Tag Archives: young girl

A BEST FRIEND WHO LIVES FAR AWAY, MY PEN PAL

Remember when you were a young child, and your mother used to tell you stories to help you fall asleep at night? I have a story to tell, but it doesn’t have a good ending. So, here goes. It all began when I was a young child. I absolutely loved going to the Ben Franklin Store in my hometown, where I grew up. It was actually called the Ben Franklin 5 & 10 Cent Store. Because many of the items in the store could be purchased for five or ten cents, I would spend hours walking up and down the aisles at all the treasures that were for sale. And all I needed to have was a dime, a quarter, or a pocket full of pennies, and I could get one of the treasures for a mere penny, nickel, or dime.

I would walk around town, up and down Main Street, with my head down, looking for a penny, a dime, or a nickel. And on a lucky day, a quarter. I could buy a whole lot at the 5&10 for a quarter. For me, it was like a treasure hunt. Just looking for the loose change lying on the sidewalk was exciting. It was exciting to go to the 5&10 and buy something with its aisles and aisles of cool stuff. The ladies that worked in the store were always so cheerful and welcoming. They never lost patience with me or any of the other children that used to go there. They would often make suggestions on what to buy.

One day, I was walking around in the back of the store, and I happened to find an envelope filled with canceled stamps from all over the world. Next to it was an album for sale for a dollar where you could store all your stamps. The lady who worked in that part of the store came over to me and explained that all the stamps had been canceled. Meaning they had been used by someone in another country and mailed to another part of the world. The lady who worked in the store told me that for a dollar, I could buy an empty album and fill it with canceled stamps worldwide. She also suggested that I try contacting some kids my age from other parts of the world and write back and forth to them. She said they were called Pen Pals.

I talked to my fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Mc Elliot, who told me about a Pen Pal Program I could join that the school I attended promoted. Several weeks went by, and I didn’t hear anything more about my pen pal. Then about five weeks after that I received a letter with a weird looking stamp on it. And it said Ireland. I had no idea where Ireland was located. So, I showed my father, and he said, “You don’t know where Ireland is?” And I said, “no.” So, he said, “Why don’t we take a walk downtown to our library and look at the globe.” I was so surprised that he said he would walk with me that I started jumping up and down. My father rarely went anywhere with me alone. Since we had a big family. But, sure enough, he said, “Let’s go.” Off we went down to Main Street and to the library, which was located right next to the town police department.

As we entered the library, my father said, “Do you have a library card?” And I said no. What’s a library card?”

“It’s an official card that says you can borrow library books. You have to take good care of them and return them on the due date. Otherwise, you get charged for being late.”

I started jumping up and down and saying, “Yes, yes, yes, I want a library card. I love to read.” The next thing I knew, we were in the library. It wasn’t really big, but it was packed with books from the floor to the ceiling.

Then, my father said, “come on I’l show you where Ireland is on the globe. So, he took me to the middle of the room, where a round globe was sitting on a table. “ Here it is, here is where we live, and here is where Ireland is located. He pointed to it, “See where I have my finger? That is where my mother and father were born, in County Down Patrick in Ireland. My mother came to America in 1904 from Ireland. And I was born in 1910 here in the United States. I looked at my dad and said, “Wow, you are really old.” Then he said, now you know that your family came from Ireland to America. And they came to have a better life and more opportunity than Ireland since it was such a small country.

Then, my father went up to the librarian lady and asked if I could apply for a library card. Believe it or not, she said, “But of course, she can.” My father spelled out my name and address and showed her his driver’s license. The next thing I knew, I had my very own library card.

Now that you know that your family came from another part of the world, you can find a pen pal from Ireland if you want to start writing them. Or you can write to anyone in the rest of the world who speaks and writes English towrite to you.

So, that very same week, my teacher gave me the name of a student about my age who lived in Ireland. And I started writing them. It turned out to be a girl about my age, and she even sent me a picture of herself. And she looked to be about my age. I didn’t understand the words she used in her letters, but I kept writing back, and she wrote me. She told me in her last letter that someday she would like to come and visit me in America. I couldn’t sleep for a week after that. I thought she was going to come any time now. But, she meant someday in the future, she would come.

Anyway, her name was Coleen O’Cabri, which my father said was a big coincidence because that was his father’s last name. However, when he moved to America, he changed his name to Carberry. O’Cabri meant driver of the chariots, which my father said was also a strange coincidence since he started out his working career driving trolleys and buses in Philadelphia.

Unfortunately, my father’s mother had other ideas for him. His mother believed working in the office and Philadelphia Transportation Company, or PTC, was more prestigious, as my father called it. And so, he worked for the rest of his working life, scheduling the buses, trolleys, and drivers. It was a good job, but he had to work nights. And he used to sleep during the day. I rarely saw my father since he often slept during the day, and I was supposed to keep quiet so I wouldn’t wake him up. And he went to work at night.

Anyway, as I was saying, I decided to keep writing my pen pal Coleen O’Cabri, and I told her that O’Cabri was my dead grandmother’s name. When she wrote back, she told me that O’Cabri was a fairly common name in that part of Ireland. I told her that we had people from all over the world living there in America. And that my best friend was a mixture of Irish and Italian. She thought that was really weird. I explained to her that people from all over the world came to live here in America. I asked if she would like to come and visit me someday. And she said she would like that. Maybe when she grew up and had some money saved.

Coleen said there were some things different in Ireland. She said Ireland’s nickname is the Emerald Isle. Believe it or not, there are something like 30,000 castles in Ireland, and one of the oldest lighthouses is in Wexford, Ireland. Contrary to popular belief, the shamrock is not a national symbol of Ireland. Some people in Ireland spoke Gaelic, but most people since the eighteenth century spoke English in Ireland. Which I thought was weird. But then I realized that she had been writing me in English since we started being pen pals, and I didn’t even think about that at the time.

Another thing she told me that I didn’t know was that six million Irish people moved to America. At that time, it has been estimated that nearly two million people—about a quarter of the population—emigrated to the United States in a ten-year period.

That is how my family came to live in America: my father’s mother emigrated to the United States at the turn of the century. My father was born in 1911, and I was born in 1951. My mother’s family was also from Ireland. My mother’s last name was Brown. Marie Gertrude Brown until she married my father in 1929 and became Marie Carberry.

The Irish have contributed to America in many ways. They and their descendants made incalculable contributions to politics, industry, organized labor, religion, literature, music, health care, and art.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that people from Ireland or any other country that came to the United States were not that different from us. Some of their customs might be slightly different, or their food might not be the same as ours. But we are all people trying to make our way through life. Sometimes, having to struggle from one day to the next. But people are all the same. I kept writing to Coleen for a long time. Believe it or not, we became good friends by writing letters to one another. And I hope that one day she will come to visit me. And that I can go visit her. Do you remember what Forrest Gump said? He said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.”

But I know my friend Colleen and I will eventually get together. I don’t know if she will come here, or I will go to Ireland. But, one day, we will meet. And it will be my dream come true.

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

A MODERN DAY FAIRY TALE

There once was a little girl named Sally who was different in many ways from all the other little girls. She was even quite different from her four sisters. She didn’t resemble any of them in their looks or their behavior. It had occurred to her own mother that somehow she had gotten the wrong baby when she went to the hospital.

As soon as the little girl was old enough, her mother would allow her to explore her neighborhood. But first, her mother said, “ I have to teach you how to cross the street by yourself; otherwise, you could be hit by a car. And sure enough, that very day, Sally’s mother took her out to the curb on the street in front of their house and said,” Now, Sally, you have to be very careful when you cross the street. This street is very busy. So, you have to look both ways. First, you look right, then left, then right again. If no cars are coming, you can safely cross the street. Sally was a little afraid to cross the street on her own. But she was also brave and looked right, left, and right again. And there weren’t any cars coming from either direction. And so, Sally walked across the street and back again.

Her mother hugged her and said,” Good job, Sally. Remember to do that every time I woudn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Mommy, can I walk up and down our street too?”

“Yes, Sally, but always look both ways. And don’t talk to strangers, either. And don’t ever get into a car with someone you don’t know. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mommy I understand, look both ways, twice and don’t talk to strangers or get into cars with them. I won’t forget.”

And so, from that day forward, Sally began a life of adventures. Sally didn’t tell her mom or daddy where she went or what she did. Because they never asked, and she followed her mother’s rules. The first thing she did was to walk two houses down and visit Mrs. Collin’s house. She loved going there because Mrs. Collins had many, many cats. They came outside and strolled up and down the backyard inside a long cage that ran from the back of Mrs. Collin’s house to the end of her property. Sally knew all their names. She didn’t know for sure how many there were because they never held still for long, so it was hard to count them.

Plus, Sally hadn’t started school yet. And she wasn’t good at counting. But, nonetheless, Sally loved every one of those cats and made sure she petted each and every one of them when she went over to their backyard to visit them.

Sally had a big imagination. While she was out and about, she would make up stories. And when her neighbors would ask her what she was up to, she often told a tall tale about her adventures every day.

One day, one of her neighborhood friends came outside to play, and Sally decided to tell her a story. It was a made-up story. But her girlfriend didn’t know that. Sally went on to tell her friend, Jillian, that she was actually an alien from outer space and she had come here to take Jillian with her to her planet. Jillian began to cry at the top of her lungs that she didn’t want to go to another planet. She cried so much that Sally got frightened and said, “Jillian, I was just making pretend. I’m not from another planet; I’m not taking you anywhere.” Jillian kept crying, and Sally decided she better take her home. Sally didn’t see Jillian for another week. So, she went over to Jillian’s house and knocked on the door. Jillian’s father answered the door. And he looked very angry, he said,” What do you want? You know that Jillian is still upset by that story you told her the other day; don’t scare her again with your stories. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. I was pretending. It was a game.”

“Yes, but Jillian didn’t know you were playing a game.”

“OK, I won’t do that again. Can I please play with Jillian today?”
“Yes, but come back after lunchtime. Jillian is eating lunch.”

“OK, I’ll come back after lunchtime. Can we go Jillian and I go to the playground then?”

“Yes, do you know how to cross the street?”
“Yes, my mom taught me. I’ll hold Jillian’s hand when we cross.”

“Alright, but make sure she is home before dinnertime.”

“I will. She will be safe with me.”

Sally decided to go home and see if her mother had lunch ready since her stomach was growling. Sure enough, when she got home, she could smell Chicken Noodle Soup cooking and her favorite sandwich, grilled cheese with Lebanon Bologna, when she walked into the kitchen. Her father was sitting at the table. And he said, “Well, Sally, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing. I just went over to Jillian to ask her to come out and play, and I was told to come back after lunch. So, here I am.”

“So you are. Have a seat. Here comes your lunch. And don’t gulp it down. And clear the table before you leave. Push your chair in after getting up, and then brush your teeth. Sally took a long breath after her father said all of that. And she sighed. Her father always gave her a long list of things she had to do. Sometimes, he was in a bad mood, and he would yell at her and tell her to stop talking so much because she loved to tell her mother and father about her adventures. Her older sisters always laughed at her. And said,’ Wow, she really has a wild imagination, doesn’t she?”

Her father would always say, “Leave her alone day that imagination is going to take her places. And then her older sister said, “Yeah, a nut house.” Sally’s father said, “That’s enough; don’t be mean to your little sister.”

After lunch, her mother said, “Sally, go in and brush your teeth before you go out. And wash your face, too; you have peanut butter all over it. And don’t forget to brush your teeth. Sally moaned. She hated brushing her teeth. Sally went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Her mother made her brush her teeth with peroxide and baking soda. It tasted awful. It made her feel sick. She rinsed her mouth out about five times and then did it again. Why, oh why, couldn’t she brush her teeth with toothpaste like everyone else?

Sally came out of the bathroom and asked, “Is it OK if I walked downtown to the Ben Franklin 5&10 and Rexall? I have a whole dollar saved, can I, can I?”

“Yes, but be careful crossing the streets. Do it at the red light, not in the middle of Main Street. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’ll be careful. Can I stop at the library too? I want to get some new books?”

“Sure, that’s a good idea. Maybe you won’t spend so much time watching TV all afternoon and night.”

“Yes, Mom. I’ll see you later.”

Sally said, “See you later.” As soon as she exited the front door, Sally started running down Main Street as fast as possible. Sally loved to run; she also liked riding her bike. But she wasn’t allowed to ride it downtown because of all the traffic. Before she knew it she was in front of the Bakery. She could smell the sweet aroma of cakes, pies, donuts, and cookies. Oh, it was heaven. Sally decided to stop into the bakery and say hello to all the people who worked there. They always gave her a cookie or a donut when she stopped by because she would regale them with long stories about her adventures around town. They thought she was making it up, but she wasn’t. Sally did a lot of interesting things. Just last week, she had borrowed her older sister’s bike and road down to the next town where there was a lake. And she spent the entire afternoon walking in the water up to her knees and sitting in the sand. She just loved it there. One of the bakers, whose name was Thelma, said, “Well, what have you been up to, Sally?”

“Oh, nothing much, but I did walk all the way to the Custard Stand last week and bought myself a custard. I bought a vanilla one. It was delicious.”

“Sally, where do you get all the money to buy treats?”
“Oh, I walk all around Main Street and look for coins people drop.”

“ Well, you must be really lucky. But you better brush your teeth. Too much sugar rots your teeth.”

“I know, I know. My mother tells me that night and day.”
“Well, where are you headed now?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take a walk to my Uncle Bill’s house. It’s not too far from here. And they always give me a snack and sometimes even a soda. And my uncle likes to draw things. He showed me how to draw a horse. And my Aunt Betty is really nice. They don’t have kids, so they like when I visit them. Sometimes, my Uncle Bill gives me a silver dollar.’’

“Well, aren’t you the lucky one?”

“Yes, I guess I am. Well, I guess I’ll be on my way. I want to go to the library and get some more books. I’m reading about dinosaurs now. I wish we still had dinosaurs.”

The people in the bakery laughed and said,” Oh, I don’t know about that. They may decide to eat you for dessert. And then she laughed; they all did. The ladies working in the bakery thought Sally was an interesting kid, always up to something. She was probably giving her mother and father grey hair before their time.

And then Sally said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you later. And before they knew it, she was out the door yelling, thanks for the donuts. And she was off to her next adventure. Sally absolutely loved her adventures. And she knew that someday when she grew up, she was going to go on even better adventures far away, maybe even to another country. And she did, when she grew up she went on many adventures far and wide, and brought home all kind of suveneirs. She spent many of her years writing stories about her adventures and even painting pictures of the places and the people she met along the way. Who knows what she will do next? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

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

JUST ANOTHER BORING MORNING IN MAYBERRY

     Monday was an ordinary day like any other. I woke up early and lay in my bed for another twenty minutes or so. And then, I finally managed to gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed and throw my legs over the side. I slowly walked over to my bedroom window and gazed out across our yard and at my neighbor’s front yard. Suddenly, I heard a weird sound, and It sounded like a high-pitched moaning.

I couldn’t see what was causing the ruckus, so I opened my window even further and hung out as far as I could. My heart was beating like a snare drum. I could hear my heartbeat wildly. I felt somewhat lightheaded, and I feared I might pass out. or accidentally fall out of my window. I felt sick to my stomach. I have a tendency to be somewhat of a drama queen. At least, that is what my mother always says about me. I am afraid of everything, including bugs, snakes, mice, and big dogs. You name it, and I’m afraid of it. 

Ever so slowly, I pulled myself back into my bedroom window and flopped down on my unmade bed. I lay there until I felt my heart beating normally, and I was breathing in and out, in and out. And my head stopped spinning. Sometimes, I have the feeling that I must be one of the most neurotic people in the world. In my mind, every little thing can become a catastrophe.

I decided to go downstairs and out my front door to see what the heck was going on. As I exited my front door, I heard one of my neighbors scream stop, stop, stop, my son is in that coach. I thought, what in the world is going on? So, against my better judgment, I ran out the door in my pajamas and across my front yard to the curb where my neighbor, Mrs. Rice, was yelling, “Stop, stop, stop. For the love of god, stop.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, “What’s going on, Mrs. Rice?” And she said, “ Oh, Jennifer, my son was sleeping in his coach, and I turned my back for a moment because I heard my husband calling me.” And when I turned back around, my baby was gone. And the car that was parked next to it was driving down the street like a maniac.

Mrs. Rice, “call the police, call the police.” And she did. She was yelling on the phone that someone who was driving a lime green pickup truck grabbed her baby out of his coach when she turned her back for a moment. That she only looked away for a moment to pick up his bottle. That she had dropped out of the coach accidentally.

She described the man driving the vehicle. He looked middle-aged and had a balding head and a mustache. And he was smoking a big cigar. His car looked like it had seen better days. And it looked as if it had been used for target practice. It had bullet holes on it on the front hood and the back window. The car was headed toward Fork Landing Road at a high rate of speed toward Route 38. Then she told the police her address. She explained where she was standing on the sidewalk next to the street, and “Please hurry.’

I stood next to her and held her hand because she had begun crying her eyes out. And she kept saying over and over, “Oh please bring back my baby, please bring back my baby.” The police finally arrived about fifteen minutes later. One of the police cruisers came down the street and pulled up next to the curb where we were standing. What looked like a giant got out of the police car and said, “ Mrs. Rice? I’m Officer Brown. One of my officers has cited the car that you described. And no doubt he will be able to stop the car and retrieve your son as quickly and safely as possible. Please calm down.

And then he looked down at me, “Well, was that your brother that the man took? “No, I only have a little sister. She’s a pest. She’s in my house watching cartoons. I saw this Mrs. Rice out here screaming and crying, “Stop, stop, stop.” And she told me that someone had grabbed her baby. And that he drove away in a car. And I told her to “Call the police.”

Well, that was a good thing for you to do. Otherwise, the stranger could get far, far away.”

I looked at the police officer and smiled, and I thought, maybe someday I could become a police officer and save someone’s life.

The police officer said, “Hold on I’m getting a call from the officer that is chasing the get-a-way car.”

I looked at Mrs. Rice. Her face was pale but had big blotches of red all over it. She looked as if she was going to be sick to her stomach any minute. I took her hand again. It was all sweaty, but I didn’t let go of it until I heard another officer speaking to Officer Brown on his walky-talky. At least, that’s what I think they are called. And then he hung up. And looked at Mrs. Rice right in the face and said,” Good news. The kidnapper has been apprehended, and Officer McMullen is bringing your baby back. And he is perfectly fine and slept through the whole ordeal. They’ll be here any minute.”

And then Mrs. Rice started crying again. Big tears ran down her face. I couldn’t figure out why she started crying again. But I squeezed her hand and said, “Now, now, it’s going to be alright.” My mother always says that to me when I’m upset. And for some reason, she cried even harder. The officer looked at me and said, “You did a good thing telling her to call the police and staying with her until she got her baby back.

Oh, here comes the squad car. Everything will be alright. You will need to come to the police headquarters first thing tomorrow to make a statement. Can you do that?”

Mrs. Rice shook her head up and down, and tears continued running down her cheeks and onto her coat. A moment later, another police car turned onto our street and slowly drove next to the curb where we were all standing. After parking the police car, the officer came out of his driver’s seat. He swung open the door, and we could see a baby that was lying in a blanket with a seat belt across it. The baby woke up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Rice reached in and picked up her baby, and tears rolled down her cheeks again. But, in that exact moment, a smile appeared across her face. “Thank you, officers, for saving my baby. I will be at the police station first thing tomorrow morning. And thank you so much.

You’re welcome mam. I’m happy that everything turned out alright. It’s good that you kept calm and that you called the police right after it happened. Mrs. Rice still had tears running down her face, but a smile was on her face. Too. She said, “Thank you again, Jennifer, you saved the day.” What? No, I didn’t do anything. I just happened to be here right after it happened. The police were the heroes. I’m glad everything turned out alright. I have to be going now, I’m going to be late. Jennifer didn’t really have any place she had to be. She just felt uncomfortable getting all that attention. She wasn’t even going to mention anything to her Mom. She would make a big deal about it even though she knew that Jennifer didn’t like to be the center of attention.

Jennifer was about to head home when she saw what appeared to be a small dog or puppy running out into the street. Jennifer looked toward the house where the dog came from and didn’t see anybody outside looking for the puppy. But, the door was wide open. For a moment, she considered continuing on her way. But then she saw a car coming down the street in the direction of the puppy. So, she ran as fast as she could, grabbed the puppy, and ran out of the street to the sidewalk. She was slightly out of breath, and the puppy was whining and squirming in her arms. And she almost dropped him. “Good grief, puppy,  hold still. I’ll take you back home where you’ll be safe.

So Jennifer carried the puppy back to the house that the puppy came out of and yelled into the front door of the house that the puppy came out of a few moments ago. “Hello, hello, is anyone home? I found your puppy running across the street. And then she yelled as loud as she could,” HELLO, HELLO, ANYBODY HOME?”

After what seemed a long, long time, she saw an old lady walk towards her from the back of the house. She said, “Can I help you, young lady?”

Jennifer said, “I was across the street, and your puppy ran outside into the street because the front door was wide open. So, I grabbed her and brought her back here. The old woman said,” Oh my, thank you so much. I must have forgotten to close the door after I got my mail. Sometimes I get forgetful. Thank you so much. I am puppy-sitting this week for my granddaughter. She went on vacation with some friends of hers. She is supposed to come back today. Oh, she would have been so upset if something happened to Arnold. Jennifer stared at the woman and said, “Oh? Whose Arnold?” That’s the dog’s name, Arnold. Thanks so much. Would you like to come in and have a piece of cake? I just took it out of the oven. That’s why I was preoccupied. And I’ll give you a big, cold glass of milk. What do you say?”

Well, I would love that, but I’m not supposed to go into strangers’ houses.”

Of course, you’re not. How thoughtless of me. How about I cut you a piece, and you can take it home with you and eat it after you eat lunch?”
“Yes, I would love that. I hope it’s a chocolate cake. That’s my favorite.”

It is chocolate cake. This is your lucky day. Wait here. I’ll take the puppy and be right back. I’m going to put him in the front bedroom for a little while. Maybe he’ll take a nap. He has way too much energy for me to keep up with him. A couple of minutes later, the old woman slowly returned to her front door. I’m sorry for being so rude. I didn’t even ask what your name is.

Oh, that’s OK. My name is Jennifer. I live down the street. I’m going to save this cake for after lunch because my mother doesn’t like me to eat sweets until after lunch. It looks delicious, and chocolate is my favorite.”

Well, Jennifer, thank you for saving the puppy. Please feel free to stop by for a visit anytime. I would love to have you visit once in a while.”

Really, I would like to visit sometime too. I hardly ever see my grandmom.” Jennifer continued her walk down the street, wondering what was going to happen next. She couldn’t wait until dinner to tell her family about all her adventures today. In fact, every day, something interesting or exciting happens to Jennifer. And she would come home at lunch or dinner and share her exciting experiences. But nobody in her family believed her stories. They thought she just had an active imagination. But Jennifer didn’t make things up. She was sure her family wouldn’t believe her this time either.

Sure enough, when Jennifer’s mother called her to come home for dinner, and after everyone sat down to eat, Jennifer began telling of her adventures that day and how she was a heroine. But, once again, no one believed her. That is until the next day when their local newspaper arrived early that morning. And on the first page of the World News and Daily Report, which was the name of their local small-town newspaper. There was a story on the first page relating to Jennifer’s experiences helping save the baby and the puppy.

Jennifer’s family was flabbergasted. But they all stood up and clapped for her heroism. And Jennifer was so happy and proud that she almost started crying. Her mother gave her a big hug and said, “You’re a hero. We are so proud of you. Jennifer blushed and bowed and said, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” her family all grew as one, and then they laughed when the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, first of all, I saw an eight-foot-tall man getting an icecream at the Custard Stand and then I saw an old man riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
Her whole family laughed, and then they clapped. One thing is for sure: there was never a dull moment in their house when Jennifer was around. And they all gave her a big hug.

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