Volunteer Appreciation Day (Carolyn, Cynthia, John & Frances)

Good afternoon everyone. Earlier today, I came from a volunteer appreciation awards ceremony at the Philadelphia Senior Center, so today's post is all about appreciating the volunteers who transcribed out stories during the pandemic. Below we've got stories transcribed by Dalla, Devon (currently on the Pacific Crest Trail), Deborah, and Charlotte. Thank you for everything you do for Best Day:

Carolyn Boston

04.11.19

The Shofuso Japanese House and Garden

(Transcribed by Dalla)

Last week my great niece and I took a tour of the Shofuso Japanese House and Garden located in the West Philadelphia section of Fairmount Park. I planned for many years to visit the Shofuso Japanese House and Garden but never had the opportunity to do so.
The serenity and elegance of the Shofuso House with its many waterfalls, rock gardens and weeping willow trees left me with a sense of peace and tranquility. I was transported to 17th century Japan and experienced the simplicity and beauty of this Japanese house.
The first thing required is to remove your shoes before entering the house. The tour guide explained every facet and function of the house. She thoroughly explained the ritual of the tea ceremony and what all the gestures represent.
For an experience away from the stress of life and a view of an entirely different lifestyle and an environment yields a restoration of mind, body and spirit, I would highly recommend a visit the Shofuso Japanese House and Garden.

Cynthia Morihara

12.31.2020

Why I Became a Substitute Teacher

(Transcribed by Devon)

I wanted to become a substitute teacher because some of the best memories, some of the only memories I have of school are when my substitute was there because it was such a different day. It was different from the run-of-the-mill day where I was going to read and write and do math. It was something different and it strikes me as a memory because she would say like, “Okay everybody write a poem,” and our teacher never asked us to do that. So when the substitute was there, I remember that day in sixth grade where she asked me to write a poem and I can almost remember the poem. It was about my low self-esteem and how I couldn’t do anything except sit at home and play with myself.
I know, I had low self-esteem when I was in sixth grade. My parents were divorced, and I really loved my father and I didn’t see him for years after that.
I think being in the seventies as a single woman was tough, I talked about that but it was a defining part of my youth. Other people have hardships in their families too. I see some women in the senior center that raised three children by themselves. Luckily, they had their mother living across the street and they did it and all their kids become professionals and they’ve got good jobs in Philadelphia or elsewhere and it’s really admirable. You know, my mother did that herself. She raised three children by herself. We didn’t even have a relative for 500 miles around, you know. She had it pretty hard. I really appreciate my mother. I appreciate her more. 

 

John

06.25.2020

Masks

(Transcribed by Deborah)

I want to share a really quick story since we’re on the topic of colds and getting sick. Before this pandemic I used to get 2 or 3 colds every winter. So, a year before the pandemic I said, “You know what? I’m going to try using these masks.” So I went to CVS and I bought a pack of surgical masks. And I just kept one on me and any time I was on the bus or the train, I wouldn't put it on, but if someone coughed or sneezed I would put it on. And I just did that.
Well wouldn't you know it? That year was one of the worst years for getting colds and I usually get 2 or 3 as I said. I did not get any colds at all. So that’s when I was convinced I am going to be wearing a surgical mask whenever I get on the bus or the train, any enclosed space. So, it works. It works!

Frances Bryce

09.03.2020

Just Down the Road

(Transcribed by Charlotte)

I’m writing about a trip that my husband and I took to Jamaica, and that’s been some years ago because he's been deceased for a while. The night we arrived at our hotel we had planned
to get an early start the next day. This was a beautiful island in Jamaica and we were staying in Montego Bay.
The first day we awoke early. There was no time to waste we wanted to get away and see the island. The sun was brightly shining, as we got on our way. Our first day on the beautiful tropical island. vegetation surrounded the hotel: bougainvillea, agave and many other things. My husband and I started on an adventure. He was one of the men who do not ask direction. Our little car with the steering wheel on the right side when we picked it up. At the rental, the attendants gave us a map and reminded us to keep to the left side when driving. My husband got in on the drivers’ side, I sat next to him ready for a fun day ahead.
We pulled out of the parking and started, and immediately made the wrong move, and we were on the side of the road which we should not have been, and a car with a fast rate of speed was coming in the same direction as we were driving. My husband corrected his driving flaw and he got us out of harm’s way. I closed my eyes, prepared for the worst. A disaster was avoided. I took a breath and we continued on our way. I noticed as we drove the gas stations ahead were very far apart and the last time I had seen one was at least 5-2 0 miles in the past.
At this time I said "When do you stop and get some gas?"
And he said in a very sharp manner, I thought, "When we run out." I accepted it as a charge to say, “I’m taking care of this and I don't want any help.”
“I see,” was my reply and immediately started admiring the beautiful flowers and the rest of the island. It was a perfect day, moderate temperature, colorful nature, a few animals grazing, cars that zipped by at a fast rate of speed. I never saw a speed sign, probably missed them while looking and admiring the beautiful scenery that nature had provided. Soon the car gave us sputtering sounds, as if to say "I don't have long to keep this up." My husband looked at me and he looked at the gage. In a sheepish voice he said, "I think we may be out of gas."
I made no verbal reply. My facial expression however said, "I guess its time to get some gas since you have now run out." He managed to pull the car to the side. A man was walking by and my husband asked him "How far down is the next gas station?” and the man said, “Oh just down the road, man.” I rolled up the window and made myself comfortable as my husband disappeared into the distance walking.
I drifted off apparently and when I awoke my husband was jumping off the back of a truck with a gas can in his hand. He emptied the contents in the tank and we got underway. About five or ten miles later we arrived at the gas station that was just down the road. He returned the gas can and filled the tank.
I guess we had had enough excitement that day, especially on the first day. Maybe next time I see a gas station I will stop so we can keep the tank full because just down the road is quite a distance. 

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 have stories about the volunteers they appreciate, 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

Pacific Crest Trail (Devon, Denise W, and Delores)

One of our transcribers, Devon, took a sabbatical from Best Day to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. The trail runs from Mexico to Canada and can last anywhere between 4.5 to 5.5. months. She's been on the hike for about a month now. She can't always get service on the trail, but I send her emails with Best Day updates and good vibes about once a week. On May 3rd, she stopped in a town to resupply and sent this message:

We’ve met a ton of thru-hikers that are trying to get to Canada but also a lot of day hikers and section hikers. Today we met an older couple that seemed amazed that we were doing this, but as we kept talking I found out that the husband had biked from Alaska to Argentina, which is way farther and crazier in my opinion!

It’s pretty cold up on this mountain in the Southern California desert- at night temperatures can drop to the 30s, but during the day it’s a punishing 85-95 degrees. I think we need to keep hiking farther and faster to beat the heat of the summer months.

 

In honor of the transcription work she's done with us, and the gerontology she plans to do after the hike, here's a couple of stories transcribed by Devon:

Denise W

01.21.2021

A Letter

 

I wrote a letter.
“Dear God, I thank you for a mother with a vision of fun, travel and relaxation. Yes, my childhood was delightful. Mom would play boardgames with me, particularly Bingo. My mother enjoyed going to the ice follies. I remember seeing Peggy Fleming as she expertly skated to a Beatles tune, “Hey Jude.”
Mom would buy the best seats for the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey circus. I remember collecting pictorial souvenir books from these events. Mom enjoyed going to the movies. The Nixon Theater in Philly, we saw every popular movie shown.
Mom supported my activities wholeheartedly. For example rollerskating, piano and guitar.
I thank you God for a mother that took me to New York about once a month and 1960-something, she took me to the World's Fair. We enjoyed Atlantic City, Broadway Plays, aquariums, Disney World, local theaters, Canada (Niagara Falls specifically) et cetera. So to God be the glory for an adventurous Mom who was patient, loving, and fun.”
That's my story. 

Delores Wilson

02.13.2020

Embracing Discipline

 

I was pleasantly surprised that my mom gave permission for me to go to the wrestling match at the Civic Center in West Philly on a school night. I begged Ms. Mae to ask my mother to let me go with her to the match. The match didn’t start until 8 that night and wasn’t over until 12 mid-nite.
My mother agreed but she made it clear to me that homework and chores around the house must be done. Last but not least, to get up on time for school the next day.
Ms. Mae and myself both enjoyed watching the match on T.V. She (Ms. Mae) often went to ringside on Wednesday night, a school night for me. I always wanted to go. However was reluctant to ask my mother because it was a school night.
So when she said yes, with the conditions, it was just fine with me. Not only did I enjoy ringside, I was up and dressed on time for school the next day. One of the many lessons I learned from that experience. If I can do what I want to do, I can do what I need to do.

 

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 stories of motherhood, 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

Mothers and Grandmothers (Frances & Joan)

Happy Belated Mothers' Day to all of you; to the mothers, grandmothers, godmothers, foster mothers, and unofficial mothers. Today's stories celebrate the mothers of Best Day, traditional and otherwise:

Frances Bryce

03.04.2021

A Parent’s Recollection

I‘m not a grandmother, biological that is. I have had the honor of being like a grandparent to my best friend’s grandchildren and enjoyed the many stories of other grandparents. I am reminded of stories from my children. My daughter was between 3 and 4 years, I believe, when she responded to her father when she was reminded of a behavior that was not acceptable and was sent to her room which was upstairs. As she went up the stairs, she called him “Meanie, Meanie Mustache.”
She was upset one evening when she asked her father to get her some ice cream when she heard the bell tinkling from not far away. As usual he was reading, because he was a prolific reader, and he said “Okay” but he did not put the book down in time to get outside before the truck arrived and passed. He came back and said that he had missed the truck. So, she said, “What kind of father are you”. He pivoted, got the keys, and got into the car. He returned to have ice cream for all. Again, a great father that only took ice cream to solve.
The most memorable event happened when she had her response while we were shopping, and mostly window-shopping, and I saw in the window, as she did, furs from animal skin. And I said, “Oh don’t they look pretty?” And she said, “They only look great on the animals.” I never bought a fur coat of any animal and of course I have never forgotten that moment. And later we had a conversation about that when she said “Mom you could have really bought a fur coat later because they now use minks and so forth.” But I had no desire to get a fur coat after that stand.
One day my son and I were in the car and the radio was on and somehow the conversation came up about slavery and he wanted to know what was slavery. And so, I told him. Among the things I said, there were people, my great grandparents who were sold into slavery, and they were like purchasing a chair or a bed. And he said, “How can people be sold? They are priceless.” I never forgot that statement.
Later he used words, when he was very young, he knew that equated to similar words that he knew and one of the words was “elbow foot,” which he was trying to tell me that something was wrong with his ankle. And the next thing was a “fingernail toe,” as a toenail. I recall these very early periods when he wanted me to know what he wished to express and didn’t have all of the words and understanding of it.
He always had a protective sense of fairness when he saw kids his age being treated unfairly. He came to their rescue. I sometimes share with grandparents a parent’s recollection and still enjoy all the good tales that the grandparents tell me.

Joan Bunting

5.31.2018

A Grateful Daughter

I have two sons and four daughters. I love each and everyone of them equally. My daughters and I are very close only because we’re all females, we hung out a lot together. We shopped together, talked about a lot of things, sometimes told our personal secrets.

But you know, no matter how close siblings are, they all have their own different personalities.

My daughter, Joanne, whom is next to my oldest daughter Rose is the one who was always willing to take chances. Sometimes scary, or in some instances, dangerous. 

For example, one day, Joanne and I were on our way home, walking down South Street. As we had just walked over the bridge, a car stops at the red light. As we approached the corner, the young man in the car offered us a ride. Also in the car was a young child about two and a half years old. 

My daughter Joanne says, “Come on mom, let’s get in.” I said, “Girl, we’re not getting in that man’s car. We don’t know him.” Her reply was, “It’ll be okay, he won’t try anything because he has that little child in the car.”

Well, I had to explain to her that the child was a decoy and of course, we did not get in. I’m so glad and I thank God that I was with her that day. She probably would have gotten in that car, and I may not have ever seen her again.

Joanne thanks me even today for not allowing her to go to Lee Lee’s house to those suppose parties she gave every week.

She would ask me every weekend if she could go and I’d tell her no because she knew what kind of parties they were.

You know, the sex, the drinking, and the drugs, and the smoking of pot. One of the neighborhood boys overdosed and died.

These party goers were in their teens, I’m just guessing, but I believe from fourteen to sixteen years of age.

Not only is Joanne grateful, that I didn’t allow her to attend those parties but, I’m also grateful that she obeyed me.

 

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 stories of motherhood, 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 

School Year (Ann, José & Frances)

School's been weird this year. Many schools reopened in March and April, and the students only had a few weeks in person before they were thrown into midterms and finals. Even our transcribers and copy editors are feeling the pressure of the school year, as parents, teachers, and students. So this week is all about the older buds going through school troubles of their own.

Ann von Dehsen,

07.02.2020

Miss Alice Strickler

This is a very random story and Frances already knows this story but anyway. Except for sewing on a button or taking up the hem my mother had no interest or desire to sew. She claimed she got a headache just walking into the fabric store. So when I was in high school, I decided to take sewing in Home Ec, hoping to discover I had a talent for it. Well on the first day of class while taking role the teacher, Miss Alice Strickler, paused when she got to my name. “Von Dehsen? Is your father named Paul?”
When I said, “Uh, yes” she just rolled her eyes and went “Huh” and continued on with the class.
So my first attempts at threading the sewing machine were unsuccessful, and Miss Alice Strickler seemed to ignore my raised hand for help, as long as she could. By the time I was ready to stitch, class was over
So that night at dinner, I asked if the name Alice Strickler rang any bells. He had no recollection at all, but I kept pressing him to jog his memory until he finally said, “Oh, I was friends with John Strickler in high school. And yeah, he had a sister named Alice, and I think I took her to a dance once. But I had no real interest in her.” And there lies the reasons for her eye rolling. Apparently, Miss Alice Strickler definitely had an interest in him.
So there I was each day, forty some odd years later, reminding the spinster Alice Strickler of her lost love as I struggled through the class. Turns out I had no flair for sewing at all, and spent many afternoons after school in the Home Ec room tearing out crooked seams and poorly placed zippers. Miss Alice Strickler gave me minimal guidance, rarely looking at me. I finally finished my skirt, which was made with a really poor choice of fabric. In order to receive a final grade, students had to wear their finished clothing to school and then show Miss Alice Strickler how it held up at the end of the day. Right away, I noticed my skirt had a lot of static cling and was constantly sticking to my tights. Then just before lunch I looked down and saw the waistband was slowly pulling away from the main part of the skirt, leaving a big three to five inch gap. I went to the nurse, who luckily liked me, and she helped me use her large stash of safety pins to make the repairs from the inside.
When school ended, I went nervously to Miss Alice Strickler for my critique. Somehow, she didn’t notice my pin waistband but did notice still crooked seams and zipper and gave me a C. I think we were both just very relieved to be done with each other. And now, following in my mother’s footsteps, I too get an instant headache when I walk into a fabric store.

 

José Dominguez

12.03.2020

La curiosidad mató al gato

I was in a class with a very, very strong professor and then one of my schoolmates was a very, he was picking on the professor, but the professor was very strong, and that’s why he wrote in his hand something. We were in one exam, and during the exam, and we were writing and he was looking at his hand and then the professor saw my friend looking at his hand he said ‘Come in. Come here. You are cheating.’
‘No, no, no I’m not cheating!’
‘You are cheating. Why are you looking at your hand?’
‘It’s not bad, that I am having my hand.’
‘Let me see your hand.’
‘I’m not cheating profe-‘
‘Let me see your hand.’
So he opens it. He wrote, “Curiosity killed the cat.” And he was out of the class. He said the class had put negative score because he was laughing at the professor.
“Oh my god, that is amazing.”
“He was doing what? Say that again.”
“He was looking at his hand.”
“And the professor was thinking that he was cheating, and the professor ordered the student to open the hand, and the student wrote in his hand, ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ So he was joking upon the professor. 

 

Frances Bryce

02.25.2021

Learning to Listen

My daughter’s first year at Girls High, after she attended Henry School (this was in Mt. Airy), was one that we were really pleased with because it was an outstanding public girls’ high school. And we were delighted because she seemed to be attracted to this girl who was very much unlike her. This child’s greatest ambition was to see how many boys she could have and dress that were way past what a young girl should be wearing. And so, we didn’t have to worry because we knew she wouldn’t be going to Girl’s High.
So anyway, since her first year at Girls High she was doing well in all of her subjects, and then she had trouble with this teacher who was by all standards I call prejudiced. So, one of the things that Cynthia would tell me in the early age about this woman. And I said, “You need to work a little harder” because her grades were not doing well in English and that had been a subject that was a no brainer for her. And this went on for a while, and then one time she came in and she was very upset. They had been given an assignment about reading a story and the students were supposed to decide who was the main character for them and to support it which she did. And then when she got her paper the teacher said that wasn’t the main character even though she had supported her choice. And I was upset as well as Cynthia but I did nothing about at the time.
But right on the heels of that there was a substitute teacher who gave the same sort of assignment. Oh the other thing about this teacher, she gave the same assignment while this teacher was away, and when she came back the teacher re-graded the stories and Cynthia went from the teacher was saying how great it was and how she had done what she was supposed to do. And so, I decided then that I needed to go and see the teacher. And I did.
So, the first thing the teacher says to me is “Let me see if she belongs at Girls High because it was on your grades that you got there.” And she looked at it and said “Oh yeah, she belongs here.” And that was the only thing she could say to confirm what she had done. Even on the paper, when Cynthia got it, she had taken off for spelling, and her A wasn’t completely closed so she took off for that. And I just was beside myself.
So, I talked to the Assistant Principal there and she said well you can go and see the Principal and I said “No I won’t do that this time,” because I said I should have listened when Cynthia told be what was going on and I didn’t. So, I said “But this will never every happen again.” So next year she didn’t have to have this woman, so she did well and excelled in all of her classes as she had done before.
So, when we went to California, my son who was in the class, he was not one to be shy about saying or doing things. He and a group of boys, all 4 of them, were doing something that disturbed the class, and the teacher pointed him out. And he said he left immediately and went to his counselor and said he talked about her and said that she was prejudice. And I said well tell me what happened. So, he did and of course he was the only dark-skinned kid in the class and the other kids of course were Caucasian.
And so, I went to see the teacher and I told her what my son had said. And I said I heard what he had said about you, but I would like to hear what you said. And I said he pointed out that you were prejudice. And she was quick to say “Oh no I’m not.” And I said, “I don’t care if you are if it doesn’t interfere with my child in the class.” And we talked about it and she said “I have to agree that it was unfair for me to point him out when there were 4 kids there and none other were chastised.”
And after that she talked to me a lot and we became very good friends. She said she didn’t realize what she had done, and she apologized and would never do that again. So, I just wanted to say how teachers can do so much harm to kids. And I learned a lesson, I learned to listen more and to pay more attention to when kids say something and to find out what’s going on.

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 you know have stories about their time in school, 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