Tag Archives: early years of marriage

DON’T WAKE UP YOUR FATHER

     Life can throw you a ball way out in left field. And you may never know what hit you. As for me, life sent me a curve ball right off the bat. My mother was blessed with many children during her life. She was married to the same man for over fifty years. Throughout her marriage, she gave birth to ten children. Six of them survived. When she was forty-one years old, she began to have symptoms of morning sickness. She couldn’t believe she was pregnant again. Every morning, she woke up feeling sick, and sometimes, she felt ill all day and night. She couldn’t believe she was going to have another child.
When she went to the doctor for the blood test, she was informed that she was indeed pregnant again. And the doctor was thrilled to tell her she would have twins again. This time it was a set of twin boys, who were named Stephen and Gerard. After the school that Harry, my father, grew up in. It was the Gerard College. He didn’t get out until he was sixteen years old. His mother was a window and couldn’t stay home to care for Harry. And he only saw her once a year on Christmas until he graduated from Gerard College and got a job.

My Dear Mother

     Marie’s (my mother’s) youngest children at the time were seven and eight. Her twin babies were toddlers, and she had been sure that changing diapers and feeding baby bottles were a thing of the past. All her kids were old enough to attend school or had graduated from high school except the twin girls. Her oldest son was attending a University and hoped to be a psychologist shortly. Her oldest daughter was married recently, had moved out of state, and was starting her own family.

     She thought life was going to get much easier soon. What with all the children being of school age or in college or moved away in the distant future. She hoped none of them would get married shortly because she didn’t want to start caring for grandchildren. She was content with all the children either in school or living independently. She wanted nothing more than to say her rosary, read a book, take a walk, visit her friends and neighbors, and share a cuppa of tea or coffee with one of her church lady friends. She changed her share of diapers and helped the older children with homework.

     Oridnarily her husband, Hugh(Harry) would work the late shift at his job. He worked third shift at the PTC Bus Company in Philadelphia as a dispatcher until he was 62, retirement age.. He had been working there for almost thirty years. He slept during the day, and he worked the night shift. All the children had to keep quiet lest they wake up their father, and nobody wanted that since he was an awful grouch when he was awakened during the day.

     In fact, he was rarely in a good mood. When the kids arrived home from school, they were warned to keep it down. And don’t ever wake up your father, or you will regret it. As a result, the younger kids would get home from school and change their clothes. Then, they would go out to play until dinnertime. By then, their father would have gone to work, and it was safe to turn on the TV. And then Marie would get dinner started.

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

     Marie was a quiet woman and didn’t talk often. But, she was a good listener to all her children. She had a big heart and always had a kind word to say about everyone. She had worked hard all her life and never complained. When her youngest children ( my twin sister and I) were in high school, Marie got a job working in the kitchen at Wanamaker’s restaurant at the Moorestown Mall in New Jersey. She was working because her two youngest daughters( my sister and I ) attended a private, all-girls Catholic High School in Haddonfield, NJ. It was called Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy. And the tuition was relatively high. Marie never complained, no matter how tired or worn out she was. When she got home from work, after taking the bus from Moorestown, NJ, to home, Marie was exhausted and on her feet all day. She was sixty-two years old.. But, she would have to go home, get dinner ready, and do a load of washing. Yet, she still never complained. Her husband, Harry, was already at his night job and wouldn’t be home until late. He was only home for meals on his days off, except for Sunday morning when he was home. He would help Marie by making the toast. In contrast, she cooked breakfast for everyone and cleaned the kitchen and the old stove.

My father- 1960's

My father.

     Still, I know my parents did their best and loved each of us in their own way. From the outside, my family and my childhood were typical of every other child my age who lived in Maple Shade in the 1950s. My mother stayed at home in our early childhood until we graduated from elementary school and entered high school. My father somehow maintained a life of his own to some degree. In addition to working full-time at SEPTA, the bus company where he worked, he worked part-time at Johnny Marrow auto supply store on his days off. The Morrow lived over the auto-supply store. It was a small apartment. My father was a hard-working man, and I rarely saw him because of his sleeping during the day on account of his working nights. And then, on his days off, he worked a part-time job. In addition, my father played the horses at Cherry Hill race tract, and he played cards for money. He had a life that was somewhat disconnected from his family life. Still, I loved my father more than I could ever express, and I wanted nothing more than to feel that he loved me back. Somehow, I believed he did love me but did not know or have the ability to express his love to me or my fellow siblings in any concrete way.

     The experience that firmly assured me that my father indeed loved me occurred when I was twenty- years old, and I had been working full-time as a dental assistant for three years. I found a one-bedroom apartment in Haddonfield, New Jersey, somewhat coincidentally, as I also attended high school in Haddonfield at St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy. It was a beautiful town where primarily wealthy people lived. While I lived there, I made it a habit to visit the Haddonfield Library, which was within walking distance of my little one-bedroom apartment. In addition, I could walk downtown and visit all the beautiful little shops. I often walked by St. Mary’s, which brought back many memories, mostly good.

     After I moved to my apartment, my father paid me an unexpected visit. Luckily, I was home. He came in and looked all around and said very little to me. I could see he missed me and didn’t understand why I moved away from home. As a parent of grown children, I now understand how he felt. I feel sorrow if I hurt my parents by moving away, but at the time, I thought it was necessary for me to become independent and reliant on myself.

     Not long after, my oldest friend Joan Gioiella contacted me and asked me if I was interested in going out with her boy cousin, and I said yes. He was visiting his extended family in New Jersey, who lived in Philadelphia, Pa. And some that lived in New Jersey. And that my friends were the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I went out with her cousin, and over time, we wrote back and forth with each other for quite a long time. And before you knew it, I had decided that I was going to move to Florida to be near Bob.

Me and my siblings years ago.

     So, I packed up all my belongings that could fit in my almost brand-new 1970s Volkswagon and went on my merry way by car and auto train to West Palm Beach, Florida. Bob had found an apartment for me, and my friends were the beginning of a new chapter in my life. That chapter would take me across the country to California, and that is a whole new chapter. You can only imagine how distraught my parents were when I moved so far away from home.

SUNSHINE, HAIRCUTS AND MANICURES

It was 1974, and I was living in Jupiter, Florida. I didn’t know anyone there other than my husband, Bob, and his family. In the past, I had worked as a dental assistant, and for a high-risk auto insurance company in New Jersey for several years. However, I had difficulty finding a job in Florida because companies had a policy that you had to have been a Florida resident for at least six months before they would hire you. And I had only lived there two months since moving from New Jersey.

Fortunately, Bob’s cousin, Margie, had worked at an insurance company B.D.Cole. Margie said I could use her as a reference. So after two interviews, I was hired to work as an assistant for Elaine Ayoub. Who had worked at that office for years and was nearing retirement age. Elaine was having difficulty keeping up with the workload and had made some mistakes. So, they hired me to assist her.

Colonnades Hotel add 1970’s.. I’m under the blanket.

I was told to go through her outgoing work every day and make sure it was in order. It was a challenging job since I wasn’t up to date on all the insurance laws in Florida. And they were different from New Jersey. Elaine didn’t seem aware that I lacked the pertinent information, and she didn’t attempt to teach me what I needed to know. She had a somewhat imposing personality, and I was young and slightly intimidated by her.

After working at B.D. Cole, for about six months, Bob and I got married. We took a three-day honeymoon in Miami. Where it rained, cats and dogs the entire time. The hotel room’s roof leaked, and the water leaked non-stop over our bed for three days. It was a honeymoon that I would never forget, that’s for sure. Bob lost his wallet somehow, and he had no clue where it was. When we returned to our apartment in Lake Park, we found it on the driveway.

We had adopted a puppy we named Ullyses a couple of months before we were married. And we had put him in a kennel for three days while we were on our honeymoon in Miami. When we picked him up from the kennel, we discovered that he was infested with fleas,  as was our apartment. After three days, the fleas were extremely hungry and bit us from top to bottom. It was not a great beginning. We had to use a flea bomb to kill all the fleas and treat Ulysses, our puppy, to kill all fleas on him.

The following day when I went back to work at B. D., Cole, I was called into the main office. I was informed that I was being laid off. The company was downsizing. And so, after three days of marriage, a wet honeymoon, and being attacked by fleas on our return. I was once again without a job.

I spent the next several weeks trying to find another job with no luck. And I decided that I would go to a hairdressing school. I found out there was a school in West Palm Beach. It was called The Florida Beauty Academy. Looking back on this decision, I can not imagine what made me think I would be a great hairdresser. I never had a talent for styling my hair, nor did I have any experience.

 I began my training to become a hairstylist. It was a small school, and there were only about thirty students attending that year. The students were primarily young people. But there were two adult students who I believed were in their mid-fifties.

They stuck together because they were the same age. But, I became friends with one of them. Her name was Maggie Wassenen. I used to visit her in her home and became friends with her entire family. Her husband was a mailman. And he would often talk about the people he met along his route delivering mail. One of the things that I remember the most about her house was that they had a tree in their backyard where they grew both oranges and lemons. I didn’t know about grafting trees back then, and I thought it was some kind of magic.

Unfortunately, halfway through the hairdressing course, Maggie’s friend, the other adult student in the class, committed suicide because her husband left her. And Maggie became depressed for the remainder of our time there. She didn’t talk to me often after that.

As it turned out, I had a natural talent for cutting hair and giving perms. I was able to roll a perm in less than ten minutes. I found I liked coloring hair as well. Most of our customers were older women that lived in the West Palm Beach area. And occasionally, we would cut the hair of homeless people in West Palm Beach. I enjoyed talking to these people since they offered a view of life that I had been unaware of up to this point in my life.

One of my teachers Mr. Diego, taught me how to cut hair. He was such a kind and supportive person. He had moved to Florida from Cuba. He often shared his early experiences with me about what it was like moving from his country of origin to Florida.

The one experience I recalled disliking the most was nearly all the students and the teachers smoked. And they smoked in the student’s break room. And unfortunately, it was the only place where the students could sit down, eat and take a break from standing all day. The smoke was so dense that you could barely see who was in the room.

Occasionally  I took a walk down the street from the school and go to Walgreens to get a soda or some snack or eat breakfast. There wasn’t any smoking allowed so I could breathe some fresh air for a little while. One morning a woman who frequented Walgreens came over and asked me if I was a  nurse since I was wearing a white uniform.

I said, “no, I’m a hairdressing student at the Florida Beauty Academy down the street.” People were friendly back then and thought nothing of starting a conversation with someone they didn’t know. I realized how much I enjoyed meeting and talking to people that I wouldn’t ordinarily speak to in the past. It helped me to become a more outgoing and open-minded person.

Of course, some experiences were not so pleasant. Some people who came in to get their hair done hadn’t washed their hair or taken a bath in a long, long time. I wasn’t gifted with a great sense of smell, and my fellow students knew that. And I would often get more than my share of people with, shall we say, “stronger body odor” than others. Sometimes, these poor people also had lice. And when that happened, the whole place would have to be fumigated. And I don’t even want to describe the condition of their feet when I did pedicures.

The first customer I gave a manicure to had unbelievably long nails that they curled under, and she wanted them to get new polish. I was so astounded by the length of her nails I just stood there and stared at her nails for a couple of minutes. And I said, “Holy Mackerel.” And she just laughed and laughed. I cleaned her nails and painted her nails bright red.

While attending Cosmetology School, I volunteered three afternoons a week with a family in Palm Beach, Florida, whose two children had Cystic Fibrosis, an inherited lung disorder. They were about ten and twelve years old. They lived on Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, directly across from the ocean. Their house was immense. They had a chauffeur and a limousine, a cook, and a maid. Their mother taught me how to do clapping therapy on their backs to help them breathe better. Children with this disease did not often live to adulthood since no treatment was available at that time.

When I finished the course, I found out that it was tough to find a job as a hairdresser unless you knew someone that owned a salon. Eventually, after several months of applying to every hair salon in the area, I got a job at the Colonnades Hotel on Singer Island. It was owned by John D. MacArthur, one of the wealthiest men in the United States at that time. He was married to Helen Hayes, a famous actress at one time.

I was hired to do facials on wealthy clients who stayed at the Colonnades. I also used a machine that was called Panthermal.  They would lie inside this machine with their head sticking out, and the machine would heat up a liquid, and the steam would flow over them from their toes to their necks. It was supposed to help them lose weight. But I have no idea of how it would work or if it worked. But people paid a lot of money to get the Panthermal Treatment. I was making an astounding $3.00 an hour plus tips, which was almost unheard of at that time.

And one of the most pleasant surprises was when my older friend, Maggie Wassenen, was hired to do massages at the Colonnades Health Center. It was owned by a wealthy couple, the Zimmermans.

I worked at the Colonnades for over a year, and then my husband, Bob, decided he wanted to attend Brooks Institute for Photography in Santa Barbara, California. And we were off on another exciting adventure.

I found a job at St. Vincent’s School in Santa Barbara, working with disabled and mentally disabled children as a houseparent. It was one of the best experiences of my life. And the most satisfying.

To read more, enter your email address to Subscribe to my Blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.