Tag Archives: love

DON’T WAKE UP YOUR FATHER

1 Reply

     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.

TIME FLIES BY IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE

1 Reply

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

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

high school graduation picture

Susan Culver- high school graduation picture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

A SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE

1 Reply

Last night I heard the phone ringing as I was about to take a bath. I thought about ignoring it since it’s the first time all day that I was able to relax. And frankly, I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone else today. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to talk to anyone on the phone let alone in person. 

But at the last moment, I decide I better answer it. It might be important. But most likely it was someone trying to sell me something that I didn’t need or don’t want. So, I step out of the tub and grab a towel. I pick up the phone on the last ring I say, “Hello, hello is anyone there?”

“Oh, thank you for answering I have been trying to get ahold of you for several days. Are you Isabelle Trablaca?”

“Well, that was my married name, but I’m divorced now. I go by my maiden name Conway. What can I do for you?”

“My name is James Sarnow. You’re named as one of the people who will inherit property.”

“You’re kidding? I didn’t know anyone in my family had any property of value. And I have been out of contact with them for years. I can’t imagine who would leave me anything. I guess you could say I’m the black sheep of the family.

“As I was saying I was your Aunt Bernadette Conway’s attorney. She passed away recently. Your inheritance consists of a series of books, diaries of your Aunt. If you give me your address, I’ll send them to you tomorrow.”

“Diaries, what kind of diaries?”

“I believe they’re personal diaries that she kept throughout her life.”

“Really, I wonder why she left it to me? I haven’t seen her in years.”

“I’m sorry that is all the information I have about it. I’m sure you’ll understand after you read the diaries. She put a note in the final volume to your attention. You can text me your address.”

“Alright thank you, I will look forward to seeing them in the next few days. I have to go now.”

As I hung up the phone, I try to recall my Aunt Bernadette. I vaguely remember a tall thin woman, who was kind of high-strung and intense. Somewhat eccentric and energetic, yet often reclusive. She was estranged from the rest of the family. I think she left home at an early age because she got into some kind of trouble. And they lost contact with her. And here she is leaving me her diaries. I wonder why? I guess I’ll have to wait and find out what this is all about.

Frankly, I understand why she left. My father said his family was rather old-fashioned and did not forgive or forget easily, if at all. And if they didn’t agree with the decisions you made or forgive you for the mistakes made while you were young. They often felt Bernadette was out of control and overly emotional or at times, or completely withdrawn.

As a result, she left home right after high school. I don’t recall anything beyond that. I wonder if my father kept in touch with her over the years. He must have or she wouldn’t have known my name or my whereabouts.

I’ll just have to wait and find out what’s this is all about. Although I don’t like to think about the past too often. There are too many unfulfilled dreams and regrets. And being let down by people that should have been more accepting of me. Maybe that is why she left me her journals because she believed we were similar. In that, we often felt rejected and misunderstood. And we both made the decision to remove ourselves from our family’s criticism and rejection.

I have mixed feelings about any contact with anyone in my family.  In the past, it has always turned out to be a negative experience. I found that it was better for me and them if we just went our separate ways. When I first left home, it was a relief not having to worry about every single word and action. Wondering how they would interpret it. If they would take everything I said personally, even though most of the time it had nothing to do with them. I have to say it was really exhausting trying to pretend to be something I never was. Which was a happy-go-lucky person with no problems whatsoever.

The fact is I was an unhappy child and adolescent that never felt accepted by any of them. I hope the diaries would not bring all that rejection and loneliness back again. On the other hand, it might help if I find a kindred spirit in Bernadette. It would be somehow cathartic.

Here it is three days later, and as I walk toward my front door, I see a box on the front step. The return address is my Aunt’s lawyer. I unlock the front door and push the box through the front door with my foot. I have my hands full with a bag of groceries that I picked up at the food store on my way home from work.

As I close the door behind me, I stare at the box. I decide I need to fortify myself with a cup of coffee or maybe a stiff drink before I open the box and discover what kind of secrets are about to unfold before me.

The box is surprisingly heavy. I suppose a lifetime of memories can be a heavy burden for someone to carry around with them their whole lives. Especially if their lives were full of struggle and uncertainty. Not to mention unhappiness, it really weighs a person down.

There are six numbered journals. I look through them to find the final journal for the note that my aunt’s attorney told me about the other day. The journals are all bound in red leather. My Aunt’s name, Bernadette Conway is imprinted on the front cover of each volume.

They are beautifully bound and edged in gold leaf. The pages of the journals are heavy and even a single page has weight to it. As if the words written by hand in ink on each page carry the actual feelings of the author. I handle each page as if its value is incalculable and irreplaceable. Because they are. These words are the only remaining remnants of this woman’s emotions and all the experiences of the entirety of her lifetime.

In the days I waited to receive this gift I realize that my Aunt has left me something I should cherish as it was left to me and me alone. I’m responsible for the safekeeping of each volume. In essence, her life’s memories were left for me to learn from, to cherish, and to protect. And perhaps to share.

As I open the box I almost feel as if I could be opening Pandora’s Box and all the secrets good and bad will come flying out from those pages written over all the years of Bernadette’s lifetime. I take a deep breath and remove one book at a time.

BOOK 1- SQUARE PED IN A ROUND HOLE

I handle each volume with care. I open the first page and read the first sentence of each of the six volumes. Book One states in the first sentence,” I Bernadette Conway begin this journey to find not only who I am but what I am and why I have never felt I fit anywhere. I have always been a Square Peg in a Round Hole.

As I read this sentence, I recognize myself in her words. I have never felt like I comfortably fit anywhere as far back as I can remember. I come from a fairly large family unit consisting of my mother, father, a much older brother, and a sister. I had no siblings my age or near my age. My parents were in their early forties when I was born. I was unexpected, and I have always felt unwanted. Perhaps an unpleasant surprise.

My older siblings always seem so intertwined with each other. They shared years of history before I even came into the story. They were always talking about memories from their childhood or adolescence. And laughing at jokes that I did not get and they would never explain. When I would ask what Is so funny? They often said in unison, “Oh you wouldn’t understand.” And they wouldn’t explain any further.

My parents would laugh along with them. And say, “oh those were wonderful days, weren’t they? We had so much fun all the time.”

I always felt I was on the outside looking in through a foggy window. Not quite clear enough to understand what was going on inside while I remain firmly locked on the outside of the window.

One day while my parents and my brother and sister were sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch I said, “Mom, Dad do you have any stories about when I was a little girl that was funny?”

“Well, Bernie I’m sure there are a great many stories to tell about you. Do you remember anything from when you were little that was funny that you would like to tell us?”

I sat there for several minutes and stared at my parent’s faces. They had no expressions on their faces at all. I looked into their eyes and they revealed nothing to me.

“No, I can’t remember anything because I was little.  I do remember when Daddy took my favorite stuffed animal away from me and he said, “Bernadette you are a big girl now you don’t need this old stuffed animal anymore. And he took it and I never saw it again.”

“Well, Bernadette that isn’t a happy memory at all. Surely, you can remember one happy time?”

“No, I can’t. That’s why I ask you to remind me of those fun times.”

I always wished that I had a sister that was my age and she would play with me. And that we would have secrets that only we knew. In fact, sometimes I would pretend that I had a sister and talk to her when no one was around. “Mom, do you remember that I used to pretend that I had a sister my age?”

“Yes”, I remember.”My brother and sister said in unison. And they both laughed. “It was weird and we told you to stop pretending and make some real friends. And after a while, you stopped talking about your make-believe sister. You were always weird. It was embarrassing.”

“OK, that’s enough, Cindy and Charlie. Lots of kids have imaginary friends. It’s not weird. Little kids have big imaginations.”

“OK, mom if you say so.” Said, Charlie and he snickered.

I felt a tear run down my cheek. I look from my brother to my sister and my mother and I felt I was on the outside looking in again. And I knew that I still talked to that imaginary sister sometimes. And I always felt better afterward. I just never told my family about it. Or they would start picking on me again. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. Sometimes I felt really sad and alone but I never told anybody because they would just make fun of me.

And when they made fun of me, I would cry. And they would say you can’t say boo to Bernadette she such a big baby.

After a while my imaginary sister, her name was Angela became more real to me than my “real” brother and sister who seem to hate me. And who would do anything to get away from me.

This was about the time I decided it would be better not to tell people or let people see how I felt. Because they would just tell me to “stop acting like a baby.” And make me feel lonely. I just didn’t feel I fit in anywhere I was just a square peg in a round hole.

After I read this passage, I felt an aching in my stomach. It resonated with me. I can remember feeling like this when I was a child, alone and alienated from the people around me. I didn’t feel love or cherished or accepted. I was always on the outside looking in.

-Book 2-School Daze

I began to identify with Bernadette, I wondered what other similar experiences we shared. I decided to look at Book Two. Its title was School Daze. I imagine that this chapter would reflect Bernadette’s early school experiences. I hope they were better than mine.

Her story began, my mother started talking about my upcoming birthday in August. She said it was an important birthday because soon I would start going to school in September which was the next month. She didn’t send me to kindergarten because she felt I wasn’t ready for it yet. And maybe I wasn’t. But because I didn’t go to kindergarten with the rest of the kids, they all knew each other and had made lots of friends already. I didn’t know anyone. I have trouble making friends. I didn’t really know how to make friends.

My mother dropped me off at the schoolyard on the first day of school. She told me to find the kids that I had played with in my neighborhood. What she didn’t know and I’m not sure why she didn’t know was that I didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood. That when I went out to play, I was always alone. One day during the summer I saw some kids at the playground. I decided I would just join in without saying anything as if I belonged there.

They were playing kickball. I watched them play it before so I had a pretty good idea how it was played. It was something like soccer and something like baseball. I was good at hitting a baseball with a bat. I practice it in my backyard. But I had never played kickball. You have to hit the bigger ball with your feet. The whole game is played with your feet. Teems play against one another.

I jumped into the fray without telling anyone or asking what team I was playing on. I just jumped in and the ball came near me and I kicked it hard. It went flying. I started screaming “I got it, I got it.” I was jumping up and down excitedly. Some boy yelled, “who’s that, is she on your team?’”

“No, I never saw her before.”
“Hey, you can’t just start playing you have to be on a team.”

I got scared so I ran away. I never knew what I was supposed to do. I heard someone say, “what are you doing, don’t run away? Come back and join a team.” But, I didn’t. I felt stupid and I never tried to play again. I wished that I did run back and played with them and maybe things would have turned out differently. But unfortunately, I didn’t run back and join them to play. I wish that I had been braver, but I wasn’t brave. I was afraid of everything and everyone.

The rest of my school experience was the same.  If I had been able to make one friend, I would have been alright. But by the time I hit Middle School, I had a reputation as a weirdo. And the kids would laugh at me and call me names. Once you have a reputation of being different in school no one will befriend you. Because then they will be considered weird too. You become a pariah. High School was worse. Teenagers can be absolutely heartless and brutal with kids that are different, or fat, or homely or quiet like I was. Maybe they are afraid it will rub off on them or something.

The 3rd journal – THE WORKING STIFF

After high school, I got a job in an office as a filing clerk in a law office. The people who worked in the office were pleasant enough. But by that time, I was so entrenched in the idea that I was so different from everyone else that I didn’t even try to make friends with my office mates. I would have like to have a close friend. I wanted to date, and have a boyfriend. But my anxiety was at an all-time high, I became depressed and caught in a cycle that I didn’t know how to break.

Sometimes I would eat compulsively and other times I stopped eating much of anything. I would go home and sit in my room. My mother and father would ask how I was doing. I would just mumble an answer, they never asked me to repeat what I said. My mother asks if I was going out with friends. I didn’t have any friends. They seem to be completely clueless about what was or what wasn’t going on in my life. Sometimes, I didn’t even shower or wash my clothes after I wore them. Sometimes I would keep putting the same clothes on for weeks at a time.

In the second year of my job, I was called into the Human Resources office. When I arrived the woman who worked there said, “Bernadette, my name is Mary Ellen Saunders. I’m the head of personnel. Do you know why you were called into the office today?”

“No, I don’t. Are you going to fire me?” I always expected the worst possible outcome for every situation.

“What? No, of course not. But I do have to talk to you about a couple of problem areas. Your work ethic is fine, and you are doing a good job. But and I’m trying to be as delicate as I can here. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. You need to start taking an interest in your appearance and your health. Sometimes, you wear the same clothes over and over and you don’t appear to be aware of your personal hygiene. Some people in the office have complained about it. You will have to address these issues or there will be a problem. I feel bad about talking to you about this, but I’m trying to help you. Do you understand?”

I looked at her for a moment and then I said, “Yes, I’m sorry but please don’t fire me. This is the only job I’ve ever had. I will try to do better.”

“Bernadette, I hope you will. I feel you have the potential to do better. Please make yourself a priority. And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. I’m not a psychiatrist but I can’t help but think that you seem depressed. Do you know that as an employee here you have health insurance and access to psychological assistance? I want you to know that it is confidential, and many people feel the need for counseling at some point in their lives. Please let me know if I can help you if you need assistance in any way.”

After my discussion with Mary Ellen Saunders in personnel, I made an effort to wash and iron my clothes. I had a tendency to wear the same clothes each week. Because I felt comfortable and more myself in the same clothes. I took care to shower and wash my hair every couple of days. But I had to make myself do these things. Maybe somewhere deep down I didn’t think I deserved any better. Maybe at some level, I hated myself for the way I was. It was kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I became the weird person everyone told me I was since I was a kid.

But the thought that I might lose my job and the only good thing in my life shook me to the core. I started taking care of myself, eating right, being clean and tidy. And best of all I made an effort to talk to the people in the office where I had worked for years., People in the office started talking to me. As a result, I was asked to go out to lunch occasionally and office mates started smiling at me instead of looking away.

The 4th Journal- LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED

I know Love is all you need is a song title of the Beatles. I’ve been told many times. But truth is truth. Love is all you need in life. Even in the most difficult times, when money is scarce, and the times are hard. If you have love you can make it through. I had a difficult time accepting that I was worthy of love. Because my past experience within my family taught me over and over again that they didn’t think I was worth loving. I didn’t even love myself. That is why I stopped taking care of myself.

But once I accepted that I was a person of value and substance and that I deserved love. I opened myself up to believe in the possibility that someday, somehow, I would find love, and love would find me. And when that happened I would grab it would both hands and never let it go.

As things at my job improved and people that worked with me saw me as a good person who had some problems. They began being kind, friendly and I returned their kindness with acceptance. And I began to make friends. Occasionally I even went out. And then one day, loved walked into my office and stepped up to my desk, and introduced himself. “Hello, my name is Frederica, but everyone calls me Freddy. Are you Bernadette?”

“Yes, I’m Bernadette. What can I do for you?”

“I was just hired to work here and your boss said that you would show me the ropes.”

“She did? Sure, I’ll show you around. What did you want to see first?”

“What? I don’t know. What do you think Bernadette?”

“I think we should walk down to the cafeteria and have some coffee and I’ll give you the lowdown on everyone here. And you can tell me what experience you have and what you hope to accomplish here?”

“Have a seat, Freddy, it will be my treat since you’re the new guy. Do you like your coffee strong and hot as hell? Because that’s what they serve here. They want everyone here to be super caffeinated.”

“Sounds perfect.” As Freddy waited, he looked around the employee cafeteria and he noticed that the occupants were an equal amount of men and women of all ages. He felt he would fit in here just fine.

“Here you go Freddy, strong and hot. And as a first-day surprise a blueberry muffin. Enjoy.”

“Thanks so much. How about telling me about your experience here.”

“Well believe it or not I started here right after high school. I was kind of shy and kept to myself for a long time, but recently I made an effort to get to know the people that work here. And guess what? In general, they are friendly and helpful, and kind. Of course, there’s always a jerk in every workplace. But I leave that up to you to figure out who that is.

“I think you will find it be challenging work, but satisfying. I think it is really up to you how far you want to make it up the corporate ladder. Some employees here work enormous amounts of overtime. I don’t. I give a 100% while I’m here. But when I go home, I don’t think about it until the next morning as I go through the front door of our building.”

“Sounds about right, I do hope that it is challenging and satisfying, but I certainly don’t entertain the idea of working here until 10:00 every night.”

“Well, I guess your family wouldn’t appreciate you working every night, would they?”

“Oh, I don’t have a family yet, I’m single. Someday hopefully.”

“Oh, me too, single I meant. I haven’t really been in any serious relationship yet.”

We smile at one another and within those smiles was hope. Hopefully a promise of the future for us together. And over time that hope grew and grew into a reality and a future together.

5th Journal- HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

No matter what path I took or how far I traveled eventually I would go back home. Not to my childhood home, but to the home Freddy and I created. And home was not a place. It was Freddy. I always returned to him. We eventually married and we lived together our entire adult lives. We were not the perfect couple. But we both found a home in each other’s hearts and would always live there. We found acceptance and appreciation, love and joy. We did not have a perfect union. We were not perfect, but we fit together like puzzle pieces, joined but separate. We had our ups and downs, and disagreements. Love always brought us together again eventually. We considered having children but, in the end, we decided that the two of us were enough.

6th Journal-THE FINAL CHAPTER

Life is a journey and along the way, if you are lucky, you find love, happiness, and contentment in your life. But have no doubt you must make a mindful decision that love, happiness, and contentment are priorities. And the first love is self-love. Not to the exclusion of all others but before you can love and accept people into your life you must learn to love and accept yourself. You must acknowledge that we as humans make mistakes along the way. And we must learn how to learn from our mistakes and forgive them and move on. And once you have learned to forgive yourself for your faults and missteps in life you can do the same for all those people who are in your orbit during your life.

Once you are able to forgive you will feel lighter, the weight of anger will be lifted from your heart. And once I learned to forgive myself, I was able to forgive the other people in my life who had hurt me. And that is when I opened my life and my heart and I was able to allow Freddy to come into my life and fill my heart with love instead of anger and resentment towards myself.

Freddy and I had a wonderful life together with joy and happiness. I’m not saying every day was perfect or that we never said an unkind or thoughtless remark to one another. But we made a conscious commitment to forgive one another and let the little stuff go. We had time to travel the world and make friends. We also made the decision that wherever we went that place would be better for us having been there.

The final page in the sixth journal was a personal note to me.

Isabelle, the reason that I have left these diaries to you is that I realized when I first met you that you were struggling with many of the same issues that I had as a young person. You felt different from everyone around you. And you felt disconnected because of those differences.

I know my advice comes a little late, but perhaps it comes at a time when you are more open to looking at life with an open mind, and mature enough to see that your life can improve. But you must be willing to make the changes that will bring you the happiness I know that you have been looking for your whole life.

I’m not telling you that you have to change who you are, you do not. You are perfect the way you are. You only need to know and accept yourself. And the people around you will feel the change and realize that you are a person that they want to be a part of their lives. Forgive yourself for whatever mistakes or any decisions that you may have made in the past. And move forward without that useless baggage.

Happiness and love are waiting for you just on the other side of that door. Open your heart to people and they will welcome you with open arms. I promise you.

 

As I read my Aunt’s diaries, I felt my heart felt lighter and the knot that I felt in my stomach slowly loosened. For the first time in my life, I felt hope.

And the hope that sprung up in my heart helped me to deal with my anxiety and cope with adversity. It brought me a feeling of well-being and happiness.

And for the first time, I felt motivated to create a positive change in my life. I was able to start setting goals for myself and my life began to improve a little bit each day.

Hope can make a difficult situation more bearable and ultimately improve your outlook on life. Take one day at a time and slowly open your life to the people around you. Life is waiting for you on the other side of that door.

 

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

THE STILL OF THE NIGHT WHEN THE MOON FLOWER BLOOMS

1 Reply

Late one night I received a call from my mother’s next-door neighbor, Amanda Cummings. I remember it so well it was late, nearly eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night. I was just getting out of the bathtub when I heard the phone ringing. I let it ring. I mean who wants to talk to anyone at 11:00 PM. I don’t. It’s either a wrong number or bad news. Let’s face it no one wants to hear bad news right before they go to bed.

NIGHT GARDEN

I figure after the phone rang four or five times most people would give up. But not this late-night call. They let it ring ten times because that is when I picked up the phone. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. And I said out loud to no one in particular. “this better be good because it’s 11:00 and I was just getting ready for bed.” I pick up the phone, “Hello?”

“I apologize for calling so late, this is Amanda Cummings.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know any Amanda Cummings. I’m tired can you please tell me why you’re calling. I have to go to work in the morning.”

“I’m your mother’s next-door neighbor and a good friend of hers. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you but I couldn’t find a recent phone number. I finally got in touch with an old school friend of yours, Sara Rice. Luckily, she has kept in contact with you and had your home phone number.”

“OK, so what’s the problem, does my mother need to be bailed out of jail? If so, you called the wrong person I’m not doing that anymore. I can’t handle her drinking and self-destructive lifestyle anymore. I made that clear the last time I spoke to her over ten years ago. I told her not to contact me ever again. I meant it.”

NIGHT GARDEN

There was a moment of silence and I could hear her take a deep breath. “No, it’s nothing like that. I have some difficult news for you. She took another deep breath and then sighed. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your mother passed away several days ago, unexpectantly.”

“She passed away, what are you talking about she wasn’t even sixty years old yet?”

“It appears as if she had a stroke, apparently she had high blood pressure. Anyway, we held off holding the funereal and the services until we could get ahold of you. And as I said that took several days. Do you believe you’ll be able to make it to the services in two days?”

“No, I mean yes. Of course, I will make it home. I will have to speak to my boss in the morning and take leave for a few days. She is my mother after all, even though we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Do you know of any other relatives that would want to attend the services?”

“Honestly, I don’t. My mother was an only child. So, there were no cousins I knew of. My grandparents passed away years ago. And as I said, she had a drinking problem and if she had any relatives, they lost contact a long, long time ago. I guess I’m the only family. I suppose it will be a small service considering my mother’s addiction issues.”

“Actually, your mother has or had a large group of friends, she was involved in many community services and she volunteered at the grade school as an aide. She ran a kitchen that fed the needy in our community lunch and dinner for the last eight years. And then, of course, there was the community garden. She started it and trained all the volunteers and that is where the kitchen got all the fruits and vegetables. And then of course there was her personal garden. Oh, how she loved to work in her garden. Every year people took tours of the town’s most beautiful gardens. And hers was always on the list of most requested.”

“Wait a minute are you sure you are talking about my mother, friends, community services, and volunteer with kids? And also gardening, you must be mistaken?”

“No, I’m not mistaken. After your mother stopped drinking, she became well, a whole new person. Or perhaps the person she was always meant to be. She is, I mean was one of the kindest, most generous women, I ever met. I can’t tell you how much she will be missed. Not just by me, but everyone in town.”

“Well, that doesn’t even sound like the woman I knew or the mother I had. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I wish that woman was around for all the years I grew up alone, afraid, and often hungry. But as I said I will be there for the services. I will call you back tomorrow after I speak to my boss. Can you give me your cell phone number? Oh, this is your cell phone number. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

MOON LILY

Two days later I was in my car and on my way home to attend my mother’s funereal services. I felt numb, it all just seemed unreal. I stopped thinking about my mother ten years ago the last time I saw her. I bailed her out of jail and yet another drunken-driving accident, where a passenger in her car was seriously injured. I told her to lose my phone number I never wanted to hear from her or see her again. My whole life growing up was one catastrophe after another. Having my mother in my life was an invitation to a life of chaos and stress.

Over time I just stopped talking to her. I have no good memories to reminisce about. All my memories were painful to contemplate. All of them, I didn’t have a single good memory. And now I never would. I wish she had contacted me after she got sober. Maybe she was afraid she would relapse, I don’t know. But I can’t go back in time. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive to my mother’s house. I got a late start because I had to go to my office and tie up some loose ends. It was dark when I arrived.

When I pulled up to the curb in front of her house, I saw a light in the kitchen but the rest of the house was dark. As I opened the car door and step out, I took a deep breath. My memories of this house and the years that I spent there were not good ones. An absentee father and my mother who was there physically but her mind and her spirit were absent.

I was a lonely child. I was afraid to ask friends to come to my house. I couldn’t let them see the condition my mother was in or the downright filth we lived in. The kids and the adults would point at me when they saw me and shake their heads. No one ever reached out to me. No one tried to help me or ask me if I was hungry. Not even my teachers and they must have known something bad was happening in my home. My clothes and hair were always dirty. There were winters when I didn’t have a coat that fit me. I never had lunch money. I was often hungry. No one ever asks me if I was alright.

I pull into the driveway. I left my suitcase in the car. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in the house. I steeled myself for the possible nightmare I was about to enter. As I walk up the sidewalk, I notice that the sidewalk is spotless. The grass looks as if had been cut recently. There weren’t piles of unread newspapers strewn across the yard. There was a light shining next to the front door which wasn’t decorated by spiderwebs that I remembered as a child. I took a deep breath.

I knock at the door. No answer. I take my cell phone out of my purse and called Amanda Cummings. She answers on the first ring. “Hello Rebecca, where are you?”

“I’m at my mother’s door as we speak. Can you come over?”

“Alright, I’ll be right there. I just have to throw my robe and slippers on.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I look up at the sky as I wait for Amanda. It’s a clear night and the night sky is generously sprinkled with luminous stars. The night sky always had a calming effect on me. As a child, I used to sneak out of my room at night and sit in the back yard and say “twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are? Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, Twinkle little star, How I wonder what you are.” Every night I wished that my mother would be like all my friend’s mothers and that I had a father that would tuck me into bed at night and tell me, I love you, Becky. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.

But my wish never came true. My mother never became the perfect mother that I dreamed she should be and my father. Well, my father never appeared at my bed and told me I was such a wonderful daughter and how much he loved me.

I felt even more alone now, an orphan at thirty-five. And at that moment, I heard a voice behind me say, “Rebecca, it’s me Amanda I didn’t want to startle you. Would you like to go to the house? Are you planning on staying here? “

“Staying here, oh I don’t think so. I made a reservation at a nearby hotel.”

“Oh, well I understand, I just wanted to meet you and give you the information about the funereal and the wake. I hope this doesn’t further upset you but your mother left instructions in her will that she wanted the wake to be held here at the house the day of the funeral after dark in the back yard.”

“At night in the backyard? Well, isn’t that out of the ordinary? I thought most people have the wake after the funeral at a restaurant or a close friend’s house?”

“That’s true Rebecca but as I said this was a special request by your mother and I promised I would fulfill her final wish. I think you will better understand why at the time of the wake. I’m not trying to mysterious, but as I said I’m trying to fulfill her final wish.”

“OK, no problem I’ll text you the name of my hotel. If there is anything I’m supposed to do before then?”

“No, but your mother did ask if you would speak at the funeral.”

“What? No way. I can’t possibly do that. What would I say, I had a terrible childhood? And I have no good memories. She was the worst kind of mother.”

“Well, no, of course not. But don’t you have even one good memory of her that you would like to share?”

“I’ll try and think of one, but if I have any good memories, they are few and far between them. I’ll let you know if any come to mind.”

“OK, I’ll give you a call tomorrow afternoon with any updates. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. I know I’m a stranger to you, but I would like to say something to you.

Your mother and I have been close friends for many years. She was a woman who struggled to gain her sobriety. And once she did, she talked about you every time I saw her. She told me she was a terrible mother and you had every right not to ever want to see her again. But she loved you very much and she wanted to reach out to you. But kept her promise to you to leave you alone. And the reason was that she had broken every other promise she made to you and didn’t want to break the last promise she made.”

Rebecca tried not to allow any emotion to show. She promised herself she would not shed one tear for her mother. “Oh, alright I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I want to go to the hotel to get something to eat, take a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. But if you change your mind, or I can help you in any way, let me know.”
Rebecca said, “alright good night I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you for all that you are doing. You have obviously been a faithful friend to my mother.”

“Good night then, drive carefully.”

When Rebecca arrives at the hotel, she checks in and brings her suitcase up to the room. And she freshens up and takes the elevator down to the dining room and orders a hamburger and fries. It’s her go-to meal when she was stressed out. She knows it’s unhealthy but it’s the one unhealthy thing she eats. And it calms her down for some reason.

As she was sitting there eating her last fry, she had a sudden rush of memory. She was young perhaps six or seven and she was in a Mcdonald’s eating a hamburger and French fries and her smiling mother was sitting across from her eating the adult version of burger and fries. Her mother used to take her out on Friday night and they would eat at McDonald’s. How could she have forgotten that? A tear slowly descended her face down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

It was the first time in years that she thought of her mother in any other way than a negligent alcoholic mother. What else had she forgotten about her?

The next morning, she texted Amanda and told her she changed her mind and wanted to say a few words about her mother after all. Amanda was surprised but pleased.  “Oh, that is good news I know your mother would love that. She lived with such guilt about you and your childhood.”

The service at the church was short. The minister spoke about her mother in glowing terms saying how she had fought so hard to get sober and stay sober and of all the people who she had helped to stop drinking. And the years following when she worked tirelessly at the school, within the community, and in the community garden. How later in life she became a model citizen and an example to all that is possible to turn your life around if you make a commitment to do so. Even though it continued to be a struggle throughout your life.

Many people came up to speak about their experiences with her mother. Each of them explained how they had struggled with addiction and how she supported them and helped them go into recovery. She was always willing to come out and help them no matter the time of day or if she had previous plans.

Amanda wished that she had the opportunity to get to know the woman that her mother had ultimately become. She knew it was too late now but still she felt proud of her mother for overcoming adversity and moving to the other side. She was glad she had made the decision to come here to her funeral. She felt it was a deeply healing experience for her.

After the service, many people came up to her and shook her hand, and told her how wonderful her mother was to them. How kind and generous with her time and energy. Amanda came over to her and hugged her. “Please Rebecca come to your mother’s house this evening at about 7:45. Go to the back yard I promise you that you will not regret it. “

“Alright, I will I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning so I can’t stay late. I’ll see you then.”

When it was almost time to go to her mother’s house Rebecca started to have cold feet. It had been so long since she had been inside her childhood home. There were so many bad memories there. At the last moment, she decided that she needed to let go of those bad memories and replace them with good memories she didn’t know what she would see in her mother’s garden at night. But she wanted to go see it.

Perhaps she would be able to find some peace now if she let go of her anger at her mother and forgave her. And try to accept that her mother had flaws and made some big mistakes but she had turned her life around and apparently did a great deal of good in the last years of her life. And so, she changed her clothes and drove to her mother’s house. She expected to see a lot of cars and many people but the only person she saw was Amanda.

“Oh, Rebecca I’m so happy you came. Let’s go over to the back gate I want to turn on some lights so you can see all the beauty that your mother created, not just in growing fruits and vegetables for all the hungry people in the area. But it creating a peaceful place for people to come and relax and enjoy the quiet and the beauty. Come on I know that you will just love it.”

“Alright, I can’t imagine what there is to see in the dark in her backyard. But I’m curious that is for sure. Let’s go.” Rebecca followed Amanda to the back gate. It was pitch black. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her. And then Amanda opens the gate and switched on some small twinkling lights and they walked through the gate and into something magical.

It was a garden of night-blooming plants lit up by twinkling lights with paths that ran from one end of the garden to another with connecting paths. It was so beautiful it was truly something breathtaking. Rebecca was overwhelmed by what she saw. The aroma was amazing. Tears ran down her cheeks and Rebecca was smiling and crying at the same time. In front of her was a sign that said, REBECCA’S NIGHT GARDEN. Created with love.

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

California Dreaming

1 Reply

It was in the Spring of 1976 when my husband Bob and I moved from Jupiter, Florida to California. Bob decided that he wanted to become a professional photographer. And to that end, he had applied to Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, California. We were living in Jupiter, Florida at the time. He was put on a waiting list for two years.

This is me and co-worker Stacy Smitter at St. Vincent’s in 1976

During the time that we waited to move to California, I worked at Colonnades Health Center on Singer Island. It was located in a hotel owned by John D. Mac Arthur. America’s second-richest man, owner of a $1 billion empire of insurance companies, land in eight states, including 100,000 acres in Florida, and investments as varied as Alamo car rental and MacArthur Scotch.

I was working at a spa, giving facials to wealthy people from all over the world. I often saw Mac Arthur while I was sitting at the reception desk in the Spa. There was a huge window on the wall facing the reception area. And an Olympic size pool just on the other side of the window and MacArthur would walk around the pool area or sitting at the poolside with his nurse. He was nearly eighty at the time and quite frail-looking. But he still admired the beautiful ladies lying out in the sun.

One day his nurse brought him into the spa for a massage and a facial. Luckily, I didn’t give massages only facials. I knew he was the owner of the hotel and a wealthy man. However, I treated him the same as any other client with respect and kindness.

I was paid about four dollars an hour while I worked at the Colonnades Health Center which was considered to be quite generous in 1976. As the minimum wage pay was $2.30 an hour at the time. So, I was able to save all the money I made during the two years that I worked there. And we had enough money for our trip to California and rent for a year. And in addition, I purchased a van for Bob and a tripod for his view camera that was required at Brooks Institute.

We were notified by Brooks Institute when Bob would be able to begin his classes. So, Bob gave his employers Pratt and Whitney United Technologies his notice. At that time, he was working as a New System Coordinator for IBM components.

These are some of my kids at St. Vincent’s during Special Olympics

I will always remember the trip across the country from Jupiter, Florida to Santa Barbara. The only other trip I took across the country was when I moved from New Jersey to West Palm Beach Florida. I took the Auto Train from Lorton, Virginia to Sanford, Florida by myself. I was twenty-two at the time. It was a twenty-four-hour train ride. I never traveled anywhere except to the shore in Southern New Jersey.

Bob and I enjoyed our trip across the country. It wasn’t until I took that trip, I realized how big America was and how beautiful. Bob drove his 1969 Ford Econoline van and towed my 1970 yellow VW behind us. There were great expanses of unoccupied, undeveloped open land from Florida to California at the time. It was amazingly beautiful and unspoiled. It took us about ten days to drive to Santa Barbara from Florida.

Bob and I ended up renting a duplex in Lompoc, which was located in the mountains.

We lived there for about a year and then we rented an apartment in Carpentaria. They raised the rent and we had to move again and we found a place in Santa Barbara.

Two of the children in my group at St. Vincents

I found a job in Santa Barbara at Robinson’s Department Store. I worked there for a year. I sold hats and wigs. And if there was a job more boring than that one, I don’t want to know about it. I met a young woman my age while I was working there she told me she volunteered at a school called St. Vincent’s. She worked with mentally handicapped children. The more she talked about it, the more I wanted to work there. I loved kids and it sounded like the perfect job for me.

I did not hear from St. Vincent’s. So, after a week I started calling them every day for a month. After a month, they called me in and hired me. About a week later I started working a split shift from 6 am until 9 am and then the 3-11 PM shift five days a week. My title was houseparent. I was in charge of eighteen girls ages twelve to seventeen. In the morning I woke them up, supervised them while they got dressed, ate breakfast, made their beds, and got ready for school. I had to dispense any meds that they were on as well. The school was on the grounds. When it was time for school, I escorted them to school and then went back to the dorms and cleaned the kitchen, and made sure the bathrooms and dining area were in order.

In the afternoon I returned and walked over to the school on the other side of the campus and brought the kids back to the dorms after they were dismissed from school. On the way back to the dooms the kids would all attempt to tell me about their day and what kind if any homework they had to do. When we got to the dorms, they would change to their play clothes and do chores. I would check in on them to see how they were doing. And if they completed their chores, I would put a star on their star charts. Star charts were used as a behavioral modification to reinforce good behavior rather than punishing bad behaviors. It was quite effective for most of the children.

Special Olympics at St. Vincent’s School

If all the chores were completed, I would go to the office downstairs and sign out a van, and take all the kids out to go hiking or some kind of outside activity. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how much I enjoyed spending time with these kids. How much fun I had with them. And how much I came to love them. When we returned from our outings the kids would set the table for dinner and then watch TV or play games. On my day off I would take one of the kids out for the day and they would spend it with them. Sometimes, my husband, Bob would go with us. It was great fun and truthfully, they became family to me.

After dinner, the kids that had homework would do it. And the rest would begin getting showers and then watch TV the rest of the night. I would watch TV with them and we would all lie on the floor with pillows. What stands out in my memory the most is that all the kids wanted to lie on the floor close enough to me so that they could touch my hand or my shoulder. I understood that they missed the loving touch of their mothers, fathers, and siblings. And I was the closest thing they had to a family now at St. Vincent’s school.

On Sundays, the kitchen at St. Vincent’s was closed and I had to prepare their breakfast, lunch and dinner, and dessert for them. I would take one of the vans and take the kids out for the day. If it was summertime, I would take them swimming at the pool at the apartment complex where I lived. It was only about a ten-minute drive. If it was wintertime, I would drive them up to the mountains to play in the snow. It was great fun. We would sing on the bus trip to and from wherever we were going.

Shawna Stutzman one of the kids in my group at St. Vincents

Sometimes I wonder how I wasn’t overwhelmed by the responsibility of taking care of eighteen teenagers. But really, I wasn’t. I loved them through and through. I didn’t see their physical or mental shortcomings. I saw wonderful young girls who wanted to have fun and friends just like any other kids would want.

Of all the jobs I’ve had over my lifetime, this was the one that I enjoyed the most and looked forward to going to every day that I worked there. I never had another job where I felt more needed, more appreciated, and more loved.

They are the ones whose faces I can still summon up from my memory of long ago. If there is a time in my life that I would like to live over again, it would be this time with those wonderful girls who loved unconditionally and put everything they could to do as well as they were capable of doing. I often wondered what became of those kids? What kind of adults they grew into, were they able to support themselves? Did any of them live independently, get married, and have children?

I wrote them for a year or two after I moved back to New Jersey and some of them were able to write me back. Although they needed assistance from the house parents that cared for them. My time at St. Vincent’s was one of the best experiences in my entire life. And California will always be a place that I loved more than any place I lived in before or since.

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

Aisling’s Umbrella

1 Reply

“Yes, can I help you miss?”

“Help me?”

Watermelon Umbrella

Annalise Art -Pixabay

“Yes, are you looking for something in particular?

“Of course, I am. I’m looking for a bonny umbrella.”

“A Bonny umbrella? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that brand.”

“Brand? It’s, not a brand. What I was trying to say is that I’m looking for a beautiful umbrella.”

“Oh, yes of course. Can you describe to me what your idea of a bonny umbrella would look like?”
“Yes, I would like it to be bright red and have large multi-colored dots on it.”

“Well, that really is quite specific. Nothing comes to mind at the moment, but let me show you a few that you might like.”

A couple of minutes later the shop owner walks back to the counter with several umbrellas and places them carefully on the counter. “Well, here are all the red umbrellas that I have in stock.”

“Oh no, these won’t do. It really must have large multi-colored dots on it and have a wood handle.” The young woman picks up each umbrella and studies it from top to bottom. Oh dear, oh dear I just don’t think any of these will work. And this is the last store in the city that sells umbrellas. And I absolutely have to have to purchase the umbrella today. She picks up one umbrella after the other, and finally chooses a red umbrella that looks like a watermelon slice.

“Well, actually this one is unusual and humourous. Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I can be quite inflexible. I’ll take this one and I’ll come to love it.”

” Oh, yes of course. Shall I wrap it up for you?”

“No, I’ll just carry it. How much do I owe you?”

“That will be fifty dollars even.”

“Do you take credit cards?”

“Of course.”

“Here you are.” She hands the shop owner her credit card.

“Aisling O’Cabri, that’s an unusual name.”

“Yes, I was named after my great-great-grandmother who came from Down Patrick a small town in Northern Ireland which is about twenty miles south of Belfast. The name Aisling was often the name of a beautiful woman in Irish poetry. And from what I’ve been told about my maternal grandmother she was one of the most beautiful women to come out of Down Patrick.

She met my great-great father on a boat from Ireland that landed on Ellis Island in New York at the turn of the century about 1905. I have a picture of her it is somewhat faded and of course, it is black and white. She had long dark curly hair down to her waist and pale blue eyes.”

“Well Miss, I hope you don’t mind me saying so. But you could be describing yourself.”

“Thank you. When I was a little girl, my great-great-grandmother was quite old. Probably in her late eighties. And I thought she was the most beautiful woman I saw. I loved spending time with her. She told me stories about the “old country”. She still had a slight Irish lilt when she spoke. I would beg her to tell me one story after the other. Just to hear her speak.”

“You were lucky to have such a wonderful relationship with your grandmother.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. She told me about all her experiences. How she and many of her generation from Ireland came to America because they were starving in Ireland during the potato famine. How when she met my great-great-grandfather on the ship she took from Ireland to New York. It was love at first sight. They ended up getting married and moving to Philadelphia. Oh, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m wasting your time telling you about my family history. You must have work to do.”

“Actually, it’s fascinating. And besides, I own this store. I’m filling in for one of my employees this morning. His wife gave birth to their first child yesterday. And he asked if he could have the morning off. He should be here any minute. I would love to hear more about your family. I don’t really have a family history that I know about since I grew up in foster care. My parents died in a car accident when I was four.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that’s terrible. And here I am prattling on and on about my family history.”

“What? Oh no, as I said I loved hearing about it. In fact, I hope you won’t think this is too forward of me. Would you like to go out to lunch with me? Oh, wait, for all I know you’re married.”

“Married no. Free as a bird. I would enjoy that. Do you know any nice restaurants in this part of town? Oh, what am I talking about of course you do? You have a business here.”

“Aisling, do you mind me calling you that? What kind of food do you like?”

“Of course, you can call me Aisling. I love Italian food. Especially pizza.”

“Really, well there is a great pizza place within walking distance. I‘ll just put a sign on the door closed until one o’clock. Jeremy will be back at the store by then. So I’ll lock up and we can be on our way. I’ll grab my jacket.”

“I just realized I don’t even know your name. What is your name?”

“Oh, you’re right. I didn’t tell you my name. It’s Alexander, but everyone calls me Alex.”

As they walk down the street Aisling notices a young woman walking a dog. “Oh, look at that little dog isn’t he adorable? I love dogs. I haven’t had one since I was a young girl. We had a dog named Ulysses; he was a mutt. But I loved him all the same. I was crushed when he died and we never got another dog.”

“I have always wanted a dog too, but I live in an apartment. And he would be alone all day.”

Aisling looks over at him and smiles and he smiles back. Up until that moment, she hadn’t thought about how he looked. As he smiles back at her she realizes he is one of the most attractive men she has met in a long, long time.  Suddenly It starts to spit, and then downpours. Aisling quickly opens her new umbrella and says, “quick get under here and we’ll run for it.”

Alexander calls out, “that’s the restaurant right on the corner, Anthony’s Pizza. They enter the restaurant a little wet and out of breath. “Well, that was unexpected. It wasn’t supposed to rain today.”

“Well, I knew it was going to rain that’s why I came into your shop. The last time it rained it was so windy that my umbrella turned inside out.”

“Aisling the day that your umbrella turned inside out was the luckiest day for me. Otherwise, I would never have met you. Since I so rarely work in one of my shops. And today is the second luckiest day when you walked into my shop to buy a new umbrella. So, what would you like to eat?”

“Well, how about a double cheese pizza with the works?”

“What? But that’s my favorite too. How about you continue telling me your family history? I would truly love to hear everything about you?”

“Really? Alright, where did I leave off?”

“Tell me more about your great-grandmother and your relationship with her. And I was wondering if you have ever gone to Ireland to visit and find your roots?”

“No, no I haven’t but I would love to do that. Visit the old sod so to speak. Oh, my grandmother had a quirky sense of humor and she loved to play jokes on people. She also liked to dress up in weird costumes and surprise me. She was so much fun to be around. I’ve never met anyone like her. I was so lucky to have been able to spend as much time with her as I did.”

“Oh, she sounds like a woman I would have loved to have known.”

“Oh, I know you would have loved her. Whenever she was around, she had people laughing. Sometimes she would make me laugh so hard I would have tears running down my cheeks. When I was little, she would pick me up and twirl me around and sing at the top of her voice. She would make fun of herself or make funny faces. Sometimes when she took me out shopping or out to lunch she would start talking with a thick accent to the waiter. And then I would start talking with a different accent. And then we would both break out in peals of laughter. And the waiter would stare at us for a moment or two. And the next thing you know he would be laughing as well. You know how laughing can be contagious?”

“Yes Aisling, I remember that when I was young my friends and I would start laughing and then couldn’t stop and would be laughing and crying at the same time. I wonder why as we grow up; we stop having fun and laughing as we did as children?”

“Well Alex, I can only answer for myself and that is because sometimes I take everything too seriously. And you know I think I started being too serious after my grandmother passed away. I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to stop being happy and laughing. I’m going to do my best from now on to enjoy life and laugh more.”

“Aisling, I’m sure your grandmother would have wanted you to laugh, and have fun and find love.”

“You’re right that’s exactly what she would have wanted. She would want me to be happy, Alex. It turns out that the fact that it rained today and that my old umbrella turned inside out was the best thing that ever happened to me. First, I met you and bought this beautiful umbrella. And I realized that what I was missing most in my life wasn’t an umbrella it was laughter and joy.”

“And Aisling, I found you. And you have brought joy and happiness into my life.”

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

TOMORROW

2 Replies

When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me every day that tomorrow may never come, enjoy today. I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I was afraid to ask? Perhaps she knew something that I didn’t know. Did I have some sort of terminal illness that I didn’t know about? Can she see into the future, and knows I’m going to die in some sort of horrible accident? I was a shy and nervous child.

Little girl eating ice cream -Pixelbay by Lucas

I ‘m preoccupied with worrying about what terrible event might take place tomorrow. I’m easily startled. If someone comes up behind me and says boo, I ‘ll jump and shake and then scream at the top of my lungs. After the kids at school found out how I was easily startled, they would sneak up behind me at least once a day and yell boo. And then all of my classmates would all start laughing. After a while, I didn’t want to go to school anymore.

My mother made me go to school. She comes into my bedroom and kneels down next to my bed and whispers, “Darlene, it’s time to wake up for school. You don’t want to be late, do you? If I don’t wake up right away, she starts tapping my shoulder, “Darlene, Darlene, wake up, wake up.” You’re going to be late.” Her final attempt, she yells as loud as she can,” DARLENE, GET UP, NOW.”

I jump out of bed, and then she whispers, “Enjoy your day, Darlene, tomorrow may never come.”

I started having difficulty sleeping because I don’t want my mother to come into my room and waking me up. I’m so tired of not sleeping. I have an even more difficult time waking up. And when I do wake up, I worry about what’s going to happen to me. It’s all I can think about. Will I get hit by a car, run over by a bus, trampled by the boy’s football team if I didn’t get off the field fast enough, or choke to death on a hotdog. The possibilities are endless.

I’m failing all my classes in school. I’m so exhausted from not sleeping at night that I fall asleep at my desk. My teacher sends me to the school nurse several times a week. She’s a kind woman. She lets me lie down on the cot in her office, and says, “Darlene, can you tell me what’s going on at home? Is someone hurting you?”

“No, Mrs. Pritchett no one is hurting me. I have trouble falling asleep. Sometimes, I fall asleep but I can’t stay asleep. Sometimes, when I do fall asleep, I have terrible nightmares. I wake up crying, and then I don’t want to go to sleep because of the nightmares. “

“What does your mother say about this problem?”

“She tells me to take a hot bath before I go to sleep. She thinks that might help me relax. But sometimes I fall asleep in the tub. One time I woke up and my head was under the water. Then I was afraid that I would drown in the tub, and I told my mother, “I only want to take showers from now on.”

She said, “Oh, Darlene, that’s silly. You’re not going to drown in the tub. But if it will make you feel better you can just take a shower.”

“Darlene, did your mother take you to the doctors for a check-up?”

“Yes, she took me to Dr. Hartman. He took my temperature, and weighed me, and listen to my heart. He said, “everything seems fine. Do you have any pain anywhere?”

I said, “No, I don’t have any pain. I can’t fall asleep, that’s all.”

He gave my mother a paper that said I should start taking vitamins since I was a little underweight. And he wants me to start eating better. Then he went into the other room with my mother and talked to her alone.

When my mother and I left she said, “Darlene, why don’t we stop at Friendly’s and get some ice cream we haven’t done anything fun for a long time. Would you like that?”

“Sure Mom. But I’m not that hungry.”

“Oh, come on, Darlene live a little, you only live once. Let’s enjoy today, tomorrow may never come.”

“After she said that, I lost my appetite. I thought the doctor might have told her some bad news. Then we went to the ice cream parlor. My mother got a root beer float with vanilla ice cream and all the toppings. I wasn’t hungry anymore, but my mother insisted on me at least eating a scoop. She said,” come on live it up, Darlene, how about some chocolate too or whipped cream on top.”

“Ok, Mom.” As we sit there eating, I look at my mother. And sure, enough she’s eating like there’s no tomorrow. Really shoving it in fast. I keep staring at her. Finally, she says, “Darlene, it’s  impolite to stare at someone who eating.”

“Oh, sorry mom. Can I ask you a question?”

“A question, of course, you can ask me anything.”

“Did the doctor say I was sick or if anything is wrong with me?”

“Wrong with you? No, he said physically, you are fine. He thinks you are a little high strung that’s all. And you need to eat better and get more sleep.”

“High Strung? What does that mean?”

“Oh, it just means you seem nervous, that’s all. I told him that it was ridiculous that you are a normal kid who has trouble sleeping. He seems to think that having trouble sleeping indicates that something is bothering you.”

My mother looks at me for a moment after she says, “Darlene, is something bothering you? You can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you?

I don’t know if I can tell my mother why I can’t sleep or about how the kids tortured me in school. And I’m really afraid of what she might say. Am I going to die suddenly? Is something terrible going to happen today or tomorrow?”

After we left the ice cream parlor, my mother said, “how about if this Saturday, we do something fun? Is there anything that you would like to do, Darlene?”

“Fun, like what Mom?”

“What would you like to do, Darlene? We could go to the movies or the petting zoo, or we could ride bikes around the park, what do you say? Do you have anything you would like to do, Darlene, anything at all?”

“Well, I don’t know. I guess it would be fun to go out to lunch and then go to the movies on Saturday afternoon. You haven’t taken me to the movies since I was a little kid. I would really love to see the Dark Knight Trilogy. I hear the kids at school talking about it all the time. It just came into the theaters about a week ago. And we could get popcorn and candy and sodas. I would   really love to do that.”

“Well, Superheroes are not really my thing. But who knows, maybe I’ll enjoy it? But maybe you would rather see that with your friends?”

Darlene stares at her mother and wonders how she could be so clueless about her. “Mom, do you know any of my friends? Did anyone ever come over to play or just spend time with me? “

“Well, Darlene, I can’t say when I remember the last time you had some of your friends over. Why don’t you ask them to come over?”

Darlene looks at her mother with her mouth open, nothing comes out. She starts feeling extremely angry at her mother. She doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Her mother stands there and stares at her. Suddenly, Darlene yells out as loud as she can, “Why, why don’t I ask my friends over. Because Mother, I don’t have any friends. And I never have. Why didn’t you ever ask me before where all my friends were? The kids at school hate me. They think I’m weird. The teachers hate me too. Everyone hates me. Because I’m weird. You hardly even talk to me, and you’re my mother.”

“Of course, you have friends Darlene. Why are you always so overdramatic?”

“No, no, no. I don’t have friends, no one at school likes me.”

“Why do they think you’re weird?”

“Because I am weird. I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid I might get a horrible illness, like cancer, and die. I’m afraid of crossing the street. I could get hit by a Mack Truck. I’m afraid I will live my whole life, and nobody will love me or even like me. And you know why mother, do you know why?”

Darlene’s mother looks at her and says,” No, I don’t where do you get all these crazy ideas anyway. It’s nonsense. And Darlene, I do love you with my whole heart. I want nothing but the best for you.”

“Mom, you never tell me you love me. You never tell me how smart I am, or how pretty or how kind. The only thing you say to me every day when I get up is, enjoy your day, Darlene, tomorrow may never come.”

“Oh, Darlene, I say that because I want you to make the most of every day of your life. I never had any idea that might make you think you were going to die, or that something horrible was going to happen to you. I’m so sorry I don’t tell you I love you, or that your pretty and smart. Because I do love you with my whole heart. I want nothing but good things in life to come your way. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize how sad and lonely you are. But I’m happy that you were finally able to tell me how you feel. How about we start with a little hug.” Darlene’s mother puts her arms out for Darlene.

Darlene hesitates momentarily and then steps into her mother’s arms for the first hug she has had in years. Tears start rolling down her face. And then she realizes that her mother is crying too. And they hug one another. “I love you too, Mom.”

They stay like that for a long time. And then Darlene’s mother says,” How about we start every day and end every day with a hug, Darlene?”

“Yes, Mom, I would love that. And then you can just say,” Good Morning, or Good Night.”

“Ok Mom, let’s go home now, I’m tired maybe I could take a little nap. And dream bout going to the movies tomorrow.”

“Ok, Darlene why don’t we head out. This is the best day I’ve had in a long time; I love you, Darlene, with all my heart.”

Darlene looks at her mom, and says,” I love you too mom, let’s go home now.” And the two of then set off on their walk home hand in hand.

__________________________________

POCKETS By Susan A. Culver

7 Replies

I stand outside the red front door of my parent’s house for five minutes before I’m able to gather the courage to go inside. As I pull open the door a rush of memories of myself as a child, then a teenager in a Catholic school uniform and then as a young mother with my own children travel swiftly through my mind.

I walk through the front hallway, I’m once again reminded that the once bright yellow walls and lime green carpet are now dull and dirty from years of my father’s smoking. The air is stale and musty.

The house feels empty of life and filled with sorrow. I take a deep breath and go into the kitchen. I haven’t been in the house since my mother passed away three months earlier. She  suffered from dementia for the last five years of her life. Each day of her final journey had been marked by a new loss until finally there was nothing left but a mere whisper of the loving woman, she had been during her seventy-six years of life.

Only one week remains for me to clear out the house out before the new owners will arrive. I had put the difficult task of cleaning out my mother’s room off for as long as possible. I felt paralyzed with grief since her death.

I walk through the kitchen into the hall and slowly open her bedroom door. The room feels cold and empty. I look down at her bed, where she spent her final hours. There folded at the foot of the bed is the cream-colored afghan that I had crocheted for her while I was pregnant with my first child.

As I open her closet door a familiar fragrance fills the room. It’s my mother’s perfume Jean Nate’. The aroma surrounds me like my mother’s embrace.

I begin taking the well-worn house-dresses out of her closet, laying them across the bed. I don’t think anyone else will want the,m, but I can’t imagine throwing them away. Then I see a plastic clothing bag hanging in the back of the closet. I unzip it and find my mother’s favorite blue coat. The coat I made for her sixtieth birthday.

I  taught myself how to sew while I was in high school. At first, I made simple skirts and shifts and as my skills and confidence grew I made coats. The first coat was this blue one for my mother. She had encouraged me from the beginning of my journey with sewing as she had with everything I had attempted in my life. She would say softly, “You can do it, Susan, keep going you’re doing a wonderful job.”

When I finished the coat, I feet proud of it, I made of soft pale blue cashmere wool. I searched flea markets and vintage clothing shops until I had found the perfect buttons. They were mother-of-pearl shaped like roses, my mother’s favorite flower. I hand-bound the buttonholes and sewed the lining in place with tiny stitches.

She wore that coat every Sunday to Mass on the cold winter mornings for almost fifteen years. I offered to buy or make her a new coat, but she never wanted another one. Saying she didn’t want to wear anything else.

I held the coat in my arms close to my heart. It brought back so many memories of my mother.  The first time she wore it, I heard her telling all her lady friends, “My daughter made this for me. Look at this fine stitching and beautiful pearl buttons.”

I put the coat down on the bed and look through each pocket, making sure nothing is left inside. I find her rosary beads. The ones my father had made for her for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. The beads were handmade from dried roses and came all the way from County Cork in Ireland. Where my mother’s parents were born.

I found a slip of paper handwritten in fading ink with the names of all her children and their birthdays. At the bottom of the paper were the names Stephen and Gerard. My twin brother’s who only lived a few days. The children my parents never spoke about. But I knew my mother prayed for them every day of her life.

In the inside pocket, I found my mother’s prayer book. Its pages were worn thin from decades of use. As I pick up the prayer book, Holy Cards come tumbling out. I knelt down to pick them up.

Among the Holy Cards, I see a folded note. I carefully open it. The handwriting look familiar, I realize it’s my own. A note I wrote and placed inside the pocket of the coat when I gave it to my mother on her sixtieth birthday. I can see it has been read many times. It read, ” I made this coat for you my wonderful mother. Each stitch represents the love I received from you each day of my life. I hope it makes you feel as loved and protected as you always made me feel.

Love your daughter, Susan.”