Compare and Contrast (Ann & Ann)

Things change. Perspectives change. The way you see your life now won't be the same as they way you see it ten, twenty, fifty years later. When we're lucky, we can see glimpses of these changes in real time. When we're unlucky, we see these glimpses in real time because of something awful like the COVID lockdowns. Today, we have a story from Ann told in 2019 and retold one year later:

Ann Von Dehsen

01.39.2019

Snow Day

As I sit here watching the snow fall gently outside my window, I think back to the joy of snow days when I was in elementary school. To insure a snow day following a prediction, the kids in my neighborhood all did a version of a snow dance before getting into bed. Once in bed, we would chant ourselves to sleep by praying to the snow Gods, "Please let it snow...please let it snow...please let it snow." At daylight, we would ceremoniously life the shade an inch or two hoping to see snow instead of driveway. If we did, down to the kitchen we would fly, waiting for the magic hour of 8 am. For in my little northern, New Jersey town, with a small elementary school, the fire siren would loudly blare at 8 am signifying... SNOW DAY!! My sister and I would start watching the cock around 8:58, 7:59, hold your breath: 8:00! If heaven for bid that siren did not blare, we still had faith - "Oh, our clock is probably fast" or "maybe the siren is broken," or the very far fetched, "maybe we didn't hear it." Cruel realty hit as we were sent back to our rooms to get dressed and ready for school. But if that siren went off, you could hear the collective cries of joy from neighboring children. Within the hour, most of us were out on the street in full snow gear, pulling our sleds behind us ready for all types of snow fun. Our neighborhood was made up of guilt side streets with minimal traffic. There was one hill that ended on a busier street so we took turns being the watcher. Two watchers stood at the base of the chill and gave the ll clear sign for us to hop on our sleds when the street was free of oncoming cars. Once in a while, we would get a rather terrifying, "Hurry up!" from the watchers as we were midway down the hill. Luckily, the snow Gods get us safe and sleds never met cars. After a midday break for lunch, and perhaps a new pair of dry mittens, back outside we went. We spent most of the afternoon building snowmen, making snow angels, and having intermittent snowball fights. When my toes started to freeze and my finger tips began turning numb, I folded and went into my toasty house. Wet mittens, hats, socks, and scarves were placed on top of the radiator to dry. I can still remember the smell of damp wool on the heat. A strange, but somewhat comforting odor. My mom would appear with 2 mugs of hot chocolate and we sat on the couch watching shows like "Beat the Clock," and the always tear jerking "Queen for a Day." Later at dinner, conversation would turn to the possibility of tomorrow being another snow day. While my parents warned that that was highly unlikely, my sister and I repeated the entire snow ritual just to cover our bases. It wasn't until may years later when I became a teacher did I realize that all teachers also engage in that ritual - often more conviction!

And here's the same story, retold in 2020:

Ann von Dehsen

12.17.2020

Snow Day (2020 Revision)

As I sit here watching the snow fall gently out side of the window,I think back to the joy of snow days when I was in elementary school. To ensure a snow day following a prediction
the kids in my neighborhood all did a version of a snow dance before getting into bed. Once in bed we would chant ourselves to sleep with the mantra, “Please let it snow, please let snow, please let it snow.”
At day break we would ceremoniously lift the shade an inch or two, hoping to see snow instead of asphalt. if we did, down to the kitchen we would fly, waiting for the magic hour
of 8 AM for in my little northern New Jersey town with a small elementary school the fire siren would loudly blare at 8 AM signifying SNOW DAY!!! My sister and I would start watching the clock around 7:57, 7:58, 7:59—hold your breath—8 o'clock. If heaven forbid that siren did not blare we still had faith. “Oh, our clock is probably faster,” “Maybe the siren is broken,” or the very far fetched “Maybe we didn't hear it.” Cruel reality hit, as we were sent back to our rooms to get dressed and ready for school.
But if that siren went off you could hear the collective cries of joy from neighboring children. Within the hour most of us were out in the snow in full snow gear, pulling our sleds behind us, ready for all types of fun. Our neighborhood was made up of quiet side streets with minimal traffic. There was one hill that ended on a busier street, so we took turns being watchers. Two watchers stood at the base of the hill and gave the all clear sign for us to hop on our sleds when the street was free of all oncoming cars. Once in awhile we would get a rather terrifying, “Hurry Up!” from the watchers as we were halfway down the hill. Luckily the snow gods kept us safe and sleds never quite met cars.
After a midday break for lunch and perhaps a new pair of dry mittens, back outside we went. We spent most of the afternoon making snow angels, building snowmen, and having intermittent snowball fights. When my toes started to frees and my fingertips began turning numb, I folded and went into my toasty house eventually followed by sister. Wet mittens, hats, socks, and scarves were placed on top of the radiator to dry. I can still remember the smell of damp wool on the heat, a strange but somewhat comforting odor. While we changed into dry clothes, our mom made us mugs of dry chocolate which my sister and I constantly refreshed with numerous squirts of Reddi-Wip whipped cream.
Later after my snow-weary father made it safely home from an icy commute we asked our parents about the chances for another consecutive snow day. Though they highly doubted it we did another snow dance and chant to cover our bases.
It wasn't until many years later when I became a teacher that I realized that all teachers also engaged in that ritual, often with much more conviction. Unfortunately for both children and teachers this year virtual learning does not allow for snow days.

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about how the way you see life has changed, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Valentine's Day (Diane and Gloria)

It's been a heck of a month, but I'm back on the blog! And in honor of Valentine's Day, I want to share some stories of love and marriage to all the readers, including one from the dedicated older bud Diane:

Diane Richardson

05.24.2022

Wedding on a Beach

This is a picture of my oldest daughter Tara and her husband Christian. They were married on the beach in the Bahamas. You can see in the picture what a beautiful day it was. They have now been married for ten years with one child named Chase. You remember Chase. He’s the grandson who said the little boy across the hall came and got the bag of candy. Tara is a Harvard graduate and Chris is a retired military police officer who is now the head of the probation and parole department of PA. His office is in Harrisburg in the state building. They purchased an apartment building in Harrisburg near the state building, so he won’t have to commute from their home in Voorhees, NJ to Harrisburg. The purchase of the apartment building is an investment property as they own several properties (rental.) Tara enjoys going to Harrisburg to stay with Chris. She says it’s like having a “bunch of mini honeymoons.” She flies back and forth on a regular basis as she flies for free. Tia, her sister, works as a flight attendant for US Air so she flies for free as I do. The flight is only twenty minutes. She sits in first class, eats, drinks, and she’s there. When Chase is not in school, she will take him, and they would stay for a few days. We stayed in the Bahamas for a week for the wedding at an all-inclusive resort. We had a blast. Next time, I’ll tell y’all about my other daughter Tia’s wedding. 

Gloria Nhambiu

05.10.2022

On Keeping My Maiden Name

I started my employment with the Philadelphia Department of Public Welfare on March 3, 1964. I was dating my husband to be. We were married on September 13, 1964. I continued my employment there but never made a name change. My supervisor at the time was a wonderful older lady who felt she must bring me the forms for a “name change.” I told her I had not planned to change my name.
Several of my girlfriends and I had decided that we would keep using our maiden names. Well my supervisor mentioned several times that I should fill out the name change forms. I didn’t think much about this. I kept calling myself Miss Purnell. In fact I was saying Mrs. Purnell. My coworkers (many of whom had been at my wedding) and my clients knew I had married and still called me Miss Purnell.
Finally one pay day in the spring I got a paycheck with my married name on it. When I questioned this I was told that I had sent the forms in. When I checked further I learned that my supervisor had taken it upon herself to change my name. During the spat that followed my supervisor told me what she had done. Then told me I should be proud to be married. After some arguments I let it go but I did ask that management speak to my supervisor about overstepping her boundaries. I also learned that she had never been married.
Our relationship was never the same as before. After talking to my husband about it he kind of liked that I would carry his name.

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories of love and/or marriage, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

 

Curated by Caitlin Cieri 

Christmas Come Early (Gloria, Ann, Frances, Norman, José, Elliott, & Diane)

Happy Holidays, everyone! Best Day's present to you is a big haul of stories from older buds Gloria, Ann, Frances, Norman, José, Elliott, and Diane! I wasn't at Best Day this week, but Deborah ran the workshop in person, and she finally got to meet Elliott, who I'd reunited with last week! So please enjoy all these holiday stories and stories of family and charity to celebrate!

Gloria Nhambiu

11/09/2021

Untitled

Each year the Hallmark TV stations offer Christmas movies for over a month in mid-summer encompassing July. The company does this to introduce its newer Christmas ornaments.
In mid-October the Christmas movies start again to usher in the holiday season. Christmas movies in mid-October, Wow! That’s before Halloween. But I find myself watching a few old favorites again and again. I wonder how many others do the same. I’m sure there must be many viewers, or the stations wouldn’t do this year after year.
During the last two years I’ve noticed that along with the traditional white families there are Black, Asian, and Jewish families and a few mixed marriages or dating couples in each group. Hallmark seems to be keeping up with the times.
The movies are wholesome so when I can’t sleep or when my eyes aren’t ready for the morning news shows I watch the Hallmark movies.

Ann von Dehsen

11/30/2021

The Santa Secret

This year my 7-year-old grandson Max is having serious doubts about Santa’s existence. Back in October, he questioned me about the actual mail service to the North Pole and the likelihood of Santa ever really receiving his letter. Apparently, he’s been testing his theory out by writing to Santa 5x’s addressed simply: to Santa, North Pole, and putting them in the corner mailbox.
Last week he came downstairs after playing in his room and said to his mom, “I don’t think Santa’s real- I was looking at my toys and games and they all say, ‘made in China.’” At this writing he has not actually asked his parents if Santa is real, but I’m sure he’s still doing his own undercover detective work.
His mother, my daughter Kerry, was much more blunt about the Santa question when she was in 2nd grade. And it was asked one of the most stressful days of my life. It was moving day to a bigger house. The forecasted snow flurries turned into a major snowstorm, my then husband ended up in the hospital with kidney stones, the movers were 5 hours late and quite drunk as they slipped and slided on the icy, now dark driveway and laughed as we all watched my dryer slide down the hill into the woods.
With the help of my brother-in-law and his wife we unpacked the essentials and put the beds together. Finally, I was able to get the kids to bed and had just plopped down on my own bed when Kerry came down the hall and announced, “I don’t think there is a Santa and I want you to tell me the truth right now.” And so, I did, then I cried thinking I probably should have discussed this more. But Kerry was fine and said, “Thanks! I knew it” with a smile. Then she climbed in my bed, and we fell asleep together.
My daughter Rachel’s sons are 5 and 2. Both are all in for Christmas. However, last year, Paul, the 5-year-old had a temporary lack of faith. No in person visit with Santa were possible during COVID, but Macy’s offered a 1-1 visit with Santa and 2 elves over Zoom, so Rachel scheduled a visit. Paul was very quiet but eventually told Santa and the elves that he wanted a cement mixer truck. After the visit he turned to his mom and said, “I don’t think those guys were real.” Rachel assured him that they were, suggesting that maybe they just looked different on the computer. Paul seemed to forget about it, but on Christmas morning, the first toy he opened was the cement mixer truck and he joyfully exclaimed, “They were real, those guys were really real!”
Rachel found out about Santa courtesy of her older sister who told her the tooth fairy wasn’t real. My future statistician/math specialist daughter used her powers of deduction to realize there was no Santa or Easter Bunny either. She recovered quickly when we assured her that yes, there would still be presents.
As for me, my overly sophisticated 1st grade friend told me point blank there was no Santa and I was a baby if I still believed. But even today I still believe in the magic of Santa as witnessed by the chills and smiles I experience when Santa appears at the end of the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. I’m convinced he is the real Santa.

Frances Bryce

12/17/2020

Missing the Season

I have written about the weather in California and Philadelphia. When I lived in California I remembered and loved the sunshine
and I did not miss the gray clouds, but what I found after awhile I really missed the changing of the seasons and the snow whenever we had it. I miss the season, the changing of the trees and and the leaves in the yard and everything was just wonderful. But when we got snow in Philadelphia, it was like magic. The earth was covered with beauty before the shoveling and before people started walking and making the ice into a solid mass and hard for shoveling. The snow reminds me of when I celebrated with my family and friends during Thanksgiving and much like I will be during Christmas. For Thanksgiving what I did I used my children's pictures as guests and set them on the table around me. And I made part of my dinner and bought the other part, but what I did was to incorporate all those things we usually had on Thanksgiving day. The Covid stayed at home.
I also got an invitation from my nephew to join them for dinner, but I was not comfortable and I said I would stay home and I also had another invitation and it worked out fine. I got calls from friends and family and because I had been staying in so much I really didn't
miss it that much. I dressed and then I plated my meal and I ate and then I enjoyed most of the things that we had during the holidays. And so I will be doing the same during Christmas making part of the food, I bought a turkey breast and I'll do stuffing and some sides and I'll add my kids' pictures back on the table as my guests.

Norman Cain

01/02/2020

Love Anguish- Holiday Season Story Revisited

Several weeks ago at Center in the Park I wrote a story about the hardships and the joy that people go through during the holiday period. Well during this particular holiday period, I kind of thought that perhaps I was too hard and I would take a different stance. So, I had at least 10 or 12 activities during the holiday period that I had to attend.
And the first activity took place in this very room with the W.E.B. Dubois group that meets every other Friday, and we have a flyer on the board about that. It was a great affair because we had 13 people attend. Table clothes, cocktail glasses for the non-alcoholic beverages and the food, it was like gourmet. That’s what started it.
And then, being a line-dancer, I attended two -line dancing affairs, one on City Line Avenue and one at the Carousel House at 41st and Parkside Avenue. The line-dance class that I have on Monday nights in Southwest Philly, we had a big party and a lot of gifts were given out. Then there was the annual Senior Holiday Gala at the Marriott Hotel in Center City. We had up to 600 people attend. The live band, dancing and you got a chance to see people that you hadn’t seen for a while.
Right here at this center, 509, I attended the Christmas and New Year’s affair. And then I also attended an affair at the Martin Luther King Center at 22nd and Cecil B. Moore. And then I went to a Kwanzaa affair on a Saturday at West Philadelphia High School. Sometimes these affairs overlap so I had to miss an affair at my Best Day class at Center in the Park.
My holiday started with, like I said, a Dubois activity at the room we are in now and it ended last night, Sunday, in West Philadelphia, at a family gathering on each New Year’s Day that started before I was born and I’m 77 years old. I remember when I was a kid going and now, I’m the eldest person there, and we get a chance to go back and talk about our experiences down south and here in Philadelphia. Initially I said that I would have a brand-new outlook about the holiday season. That it wouldn’t just be a love anguish holiday season revisited, but it was. I enjoyed it but I am tired.

José Dominguez

05/27/2021

My Last Christmas in Mexico

My last Christmas time that I spent in Juarez was in 2011. That particular December my wife and I knew that it was our last season, our last opportunity to sell the remaining souvenir inventory before leaving for America. On December the 25th, after taking my lunch in home returned to our store to help Maria. The streets were deserted but the mall, where our little business was located, was an attraction for many who wanted to have a good time with a certain level of security because crime and violence were a real factor in our lives. Driving my old and ragged Oldsmobile Cutlass I felt not endangered by any kidnapper or robber since the appearance of my car published an obvious low level of income, in case that some delinquent tried to do business at my expense. I had to drive by Avenue Tecnologico that happened to be the main road, the same that I have crossed for thousands of times. After passing in front of the Instituto Tecnologico de Ciudad Juarez where I used to work for 19 years I noticed something out of routine. A police officer on a motorcycle was following me and in a certain moment flashing light indicated his cruel intention to give me a ticket for sure. Immediately I figured that I was in a serious problem. In that moment I did not have my driving license and no money in case that I wanted to make a contribution for the officer’s personal welfare. Alas! The officer’s usual choice would be to take my car as a collateral for the payment of a large fine, I knew it clearly. Yes sure the fine will include: driving with an old sticker, not having driving license, car hosting and I don’t what any other bureaucratic nonsense and all because of this misfortunate encounter. Nevertheless, I acted as natural as I was able. “Good afternoon, officer. How come that you are working in holidays?
“My family eats all days of the year!” he answered.
Faking innocence and perplexity I asked, “What is the problem? What is my fault?”
He calmly asked: “Where is your new sticker? You are driving with a old sticker.”
“Yes indeed,” I answered, “But on this day I have to work too. My family eats also 365 days a year as you mentioned, I have to take advantage of the season to obtain a little more income, I’m so sorry.”
He responded, “Every one has to comply with the proper legal documentation, independently if it’s holiday or not.” I did not want to contradict his argumentation and go on saying: ”You are right, and I recognize my fault, and I know you are not in a position to put yourself in my shoes because you are compelled to apply the law, but I have to tell you….. my situation is more desperate. Additionally to my old sticker I have not my driver license; I left in my house my wallet with my documents, identifications, money… everything…and now I depend on your humanitarian decision.”
“What do you want to tell me?” he questioned.
I responded: “If I had my wallet with pleasure I will show you my documents…and with no purpose of offense… now I’m not able to offer you an economical compensation for you community work…but since I live with a limited income had to take the risk to appeal to your humanitarian feelings. Today is Christmas day and we have to bring peace to everybody, to our family, neighbors, citizens, etc. So I’m asking you to give me a chance and allow me to continue my way…if you don’t …you will have to give me a huge ticket and take my car as collateral, I know…that’s why I’m asking for your compassion, as if it were a Christmas present given from you to a stranger, a simple fellow citizen.”
“Ok, that’s my Christmas present to you. Go away and don’t forget the regulations,” he left with his motorcycle and I felt happy to found a compassionate soul.

Elliott Doomes

02/06/2020

Experience Is the Best Teacher

I really wasn’t trying to write today because I knew I only had a half hour to write. I guess most people who live in these high-rise projects are making the best of a bad situation. They have a shelter and a place to sleep but that’s it. I’ve seen parents have kids in the projects and those kids grow up in the projects and so on and so forth. The job market is no conducive to helping these people get out and if the kid’s lucky enough to live in a two-person household then both parents are working. It feels even worse than when I was growing up
My education started even before I was even in school. In house there was the golden rule, “Do not lie, do not steal, do not kill.” But on the street, it was “Do it to them before they do it to you. They hit you, you hit back harder.” If we broke one of these rules, corporal punishment was induced. We were taught to respect our elders, it was always “yes ma’am” and “no sir”. And that’ what we were judged by when it came to our elders. But among ourselves as young people anything goes.
My mother and father both worked, I hardly ever had a conversation with my dad. I remember him coming home from work tired out from a hard day. By the time he got himself washed and ready for dinner he had a few minutes with my mother, he ate and went straight to bed because he was tired from his day. So he never had time to really discipline me. That was mostly done by my older brother who I always thought hated me. I really did because he was a harsh taskmaster. My brother used to whoop my butt if I did something wrong or disrespected the elderly. And I couldn’t lie because everybody knows everybody. I thought that it was so hard growing up when I was young. My brother was always like a shadow. He always told me where I could go, how late I could stay out, when to come home for bed. He always knew when I was about to do something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. He’s always go, “What you doing? Get your ass out of there.”
And only now do I realize that he was trying to keep me from making the mistakes he made. I realize now that the things he taught me and the values that I learned from my mother are the ones that I hold most dear today.

Diane Richardson

12/28/2021

P.A.L.M. Ardmore Senior Center

A few years ago I used to live in Ardmore and went to the Senior Center there named P.A.L.M. Positive Aging Lower Merion. They have nice activities there as we do here. One of my favorites I enjoyed was the weekly shopping trip. There would be a van that tool the members who wanted to go. We would go to ShopRite where I could get all my shopping done. There was an older member named Ms. Mary that was blind and she would do her shopping with her guide dog. She would encounter difficulties, and no one seemed to want to help her.
I introduced myself the first time I saw her. I helped her go through each aisle explaining to her whatever was on the shelves, and we got what she wanted. Every week we would shop together, and she told me since meeting me this was the first time she was able to get everything she needed and wanted. It was funny when we went through the aisle that had the dog food. She had to tug her dog away from the food. He seemed to like the smell of one particular brand, so that’s the brand she started buying him. She said he wouldn’t eat the old brand anymore and had to throw it out what was left of it.
After we all did our shopping Mike (the driver) would take us all home with our groceries instead of back to the enter. So that was great, especially for Ms. Mary. I was always concerned that the dog would have to relieve himself. But he was always ok. Mike gave us one hour once a week so we could get all we needed a little at a time as opposed to a big once a month trip where it would be difficult to carry so many packages. But as I helped Ms. Mary shop, I had no time to do my shopping. After a while the driver noticed this and increased our shopping time to two hours. So after we did Ms. Mary’s shopping I’d put her dog and her groceries on the van and went back in and did mine. She was so appreciative and happy for the help and I was glad to do it.
I’ve always done volunteer work; it is very rewarding. I remember she told me her watch was broken and she asked me if I could take it to be repaired. I did and she was so happy I helped her. I helped her until she died. I moved to Center City and joined this center. But before I left, I gave them a nice a donation. The Executive Director sent me a nice thank you letter. Here’s the letter she sent.

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any holiday stories, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

A Surprise at “The Bus Stop” (Elliott and Diane)

Coming up next is the twenty-third part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first some surprise reunions.

For the past month or so, the Wilma Theater  was writing and rehearsing a new show with seniors at the senior center. Last Tuesday, they put on their show so we decided to take a break from Best Day and see the show. We got to hear lots of different stories, adeptly performed, by seniors at the center; including some of Best Day’s older buds. Joyce told a story about her mother’s psychic friend and Mike told a story about his wife when she worked in a nursing home and lost track of one of her patients. But those weren’t the biggest surprise reunions that day…

During the show’s Q&A portion, one of the men in the audience raised his hand and said he used to be in their writing group…and that once his vision got bad, a college girl helped him write his stories…and how he lost track of the group during the pandemic and now he only recognizes two of the members now…and I realized he was older bud Elliott! As he kept talking, I inched closer and closer to his seat until I was right next to him. He jumped when he saw me, recognized me immediately, and we both hugged while everyone applauded.

There’s no greater pleasure than reuniting with an old friend you lost track of.

Elliott Doomes

02.20.2020

Industrious Kid

Shoe shining wasn’t exactly a business. It was just something kids used to do to make money. We used to make our own little kits. All we needed was some wood with some nails and sometimes if we were lucky we would find a box suitable to carry our polish and our little washers and brushes. The washers were solutions sold by distillers that sold those items and they’d come in glass bottles. Some were black, some were brown, and you’d use them to clean the dirt off the shoes before applying the polish. We also bought the brushes, and then we had the cloth rags, and then a little added touch that we learned. We had a little small spray bottle of water that we would spray on the shoes. I never figured out why, but adding water would bring the shoe to a higher gloss which is what most of our customers liked the most. They love to see that high shine.
During the daytime, I went to Center City but we had to be very wary because several policemen would harass us and destroy our boxes and break our bottles, because there was some shoe shine stands in Center City operated by adults and often times the customers would patronize us, the kids working. Because they would always engage us in conversation of some sort or another. And I guess it was fun for them and it was fun for us talking back and forth. We always seemed to know when the ships were coming in, and the sailors were coming from the Navy Yard from Center City seeking whatever they were seeking.
And my favorite evening spot, which I will never forget, was Snockey’s Seafood. This is where people would come up in cabs, I guess you’d call them for a date or sports but there was always a lot of well-dressed men or well-dressed ladies coming and going and coming and going from Snockey’s which was quite famous then. I can remember the men saying “What do you lot charge for a shine, kid?” I said “Fifteen cents, sir, fifteen cent.” He said, “Kid, a shine like that got to be worth at least a quarter.” And 25 cents was the least that they ever gave me for a shoe-shine. Several big timers even gave me a dollar for a shine. The cops didn’t want us in Center City because there were usually the old white guys with the sit-down shoe shine places, but at the time my family didn’t have the money to purchase things kids wanted like toys and such and all. And the money that I made doing the little jobs were actually things that we did as kids that wouldn’t be considered a job but it made money. And I had money lots of time, I was able to buy pants, I was able to buy shoes, coats. A lot of times I was able to purchase my own clothes out of the money that I made. These jobs taught me to be independent and to use my mind instead of waiting for somebody else to do what I could do for myself. 

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 23.”

Diane Richardson

09.20.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 23

In this installation of the series, I’ll talk about Joe’s partner at work. Her name is Linda. He and Linda have worked side by side for over thirty years. If you see one you see the other. They are both automotive engineers and can build a car from scratch. They make the car parts for the Big Three: General Motors, Chrysler, and Ford. They make the parts and ship them to the plants where they make the cars.
He had two other co-workers that were male that he was close to. The four of them would go out together to a bar or restaurant. Sometimes they would all meet up at Joe’s house to talk shop. I would call him, and he would say my B.U.D.D. buddies are here. B.U.D.D is the name of his company. The highest paying job in Phila. Linda would always call him on holidays. People would often ask me if I were bothered by their close relationship. I answer, “Why aren’t you asking me about his relationship with his male co-workers? He and Linda were friends and co-workers long before I came in the picture.”
They’ve worked side by side for over thirty years. How should I or rather how do you expect me to feel because she’s a female? Can’t males and females be friends without any hanky-panky? When I would bring him lunch, I would also bring hers as I would any partner he had. I never felt any kind of way about her. Does anyone think I should? Because she’s female? Should I feel threatened by all females?

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about reuniting with loved ones once thought lost, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Happy Birthday! (Frances and Diane)

Coming up next is the twenty-second part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Birthday Deborah!

We always make it a habit to sing "Happy Birthday" to anyone who has a birthday coming up. Some people really get into it, and some people roll their eyes, but we make sure everyone gets mildly embarrassed in the same way. Deborah had to join a last-minute meeting during Best Day, but rest assured we will be singing her a recording of all of us singing Happy Birthday! And in honor of birthdays, here's a story about another birthday celebration:

Frances Bryce

11.10.2021

The Honorees Reluctant Birthday Celebration

I met Regina at the Senior Center in a line dance class. Our friendship grew over the past years. I observed a lady, who when she dances did not miss a step, her fingers and hands and body moved with each beat.
I approached her after the end of the dance and said how much I enjoyed seeing her dance. Her reply, “You were watching me”, sounded surprised. I replied, “I observed and enjoyed seeing you dance and enjoying the event, which was enjoyable for me to see.”
Later after one dance, when she appeared cold as we took our break, the room is kept at a temperature a little cooler than other rooms for dance class. I asked her if she had a sweater in her bag. She replied that no one else had a sweater on. I replied, “Maybe they are not cold”. Then she put on her sweater. Another session when we were updating events of the past week standing in the middle of the dance floor talking and laughing, she remarked that people are watching us. I retorted, “Maybe they would like to have someone laughing and talking as we are.”
On her 100th Birthday, the center planned a special day (birthday) for her. She said she did not want a party and was not coming. She did not show on the designated time of the event. The waiting guests, most left after the time was since passed. Some like me stayed. Finally, more than an hour later, she came saying she was sorry and explaining she did not come on time, and then later changing her mind. The next two weeks she apologized.
Now 2021 (102 years in November) I started saying we were having a birthday luncheon for her. She said nothing to object to an event, at the time Sept. and Oct. She said that did not want a birthday party. People would not come. Working through changing her mind, we went ahead with a Cheesecake Factory reservation. When a knowing feeing arrived with me and Angie, we concluded the reservation and planned for home, taking all the things that are due for our invited guest.
When the guests arrived, especially the nieces who she told me about the day before, her face filled with joy as they hugged, took pictures, shared updates on the family, and promises to keep in touch.
I believe Regina still thought of those adults with families of their own as kids, not as mature adults with careers and responsibilities, but still cared with less phone calls in the early years, but still loved and cared for her.

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 22" by Diane Richardson:

Diane Richardson

09.13.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 22

At this time, I’m on assignment at Planned Parenthood 1144 Locust St. I assist physicians with terminations, vasectomies, inserting I.U.D.’s, Depo injections, oral contraceptives, pre-termination counseling etc. These services are free to low-income persons.
On this day I was exiting the building when a young lady approached me and asked if I worked there. I told her I didn’t, and she said she needed to ask me a great favor. She said it was her first wedding anniversary. She and her husband were going away for the weekend to celebrate, and she didn’t refill her prescription for her birth control pills because she didn’t have the co-pay. She asked me if I would get her a pack. She told me what brand and strength she used. I went back in and got her what she asked for. I also gave her my number and told her to call me when she needed more. I said, “You don’t have to worry anymore about co-pays.”
I explained the pills are given to Planned Parenthood from the pharmaceutical companies. In anticipation the doctors prescribe the meds. The pills are only good until the expiration dated and when we have to trash them. So I give them away rather than throw them away, and I see no harm in this. If I can help anyone I will. They don’t call me Robin Hood for nothing. 

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about Thanksgiving, birthdays and any celebration, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right here. We're especially interested to stories from Black older buds, but we're always looking for stories from older buds of color, older buds with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ older buds, older buds of any gender or sex, older buds of any religion, and older buds who just plain break the mold.

 

And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. If you can't be there in person, please call them, email them, or message them on social media. And if they're using teleconferencing or remote events for the first time, give them a call and help them set things up. Check in on them to see how well they're getting used to these programs. Buy them a computer or an internet package if they don't have one of their own. It's a human right, after all.

 

Curated by Caitlin Cieri