Tag Archives: retirement

OH HOW TIME HAS FLOWN BY

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     It seems my life has flown by in the blink of an eye. I can clearly remember my childhood experiences growing up in Maple Shade, New Jersey. And the eight years I spent at Our Lady of Perpetual Help School. And the four years I spent at St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield, New Jersey. I can’t say that all my experiences attending Catholic School were all good ones. However, I made a lot of friends. Not to mention, I learned all the basic skills, like reading, writing, and arithmetic. The nuns were strict, and I’m not exaggerating. Suppose you spoke when you were not allowed to or were caught looking at someone else’s work. Well, woe be it to you. You were going to pay a high price. I learned a lot while I attended Catholic Elementary School. But not all of it was good. But it wasn’t all bad, either. And then there were the surprises if we got too much snow on a winter’s day. The school would be closed.
On the other hand, we only lived two houses down from OLPH School. And if the dear “sisters” saw us (my twin sister and I) out playing in the snow. We would be dragged into the school to do manual labor, which could be anything from cleaning the blackboards to cleaning the desks, etc.

When I graduated from grade school, I had to take entrance exams to attend the Catholic High Schools in the area. Somehow, “by the grace of God.” I passed the exams and was invited to participate in Holy Cross High School or St. Mary of the Angels Academy. My parents decided it would benefit them if we attended an all-girls school (St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy). I enjoyed my time there except for Math Class, which I barely passed. In fact, “by the grace of god that I passed.” I didn’t learn higher Maths until I was a grown adult when I decided to learn all Maths, which started with adding/subtracting, multiplication, and algebra.

Why, you may ask? Because I decided I wanted to teach people struggling with math how they, too, could learn. In addition, I taught writing skills and reading. And prepped them to pass the GED class and eventually be able to earn “their high school diploma..” It was one of the most rewarding experiences I have had. I felt a great accomplishment to give someone a hand-up in their lives. The only problem I encountered was when one of the students who wanted help learning to read or write in English didn’t speak English. She was Japanese, and alas, I didn’t talk, nor could I write in Japanese. So, I had to search for someone in my area to help them, and after quite a while, I found a good teacher for them.

Tyler School of Art at Temple University

It was about this time, I was thirty-five, that I decided I wanted to go to college. I had two young children. Who were six and three? Luckily, I had a good friend who lived a couple of blocks away from me who agreed to watch my little girls if I would babysit their daughter during the Spring Holidays and all Summer. And that is what I did for the next four years until I graduated from Temple University, Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia at forty-one. The only student of non-traditional age. Those four years at Tyler were stressful and exciting; I have always looked back at that time as a success. I graduated at the top of my class Magnum Cum Laude with two degrees and teaching credentials. The final reward was that my graduating class gave me a standing ovation when I received my diploma.

And then I got some bad news: Communities all over the area had stopped funding elementary and high school art classes. I have to say that it was a devastating ending to my teaching art in public schools.

That was when I decided to look for a big house with many rooms where we could live, and I would have plenty of space to teach both children and adults. We found a beautiful old house built in 1910. It had been empty for eight years. It was in great need of repair, both inside and out, including a new roof, new heater and air conditioner, and on and on. But my husband and I decided this was the house for us. It was perfect because it had three rooms that had been used by the previous owner, who was a doctor. We attended an open house and decided to buy it. And the rest is history. We could not sell our smaller home and ended up renting it until we could find a buyer. The rent went towards the outstanding mortgage payments until it was paid off.

Our New plus 110-year-old house, although neglected for many years, was a dream come true. Over the twenty-four years we lived there, we renovated the house from top to bottom, redid the hardwood floors throughout, repaired and replaced the roof, and painted the wrought iron fence. In fact, by the time we finished all the work, it was almost time for us to retire.

When I advertised the Grand Opening of “THE ART ROOM. “ This was in 1994.I had an open house. Almost all the people that lived in Pitman came to see our home. Over those many years, I taught everyone from the age of five to senior citizens, including my next-door neighbors, Marie and Bob Batten, a retired dentist and his wife. We became close friends with them over the twenty-four years that we lived in Pitman. Practically everyone in town came to our Grand Opening since they wanted to see what it looked like. The previous owners kept to themselves for the most part, save for the previous owners who used to see the Doctor who owned the house for whatever ailments these people suffered.

In the ensuing years, I taught art to people of every age and had the pleasure of meeting their families. As the years flew by, I realized that once Bob and I retired, we would not be able to afford to live in Pitman or anywhere in New Jersey, as we were paying $40,000 a year on real estate taxes.

So, it was with a heavy heart that we put our house up for sale and started looking at the South for a place to retire. After several weeks of investigating what state would be our best place to retire, we decided that North Carolina was definitely an option. We made plans to drive to North Carolina and see if we were making the best decision. And so, here we are nine years later, retired and living in North Carolina. Retired.

After we got settled here at our new home, I decided that I was going to look for a volunteer job so that I could continue contributing and make a difference. I decided that since I had spent the last twenty years teaching art or working as a counselor in Social Services positions at Ranch Hope. It was located in Alloway, NJ. I was caring for and supervising at-risk male youth who were adjudicated by the courts to live there until they reached eighteen. I worked there for five years. It was not an easy job, nor did it have great hours. In addition, I was the first woman hired to work with these boys, and until that time, it was all me. After they realized that I was quite capable of counseling these boys and keeping them, for the most part, out of trouble. More women were hired.

For the most part, I would say my time working was the most rewarding position I ever held. I came to love all those boys with my whole heart.

In addition, after I left Ranch Hope, I worked for the Center for Family Services in Camden, New Jersey. I worked with five of the churches in Camden, matching adults from the churches to mentor the at-risk youth who grew up with one or more of their parents being incarcerated. I worked there for several years. And I came to love the people who lived in the city, a city that was often in turmoil because of drugs and violence. I usually had to visit the parents of these at-risk kids in their homes in center-city Camden. It was not a safe place.
Nonetheless, I found that their parents were good people who wanted the best for their children. At times, I had to visit one of their parents in the prison where they were incarcerated to talk to the parents about our programs for their children. I have to say I was somewhat afraid at first to go to all these prisons, but over time, I realized that these were just human beings who made mistakes in their lives. Some huge mistakes, like murder, drug dealing, etc. Nonetheless, they loved their children and hoped and prayed for a better life for their children. I made every effort to be respectful to those who were incarcerated. Yes, they were flawed humans, but they were still people who had difficult choices and few opportunities in life. However, as a whole, they all wanted their children to have better lives than they had experienced. It was an experience that gave me more empathy and understanding of people who make poor choices in their lives. And we’re paying a high price for their mistakes. And unless you or I have experienced growing up in a ghetto, in poverty, just trying to get from one day to the next, we can’t possibly know what their lives have been like. And we can’t compare their lives to their own.

I have learned a great deal about life from my experiences, and I regret nothing I have seen or experienced. I had the opportunity to work with Wilson Good, the former mayor of Philadelphia—the first black Mayor of a major city in the United States.

I am retired and living in North Carolina, but I have volunteered at Animal Edventure, an animal sanctuary in Coats, NC, for the past eight years. I take care of birds. Yes, that is a big, giant step from working with at-risk youth, but I’ve been an animal lover for as far back as I can remember.

I don’t know what the future will hold for me, but I know I’m not one to sit in front of the TV all day watching soap operas. I look forward to whatever adventure comes my way.

YOU NEVER KNOW WHERE LIFE WILL TAKE YOU

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At the end of May, I celebrated my seventy-third birthday. That’s right, I’m seventy-three years old. It is almost impossible to believe that many years have flown by so quickly. Nonetheless, that is the reality that I’m facing at this time of my life.

I remember quite clearly when my parents were that age. I recall when my father retired from his long-time job at PTC or SEPTA, which stands for the Pennsylvania Transportation Company. He was the head dispatcher for over forty years. He had started out as a bus driver. And he often mentioned to me how much he loved that job. However, his mother, Elizabeth, insisted that he apply for an office position at SEPTA since she believed it was a position where he could move up the Corporate Ladder. He apparently didn’t feel like he had much choice since his mother was a strong-willed woman who would always get her way. As it turned out, he did as she requested, and he ended up working in that office position for the rest of his working career. His mother ended up living in a nursing home in the last years of her life.

I have a vague memory of meeting my paternal grandmother when she was living in that nursing home. My sister and I were given a long strip of tape with pennies stuck on it. I was thrilled because I looked forward to spending all those pennies at Shucks (a candy store) on Main Street in the town I grew up in, Maple Shade. That was the only time I ever saw her.

I was thirty-six when my father passed away, and a year later, my mother passed. She was seventy-six, and I was thirty-seven when my dear mother passed away from congestive heart failure. I always believed her heart broke when my father died. I spent the last few years of my parent’s lives taking care of them and taking care of my two young children, who were then five and two. My father died of lung cancer. My mother had congestive heart failure.

I can not put into words how deeply I missed my parents and how I grieved for their loss for many years. In fact, it has been thirty-four years since they died, and I still think about them almost every day since then. My parents worked hard and tried to give their children the best life possible. There were six of us. There was a significant age gap between us; my brother, Harry, was twenty years older than me, and my sister, Karen. My oldest sister, Jeanette, was nineteen years older, and Eileen and Liz were eight and seven years older than Karen and I.

So here I am, seventy-three years old, retired, and living in North Carolina. At some point after my mother passed away, I decided that I was going to experience a life that was challenging and interesting. But I also decided I wanted children. At the grand old age of thirty, I had my oldest daughter, Jeanette, and three years later, my daughter, Bridget.

When I was thirty-six, I decided to go to college. I applied to several universities in Philadelphia. I had to write a resume and prepare an art portfolio with my work, paintings, and drawings. I was accepted at all the Universities I applied to. I decided to attend Temple University because they offered me a scholarship for the first year.

This was a challenging decision for me to make, not only was I married, and had a home to take care of but, I had two small children who were six and three years old. And the only money I had was the $900.00 my parents left me after they passed. Each of my siblings received the same amount. And the remainder of my parent’s money went to the cost of their funerals when they passed away.

Tyler School of Art

Before my mother passed away, she told me that I should not put my own needs and ambitions before everyone else’s. If I had a desire to do something, no matter how challenging, I should go for it. And that is exactly what I did.

And so, at the ripe old age of thirty-six, I entered The Tyler School of Art as a Freshman. I can not tell you how many of the students mistook me for a teacher since there was almost twenty years difference between them and myself. Over time, all the students realized that although I was older than them, I was committed to learning as much as I could, and I dedicated every free moment of my life to learning all I could. I always had my assignment on time, I never missed a day of class in four years. And I made it my business to get to know every student I came in contact with a friend.

The professors and teachers at Tyler made it a habit of always calling on me first. In a short time, they realized that I always read the required reading, and my assignments were always completed and handed in on the day they were due. Since my work was always done on time, all the teachers used my artwork, be it outstanding or not, which was the subject of criticism by both the teachers and the students.

I have to say that my decision to go to college at the ripe old age of thirty-six was a good one. And I’ve never regretted it for a moment. I made many friends at Tyler, including some of the teachers. It was the biggest challenge I took in my life, aside from becoming a parent to two children. I didn’t take any summer classes since my children were not in school during the summer. So, I spent all my free time with them. I even babysat my friend and neighbor’s child, who lived several blocks away from us. And she worked full-time.

When I finally completed college and graduated at the top of my class with a 4.0 average and Magnum cum laude and teaching credentials. I have to admit it was one of the most challenging things I ever accomplished. After graduating, I spent many months looking for an art teacher’s position in public and private schools. At some point, I realized that art was being removed from the elementary and high school curriculum, and there weren’t any jobs. This was after I sent my resume to every public and private school in Philadelphia and New Jersey area. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was at the time. I had spent four years of my life in art school at Temple University, only to realize that art classes were no longer taught at the elementary, middle, and high school levels. It appeared as if these programs were no longer funded.

Our Home in Pitman, NJ, and The Art Room, where I taught art for many years to children and adults

After a time, I decided that somehow, somehow, I was going to create my opportunity to teach art. And I did, At the time, were owned a small home in Pennsauken, NJ. I decided to start looking for a larger home, an older home where I could teach art. One day, I found an advertisement for a house for sale in Pitman, NJ. And my husband and I went to the open house. And I knew in a moment that this was the answer to my prayers. It was a big house with three floors and a separate section used by its previous owner as an office. The house had been unoccupied for eight years. And so far noone had made an offer on it.

The day that we went to the open house, I knew this house was the answer to my prayers. The section of the house that had been used for an office had three rooms and two large storage areas. My husband and I talked to the realtor and found out that the house had been unoccupied for at least eight years. And it needed a new roof asap. I didn’t let this stop me. We sold our house in Pennsauken with a rent-to-buy option. And then we made an offer on the house in Pitman, and it was accepted. We moved to the Pitman house in mid-winter. And we spent the next several years improving, painting, and putting a new roof on the house when the weather allowed. I can’t tell you how much work this involved, but it took years. After we setteled in I started advertising all of the town of Pitman, and nearby towns about about Art classed being available for children during the day, and adults in the earling evening. It was slow in the beginning, but over time, it picked up momentum, and I taught art to children, adolescents, and adults for many years. We lived there for twenty-four years. I cannot tell you how much I came to love Pitman, our home, and the people who lived there. Unfortunately, at one point, we could no longer obtain insurance to cover our house and the students who attended my classes, and we had to close down The Art Room. So, at this point, we decided to put up our house for sale and retire.

Our home in NC.

Our home in NC.

And that, my friends, is when my husband and I retired and moved to North Carolina, and we have been there ever since. You never know what challenges you will face in life. But my advice is never to lose faith in yourself and never be afraid to accept a challenge, no matter how difficult it may seem. Keep moving forward in life, and don’t let anyone or anything keep you from accomplishing what you want to achieve in life. Don’t ever lose faith in yourself. At my age, seventy- three I get up first thing in the morning, put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving forward. I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary for eight almost nine years, and I have been writing this blog for eight years, writing short fictional stories and memoirs. I don’t know what I’ll do next, but I have no fear: I will be doing something exciting and challenging from this moment in my life to my last breath. Never give up on yourself or your ability to accomplish every challenge that comes your way.

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DOUBLE THE TROUBLE AND DOUBLE THE BLESSINGS

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I chanced upon an article written about twins, both fraternal and identical. This intrigued me because I am a fraternal twin. My sister and I were born seven minutes apart in 1951. My mother was forty-one when we were born. She had already given birth to four children. My brother, Hugh, was the oldest. He was born nineteen years before my twin in 1932. My oldest sister, Jeanie, was born in 1936. My sister, Eileen, was born in 1943, and my sister, Elizabeth, was born in 1944.

Susan and Karen -1951

Susan and Karen-born 1951

My mother had a second set of twins, Stephen and Girard. Unfortunately, they did not survive. When my twin and I were growing up, my following oldest sisters, Eileen and Liz, lived at home. My brother and oldest sister were married and living in their own homes with children.

I don’t remember too much of my early years. I recall going to my first day of grade school. We lived two houses down from the Catholic Church, and the Catholic elementary school was next to the church. The Catholic Church significantly impacted our lives since we lived so close to it; my twin and I also attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary School for eight years. My sister and I stayed after school to help clean up the classrooms and sometimes the bathrooms. I never questioned it at the time. It was just another chore for the dear Sisters. It wasn’t until I was out of school that I realized why my sister and I had to do chores at the school and the convent. A convent was the name of the residence where the Sisters lived. It was a payment and supplied the tuition my parents paid for our eight years of attending Catholic elementary school.

On Friday after school, my sister and I would walk to the convent to do our chores. My sister, Karen, was tasked with ironing some of the nun’s vestments and ironing the altar silks that protected the altar. I was glad I didn’t have to do the ironing because I wouldn’t say I liked it. I saw my poor mother ironing every day when I came home from school, and I didn’t want to end up doing that. So, my job was to clean the storage room where the sisters had their canned goods. In addition, I had to clean the shelves. It was an easy but tedious job. I did this for eight years. I never questioned it; I just did it as a matter of course.

Because my sister and I were twins and always in the same classroom, my sister and I didn’t get along. Because we shared the same bedroom for most of our lives and then had to share the same classroom for eight years, Karen often would not acknowledge that I was her twin sister. Our classmates knew there were two sets of twins in our class. One was Marie and Martin Mc Cale. Who were fraternal twins since they were a boy and a girl? And Karen and I looked no more alike than Marie and Martin McCale. Whenever Karen could, she would ignore my presence. Many people in my elementary school believed my twin was Helen Hartman, one of my best friends, and we looked somewhat alike.

When Karen and I were about to graduate from elementary school, we had to take entrance exams to attend Catholic High Schools, Holy Cross High School, and St. Mary of the Angels Academy. My parents wanted us to attend St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy in Haddonfield. We both passed the entrance exams because it was an all-girl high school. And so, we attended St. Mary of the Angels Academy for four years and graduated in 1969. I was happy when I graduated since I had twelve years of Catholic School, which was enough for me.

St. Mary of The Angels Academy 1969

St. Mary of the Angels Academy Graduation 1969

St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy found jobs for Karen and me since we wouldn’t go to college as my parents could not afford it. And my grades weren’t good enough to get a scholarship. I missed my high school friends, who were all going away to college. And I didn’t see them again until I was invited to a twentieth reunion. Looking back on my high school experience, I realize I benefited from it in many ways. One reason was that it was an all-girls school, unlike Catholic Elementary School, which showed favoritism towards boys. St. Mary’s geared its education to benefit girls. The employment position Saint Mary of the Angels Academy found for me was working as a dental assistant for a dentist, Dr. Edward G. Wozniak, in Haddon Township, New Jersey. Dr. Wozniak taught me everything I needed to learn to be his assistant. He was a kind and decent man. And I worked for him for many years. I decided to look for a different job because I had to work all day, four nights a week, and Saturday mornings at the dental office. And I could only take a vacation for the five days he and his family took their vacation. This prevented me from going out with friends, having fun, or going on a summer vacation. So, eventually, I decided to look for a different type of employment. And that is when I ended up working for the Ellis Brothers. And that, my friends, was the beginning of a whole other kind of experience.

By this time, my sister had been working for several years and found she had a business head. She was promoted to manager in a short time. She worked in the auto business for many years and was quite successful.

During the time I was working at the Ellis Brothers, my oldest girlfriend they told me that her cousin, Bobby, was coming to visit them in New Jersey. She asked me if I wanted to come over while he was staying since I had a crush on him. And I said, “Yes, I did.” And that was the beginning of a significant change in my life. Bob and I went out, and then he had to return to Florida, where his parents lived. Bob and I kept in touch with each other for many months, and eventually, I decided that I was going to move to Florida. My parents were not happy. But it didn’t try to stop me from moving there. But it was clear they were upset. And so I took an auto-train to Florida, about a twelve-hour trip. And that was the beginning of a new life for me. I found employment at an insurance company, and soon after that, Bob and I were married. This was 1974, and I had just turned twenty-three years old.

That was fifty years ago, and we have two grown children and have been retired to North Carolina for eight years. I’m not saying everything was perfect all those years; we had ups and downs. We take one day at a time now. Although I never had the pleasure of any grandchildren, I do have two dogs, four parrots, and six finches.

I have volunteered at an animal sanctuary for the last eight years, caring for parrots and pheasants. I have also continued writing short stories and memoirs for the past eight years and working in my garden. Who could ask for anything more?

 

 

 

IS GETTING OLD A GIFT OR A CURSE

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Well, here I am, ten years into my retirement. It’s hard to believe how quickly time has flown by. But the truth of the matter is that I didn’t believe I was going to live to be this old. Because when I was fifty-six, I began having cardiac symptoms, shortness of breath, and angina pains up and down my arm. I ignored these symptoms for a short time until the symptoms got worse. And I finally made an appointment to see a cardiologist. After undergoing many medical procedures and tests, I was diagnosed with Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Which my cardiologist told me was a type of congestive heart failure. He said you are now just a cardiac patient.”

I had a difficult time accepting this diagnosis. I had been a vegetarian for sixteen years. I exercised every day of my life. I had never smoked, did drugs, or drank. Apparently, this type of heart failure was congenital, and my mother had suffered from congestive heart failure as well. She passed away in 1987 when I was thirty-six years old. The first cardiologist I went to put me through many tests but really didn’t even attempt to treat me in any way. Other than giving me a prescription for high cholesterol and high blood pressure. After going to this cardiologist for one year, I decided to look for a new doctor who might actually find a treatment that would improve my health and extend my lifespan. 

My new cardiologist, Dr. Drachman, informed me that my heart disease was at a stage at this time where I had a twenty-five percent chance of living five more years or succumbing to an unexpected cardiac arrest at any time.

You can imagine how distraught I was at that time. I certainly had never prepared myself for such an abrupt ending. I considered the options for the remaining time I had left to live. I decided to let myself be happy and fill my days with activities that let me feel jot each day. And for the most part, I was happy. Although, as with anyone’s life from one day to the next, things do not always go our way.

Blue and Gold Macaw

Blue and Gold Macaw

And I also found that there is a certain lightness in knowing you could die at any time. It made me not want to waste any time. Of course, I couldn’t avoid sadness or anger completely. However, I did decide that I would no longer interact with the people in my life, which caused me to feel bad.

As time went on, and I continued to survive, I began to have hope that I would keep on living for some time. And low and behold, a new heart medication became available, Entresto. And sure enough, this medication allowed me to live with less pain, breathe more easily, and continue living a full life without the fear of sudden death.

So, here I am, retired and living in North Carolina. We (my husband and my youngest daughter have just begun the ninth year of our retirement. I don’t know what everyone else does during their retirement, but I got busy. I took another college course so I could work with The Guardian Ad Litem in the NC family court. But, I found it was not a good fit for me. After several months of sitting for hours and hours and listening to lawyers go on and on. And parents give pathetic reasons for not taking care of their own children. It just wasn’t for me. However, many people found it to be a good fit for them.

I considered what other outlets I might find in our living area. And I decided that although I had always loved working with children. I also had a great love for animals. And I found Animal Edventure in Coats, NC and went there and was interviewed. And here I am, almost nine years later. I have been taking care of parrots and Macaws. I have always loved birds.

This is Douglas, and we adopted him from Animal Edventure when we retired

In addition, for the past eight years, I have been writing this blog, Write ON, with short stories and memoirs. It has been an eye-opening experience for me. And one that has been both challenging and enjoyable. And now I have reached the grand old age of seventy-two. The years have flown by. I don’t know my future, but I look forward to each day.

This is a photo of me writing one of the stories in my blog, Write On.

So, is getting old a gift or a curse? I would have to say that every day I live is a gift. And I’m grateful for it. I don’t know yet what lies in my future or how long I have left to live in this life. But I know that every moment is precious, and I don’t want to miss any of it. Even though I know that my life has had many ups and downs. I’m ready for the challenges and the changes. And yes, even the sameness if that is what comes down the road. I hope to live every moment to its fullest. And do good along the way, when or wherever I can.

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THE BIRDS IN MY LIFE, A BIRD”S EYE VIEW

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As long as I can remember, I have held a fascination and deep love for birds. I can remember sitting in my backyard in Maple Shade, New Jersey, under our Weeping Willow tree and quietly observing all the birds flying overhead. There were several birds nest in the Willow Tree. And I loved nothing more than to sit there for long stretches of time and listen to the baby birds squeaking for their mothers to feed them. Their hunger was all-encompassing. And it seemed that they didn’t care for anything except for being fed and having their mother sitting on their nest and keeping them warm. 

As the Spring transitioned into Summer, I continued to observe them quietly while I sat under our beautiful Willow Tree and by the time Summer came to an end, the baby birds had grown up, and before long, they flew away from their nest and headed south for the winter. I would miss their presence over the long, late Fall and cold winter days. But, I knew that come next Spring new birds would arrive and build their nests and create their own new baby birds. This experience would come and go, and over the years, I grew up as well. One of the last Springs that I remember watching for the arrival of the Spring Birds, our Willow Tree, and all the other Willow Trees on Fellowship Road, where I grew up, became infected by some disease that was called Willow Blight. It was a type of fungus that killed off all the Willow Trees where I lived and across the state of New Jersey. And eventually, my father had to cut down the now blighted tree.

After the tree was cut down and the trunk removed, I experienced a period of loss. Not only did I miss my beautiful Willow, but I missed the birds and the baby bird and the hatchlings that used to occupy the Willow in the Spring and early Summer. I missed sitting on the bench that my father had built where I used to sit and listen to the birds. And I often read one of my many library books during my Summer vacation,

As I grew older, I found other things to do during the Summer, like swimming in the community pool and digging in the clay pits, roller skating, riding my bike all over the place and playing with all my neighborhood friends, going swimming in my friend’s swimming pool next door and catching and releasing fireflies at night.

Strawbridge Lake, Moorestown.J

Sometimes, I and one of my friends would ride our bikes all the way to Moorestown and go to Strawbridge Lake. People used to go fishing here. My friends and I used to walk around in the shallow part of the lake and cross the dam where the waterfall was located to the other side and back. There were all kinds of trees and shrubs located at Strawbridge Lake. We often brought our lunches with us and sat on the edge of the lake and ate our bologna or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I used to save some of the scraps and give them to the ducks that swam on the lake. Birds would come from near and far to visit the lake and rest in the trees that shaded the park and the pond. Strawbridge Lake was an oasis for both children and adults and the many birds, squirrels, fish, and reptiles that lived in the area. I have so many beautiful memories of my experiences there as a child. So much so that when I grew up, married, and moved back to New Jersey, I brought my own children and some of my nieces and nephews to Strawbridge Lake to enjoy the lake, the sun, and the beautiful birds that lived there during the warmer months. In the winter, Strawbridge Lake would freeze over, and we would go ice skating there.

As time passed by, I left my childhood behind. But I never let my love of birds and animals slip away. My mother had a pet parakeet in a cage in our kitchen, and that little bird re-ignited my love of birds. And as a result I haunted my mother and father for years to have a pet. As a result, over the years, my family adopted and loved several dogs and all the neighborhood cats I befriended.

One cat in particular, whose name was Strottles, was a large orange cat that our next-door neighbor had owned. Who grew tired of him and put him out. I used to feed him on the sly because my father was not fond of cats. And then, one unfortunate day, my mother was taking the trash outside to put in the garbage, and she had inadvertently left the side door open. Strottles went into the kitchen, and he killed my mother’s beloved bird. And my mother was devastated by the loss, my father blamed me because I was friends with the cat. And he made me go down the cellar for several hours.  Strottles

My mother never wanted another bird after that. She was brokenhearted. So, once again, I was left to love the wild birds that populated our neighborhood and the wild geese and ducks at Strawbridge Lake. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that my father bought me several finches and a cage for them because I kept begging my parents to let me have a pet. He also let me have a hamster who turned out to be an escape artist—the last time he escaped into the heating ducts, my father had to cut a hole in one of the heating ducts in the cellar to get him out. This did not make my father a happy camper by any means. The finches were the last birds that I had while I was living at home with my parents. 

And it wasn’t until I married my now husband and moved to Florida and then California that we bought our first cockatiel. We named him Pepey. We had him for quite a long time. And over the many years, we had several more.

Jalepeno

Jalepeno

And here I am, ten years into my retirement. And we are living in North Carolina. As soon as we settled into our new home, which is in a small development, I decided that I wanted to volunteer to work with animals. And in fact, that is precisely what I did. I searched the internet, and voila’ I found a place called Animal Edventure located in Coats, NC.

I contacted them, and I told them I was looking for a part-time volunteer position taking care of animals of some kind. They made an appointment to come in and talk to them about a volunteer position. And that is just what I did. The first thing they told me was they needed a Bird Person to take care of their many birds. And I said, sure, I would love that. That was almost nine years ago, and I have been taking care of parrots, Macaws, and pheasants of every size and description.

In addition, I have adopted four parrots, six finches, and two dogs. I go to Animal Edventure on Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday morning and take care of these beautiful and, yes, loud birds. So, what can I say, “Some things are just meant to be.” Me and Birds, it’s a thing.

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REGRETS, I’VE HAD A FEW, BUT THEN AGAIN TOO FEW TO MENTION

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I grew up in an Irish Catholic family. There were six children in our family. My fraternal twin sister and I were the youngest, and then I had three older sisters; the oldest one was fifteen years older, and the next two were seven and eight years older than I was. My oldest sibling was my only brother, who was nineteen years older than me.

My childhood home in Maple Shade, NJ

One of the things that I experienced during my childhood was that my family was not big huggers. In fact, I recall very little physical affection from my parents or my siblings. For that matter, it was a rare occasion when my mother or my father told me that they loved me. As for my siblings, I don’t remember them ever showing any affection to me. I’m not saying that they didn’t love each other. I’m saying love and affection were not displayed. I believe at some level that we cared about each other, but we rarely expressed it. I believe that this was a trait that originated within the Irish Culture in Ireland. And since both of my grandparents originated in Ireland, you might say that this lack of showing love or affection was a trait that their parents and their parents and previous generations displayed. And it has occurred to me that if I had grown up in Ireland, this lack of affection might not have affected me so deeply because in Ireland, this is a trait of people in Ireland.

But, since I was born and grew up in America, I knew people and families whose families originated in many other countries. My oldest and best friend’s family was Italian. Her family were affectionate to one another and often expressed verbally their love for one another. I spent a great deal of my childhood at my best friend’s house, and I couldn’t help but notice how often my friend’s mother and father hugged her and told her they loved her. It made me feel sad. I recall asking my mother one day why she and my father didn’t hug me or tell me they loved me. She didn’t really respond to my question. So, for most of my life, I questioned whether my parents loved me.

As I grew up, I came to realize that both my father and mother loved me. And they demonstrated it with their concern and care for my well-being. My mother took care of me when I became ill or if I fell and was injured while playing. She worried about me when I went on bike rides and didn’t come back for hours. She worried when I went to visit my friends and didn’t come back on time for meals. My parents showed their love by enrolling me and my sister and my older sisters in Catholic School for twelve years, which was a financial burden for them. Not to mention that my mother cooked hot meals every day of the twenty years that I lived at my familial home, even when she worked a full-time job.

As I look back over the course of my life, I recognize that I have had difficulty showing my feelings. However, what I have also recognized about my nature is that I have a big heart. That I showed my care and love for people in different ways. Since I was a young girl, my older siblings married moved to their own homes, and started their own families. I found out that I loved being around their children. I enjoyed taking care of them and showing my love for them by hugging them and playing with them. I didn’t have any issues showing affection toward them I loved them as if they were my own younger siblings.

I looked forward to the time when I would fall in love, get married, and have children. And over time, all these events did take place. I had my first child when I was thirty and my second child when I was thirty-four. And I can say without a doubt that there were no two children who were loved more than I loved my daughters. They were not perfect children, and I know I was not the perfect mother. But I love them both with all my heart through the good times and the bad. I also recognize that when they were young, they received many more hugs and kisses than they received when they became adolescents. Adolescents can be like prickly pears.

It was never a matter of me loving them less, but they seemed less able to accept and respond to my affection. Adolescence is a difficult time for both the adolescent and the parents. They are moving forward and away from their families, and perhaps I, along with most parents, attempt to hold on more tightly, perhaps too tightly to them, which causes them to rebel and react negatively.

Parenting an adolescent is perhaps the most difficult challenge anyone can have in their life. Because during that time, adolescents are attempting to move away from childhood and move towards independence. Which is the natural order of things but still a painful time for parents. And a challenging time for adolescents.

I have to admit during my children’s adolescence, there weren’t a lot of hugs and kisses. I regret that, but it is hard to hug someone who makes it their life’s goal to move as far away from you physically and emotionally as they possibly can. And they are just as willing to leave with angry, hateful words.

When I left home at age twenty, I talked to my parents in advance. I was not angry, I still loved them both with my whole heart. I was just ready to move forward in my life and my independence. And that included having started working full-time by the time I was eighteen. I bought my own new car and found an apartment in a town thirty minutes drive from where I grew up. I became responsible for my own expenses, including car insurance, health insurance, rent, and food.

Everyone doesn’t take the same path in life. And life often offers us challenges that are difficult to overcome. Sometimes it is better to take one day at a time, one step at a time. And sometimes, it is better to make that leap of faith in yourself that you are capable of being independent.

On the other hand, growing up doesn’t have to mean growing apart. But sometimes it does. When I was twenty-three, I moved to Florida and got married. Then, my new husband and I moved to Santa Barbara, California, so that he could attend Brooks Institute of Photography. I did not move back to New Jersey for seven years. It was a time of growth, both mentally and emotionally. And I returned a much more independent, mature young woman.

After we arrived back in New Jersey, we stayed with my parent until my husband found a job, and then we decided to buy a small home in Pennsauken, NJ. It was only about a ten-minute drive to Maple Shade, where my parents lived. In fact, my father was one of our first visitors.

When I was thirty years old, I had our first child, and three years later, we had our second child. It was a challenging time for us, and we were so happy and blessed to have my parents in our lives. Becoming a new parent and a stay-at-home Mom for several years was challenging and rewarding. On the other hand, I often felt isolated because I spent most of my time alone with two young children.

When my oldest daughter was in the second grade, and my youngest daughter was in preschool, I made the decision to go to college, and I was accepted at three art schools: Hussian, Moore, and Temple Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia. I decided to attend Tyler School of Art because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year. After the first year, I applied for student loans to continue my education.

The Tyler School of Art 1991

It was difficult balancing going to college and being a wife and mother. But, with the help of friends, I was able to do just that. I graduated at forty-one with a Bachelor of Arts and a teaching certificate. I was in the top ten percent of Temple University in 1991. It was a challenging four years for me, my children, and my family. My oldest daughter was in the fifth grade, and my youngest was in second grade when I graduated. I have to admit it was one of the hardest but most rewarding challenges I ever faced, both for me and my husband and two children. During my four years in college, I spent my time with my children when I was home. After they went to bed at night, I did my school work and studied sometimes long into the night. When I was on school break and during the summer, I spent all my time with my children. It was a growing experience for all of us.

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COMING OF RETIREMENT AGE AS A BABY BOOMER

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I have spent the last seven years since I retired reflecting on my life and experiences. And how those experiences have influenced the person I have become. I believe my parents had the most effect on the development of my personality.

My father worked hard his entire adult life as the Head Dispatcher for SEPTA for over forty years to provide for our family. He was strict and had high standards. He expected his children to achieve. He also had a short fuse, and woe be the person who behaved in a way that he disapproved of. My mother was a kind and loving person who never said anything hurtful to anyone in her life. At times she worked outside of our home, cleaning other people’s houses and cleaning the public school, and occasionally she did ironing for other people.

     When I was attending St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy, she worked in the employee’s kitchen at Wanamaker’s Department Store to help offset the cost of the tuition. She was in her early sixties at the time. She was a deeply devout woman and went to Mass every day of her life.

St. Mary of the Angels Academy

Every afternoon she could be found saying the rosary in her bedroom.

I was born into a family of four children, and I have a fraternal twin. Having six children was not an unusual size family when I was born in 1951. I had friends who had eleven children in their families. Since there was no reliable form of birth control at the time. And the Catholic church frowned on birth control.

I grew up two houses down from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church and elementary school. I attended twelve years of Catholic School and eight years at OLPH Parochial school. And then four years at St. Mary of the Angels Academy. Which was an all-girl school located in Haddonfield, New Jersey.

For those of you who are not familiar with the Baby Boomer Generation, I have noticed over the years that many of us share similar characteristics. Characteristics were no doubt modeled by our parents. We have a strong and focused work ethic. We worked hard for everything we achieved, and it was not handed to us. We are not afraid of challenges.

     And even now, those of us who are retired engage in volunteer work. Before I retired, I took a class to learn how to teach English as a second language to people who migrated to the USA and spoke limited English. In addition, I taught Basic Skills to people who didn’t have the opportunity to finish high school and wanted to get a GED so that they were able to get better-paying jobs.

The Boomers learned how to be self-reliant and independent and have strong work ethics. We are self-reliant and confident and are not afraid to challenge any practices in our workplace. We had to learn to be competitive in our search for employment since there were so many people in our generation and, therefore, competition for employment in the workplace.

For those of us who wanted to attend college but whose families could not afford to send us, we set goals to do so outside the norm—for instance, going to junior college and going to school over time to earn college degrees. As for myself, I made the decision to attend college at the age of thirty-six. I had two children at home at the time. I applied to Temple Tyler School of Art and the Hussian School of Art, and Moore College of Art, which was a woman’s college. I was accepted at all the schools I where I applied.

Tyler School of Art

      I made the decision to attend Temple University in Philadelphia because they offered me a full scholarship for the first year based on my portfolio. I graduated from Temple University when I was forty years old. My children were ten and seven at the time. It was a challenge to balance my role as a parent, wife, and college student. I often only had two or three hours of sleep at night during the week. And during the summer, I used to babysit the daughter of a friend of mine. I graduated in the top ten percent of Temple University with a 4.0 average and two degrees, Fine Art and Art Education.

When I  graduated from Temple University, I found that there were precious few teaching positions in public schools for Art teachers since public schools in the early 1990s were cutting back their budgets in Art and Music. After applying to every school in the three surrounding counties for almost a year, I decided that I was going to start my own school. We decided to move to a bigger home that could accommodate teaching art. And we found it in Pitman, New Jersey. The house was over 4,000 square feet and used to be owned by a Doctor of neuropsychology. He and his wife had passed away over eight years before that. And as you can imagine, the house was in need of a great deal of work since the house had remained empty for all those years. And so, the first thing we had to do was have a new roof on the home. 

I spent many months working and painting the doctor’s three patients’ rooms and preparing them for classrooms to teach art. I spent many years teaching students that came to my classes, both children during the day and adults at night. I taught classes in drawing and painting and the basics of three-dimensional art.

     It was fulfilling and challenging work. We lived in that house for twenty-four years. We sold it when we were preparing to retire to North Carolina. It was extremely difficult to leave our home since we had put so many years living there and improving it for years. This  Included a garden that I created over many, many years. We ended up selling the house to a younger couple that had two children. The husband was a lawyer who set up his office in what had been my art studios. I have to admit the day that we went to the settlement was one of the most difficult days of my life. I still miss that house and all the friends and neighbors that we had come to love in our twenty-four years in Pitman.

I believe that my personality and the influences that surrounded me growing up in the Baby Generation gave me the confidence and willpower to meet challenges in my life that were often difficult. Over my lifetime, I moved from my parent’s home to my own apartment when I was twenty. I moved to Florida when I was twenty- two to be near the young man I fell in love with. And eventually, we were married and moved to Santa Barbara, California, where my husband attended Brooks Institute to study Photography. We moved back to New Jersey when he graduated and bought a small house in Pennsauken, NJ, where we lived for fourteen years and had our two children, who are now adults.

Animal Edventure Susan talking to Montana a cocatoo

Animal Edventure Susan talking to Montana, a cockatoo.

And now here I am in North Carolina, where we moved to at retirement. And we didn’t know a soul here but made our home here all the same. I volunteered as a Guardian Ad Litem in the Smithfield Court House, representing at-risk children. And for the past seven years going on eight years, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary called Animal Edventure, where I have taken care of Macaws, Parrots, and Pheasants. I’m still going strong and don’t have any plans to stop at any time in the near future. I almost forgot to mention that I created WRITE ON, my writer’s blog on the internet, and have been writing and publishing a new story every week going on six years.

I don’t know what else I may do in the future but have no doubt I will continue to create and grow for the remainder of my life, for however long that may be. I will keep on, keeping on. Have no doubt—Susan A. Culver, artist, and writer.

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THE LAUGHING GOAT

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Nubian Goat

The day I have been looking forward to for the past year has finally arrived. I have literally counted the days I had left to work for the past year.

When I arrived at work, I punched in my security code at the employee entrance. I did a little jig as I walked through the door. My boss happened to be walking past the entrance at the same moment, and she gave me a thumbs up and walks over and shook my hand.

“Congratulations, Marion, you will be missed, but you deserve to have a wonderful retirement. I doubt that we will ever find anyone who can replace you. Your dedication to excellence in every project you worked on and your ability to inspire others to do the same.”

“Thank you, Constance. I have enjoyed working here. But I’m more than ready for a new chapter in my life and new challenges.”

“I have no doubt that you will succeed in whatever you choose to do. What exactly are you going to be doing?”

“Well, I’ve sold my apartment here in Philly, and I bought a small farm out in the country. I’m going to be growing organic vegetables and raising goats and making goat cheese and goat milk.”

“What? you’re kidding?

“Kidding? No, I’m not kidding. That’s exactly what I’m going to be doing. I have been investigating and reading about organic farming and animal husbandry for years.”

“Really, I had no idea. You are constantly surprising me, Marion. I have no doubt that you will be highly successful. I would love to come out and see your farm once you are settled in.”

“Really? Well, sure, as soon as I get everything in order and I have my farm up and running. I’ll let you know. I’ll be leaving on Wednesday. The people that bought my apartment will be moving in Thursday morning. And the family that I bought my farm from has already moved out. It’s a beautiful area outside Philadelphia in Delaware County, or Delco as the locals call it. I purchased all the farming equipment, and my goats will be arriving by the end of the week. I’m starting with six goats at first, and eventually, I will have twenty in my flock, or some people call it a toop.”

“Well, Marion, I’m impressed. Good luck, and let us all know how you’re doing.”

“I will. Thanks, Constance. Sorry if I bent your ear. I know I have the tendency to be long-winded. I have enjoyed working under you. You are an excellent supervisor. I’ve learned a great deal about organization from you. That will no doubt benefit me in my new career.” Marion and Constance shake hands and depart. Marion headed toward the break room to get a cup of coffee.

When she walked in, she was surprised by all her workmates yelling, “Congratulations, Marion and giving her a round of applause. Marion was so flabbergasted that she almost fell over. Her office mate and friend, Katie, ran over and gave her a big hug. And then everyone came over and shook her hand or patted her on the back.

“Wow, I’m shocked I had no idea you were going to do this. Thank you all so much. I’m overwhelmed. And Marion starts to go walk over to the coffee machine, and she realizes there is a huge cake with green icing and a barn on it with a fence in an area where little goats are grazing on the green icing. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Did you do this, Katie?”

“Well, I ordered the cake, but we all helped decorate the room, and if you look to the left, you’ll see a pile of gifts for you and your new life out in the sticks.” But I do have to admit I had trouble finding the little barn and fence and goats to decorate the cake. I finally found them online. They are toys for little kids. I knew you would like it.”

“Like it? I absolutely love it.” And she gives Katie a big hug. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Well, you deserve it, Marion. You are the one that has trained most of us in our current positions. And you have always been there for us and helped solve any technical issues we had. Why don’t you sit down and open your gifts?”

Marion walked over to the pile of gifts and started opening them. Some of them were envelopes. She opened them first, and they were all cards and gift certificates to The Tractor Store. “Thank you, guys. I know these gift certificates will come in handy.”

The second gift she opened held two pairs of denim overalls. When Marion opened these, she started laughing. “Won’t I be the bell of the ball in these lovely overalls?”

Everyone started laughing because Marion had previously been known for her hip dress attire with never a hair out of place. It was hard to imagine her living on a farm in rural Pennsylvania living on a farm and raising goats. It was impossible to imagine her milking goats and making Feta cheese.

The last box she opens is huge, and Marion can’t imagine what the package holds. She picks up the box, and it’s as light as a feather. She opens it up and finds a cashier’s check from the company president for $10,000. Marion is amazed. She holds up the check for everyone to see. And her friend, Howard, who is the Chief Financial Officer, shouts out, “and you deserve every penny of it. You have brought so many new accounts into our company over the years. I know you will be a success in your new enterprise.”

Marion has tears running down her face and can’t speak for several minutes and then finally says, “well, let’s get down to business and cut this cake. And everyone starts laughing and comes up and shakes Marion’s hand and wishes her all the luck in the world.”

“Thank you, everyone. I want everyone to know that you are welcome to come and visit at any time once I get myself moved in and everything under control. I will definitely send you all invitations to my open house. I’ll miss you all.” And then tears start running down her cheeks. And she doesn’t wipe them away. She has no regrets, although she will miss these people with all her heart. They are like family to her.

After everyone enjoys some cake and coffee, they start heading back to their respective offices to start their day. Marion goes back to her office to finish closing up some of her files. And then handing them off to the people who will be taking them over. She can’t believe how quickly thirty years flew by. The only time she believes it is when she looks in the mirror and sees a face that is no longer young but still full of life. She is so looking forward to her new life. As she has always looked forward to a new challenge. She has never failed before and trusts that she will succeed in her new endeavor.

At the end of the day, she stops by her closest friend and workmate’s desks and shakes her hand. Katie hugs her again and says,” You better call me as soon as you get settled in so I can come to see your new home and meet your goats. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anyone before. And she smiles and laughs and then starts crying. I’ll miss you so, but I know you will be happy in your new life, goats and all.

As Marion heads back to her apartment, she feels equal amounts of happiness and sadness but no regrets at all about her decision to retire. She is looking forward to her new life at the Laughing Goat. That is what she decided to call her farm. Because goats always seem to be laughing when they neigh or bleat. And recently, Marion found out that goats from different areas have different accents. And that young goats bleat differently when they are bleating at other “kid” goats. Humans always think that they are superior to those creatures in the animal world, but the fact is we are not as superior as we seem to think we are.

Marion pulls into the driveway of her apartment complex and into her parking spot. She has lived in this apartment for the better part of her life. She has been happy here. She knows many of the tenants. She will miss them as she will miss her workmates. Marion has always accepted the fact that every time you gain something, you lose something at the same time.

Marion gets out of her car and locks it, opens up her trunk to get out all the packages, and then decides against it. After all, she will be moving tomorrow, so there’s no point in taking it out of the car. Tomorrow morning, she will rearrange things in her car so she can fit her personal belongings like her computer and a change of clothes. And a set of sheets and towels to use at her new home tomorrow. The movers were here today and took the bulk of her belongings and furniture to the farm. She had told them to leave the air mattress in her bedroom along with her change of clothes and her computer.

Today had been an especially emotional day, and she needed to calm herself down and decompress. She hoped she would be able to go to sleep. Sometimes when she got overwrought, she couldn’t fall asleep at all. She decided to take a hot bath, drink a cold beer, and hit the air mattress. And she did just that, and when she finally did flop down on the air mattress, she fell asleep as soon as she closed her bloodshot eyes.

The next morning, she woke up at 7:30 with a start. She let the air out of her mattress. And she took a quick shower and got dressed, ran a brush through her curly grey hair, and started taking her few remaining belongings to her car. She managed to fit everything in by some miracle. She put her purse and computer in the passenger seat and took one last look at what had been her home for almost twenty years. She felt equal amounts of nostalgia and excitement.

She pulled out of the driveway of the complex and headed toward the highway and her new home and new life. At the last moment, before she got on the highway, she decided to pull into a fast-food restaurant to get a large coffee. And then she was on her way to beautiful Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. It was about an hour and a half drive.

And before she knew it, she was pulling into the gravel driveway of her new home. It was a beautiful Spring Day, and the sun was shining. It was breathtaking how beautiful this part of the country is. Marion can hardly believe she’s made this all happen. She pulls up to the house, and she sees the moving company arrived. And they are in the process of unloading the furniture and bringing it into her new home. It’s a typical house built in the late 1950s, but it has been beautifully maintained. There are red and yellow tulips blooming all around the front porch.

Marion steps out of her car and stretches, and takes a deep breath of the country air. It’s wonderful. She walks up to the steps on the front porch and into her new home. She peeks in the door and waves at the movers, and says, “hello, I’m Marion Wilkes. Thank you for arriving on time. Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to be checking out the house. I won’t be far.

Marion had hired painters to come in and paint the interior of the house last week before the movers arrived. It looks just as she hoped it would, bright and welcoming. She decides to go upstairs to her bedroom and see how it looks. It was supposed to be painted periwinkle blue. One of her favorite colors. As she walks into the bedroom, she notices that all of her bedroom furniture is in place, and she immediately starts to feel at home.

She says out loud, “Oh, it’s just as I imagined it would look.” She knows it will only look better once she gets her art up on the walls.  Just then, she hears one of the movers call up to her, “can you come down here for a few minutes and make sure we are putting everything in the right place?”

“Yes, I’ll be right there after I make a trip to the ladies’ room.”

When she came downstairs, the movers were bringing in the living room couch and recliner. Marion walked over to the place where she wanted the couch and said, “right here is perfect. Also, I would like the coffee table in front of the couch here. And the side table to the left of the couch. I take care of the small things like the lamps if you can just bring them in and put them over there by the back wall.

An hour and a half later, everything was in the house and in place except for the paintings and photographs and wall mirrors. She hasn’t decided where she wants yet. She would have to live with it for a while until she decided. The movers were just bringing in the last items. She said, “thank you so much. You all did a great job. She handed the young man closest to her a tip. “This is for all of you, be careful on your way home. They turned and walked out the front door. Marion watched as they drove away.

Marion spent the next hour putting dry goods in the kitchen and then made a list of food she would need to buy tomorrow. She knows she’s too tired to go food shopping today. Tomorrow she is going to be extremely busy getting the small barn ready for the goats and making sure all the post and rail fences are secure. Sometime tomorrow afternoon, she expects her goats to be delivered. She hired a local carpenter to come out and double-check her fences before the goats arrived. Which was late tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the day and into the early evening, Marion did her best to get her personal belongings into her clothes closet and dresser drawers. And right before she was about to call it a day. She put all her bathroom essentials into the medicine cabinet in her personal bathroom and the half-bath downstairs. She couldn’t believe how much she had accomplished in one day. She decides to watch a movie on the internet, and then she realizes that she forgot to have an internet connection. Thank goodness she at least had the water and electricity connected. Marion took a long hot bath and then fell into bed without eating any dinner. She was too tired to even think about making anything to eat.

She woke up when her stomach started growling. It was six o’clock in the morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise. It was another beautiful day. So, she made some instant coffee and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and sits on the porch until the sun was high in the sky. She thought about her goats that would arrive before the end of the day. And the thought alone made her smile.

Her immediate plan was to purchase Junior Does, that are already pregnant. And they would arrive late this afternoon.  And in that way, she would only have to wait five months to start collecting the milk. Unfortunately, she had to pay a breeding fee. Meanwhile, Marion would be setting up her barn to start making cheese a lot sooner. It wasn’t really about money. It was Marion’s desire to start her new life as soon as possible. She had been planning this for a long time.

After Marion had dressed, she made up a list of the things she needed to buy. She had the hay delivered to the barn a couple of days ago. And, of course, the goats would be out in the field most of the day eating. She filled up the troth with fresh water and then set her GPS up to direct her to the nearest food store.

And she was on her way. When she arrived at her destination, she didn’t find a big box food store. She found a Mom and Pop grocery. And although it was charming in its own way, she was certain that she wouldn’t find all the things on her list. She parked her car and locked it out of habit and walked up to the door, and walked through.

She heard the jingle-jangle of a bell at the top of the door. It was reminiscent of her childhood when her mother used to send her to the corner store. She halfway expected Mr. Fuelle to be standing at the counter. He owns the little Mom and Pop store in the little town she grew up in. But of course, it wasn’t him. He died fifty years ago.

There was a cheerful, middle-aged woman with bright, red, frizzy hair at the counter. “Let me know if there is anything you can’t find. I’ll be glad to help you. I’m the proprietor here.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. I just moved to the old Sutter place yesterday.” Marion grabbed a cart and started walking up and down the aisles. She was pleasantly surprised by how well-stocked it was for such a small store. It looked like she could get almost everything she needed here.

When she got up to the counter, she realized that the counter was a glass case with candy in it. In fact, it looked like all the candy she used to eat as a kid, including red hot dollars, candy cigarettes, and her favorite black licorice. “Wow, I’m impressed with your store. I’m so glad I came here.”

“Well, we’re small, but I pride myself on keeping my customers happy. If there is anything that you want and it’s not here, and you will want to buy it often, let me know, and I will get it for you, even specialty items. By the way, my name is Thelma Rice.”

“Hello Thelma, my name is Marion. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you can be assured I will be a return customer. How much do I owe you?”

“That will be forty dollars and forty-nine cents.”

“Really? Thanks so much. I look forward to visiting you again soon, Thelma.”

“Well, Marion, I’m happy to hear that. On your way out, look at the bulletin board, and you’ll see a list of all the local tradespeople and any activities that are taking place in the local area. Feel free to take a copy. See you soon.”

On her way out the door, Marion did grab one of the calendars. She looks forward to reading it over her next meal. Her spirits were lifted by her visit to the store and meeting Thelma. She hoped everyone in the area would be as cheerful and helpful.

She saw a gas station across the road and decided to stop and get her car filled up. She didn’t know how many gas stations were in the immediate area. When she pulled up to the gas pump. It wasn’t a self-serve, so she waited for someone to come outside and wait on her. In about two minutes, a young man with red hair came over and said, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, thank you. Could you fill it up and check the oil?”

“Sure, can, Mam.”

“Oh, I just moved to the area. I’m sure you’re going to see me often. So please call me Marion.”

“Sure, Mam, I will. I mean Marion.”

Marion laughs and says, “do you take credit or debit cards?”

“Yes, Mam, I mean Marion. We take both.”
“Here you go, by the way. What’s your name? Did you know you have the exact shade of red hair as the Thelma Rice across the street at the food store?”

“Yes, mam, I mean Marion. That’s because she’s my mother.”

He handed her the card back and said, “have a great day.”

“I’m sorry I forgot to ask your name.”

“Oh, my name is Frank. But most people call me Red.”

“Alright, Red, I’ll see you next time I need a fill-up. I hope you have a wonderful day.

As Marion made her way home, she couldn’t help but notice the beautiful scenery along the way home. It was unspoiled. There wasn’t any trash on the roadside, or anywhere she saw so far. It was just pristine. It looked like it had remained as it must have looked fifty years ago. Her heartfelt light, and there was a big smile on her face.

On the way home, she kept singing, today my goats are coming, today my goats are coming. As if it was a song. And then she looked at the clock on the dashboard and was immediately concerned that the goats might already have arrived and she was going to be late. Her heart started beating faster. It was only 9:45, and she had plenty of time. She needed to calm down.

She arrived at her street and turned left, and drove up to her driveway up to the garage. And jumped out of the car and started quickly bringing the groceries into the house. She had to remind herself again to slow down and calm down. She really couldn’t remember any time in the past when she got herself this wound up. She tried taking deep, cleansing breaths. That seemed to help until she kept doing it, and she started to feel light-headed. “Good grief, what is wrong with me?”

And then the phone rang. “Hello, is this Marion?”

“Yes, who’s calling, please?”

“This is Chester. I’m bringing six goats to you. We are about fifteen minutes from your house. We made good time. Will you be at home?”

“Yes, it so happens I will be. You weren’t supposed to arrive until after lunch.”

“I know, as I said, we made good time. See you in about fifteen minutes.” And then he hung up abruptly.

Marion began hyperventilating. She plopped down on the ground and slowed her breathing. In a few minutes, she regained control of herself. She decided to get a glass of cold water and sit on the porch until they arrived. By the time they arrived, she was more like her usual self, in control of her emotions. And then, the truck arrived and parked next to the fenced-in pasture. Marion got up and walked over to the pasture and up to the truck cab.

“Marion?”

“Yes, of course. And you must be Chester. So how do you go about getting six goats into the pasture without them running away?”

“We’ll get the goats into the fenced-in area. But I’ll tell you right now, and there ain’t no way you’ll get them to stay in there. If they want to get out, they will. As long as they have some decent food and fresh water, they’ll stay. But then again, you just never know. They might just jump over the fence or even get out under the fence. But ready or not, here they come.”

Chester and another lanky guy who looked about sixteen herded the goats inside the corral. There you go, mam, good luck. These are some nice goats. Take care of them. You know they are all pregnant, right?”

“Of course, I’m going to make goat cheese from their milk. As soon as the babies can be weaned. “

“Really? Did you ever do this before?”

“Well, no, but I’ve been studying and learning about it for a couple of years. I’m sure it will all work out fine.”

“If you say so, Mam, make sure they have plenty of fresh hay and grass otherwise, they’ll start eating the bark off of them trees over there. And give them plenty of fresh water. Hear? Take care, Mam, and good luck. As they were walking away, the two men were laughing.”

Marion stood next to the fence and watched as her goats ran all over the field for about fifteen or twenty minutes, had a drink of water, and then started eating. None of them looked her way. Marion knew this would all take time, but she was not a quitter. She stood and watch her goats. And they were just beautiful. In her head, she started naming them. Beatrice, Agnes, Cindy, Maddy, Josephine, and Marie after her mother.

The goats seemed content in the field, and it didn’t look like they had any plan to jump the fence and escape. So, Marion decided to go into the house and put some jeans and a tee shirt on. And then come outside and try to get acquainted with her goats. Ten minutes later, Marion came out, and she saw all six of her goats wandering down the long driveway outside the pasture towards the country road. And then is when Marion realized her new life as a goat herder was about to begin. She took a deep breath and tried to catch up with her lady goats.

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