running down her cheeks and onto her coat. A moment later, another police car turned onto our street and slowly drove next to the curb where we were all standing. After parking the police car, the officer came out of his driver’s seat. He swung open the door, and we could see a baby that was lying in a blanket with a seat belt across it. The baby woke up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Rice reached in and picked up her baby, and tears rolled down her cheeks again. But, in that exact moment, a smile appeared across her face. “Thank you, officers, for saving my baby. I will be at the police station first thing tomorrow morning. And thank you so much.
“You’re welcome mam. I’m happy that everything turned out alright. It’s good that you kept calm and that you called the police right after it happened. Mrs. Rice still had tears running down her face, but a smile was on her face. Too. She said, “Thank you again, Jennifer, you saved the day.” What? No, I didn’t do anything. I just happened to be here right after it happened. The police were the heroes. I’m glad everything turned out alright. I have to be going now, I’m going to be late. Jennifer didn’t really have any place she had to be. She just felt uncomfortable getting all that attention. She wasn’t even going to mention anything to her Mom. She would make a big deal about it even though she knew that Jennifer didn’t like to be the center of attention.
Jennifer was about to head home when she saw what appeared to be a small dog or puppy running out into the street. Jennifer looked toward the house where the dog came from and didn’t see anybody outside looking for the puppy. But, the door was wide open. For a moment, she considered continuing on her way. But then she saw a car coming down the street in the direction of the puppy. So, she ran as fast as she could, grabbed the puppy, and ran out of the street to the sidewalk. She was slightly out of breath, and the puppy was whining and squirming in her arms. And she almost dropped him. “Good grief, puppy, hold still. I’ll take you back home where you’ll be safe.
So Jennifer carried the puppy back to the house that the puppy came out of and yelled into the front door of the house that the puppy came out of a few moments ago. “Hello, hello, is anyone home? I found your puppy running across the street. And then she yelled as loud as she could,” HELLO, HELLO, ANYBODY HOME?”
After what seemed a long, long time, she saw an old lady walk towards her from the back of the house. She said, “Can I help you, young lady?”
Jennifer said, “I was across the street, and your puppy ran outside into the street because the front door was wide open. So, I grabbed her and brought her back here. The old woman said,” Oh my, thank you so much. I must have forgotten to close the door after I got my mail. Sometimes I get forgetful. Thank you so much. I am puppy-sitting this week for my granddaughter. She went on vacation with some friends of hers. She is supposed to come back today. Oh, she would have been so upset if something happened to Arnold. Jennifer stared at the woman and said, “Oh? Whose Arnold?” That’s the dog’s name, Arnold. Thanks so much. Would you like to come in and have a piece of cake? I just took it out of the oven. That’s why I was preoccupied. And I’ll give you a big, cold glass of milk. What do you say?”
“Well, I would love that, but I’m not supposed to go into strangers’ houses.”
“Of course, you’re not. How thoughtless of me. How about I cut you a piece, and you can take it home with you and eat it after you eat lunch?”
“Yes, I would love that. I hope it’s a chocolate cake. That’s my favorite.”
“It is chocolate cake. This is your lucky day. Wait here. I’ll take the puppy and be right back. I’m going to put him in the front bedroom for a little while. Maybe he’ll take a nap. He has way too much energy for me to keep up with him. A couple of minutes later, the old woman slowly returned to her front door. I’m sorry for being so rude. I didn’t even ask what your name is.
“Oh, that’s OK. My name is Jennifer. I live down the street. I’m going to save this cake for after lunch because my mother doesn’t like me to eat sweets until after lunch. It looks delicious, and chocolate is my favorite.”
“Well, Jennifer, thank you for saving the puppy. Please feel free to stop by for a visit anytime. I would love to have you visit once in a while.”
“ Really, I would like to visit sometime too. I hardly ever see my grandmom.” Jennifer continued her walk down the street, wondering what was going to happen next. She couldn’t wait until dinner to tell her family about all her adventures today. In fact, every day, something interesting or exciting happens to Jennifer. And she would come home at lunch or dinner and share her exciting experiences. But nobody in her family believed her stories. They thought she just had an active imagination. But Jennifer didn’t make things up. She was sure her family wouldn’t believe her this time either.
Sure enough, when Jennifer’s mother called her to come home for dinner, and after everyone sat down to eat, Jennifer began telling of her adventures that day and how she was a heroine. But, once again, no one believed her. That is until the next day when their local newspaper arrived early that morning. And on the first page of the World News and Daily Report, which was the name of their local small-town newspaper. There was a story on the first page relating to Jennifer’s experiences helping save the baby and the puppy.
Jennifer’s family was flabbergasted. But they all stood up and clapped for her heroism. And Jennifer was so happy and proud that she almost started crying. Her mother gave her a big hug and said, “You’re a hero. We are so proud of you. Jennifer blushed and bowed and said, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” her family all grew as one, and then they laughed when the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, first of all, I saw an eight-foot-tall man getting an icecream at the Custard Stand and then I saw an old man riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
Her whole family laughed, and then they clapped. One thing is for sure: there was never a dull moment in their house when Jennifer was around. And they all gave her a big hug.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Lovey is exhausted and anxious. She’s been cooped up in the hot, dirty van for almost two days. Her legs are restless; she’s so thirsty that she begins to tremble. She trumpets her fear, and discomfort for all to hear if anyone bothers to listen. She’s angry. She hasn’t felt anything for a long time, but she feels red-hot anger now. She rocks back and forth hitting the sides of the van so violently that the van sways and rocks with her.
The driver of the van yells, “Stop Lovey, stop” to no avail. He calls his boss on his cell phone. “You have to stop, so I can let Lovey out, or she’s going to cause herself and the van untold damage.” The owner agrees to stop in the next empty lot he sees. And stay for the night, take care of the animals, and let everyone rest before their next performance.
The last caravan pulls into the deserted parking lot well past midnight. Time and the sun have faded the painting of the bearded lady on the side of the van. But you can still clearly see her glamorous figure clad in a red, white and blue ballerina tutu. Her glorious red beard is there for all to admire.
They had driven almost six hundred miles in the last two days. Everyone in the Three Ringed Circus is extremely tired, hot and sweaty. It was getting harder and harder to find new venues. The public wants to see the glamour and amazing feats of courage and flying acrobats, doing death-defying acts. They want their animals wild, but safe, looking healthy and happy.
But they weren’t getting that from Three-Ring Circus. It’s on the last leg of a journey that began its’ history in the early 1950s. Most of the famous performers have retired or moved on, or just disappeared from sight altogether.
When Gaucho pulls open the sliding doors to the van, Lovey trumpets as loud as she can. The only thing keeping her in the van is the shackles on her ankles. Gaucho has the bullock in his hand and shows it to Lovey. Usually, this is enough to calm her down.
She knows from many years of experience that if it slaps against her sensitive skin, it will sting for a very long time and might well cut her. If the cut becomes infected the circus doesn’t have a veterinarian on staff. And certainly, the little towns that they frequent don’t have a wild animal vet. She would be a very sick elephant and might die from a simple injury.
The circus often only had outdated medications and no money to spend on the care that these animals need. In the wild elephants often walk up to fifty miles a day across the savanna and live as long as fifty years. Animals kept in circuses even the famous, moneyed ones lived an average of twelve years.
Gaucho steps back, he knows this animal has great power and weight behind her, but he’s never seen her like this. He has been her trainer for five years. He knows from talking to the other carnies that Lovey and has been with the circus for a long time.
And that at one time, she had a mate, named Ganesha a huge elephant from India. He had sickened and died before a large animal vet could be found. Lovey had been very attached to him and mourned his death for many years. He was told that she was never the same after his death.
She had refused to perform and sometimes refused to eat or drink. She has a big heart, and it had been broken by the loss of her mate. Elephants are herd animals, and she was here alone with no other elephants. She was near animals that would have been a threat to her if she were still living in the wild. Her life with the circus was unnatural and very stressful for her and all the other wild creatures that are captive here.
Gaucho walks over to the supply truck and pulls out a wagon that contains water. Luckily, they had filled all the containers on their last stop. He grabs a bucket and puts it in the wagon. He pulls down the ramp and hurriedly pulls the wagon down the ramp, and over to the terrified, and terrifying Lovey.
He carefully slides the bucket next to her and fills it with water. Lovey’s about to kick the bucket away then she realizes it’s water. She puts her trunk down into the bucket and sprays the water across her back and then again into the bucket and quenches her thirst.
She feels momentarily relieved and quiets. Gaucho slowly and carefully unchains her ankles. By this time many of the circus performers and all of the grunts are standing behind Gaucho. “Stay back, fools, get away from here while I take care of Lovey. Unless you want to be pummeled into the earth.”
Gaucho waits for a few moments then gives Lovey the trunk-up signal. Lovey becomes enraged and begins trumpeting loudly and stamps her feet. There’s a look of fire in her eyes and it’s at that moment that Gaucho knows to get the hell out of the way and shouts.” Run, run.”
He follows his own good advice just in time, Lovey charges out of the van and begins running, running for her life. In her mind, she sees before her the golden savanna grasses being blown by the soft breeze and the cool water of the elephant water hole of her youth in the distance.
She’s determined to reach it at any cost. She will run down anything that tries to prevent her from arriving there. She’s saving her life. Her instinct for self-preservation kicks in and she runs full tilt, there’s no stopping her. Everyone who has been watching her now disappears into the wind, not wanting to be trampled by this behemoth that has lost her mind.
Someone has called the coffer and he arrives just in time to see the elephant charging his jeep. He quickly reaches behind him to get his rifle and aims it at her head and pulls the trigger, and then again for good measure. Lovey keeps moving momentarily before the message gets to her brain that she’s dead. And then she drops to the ground, finally free, free to travel to the land of her birth, among her tribe. She sees her beloved Ganesha, she feels love fill her huge heart, and then peace.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
I am taking the week off from writing. I will be posting one of my favorite stories from several years ago.
Best Wishes, Susan A. Culver – https://susanaculver.com
I have to admit I have a unique personality—one which many people take an immediate dislike. What, you may ask, is the problem? Am I hideous, racist, stupid? Or any of a million other negative personality traits I could have?
At first blush, I appear to be a self-confident, intelligent, normal-looking person. But, after meeting me for the first time, you may have thought, wow, she is really a cool, intelligent person. Not only that, she has an amazing sense of humor.
But then, after spending some time with me, you start to notice some odd quirks. I overreact to ordinary events. For instance, one day, we were out walking in the park. It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. There was even a light breeze. It was early in the morning, and the only people in the park were older people, most of whom looked old enough to be my grandparents. They often said good morning and said, “What a beautiful day.”
Outwardly, I appear to be a friendly and confident person. But as you well know, things aren’t always the way they appear at first blush, so to speak. I do not like talking to strangers. I’m not all that comfortable talking to people I’ve known for years. I’m terrified that if I talk too much, I will reveal who I really am. And that will be the end of our somewhat tenuous friendship. You will realize exactly who and what I am. 
And here’s the god’s honest truth: I am without a doubt the most phobic, fearful, anxiety-ridden person that you ever had or ever will meet. Let me explain how this came to pass. It all began one day when I was quite young. I believe I had just turned ten years old. My family lived in a small row home in North East Philadelphia. One time in the late evening, one of my neighbors had a fire that started in her kitchen. Apparently, she had left the gas stove on and a pan sitting on top of the burner that had oil in it. She had fried some potatoes for dinner that night.
Anyway, at some point, she decided to lie down on the living couch and take a nap. She had a tall glass of wine with her dinner. The wine had a tendency to make her sleepy. And within ten minutes, she had fallen fast asleep. One of her neighbors smelled something burning. She rushed over to her next-door neighbor’s house and banged on the front door. No one answered. She tried to break the door down to no avail. She grabbed her cell phone, dialed 911, and told the operator to send the fire department.
By the time the fire company and the police arrived, most of the neighbors who lived in the apartment building and were at home managed to get out of the building. And warn all of their neighbors about the fire. Unfortunately, not everyone made it out safely. The neighbor who had inadvertently started the fire had died from smoke inhalation. I was standing outside along with my family when my neighbor who started the fire was brought out on a stretcher. She was covered from head to toe with a white sheet.
I looked at my mother, and I could see tears running down her cheek. I grabbed my mother’s hand and said, “Mommy, is Gammy alright?” That’s what I called her, Gammy, because I didn’t have a grandmother, and Gammy had asked if she could be my grandmom since she didn’t have any grandchildren of her own. At least once a day, I would go over to her house to talk to her, and sometimes, my mom would give me some cookies or cake to share with her.
Gammy would give me some cold milk, and she would drink green tea., We would keep eating until all the cookies or cake were eaten up. Gammy told me stories about her childhood. She grew up on a farm in New Jersey a long, long time ago. Her family raised peach trees and blueberries. And sometimes pumpkins and corn in the Fall. I loved hearing her stories. It sounded like she had such fun on her farm. She used to help by feeding the chickens and the cows. I asked her if she could take me with her to visit the farm. And I saw tears in her eyes. And she said, “I’m sorry, I can’t. My family’s farm isn’t there anymore. There are apartments there now.” I could tell she was still sad about it. So, I took her hand and held it, and she hugged me tight.
Some of her stories were about the animals on her farm, and I loved to hear about them. I wanted to have a dog or a cat so bad. But my mother said, “We are not allowed to have pets in this apartment building. So, that was that. Even when I begged just to get a pet hamster, she said,” No, they will stink the place up, and people will complain about the smell, and we’ll get thrown out.” And that was the end of that conversation.
The next day, my mother called the hospital where Grammy was taken yesterday and was told, “I’m sorry she didn’t make it. She inhaled too much smoke and passed away during the night.” My mother didn’t tell me what happened right away. Even though I kept asking her over and over if we could go to the hospital and see Grammy. And finally, the next day, my mom held my hand and said, “I’m sorry, Kimmy, Grammy passed away last night. Try to remember that she lived a long and happy life. I’m sure she will be looking down from heaven and watching over you.
I stared at my mother for a long, long time, and then I started crying and whaling like I lost my best friend. Because that is exactly what happened. I had lost my best and only friend. And that was the beginning of me being afraid of every little thing. Because I never knew when or what would happen. And something could steal my mother away. And I didn’t think I could bear that.
I missed Grammy for a long, long time. I didn’t talk about her anymore, but I thought about her every day for years. I became afraid to make new friends because I couldn’t imagine ever losing my best new friend again. I just couldn’t take it. From there on out, I felt so alone in the world. And I watched over my mother like a hawk. I followed her everywhere she went up until I started school. All day in school, I was afraid that the principal would come and tell me something terrible happened to my mom. I felt sick all the time with fear.
The more fearful I became, the quieter I became. I started biting my fingernails and pulling my eyelashes out. I was afraid to answer the phone for fear of bad news. I wouldn’t look at the mail for the same reason. The bad news was all I thought about. I wouldn’t talk to strangers at first, and then I stopped talking to other kids in my school, including my friends. I decided it was easier not to have friends and family. Then, I could avoid their loss.
At one point, the school counselor contacted my family. So they could discuss my behavior. My parents thought I was acting out in class. They hadn’t realized how withdrawn I had become. I couldn’t help but believe that they didn’t care about me anymore. They should have noticed how thin I had become and how little I ate, but they didn’t. And things only got worse from that point forward. I develop twitches and tics. Kids at school started making fun of me all the time. Which only made me even more upset and obsessed.
Every morning, it took me a long, long time to get ready to go to school. I had to go through a whole series of behaviors before I could go out the front door. And then, once I did go out the front door, I had to hop, skip, and jump all the way. I didn’t know why I was doing all of this. I just knew I had to, or something terrible would happen to someone I loved. And I could not tolerate another loss.
By that time, my parents realized I was in a bad way. Every time they noticed me behaving strangely, they would sternly say, “Stop doing that now. That’s enough.” Of course, their lack of understanding and their negative reaction toward my tics just made it worse. I didn’t want to attend school anymore. All the kids made fun of me all day long, from the time I got on the bus to go to school and throughout the school day. It wasn’t just my schoolmates. All the kids from kindergarten up. I felt like I was running a gauntlet from the bus ride all through the day and then again on the bus ride home.
My parents took me to one therapist after another. None of them were able to help me. Because I wasn’t able to tell them why I was acting the way I was. I didn’t really understand what was happening to me either. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like the tics were taking over my body and my life. I was always depressed. I didn’t know how to be happy again. This particular doctor believed in talk therapy. He kept asking me how I was feeling today. What are you thinking about? It will help you to express your fears with me.
After many years, I went to the therapist, and I made slow progress in returning to acting like a “normal” person. I was able to finish school and get a job. I had difficulty keeping jobs even though I was intelligent and learned quickly. The main problem was my inability to interact with people and hold up my end of the conversation. My employers decided it would be best if I worked alone in one of the back offices. I was able to do any job they asked me to do up until I had to talk to people. Although, I had no problems talking on the phone or by correspondence. I did well. In fact, I excelled at any task they set before me.
I could have moved up in the corporation, except for my inability to interact directly with customers. Then there were my personal problems, in that I had great difficulty making and keeping friends. I was living a lonely and isolated life. And then, one day, it all changed. The company hired an employee, and they told me that he was going to work with me. I freaked out. I started feeling overwhelmed and terrified. I thought for sure I was going to lose my job as soon as this person started working with me.
As it turned out, it was a young man about my age. Just an ordinary guy. Someone you wouldn’t notice on the street. He wasn’t particularly good-looking or ugly. As soon as he walked into my office, he came over and introduced himself. He tried to shake my hand. I tried to pull it away. He held onto it for a couple of minutes. He said, “My name is Henry Fitzpatrick. I’m going to be working with you from now on. I’ve heard great things about you. I think I will learn a great deal from one another.’
I looked at him for a moment and then looked away. I started twitching and blinking my eyes rapidly. He continued talking to me as if nothing unusual was happening. He kept up his quiet dialogue. He never mentioned that I was acting weirdly. I started to relax. After a few weeks of working with him, I felt more at peace with myself than I ever had. One day, he asked me if I would like to go out to lunch with him. I said, ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m not very good in public situations. I don’t really feel comfortable in the public. I start twitching. “ I know all about that, and I think you will do fine. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking. Just try to relax and have a nice lunch. I would really enjoy going out with you.”
When it was time to go out to lunch, I started feeling nervous. But he took my hand and said, “How about we walk to the restaurant? It’s just down the street.” He kept up a quiet dialogue the whole time. In fact, he managed to eat his lunch and still talk. He told me some interesting stories about his childhood. I sat there eating my tuna salad sandwich and listened to him. He had a calming demeanor, and I listened to him quietly at first. And then I asked him a question or two, and before I knew it, we finished our lunch, and we were on the way back to our office. He looked over at me when we were within a few feet of our office building and said,” I had a great time. How about we go out to dinner sometime soon?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Of course you do. It will be fine. And we can go out to a movie after if you like. What do you say?”
I looked at him, and I thought, “Why not?” And that is exactly what we did. And the next time, he asked me to come to his house for dinner. He said I’m a great cook. How do you feel about Italian food?” I said, “ I love Italian food.”
Now, I’m not saying that from that point forward, I acted like a normal person. But I was a whole lot calmer, and I tried not to focus on my own behavior when I was interacting with other people. I focused on what they were saying instead. And over time, my tics all but disappeared unless I got upset. And now, my co-worker and I are the best of friends, and I think I may be falling in love for the first time. Life has never been better. And the best thing that has happened is that I have begun to feel more comfortable in my own skin, and I feel confident. I don’t know what is going to happen between Joe, my co-worker, and me, but I look forward to a happy life no matter what happens.
To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
You cannot copy content of this page