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.

     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.

     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.

     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.

     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.