Tag Archives: Philadelphia

LIVE IN THE PRESENT, LEARN FROM THE PAST

I moved to the city ten days ago. I grew up in rural North Carolina on a farm. My father grew soybeans, corn, and, my favorite sweet potatoes. He made a good living, but it was back-breaking work. We all helped out when it was time to harvest the crops. I made a promise to myself that when I graduated from high school, I was going to move to the city up North.

18th Century farm

And I kept that promise to myself. Halfway through my senior year in high school, I started surfing the web job market in the Philadelphia area. Luckily, I had taken as many courses in high school and some night adult classes to prepare me for office work. I spent the months before graduation sending out resumes to companies that I researched on Google. I didn’t get any responses for the first couple of weeks, and I began to get a little nervous. I was just about to give up when I received a text and then an email from Colonia Pennsylvania Preservation in Newton Square. It turned out that it was an eighteenth-century living history farm. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake, but I was desperate. I wanted to move up north and away from the rural south.

I called the number they sent me and ask if I could speak to the person in charge of hiring new employees. I waited a few minutes, and then a man who identified himself as Mr. Charles Daley said he was so pleased that I had responded to his email. He believed I would be perfect for the position that he was trying to fill. I said, really? Because I don’t remember sending a resume to your company. He said my resume had been forwarded to him by a close friend who thought I would be a perfect fit. Farm North Carolina

“Really, what position is it? He said, “it is the assistant Program Manager for a Historic Farm in Gradyville, Pa.” I hadn’t heard of Gradyville, Pa. But, then I really didn’t know any other city except Philadelphia. He said, “it‘s about a two-hour drive to Philly from Gradyville to Philadelphia. He knew it must seem like a long trek, but I would have a vehicle at my disposal and would have two days a week off during the week since they were busiest on the weekends.

I said, “well, honestly, Mr. Daley, I really do not want to do any farm work, I’ve been doing it most of my life, and I was looking forward to a different kind of challenge. He said, “well this will be a new challenge I believe you have the skill set and the knowledge for this position. “You will be the assistant Farm Manager, but most of your time will be teaching students about active participation in historic farm practices and skills that made 18th-century life possible.”

“Really?” And you think that I will be up to that challenge? I have only been out of school for one year, and I hope to work in an office.”

“ You will be working in an office at times and in the field with students. You will be coordinating weekend programs and events for children, visitors, and volunteers, including weekly field trips and summer camps. You will be overseeing the planting and weeding harvesting of crops. And teach the continuation of heritage variety seeds. In addition, maintaining the necessary supply of feed and bedding for the farm animals.”

“Wow, that sounds like a huge undertaking, and you believe I’m up to that?”

I spoke to all your references, and they gave you glowing reports. You will also be working in an outreach program in the Philadelphia area seeking new students, schools, and donations. So, I can safely say you will have every opportunity to visit the city. I would like to assure you that you will be starting off with a full benefits package and thirty- five thousand dollars for the first Year. And up to forty-thousand the following year. “

“I said, “wow, I’m impressed, but perhaps I should come to The Farm and get a better idea of what I would be doing from day to day. And you would have the opportunity to meet me in person and see if I am the right person for this opportunity.”

“Well, how about you come here for a week, and then you will have a clearer picture of what your position would entail and the quality of people who work here? How about that? Of course, we will pay for your travel expenses. Why don’t you take a day or two to think about it and then call me back at this same number and give me your decision.”

“Alright, I will have to look into taking a train when I have that information, I will let you know, and hopefully, you can arrange for someone to come and pick me up at the train station.”

“Yes, certainly, I can do that. Text me when you know when and where we should pick you up. It’s been great talking to you. Talk to you soon, Elizabeth. Good Bye for now.”

Three days later, I made my decision. I have to admit that my parents put a lot of pressure on me to accept the job. Although, they weren’t crazy about me living so far away from the farm. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. I have to admit I still had doubts about having that much responsibility. On the other hand, I had a great deal of responsibility working on our family farm my entire life. I started helping out when I entered grade school. And my responsibility increased the older I got. And perhaps fate had stepped into my path with this opportunity, and I decided I would be a fool to let it pass me by.

I notified Mr. Daley that I decided to take his job offer, and I sent him the schedule for the train that I would be taking from Raleigh to the Gradyville area. And then I found out that I could get a train station near Gradyville. And when and where I could be picked up. For the entire week before I left for my new life, I was torn between fear and excitement. I was having a lot of difficulty falling asleep at night.

But, before I knew it, there were only two days before my departure date arrived. Although my parents were happy, I was hired for such a prestigious position, and I could tell it was hard for them to say goodbye. Especially my mother, who cried for three days before I left. They took me to the train and watched me board, and then they stood there until my train began to depart and waved at the train long after they could no longer see me.

I was amazed at how fast the train traveled and how quickly I arrived in the North East. What I could see of the passing landscape was not that different than North Carolina. But as we got closer to Grandyville, I could see that I had once again arrived in a rural area. I knew that I had planned to try and live in the city, and that didn’t happen. But, I also knew that with a short train ride, I could visit Philadelphia and, maybe one day, New York City.

When the train finally arrived, I saw two people standing at the train station holding up a sign that said, “Welcome Elizabeth to Colonial Pennsylvania Plantation. And there was a young man holding it and waving it frantically, which made me laugh. I waited until the train came to a complete stop before I stood up and grabbed my bags from under my seat. And then, I had to wait patiently for everyone else on the train to do the same. We slowly progressed up the train aisle and waited until it was our turn to step off the train. And I could begin my new life. I have to admit I was excited, especially when I saw that I wasn’t going to be the only young person working at the farm.

I walked up to the people waiting for me, and the woman that was standing next to the young man said, “Welcome, Elizabeth. We are so happy that you decided to take our job offer. You are the perfect candidate for the job. You have your whole lifetime of experience in farm life in a rural area, and I know you will bring that expertise to our clients.”

“Thank you, I hope I will be able to fulfill all your needs. I have to say I was surprised that you would consider hiring me since I haven’t really had any other work experience outside of working on our farm. “Well, your teachers all gave you an A +. And they assured us that you were mature for your age and a hard worker who was always on top of things and strove to surpass any expectations that they had. By the way, I’m Jimmy Daley, and this is Ms. Christine Simmons. So, let’s be on our way. Is that all your belongings? “It’s all I brought with me on the train, and I’m having the rest of my things shipped here. They should arrive by the end of the week. I look forward to seeing the farm.

The time seemed to fly by as Elizabeth watched the landscape go by. As they got closer to the farm, she started to feel more at home. She knew it would take a while for her to adapt to her new home and live away from her parents and the home she had lived her whole life. She started to feel excited and less fearful. She was looking forward to the challenges that she would have to meet in her new job. She had every intention of doing everything within her power to succeed. But still, she kept her fingers crossed that all would go well.

And then she heard Jimmy Daley say, “well, here we are. That didn’t take that long, did it? I hope we meet your expectations and that you will be happy here. If there is ever a problem, you know you can come to me, and we will work it out. Don’t be bashful.”

And that was the beginning of my new life. And it truly was a new beginning. I worked hard every day, but it was certainly a learning process. I interacted with people from all over the country. People who were interested in how farmers ran their farms in the eighteenth century. People knew there was a lot to learn from the past that could be assimilated into present-day farms. The past became my present, and I looked forward to it. Every morning I awoke, I was excited about what that day would bring me. And every day, I learned something new. I planned my first trip to Philadelphia, and Jimmy Daley invited himself along. I learned that life is what you make of it.

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LIFE IS SHORT, LIVE IT

Today started out to be one of the worse and most stressful days of my life. I work as a writer for a magazine, and I’m required to come up with a new story every two weeks. But unfortunately, I have been experiencing one of the most difficult writing blocks I’ve ever had.

I only have three days left to come up with a story and write it, and then submit it to my boss. I’ve been warned that if it is late, they will be letting me go. Because I’ve had this block for the past six months. And I’ve only skated by the skin of my teeth. The more I try to come up with an idea, the worse it gets.

And then, about a week ago, it occurred to me that I needed to get out of my office and go out and experience the world. And I hoped that I’ll be inspired by someone or something. And I remembered that when I was going to college, I used to take the public bus back and forth from my parent’s house to Philadelphia every day. And the characters I used to see and talk to and the stories I overheard were fascinating. And that is when I decided that from now on, whenever possible, I would travel by train or bus.

And so, on Monday morning, I headed down to the bus stop to catch the 317 bus to Philadelphia. I live on the New Jersey side of the Ben Franklin Bridge, and it‘s only about a twenty-five-minute ride to Philly. I was psyched. It took me back to my college days.

Here I was, standing on the corner of Main Street, sitting on the bench, waiting for the bus to arrive. It was due in the next ten minutes. There were two other people waiting at the bus stop when I arrived at the corner. They were deep in a discussion about whether the Courier Post or the Philadelphia Inquirer was the best newspaper. They didn’t seem to notice that I was even there.

It was the end of October, and the air was a bit chilly. I hoped it would warm up by mid-day. Since I planned on taking the bus back and forth to work and perhaps taking the trolley around downtown Philly. I hoped I would have the opportunity to buy a soft pretzel while I was out and about. I hadn’t had one in years since I attended the Main campus of Temple University as a college student.

After the two older men agreed that both newspapers were decent papers. They started a new discussion about who would win the Super Bowl the Eagles or the Steelers. It seemed as if this debate might come to blows. But luckily, our bus showed up, and we all climbed aboard. I have to admit buses had improved since I graduated from college fifteen years ago. I sat down and watched out the window while the scenery passed by in a blur.

We were approaching the Airport Circle and headed toward the Ben Franklin Bridge towards Philly. The bus was almost full now, and most people were quietly reading the newspaper, or they had headphones on and were listening to music or the news.

As we were crossing the Ben Franklin Bridge, I looked out the window and down at the ships that were below. It really was a beautiful sight from above the Delaware River. As I leaned forward to get a better look, I overheard an older man and woman sitting in front of me, talking to each other. The old man said, ” so how have you been keeping yourself, Maeve? “Oh, fine, just fine. I have a little problem with arthritis. You know, getting up out of the tub or the toilet and sometimes the chair I watch TV in. Oh, I have gas, too, from eating too many spicy Tacos last night.

” Yeah, I noticed that, Maeve. It’s a bit overwhelming to tell you the truth. Maybe you could take something for it?’ Oh, also, I was wondering if you heard how Old Tony is doing. I heard that he’s not doing too well. “Oh, you did. Well, he died, so there’s that. But, it will happen to us all eventually. No point whining about it.”

“Dear god, you could have been a little less blunt about it. Christ on a cracker. When’s the funeral?”

“Well, he was cremated the day of.”

“What do you mean he was cremated the day of?”

“Well, what do you think? The day he dropped dead, that’s when.”

Then they both sighed and went back to staring out the windows at the murky waters below. As I thought about their conversation, I wondered if I, too, would grow used to hearing that my old friends were dropping like flies. It gave me the heebie-jeebies. I leaned back in my seat. And I remembered something my grandmother used to say, “life is a struggle, suffer, and then you die.” I heard myself sigh. I decided to change seats as soon as one of the passengers got off the bus.

I found a seat sitting behind two teenage boys of high school age. I thought I might hear them discussing sports of some kind. The skinny kid on the right says, “what are you talking about a swan is not a bird. Birds fly. They don’t swim.” And then the other kid said, “what the hell are you talking about? Of course, it’s a bird. Lots of birds swim, including ducks and pelicans, and geese. Boy, you are as dumb as they come.”

I began to wonder what kind of education our school children are receiving in America. I hoped some schools were doing a better job than the school these two were attending. I began to worry about the future of our country when their generation grew up.

And just as I was thinking about that, the bus pulled over to pick up another passenger. And I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was the biggest man I’ve ever seen. Not just tall but wide.

In fact, as I saw him ascend the four steps, he started breathing hard, really hard. I thought he might have had a stroke before he got on the bus and paid his fare. He finally reached the summit and was unable to say anything to the bus driver since he was breathing so hard and his face was red like a beet.

I noticed everyone on the bus was staring at the man. Some faces showed fear. Some had their mouths wide open with fascination that such a man existed and moving. And then a couple in the back started laughing. I mean real belly laughs. The big man said nothing. He managed to hand his fare over to the bus driver. We all waited to see what he would do next.

He awkwardly turned to the aisle. And I did not think it was physically possible for him and his amazingly wide girth to fit in the bus aisle, let alone walk down the aisle. I feared he would get stuck. The bus driver turned his head to watch the man’s progress. There was one seat open all the way in the back. The giant turned sideways and sidestepped his way all the way to the empty seat and plopped down onto it. There was a loud farting noise emitted from the bus seat. And the gas that escaped from the compressed seat traveled all the way up the center aisle. It was so noxious that I felt we all might die at once. Only to be found at some later time when the bus caused a back-up of traffic. I could just imagine the headlines, “GIANT MAN KILLS ALL THE PHILLY BOUND PASSENGERS ON THEIR WAY TO WORK WITH ENORMOUS FART. A VIGIL WILL BE HELD IN THEIR HONOR ON FRIDAY EVENING IN FRONT OF THE ART MUSEUM. A MAN WHO PASSED WAS A WELL-KNOWN ARTIST IN THE PHILADELPHIA AREA. HE WILL BE MISSED.”

As I sat there thinking about this, I let out a laugh at my own clever thoughts. All of a sudden, I felt the eyes of all my fellow passengers glaring at me with disdain. I felt my face turn red, but then I felt a sudden urge to laugh. And I couldn’t hold it in. I started laughing, and the more I laugh, the louder I got.

And then I heard someone else laughing and then another until everyone on the whole bus was laughing. And then we heard an enormously loud guffaw. We turned as one and looked in the direction of the sound. It was the GIANT. And then we all laughed again. It was hard to stop, like a sudden cough that makes you cough and cough until you started having trouble breathing all together.

I heard the bus driver say, “OK, folks, we all had a good laugh. Let’s be on our way now.”
And that, folks, is how I started getting over my writer’s block. Because I started living one day at a time. And appreciating the good things in my life and stop taking it all so seriously. Life is short, so live large, be happy, and take one day at a time.

 

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THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE

FIRST APARTMENT

First Apartment

I quietly rolled the car down the driveway and into the street before pausing for one last look at my old bedroom window. It was a difficult decision to make. I lived here my entire life. But it’s time. Time for me to finally become independent. But still, it was hard. I love my parents. And I know they love me, but they are so overprotective. They make me feel like I’m incapable of making the smallest of decisions on my own.

They don’t feel like I’m ready to live in the big, bad city. They’re afraid I might get raped, robbed, or murdered. They kept reading me articles from the newspaper reporting the high incidents of drug addicts waiting on every corner of downtown Philadelphia who will rob you.

I assured them that I had been going to Tyler School of Art every day for the past two years and somehow survived without a bodyguard. I’ll be fine. My apartment is only a block away from school, and I can take the bus or the subway all around the city. And all my friends live a bus stop away.

I remind them that I will see them when they come by my apartment in a couple of days because they are coming to Philly to pick up my car and take it back home since it is too expensive to keep a car in the city.

As I pull out into the street, I see my parent’s faces pressed up against the kitchen window and waving frantically at me. I wave back with a big smile on my face. I see my mother wipe a tear from her cheek. That tearing rolling down her face almost makes me change my mind. I’ve never been able to bear seeing my mother cry. But this time, this time is different. I grit my teeth and wave again. And I don’t look back. I head towards the Ben Franklin Bridge and my future as a newly semi-independent adult.

After being stuck in the morning traffic jam for a good half hour, I cross the bridge and head towards my apartment, which is within walking distance of Tyler. It’s an old building, everything around it looks old. There are beautiful sections of Philadelphia, but this isn’t one of them. I manage to get a parking spot across the street from my new apartment, which is a miracle. Apparently, one of the overnight parkers just left as I drove into the lot. I see this as a good sign. Owning a car in the city is expensive. It makes more sense to take public transportation than pay through the nose to park your vehicle overnight. That’s why my car is going to be living at my parent’s house.

I will have to make several trips from my car to my apartment. I have all my clothes, and books, and art materials to bring inside. My parents helped furnish the place with stuff that they bought at yard sales and estate sales. They are good at finding bargains. They even got me dishes and silverware and kitchen stuff. When I arrive at the steps to my apartment, I see what appears to be a homeless guy sitting on the stoop. He moves to one side when he realizes I am going up the steps. I say,” hello. He asks do you have any spare money?” And I say, “Sorry, I’m a student and don’t have any extra money.” I unlock the door and head up the steps. I see a discarded needle on the top step. I’m so glad my parents didn’t come with me today, or they would have dragged me home.

By the time I arrive on the third floor, I’m out of breath. I promise to start exercising as soon as I get settled. I know at twenty years old, I shouldn’t be getting out of breath after only going up two flights of steps.

I have a little trouble unlocking the door as it’s an old building. And probably built at the turn of the century, and the door looks it. I finally jam the key in and manage to turn it. I have to pull the door closed with both hands. I shove all my stuff in with my foot since I had to put it down to unlock the door. The guy in the apartment next to me sticks his head out. His hair hangs down to his waist, and he has a beard almost as long. Oh, my mother is just going to go nuts when she sees him. The whites of his eyes are blood red. He looks like he hasn’t slept in ten years.

“Hey, welcome. My name’s Steven Corson. I work at night and sleep during the day, so I would appreciate it if you kept the noise down.

“Well, I’ll be at school during the day, but I can’t promise there won’t be any noise since my friends from Tyler School of Art will be visiting me because Tyler is right around the corner.”

He nods at me and says, “good luck. I hope you’ll like it here.” And he pulls his head back into his apartment and closes the door, and I hear him slide the deadlock in place. That reminds me that I need to do the same once I get all my stuff up here this morning. I think I’ll get an extra key made so one of my friends can hold it just in case I lock myself out or lose my key. I would get one made for my parents, but I don’t want to come home to find them sitting in my living room.

I made several trips from my car to the apartment, and when I made the final trip, I sat down on my new, old couch and took a deep breath. I say out loud, “this is the first day of the rest of my life.” And I smile. I look around my apartment. My parents came over one day and cleaned it from top to bottom. It will probably be a good month or two before I clean it again. And that’s me being optimistic.

I walk over to the kitchen if you can call it a kitchen. It has one counter with a refrigerator on one side, a hot plate and a toaster oven and a sink, no dishwasher. Oh, and a small cabinet under the counter for cleaning stuff. I look in the cupboards, and I see I have an old set of dishes, six glasses, and five used coffee cups. In the overhead, there’s cereal, dry potatoes, and some canned food. The fridge has milk, juice, butter, bread, cheese, and lunch meat, hot dogs and frozen hamburgers, and fudge bars in the freezer, which is my favorite dessert. I will have to thank my mom. As much as she gets on my nerves, she does more for me than anyone ever has.

I head toward the bathroom. It’s tiny, a standing shower, towel rack, sink, toilet, and a small cabinet under the sink with some cleaning products and paper towels. My mom left two sets of towels and washcloths. I go into the bedroom, and it looks even smaller than when I checked it out the first time because my parents brought my bedroom furniture over. Which include my single bed, dresser and side table, and a lamp. The living room has an old couch and my beanbag from my bedroom and my tv and computer. The closet is the biggest thing in the apartment, and hopefully, I will be able to fit all my art stuff and all my other junk. I will have to start looking for a chair for my bedroom on the street nearby. People in this area move in and out a lot. And often, they leave some of their furniture on the curb. I will have to keep my eyes open on my way to and from Tyler.

I spent the next few hours arranging things to my liking when I noticed that my stomach was growling. I stand next to the open door of the refrigerator to see if there is anything I want to eat. I was about to settle on a hamburger when I heard someone banging on the door, and then the banging got louder. I hear laughing. I two-time it to the door. Because the next thing I know, my neighbor will be complaining about the noise waking him up.

“OK, OK, I’m coming.” I unlock the door and pull it open, and what do you know? It’s three of my friends from Tyler holding a pizza box and a six-pack. “Come on in, but you have to keep it down cause the guy next door works at night, and he’s sleeping.”

They are laughing their heads off. They must have had some beer on the way over. I laugh at them. Then we are all laughing, and then I hear a banging on the wall from my neighbor, who doesn’t appreciate all the hilarity. I put my finger up to my lips. And then they start laughing again. “Come in, come in. Thanks for bringing the pizza. My stomach was growling, and I didn’t feel like eating a hamburger.”

They all start milling around the apartment. “Hey, this is great. We can crash here sometimes when we have a big project to do, and we have to stay up all night and work on it. And then we have to walk around the corner to school.” They all start clapping. The guy next door bangs on the wall again. They laugh. I laugh. The guy next door isn’t going to get any sleep today. Well, he must have been young once.

We decide to watch a movie on my computer. We settle on The Vast Of The Night, which is a scary- sci-fi movie. We start watching the movie and scarfing down the pizza, and guzzling the beer. We scream at all the scary parts and sometimes laugh hysterically. I’m laughing so hard that a piece of pizza shoots out of my mouth all the way across the room. And this brings on another round of hysterical laughter and banging on the wall.

After the movie, we decide to play Fortnite, and this is a game of elimination. The ideal ending is one character is left alive, and everyone else is murdered. We love this game and would play it all night if possible. In the middle of the game, my friend Jamie decides to get some more beer and snack food. When he returns, we start a new round of eating and drinking and laughing our heads off. My neighbor has given up on banging on the wall and has come to the door to complain in person.

He says, “Hey, I can’t get any sleep with all this racket. He looks furious, but when he sees that we are playing Fortnite, he says,’ excellent, can I join in? This is my favorite game.”

“Yeah, sure, and we just got more beer and snacks. Have a seat. “

And that, my friends, was the first night of the best three years of my life. And you only have one life. You should live it to the fullest. Whatever that means to you.”

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GROWING UP IS HARD TO DO

The subway stations are all but abandoned save for a few brave souls that kept going to work during the first year after the pandemic started. Fortunately, I was able to work from home for that first lonely year. I live in a three-story walkup 120 square foot studio apartment on Locust Street in Philadelphia. It’s located right next to Rittenhouse Square. I love this part of the city, close to transportation, restaurants, and museums.

Rittenhouse Square- Philadelphia, Pa

If you ever want to know what it’s like living in a prison cell you are welcome to stop by and see my “apartment.” I just graduated from Temple University last year and I was hired to work as a graphic designer for a packaging company. Which is great. On the other hand, the pay isn’t great, and also not to mention the lack of benefits the first year.

I have always considered myself something of a loner. Spending your workday alone is almost a given in my business. Unless you are working in a corporation that has teams working on design projects. Unfortunately, I was hired by a start-up company that only has three employees and the owners. So, you have to be a jack of all trades here. And you can expect to work a lot of overtime.

Before I graduated from Temple with my MA I was living at home with my parents and younger brother and commuting from New Jersey daily. That got really old after a while because most days my classes were scheduled first thing in the morning and then a class after dinner. So, I had to commute back and forth a couple of times a day. Which was expensive because I had to pay bridge tolls to cross the bridge twice a day.

That’s why I decided to get an apartment in Philly as soon as I got a job. Luckily, I got hired right after graduation. It took me almost a month to find an affordable apartment. When I first went to see it, I didn’t realize just how small it was because it was empty. And I was so excited about finding an available and affordable place to live I didn’t really think about how really tiny it was. The fact that it had a mini-fridge, no stove, just a toaster oven. But I didn’t really think about those things until the day I moved in. When I realize there was no way in hell that my double bed is going to fit.

My dad takes one look at the place and says,” good lord you might have mentioned how small this place is. Your furniture isn’t going to fit in here, nowhere, no how, no way. Let’s take this all back home and go take a look at IKEA has to offer in way of furniture that is convertible from a bed to a couch and a small desk and chair that you can eat on and also use as a work desk. Maybe I can build you a drafting table that flips up and out of the way on the wall. And did you realize there’s only one closet for storage? I don’t know where you’re going to put your bike. Maybe I can hang hooks from the ceiling for the bike? How about if right now you really take a good look around and see what has to stay and what has to go back home to the garage?”

I look at my dad and I really want to disagree with him. But as I take a really close look around, I realize he’s absolutely right. So, I keep my mouth shut. Then I start going through the boxes we already brought in and take only the essential items. Everything else goes back in the boxes to return to my old house. I start making a list in my head about what I definitely need to keep. We end up taking about two-thirds of my stuff back home. And then we make a trip to IKEA. I buy a small convertible couch/bed. and some storage shelves. I guess I not going to be eating as I used to since I’ll have to do all my cooking in a toaster oven.

Not to mention that I’m going to be washing my dishes and my face and hands in the kitchen sink since there isn’t a sink in the bathroom. Only a shower that looks like a tall skinny coffin and a toilet. I‘m going to have to get food for one or two days at a time. Since I only had a mini-fridge. I bought the smallest microwave I could find. I cross my fingers and hope it will fit on the three-foot countertop.

I’m not as stoked as I was early this morning but still, I’m finally on my way to becoming a working artist in my own place. Even if it’s an apartment made for the seven dwarfs or something. My dad and I bring all the stuff up the three flights of stairs. We’re both exhausted by the end of the day. Billy how about coming home for dinner and then I’ll give you a lift back here tomorrow morning. And you can get a good meal and sleep in a comfortable bed?”

I want to say no, but I am exhausted and hungry. “OK, sure that would be great. I’m starving. Do you know what Mom’s making for dinner?”

“Oh, she told me she was making tortellini and meatballs tonight. Isn’t that one of your favorites?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” And so, I stay over for the second last night at my childhood home before I move into my own place. I have to admit I’m really going to miss my mother’s cooking. I sleep like a log.

I hear my mom calling me from downstairs, “Billy breakfast is ready. I made your favorite eggs over easy and crispy bacon.” I realize I’m going to miss more than my mother’s cooking. I’m going to miss my mother. You probably won’t believe this but for a moment I have to fight back the tears. I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone I said that. But my parents are the best, especially my mom. The smell of the bacon frying calls me downstairs and I just throw on yesterday’s shirt and pants, dirty socks, and old sneakers. I consider washing my face but decide it’s not worth the trouble since I’ll be sweaty and dirty in a couple of hours.

I swallow the last bite of a bacon and egg sandwich and sigh. “That was great Mom. It really hit the spot.” My mom comes over and gives me a hug. And once again I feel the urge to start crying. Really, what the hell is happening to me? I haven’t cried since I was in middle school and wasn’t picked to be on the soccer team. My day looks at me and my mom and I saw him swallow hard. “Ok, Ok that’s enough of that. We have a lot of work to do today. Marion, he isn’t going to be that far away, just over the Ben Franklin Bridge. We can see him anytime we want to.”

I look at my dad and say, “What, wait you have to call me before you show up. What if I have friends over or a girlfriend?”

“Ok, I was just making a point so your mother wouldn’t be so upset.”

We all look at each other and then I and my dad look down at the floor. My dad says, “Let’s be on our way we have a lot of heavy lifting to do and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

My mom says, “be careful don’t overdo either of you.”

“We’ll be fine. Marion, I probably won’t be back until dinner time so don’t make any big meals just in case I’m late. See you later.” He grabs his car keys from the hook and heads out the door.

I stand up and my mom hugs me again, “Don’t be a stranger. And let me know when we can come to visit and see your new place.”

“Ok, Mom but I don’t know if three people can fit into my apartment. Maybe one of you will have to wait in the hallway until the other one comes out.”

“What, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean it is a very tiny apartment.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. We all have to start somewhere. I know someday you’ll be a big success.”

“Thanks, Mom you were always my best cheerleader. Thanks for having faith in me.” This time I give her a hug. I realize I will miss hugging her and smelling of Chanel number five.”

I turn quickly away and take a deep breath and take my first step forward into my future. Then I start double-stepping it because I hear my father honking his horn impatiently. When I get up to the car, I open the door and say, “calm down, calm down will ya?”

“Get in, get in we don’t have all day. I have other things to do you know?”

“Sorry, Dad didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Yeah, I know women always got to make everything a big emotional thing.”

I take a good look at my father and his eyes are all red. “Ok dad let’s get going.”

An hour later we were looking for a parking spot in front of my building we kept going round and round the block. On our fourth go-round a car finally pulled out and my dad expertly backs right into it. Luckily, his van had doors on the side and we can get my stuff out.

Two hours later we took our last load of my stuff up the three flights of stairs. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I can only imagine what my old man feels like. When we get inside, I go in the fridge, and lo and behold the former tenant left two bottles of Pepsi in the fridge. “Hey Dad, guess what? Two bottles of Pepsi, cold Pepsi.”

“What, you’re kidding. So, hand it over, hand it over. I’m about to die over here.”

Three hours later we had just about finished everything. I don’t think I could possibly fit one more thing in my new apartment. “Dad, I can’t believe it, but we’re done. How about we throw some water on our faces and get some lunch. I noticed there was a little luncheonette down the street. What do you say? My treat.”

“I say, hell yeah lead the way.”

We threw some water on our faces from the little sink, and wash our hands without soap because I forgot to bring any, and we head out to the EL Merkury.
El Merkury has everything you didn’t know you were craving until the moment you start eating it. My dad and I both ordered the black bean and cheese-stuffed pupusas and ice cream sundaes. I honestly thought I was going to throw up I ate so much. My dad says, “well, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat dinner tonight.”

“Me either, but that’s probably because I didn’t do any food shopping yet.”

“You’ll survive. When your mother and I first got married we hardly had any money and we ate beans and hotdogs for weeks at a time. And popsicles for dessert. I couldn’t eat hotdogs or popsicles for years after that. I know you are going to do great in the city. In fact, I envy you. Your whole life is ahead of you. I know you will be successful but it will take time and hard work. That’s about all the advice I have for you. I’m going to be on my way now. My last words are don’t be a stranger. Remember if you ever need us we will be there for you. And then he came over and gave my shoulders a squeeze and turned and walked out the door. And that is when what tear I had been holding back all day slid down my cheek along with a whole lot of other tears. I wiped them away with the back of my hand. I pushed my seat back put a tip on the table and walked over to the counter and paid my bill. “Thanks that was great,”  I said to the cashier. She gave me a big smile, and said,” please come again.” And I walked out the door and into my new life.

As I was going out the door, I heard the jukebox playing some old song called, GROWING UP IS HARD TO DO BY the Ginger Snaps. “What else can I say? It ain’t easy.”

 

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NIGHT SHIFT

It’s been six years since I started working the night shift. It’s hard to remember just why I thought it would be a good idea to work from Midnight to the eight AM shift. I vaguely remember thinking I would have more free time and the pay was slightly higher than working nine to five.

Callowhill Depot, Philadelphia, Pa.

What I failed to consider is that I would be sleeping during the day. And the impact that would have on my life. Things like maintaining friendships with people that worked during the day. Not to mention I hope to get married and have children at some point. I suppose that’s still a possibility if I fall in love with a man that also works nightshift. But if we both worked the night shift and slept eight hours during the day having children together really doesn’t seem feasible. I guess the solution is that I or my husband would have to start working during the day like normal people. Of course, that would limit how much time we spent together as well.

The fact of the matter is that before I was hired at SEPTA, the job I had was tedious and boring. I was selling high-risk auto insurance. On the other hand, the customers that came into the office were often downright scary. These people were basically maniacs on wheels. I was making minimum wage and was still living at home with my parents. Because I couldn’t afford to move out. I couldn’t afford to do anything. I had to pay my parent’s rent, pay for the upkeep of my beater car, and insurance and gas. Which left me with pocket change.

On the other hand, in my previous job there was no climbing up the corporate ladder. There was no ladder. I was working at Ellis Insurance Company. We sold high-risk auto insurance. It was owned by two brothers, Harry and Evie Ellis. And there were only three employees. You were stuck in the same job. There wasn’t any upward mobility The other two girls that I met working there were nice and we became friends over time. I decided I need to make a change in my life.

A friend of mine told me that SEPTA was hiring but it was on the night shift. And I thought why not? Sounds interesting. What harm could it do to apply for the job and see what shakes out? And sure, enough a week after I sent my resume out, I got a call from HR at SEPTA for a job in the dispatcher’s office on the night shift. Of course, it was a job on the bottom rung of the corporate ladder.

Now I’m working at the Callowhill depot in West Philadelphia in the office that schedules the busses, trolleys, and drivers. I have to say I like working there. It keeps me on my toes, having to maintain the vehicle’s maintenance and scheduling the bus and trolley drivers. And as far as friendships go well, you’re going to almost instantly bond with your workmates because they are in the same boat as you are working the night shift. Unfortunately, no love matches, but plenty of friends. The routine doesn’t vary much from day to day but I feel at this point I am highly competent and confident in my ability to successfully perform my job.

About six weeks ago I arrived at work at 11: 45 PM. Just in time for the second shift to clock out and go home. “Hello everyone, how did your day go?” Helen who works the second shift in my position, as a dispatcher said, “no problems during our shift, but two drivers called out for the third shift. I contacted two drivers and they agreed to fill in. You’ll see the information on the log. Well, its’ been a long day. I’ll see you guys tomorrow before I clock out. I hope all goes well for you guys. Take care,”

“Bye Helen, I hope you have a good night, see you tomorrow.” Helen is a hard worker and always takes the time to say hello and wish us well. I’d like to get to know her but we have different days off and she has a family with four kids. I don’t know how she does it.

Two of the other people that work on my shift, Kathy a single woman, no kids, lives with her elderly mother, and Henry, a tall, gangly man in his early sixties yells out, “good evening, everyone, I hope you sneaked in a few Z’s today. For some reason, I had this feeling all day that something is going to go wrong on our shift tonight. You know I always thought I was a little psychic. But, my wife says, I’m a little crazy. So, it’s probably nothing. Oh, here’s Gertie. She is just a bundle of energy and so thin she disappears when she turns sideways. But believe it or not, she is strong as a horse.  She has been studying karate for years. And could probably take down a tank all on her own. But you would never know by looking at her. “Hi Gertie, how’s life treating you today?”

“Life is treating me just fine Henry. Anything new with you?”

“Well, I was just telling our friend here, that all day I kept thinking something bad was going to happen tonight, but I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably ate too much-fried chicken or something. But keep your eyes open anyway just in case.”

And then Kathy flew in the door. “Sorry to be late, but just at the last minute, I realize I left my purse and my lunch on the coffee table in my living room and I had to go back and get them. I hope that didn’t cause any problems.”

“No problems Kathy, sit down and take a deep breath and calm down, everything is fine so far.”

“What’s Henry talking about?”

“Oh nothing, you know Henry thinks he has some kind of psychic ability and can sense the future. It’s a bunch of bolognas if you ask me.”

The next hour is really busy as all the second shift drivers are returning with their busses and signing out and all the third shift drivers are clocking in. I wave at them as they walk by our office. Then I start checking the activity log to see if there are any problems that need to be addressed immediately. After that, I start checking tomorrow’s schedule to see if there are any conflicts or call-outs or buses that needed maintenance. The time really flies by. I check my watch and it’s already after 3 am. I decide to get a cup of coffee. Because right about this time every work night my energy starts to diminish. It’s always quiet in the depot this time of night. And we usually take turns taking breaks.

it’s Henry’s turn to take a break. He usually takes a walk around the depot and sometimes outside. But you really have to be careful in this neighborhood at night. You never know what’s going to happen. But it’s a beautiful night so who knows he might take a little late-night stroll.

Just when I was beginning to wonder what happen to Henry since he has been gone for about twenty-five minutes. Kathy, Gertie, and I hear a loud commotion out in the hall outside the depot office. I hear Gertie say,” what the hell is Henry doing out there anyway. Kathy responds,” I’ll go take a look maybe he slipped on the floor out there I noticed that it had just been waxed and was slippery when I came in. Some day one of us is going to break their necks.”

I go back to work and I hear Gertie quip, “oh yeah this place is a hotbed of activity like the morgue at three in the morning.”

Then I say, “Gertie, did anyone ever tell you have a weird sense of humor?”

“Weird no, not at all. I’m perfectly normal. And then she lets out a big guffaw. Her laugh is like a donkey neighing. “He haw, he haw, he haw.”

And then we hear shouting and something heavy falls to the floor. “What the hell, Gertie screams at the top of her apparently huge lungs. She scares me almost as much as what’s going on in the hallway. I whisper maybe we should call the police or the transit cops, somebody. Henry did say that he had a bad feeling about today, and he has always been right when he has his “psychic premonitions.”

“Oh, come on let’s all calm down,” I say.

“I’m going out to see if Henry is alright, one of you call the freaking police just in case.”

Kathy and I sit tight, and I decide maybe I should call the police, better safe than sorry. I’m about to pick up the phone when the doors to the depot office burst open and three huge guys that I’ve never seen before burst in with Henry and Gertie. Who are being dragged in kicking and screaming all the way. Their hands are tied behind them. Gertie’s eyes are practically bugging out of her head. Henry’s face is so red it looks like he might stroke out any minute. I hear a loud voice in my head keep repeating, why didn’t you call the police you idiot?

The biggest guy who looks like he could be a sumo wrestler yells, “you two go over next to the vault. Whoever knows the combination better open it up immediately or this old man is going to be breathing his last breath tonight and it will be your fault “

I start sweating like a pig. I’m afraid I’m going to pee my pants or pass out. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I walk towards the vault and starting keying in the combination. There is no way in hell I’m going to die because of money. Which can be replaced. No way. I open the huge door and then the Sumo wrestler says, “all of you get over there and don’t move and he points to the wall next to the safe. “My friend here is going to hold his gun at this guy here and if any of you try anything, anything at all I’m going to put a bullet in his head. Do you understand? We nod.

The youngest-looking robber goes into the vault with a large canvas bag and then we hear a whole lot of rustling coming from it. It is clear he is taking all the money that was put in there during the day shifts. Then he comes out dragging the heavy satchel. “OK, get rid of these jokers, and let’s go before the police show up the alarm must have gone off when we broke it.”

And that’s when they grabbed the rest of us and gagged us and tied our hands behind our backs and literally threw us in the big safe. I started hyperventilating immediately because I have a fear of small spaces. I think at some point I passed out because the next thing I knew there was a burly Philly cop standing over me and shaking me. “Hey wake up, you’re alright, wake up for god’s sake.” And then he slapped me across my face and I said, ok, ok stop hitting me. He just laughed.

When they took off Henry’s gag he immediately said, “I told you something bad was going to happen tonight.”

And that is when I said, “shut up Henry.” And I decided it was time for me to stop working on the night shift.

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The Foundling

 

I had decided to spend the day at the Philadelphia Library. I have been working on my family history for the past ten years, and I wanted to search the census records for the period of time between 1900 and 1920. I am studying my father’s side of the family.

Philadelphia Central Library

I knew that he was an only child and had been raised from the age of seven until he was sixteen at Girard College. During that time, Girard College was a residential school for boys only. The only requirement was that one of their parents was deceased. His father passed away when he was five from uremic poisoning.

It was a beautiful crisp autumn day, so I decided to take the high-speed line over to Philly.  I arrived about a half-hour before the library opened. So I decided to walk around the corner to grab something to eat for breakfast at Whole Foods.

I bought a small container of yogurt and green tea. Whole Foods is a great food store, but they are pricey. It cost almost six dollars for these two items. I devoured the yogurt as I hadn’t eaten any dinner the night before. The tea was hot, so I sipped slowly. It was good. I’m something of a tea connoisseur. At any given moment, I can name fifty different brands and types of teas.

Unfortunately, very few people seem particularly interested in hearing my list, although some have suffered in silence as I listed them in alphabetical order. I know they don’t want to hear it, but somehow, I feel compelled to tell them.

First, I see their eyes shift from right to left, looking for a way out of the conversation. It isn’t a conversation, more of a monologue. I give them very little chance to break away. I keep talking at breakneck speed. I see their eyes glazing over, I know that they are not listening anymore, but still, I persist, naming my favorite teas, or pies, or ice cream. I have a list for just about any subject.

I decided to walk across the street to the Book Corner, a used book store operated by the Central Library. It is filled with used and donated books. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that I also collect books.

Books fill every inch of space in my two-bedroom apartment, stacked on tables, chairs, under tables and chairs, under my bed, and on the side of my bed that I don’t sleep on. People have told me that I am a hoarder of books. I say I ‘m a bibliophile. I love the feel, smell, and touch of old books. My favorite books are art books with full-color plates of art, every type of art, and periods of history. I’m a collector of many things, mostly useless facts that no one wants to hear or know about.  woman holding book

I almost purchase a book on Jasper Johns, one of my favorite abstract expressionist artists. But I talked myself out of it. Since I already had this self-same book at home in one of my piles.

I start walking up the street behind the library, and I see something on the sidewalk. I quickstepped up to it and lean over and pick it up. It’s a watch, a stunning watch. I don’t own valuable jewelry myself, but I certainly recognize quality when I see it. It’s gold, a women’s watch, with a mesh watch band. There are twenty-eight small diamonds surrounding the watch face. There is a small stone on the stem of the watch, I think a blue Topaz.

I turn over the watch and look on the back there is an inscription it reads: To BlJ, from JPO, and then some words in French. My high school French is somewhat rusty since I graduated. Well, let’s just say quite a few decades ago. I decided to type the phrase into Google translator when I finally got into the library.

When I arrive at the library, I fly up the steps and push open the beautiful ornate doors. I’m never disappointed when I enter the library, they have recently remodeled the first floor, and it is fabulous. The new entry floor is gleaming marble, all new showcases. I look at each one and study its contents.

Oh, there’s going to be a visit from an author. Oh, I definitely will sign up for that. I’ll purchase a copy of her book and have it autographed by her. I feel slightly buzzed being around all this beauty and the thousands upon thousands of stacks of books on every subject.

I should have been a librarian, but I wouldn’t have gotten any work done since I would have been reading all day instead of whatever librarians are supposed to be doing. Besides, I have observed that librarians are a bit on the strange side, either very quirky and annoyed by visitors or very formal, as if they’re famous professors who don’t have the time to speak to a visitor. If I worked there, I would probably be a little of both and get fired after a month.

I check my pockets to see if my treasure is still there. It is, but I know that I will check my pocket many times to be sure. It is one of my quirky traits, excessive checking of things. Checking to see if I really locked the door or turned off the iron, or didn’t accidentally run over a cat that I thought was a bump in the road. I’m just being cautious, that’s all.

I enter the main book room next to the entrance. I‘m so pleased with the remodel it’s dazzling. I run over to the computer and go onto the Internet, Google translator. I type in the phase Mon amour éternel. It means my eternal love. God, that is so romantic. The poor soul that lost this must be heartbroken. Imagine losing such a  keepsake.

I almost start to cry right there in the middle of the library. I start imagining what it must be like to have someone promise their eternal love. I have never had that, I want it, and now I know it is probably too late for me, but still, I keep my eyes open. You never know what might happen. I want to find a way to return the watch to the owner, but I don’t know what to do.

I approach the man who works at the main information desk, and he is one of the standoffish types, very formal. I’m not certain, but I believe he has some type of vision impairment, or he can’t bear to look anyone in the eyes. “Hello, can you tell me if there’s a lost and found?’ He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence in any way. He starts typing on his keyboard. Perhaps he has a hearing deficit as well. I repeat my question only louder. Nothing.

Then somewhat abruptly, he says, “No book by that name but several containing that subject matter. Let me print it out for you. ”

“What, no, no you misunderstood. I’m asking if the library has a lost and found. You know you find or lose something and check to see if anyone turned it in, or you find something and turn it in. ”

“Go to the service desk. They might have an answer for you. I do not. ”

“But isn’t this the service desk?” I roll my eyes to the heavens. It’s lost on him. He has dismissed me from his mind. I no longer exist in his world. In my opinion, the library made a poor choice when they placed him at the central hall information desk. He should be sitting in the subbasement somewhere, filing something.

I walk over to the main room again toward the librarian. There are only two now since most of them were replaced by an automated checkout system. I wait patiently in line until it’s my turn. I repeat my question, “Have you got a lost and found?”

” This is the check-in or check-out department. You need to go to the service desk and ask Mr. Beaumont. He will be happy to assist you.”

“But I did speak to Mr. Beaumont. He didn’t assist me. He sent me to you. What do you suggest now?”

“Perhaps you could ask Charles, at the exit to the library; he’s the guard that checks all books as you exit the library.”

“Charles, thank you I’ll speak to him.” I walk over to the library exit, and Charles is sitting looking through a large stack of books that an older gentleman is checking out.

I have seen him before. He looks like an aesthetic, or perhaps the English actor who is tall and thin, was some sort of magician in Lord of the Rings he has very long, shiny gray hair, down to his waist, I have often seen him when I visited the art department of the library. He always keeps to himself, is surrounded by books, and spends the day taking notes, in a leather notebook.

I patiently wait for my turn. Finally, I step up to Charles, “Hello, could you tell me if the library has a lost and found?” As I’m waiting, I recheck my pocket to make sure the watch is there.

“Yes, what are you looking for?”

“I’m not looking for anything; I found something.”

“Well, I can’t help you with that, other than you write down, what you have found on this form, and a contact number or email, and I will give them your information.”

“Alright, let’s do that.” I finally feel like I’m making some headway. I give Charles my information, “Thank you, Charles, you have been helpful.”

I head over to the elevator, push the button for the second floor, and wait as it slowly makes its way down from the third floor. The doors slide open. They remodeled the elevator, too, and it looks like it belongs in a luxury hotel. I step inside, and somehow it has not lost that urine smell it always had. I hold my breath until the doors open to the second floor, make a right turn down the first hall, through the literature department, and find my way into the art department.

Oh, crap, I think. What am I doing here? I meant to go to the records department and study the census. I head to the elevator and back to the records department. I arrive safely. I step up to the desk and ask the librarian to help me find the census for 1900-1930.

She’s accommodating. I look at the records, which are digital copies of the original census books. However, the books were all handwritten and somewhat challenging to read. I spend the next three hours looking through them, meeting with some success. I find the record where my father is listed as an inmate of Girard College. An inmate, as if he were a criminal in prison. This upset me so much that I turn off the machine and decided to head home.

I buy a hotdog from the vendor on the corner, such a cheerful fellow. I say, “Thank you.”

I head towards the bus stop that will get me to the High Speedline. I arrived at the Speedline intake, and I believe I checked my pocket about fifteen times before I got on the train.

I head home, and I notice that my stomach is starting to feel a little queasy, and by the time we get over the bridge to the Camden stop, I know that I have gotten food poisoning.

I rush off the train, and I’m forced to use the public facility. Dear god, I think I will be able to make it home! I do, but just barely. I take some medicine for my stomach. It doesn’t really help. I spend the next ten hours in and on the toilet. Finally, I start to feel better. I go to the kitchen. I feel so empty and get some tea and crackers.

I decided to check my email; to my surprise, I have five hundred emails. I open the first one; Bill declares it is his watch, and he wants it back. I open the next ten; they’re all the same. I realize that I have made a mistake in describing the watch. All the rest are the same.

Chivalry has died, and so has my trust in humanity. I will put the watch away or perhaps donate it to some worthwhile charity. I think of the woman who lost her watch and said a silent prayer for her. She has lost something that was close to her heart, and so have I.