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

Two People (Ann and Diane)

Coming up next is the twenty-first part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” Yes, you read right. The twenty-first. I believe Diane skipped part twenty and went straight to part twenty one, but I'll let you know if I do find that lost part twenty. In the meantime, I'd like to start a three part series featuring older bud Ann and her friend Carolyn. The loss, and regaining, of a lifelong friendship.

Ann von Dehsen

12.14.2021

The Politics of COVID

Carolyn and I have been friends since kindergarten. Our neighborhoods were not far apart, and we’d meet on the corner to shlepp to elementary school together. She’d often come to my house after school and after socializing with my mother whom she loved, we’d practice “Shuffling off to Buffalo” or singing songs from South Pacific, although we excelled at neither. Later years in Elementary school, we’d meet at the man-made George Street Pond every Sunday in winter to skate for hours before going inside for hot chocolate. Our moment of shared drama at age 12 came when we were shopping at Woolworths, looking for a long time at their 25 cents nail polishes. As we left, a large man approached us and brought us into a small room in the back of the store telling us that he saw us steal nail polishes and had us empty our purses and pockets as we tried not to cry while eventually proving our innocence.
In high school we hardly had any classes together and were involved mostly with different crowds. We did have study hall together and were often threatened with detention for laughing too loudly. We also celebrated each other’s birthday every year.
Carolyn went south for college, and I went north, and we lost temporary contact. We reunited again for weddings, but Carolyn lived in Cape Cod and again our communication was inconsistent. Eventually Carolyn moved to West Chester just a short distance from my Media house and our friendship felt like old times. We celebrated our daughters’ weddings and the birth of our grandchildren. We were there for each other when it really mattered with a mix of tears and laughter.
And then along came COVID. We spoke on the phone, and it became quite obvious that we differed in our approach to the pandemic. While I was mostly staying home alone, my friend was living a pre pandemic lifestyle, socializing with friends and family at Sunday dinners, birthday parties and holidays. Phone calls were less frequent as we both knew we had different views on COVID and tried to resist judging each other. When the vaccine became available, I excitedly called her telling her “I got my vaccine, did you?”
“No, and I don’t plan to” was her response. I told her I was worried about her and didn’t want her to get sick.
“Don’t worry I won’t.” End of phone call. Our last phone call was in September when I called to check about the vaccine once more, thinking she must have gotten it, after all she still teaches 2nd grade. But no, her district did not mandate vaccines for teachers. This time I told her once again that I really worried about her, but couldn’t hold my anger when I said, “Don’t you feel it’s your responsibility to get the vaccine in order to end the restrictions that you despise?” Then she talked about how I must listen to “fake news” and our reciprocal anger grew as we ended the phone call.
And now it is Christmas and I miss her. It’s very hard—do I chose my own convictions over our friendship? For now, I tell myself when this is over perhaps, we can resume our friendship I sent her a Christmas card and hope she is ok. So another friendship gone bad due to the polarization of COVID politics.

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 21" by Diane Richardson:

Diane Richardson,

09.06.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 21

So, this particular Sunday morning Joe and I were relaxing and talking, and I again asked him if I asked him for something could I have it.
He answered, “I told you before, you can have anything you want. What is it that you want?”
I said, ”I want to be your wife. I want you to buy us a house and propose to me. I don’t want to go on a honeymoon. We’ll honeymoon in our new house. Can I have that?”
He said, “You got it.” So, we went house shopping and picked out a nice house in Overbrook Park. We gave a housewarming and invited all our friends and family.
There were guests all over the place, including the patio, deck, and balcony. Joe called for everyone’s attention and said he had an announcement to make. He stood and took a ring out of his pocket and attempted to get on one knee, and asked me to marry him.

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 two people breaking apart or coming together, 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

Women’s Services (Gloria and Diane)

Coming up next is the nineteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, a few words on women’s services.

Gloria’s story was inspired by the most recent election, and the issue of women’s services. Bringing a child into the world, raising them and providing for them is an incredible responsibility; and it should always be a choice. If it isn’t a choice, the child and mother suffer. The unsafe abortions women were forced to pursue before Roe v. Wade could be lethal. Older bud Gloria’s seen enough of that firsthand:

Gloria Nhambiu

10.11.2022

Women’s Services Must Be Legal and Available

In March 1959 I was a recent high school graduate with no marketable skills. I found employment as a nurse’s aid at a small South Philadelphia hospital that in no longer there. I worked from 7:00 AM til 3:30 PM as an aid to the clinic: wheeling patients to and from tests, delivering specimens to the various labs and doing whatever else needed to be done. From stocking shelves and sometimes listening to patents until they were serviced or cleaning up.
I hadn’t though much about those days. I was only there 6 months until I left for college. But it comes back to me as I listen to the conversations on the air concerning birth control and abortion issues. Many women came into the accident ward for an incomplete A.B. or an incomplete abortion. This was usually something they had done themselves or had someone else do for them. They didn’t come to the hospital until they had passed the fetus or were burning up with fever from infections. I heard from the nurses that some had to have surgery that rendered them sterile. Others went home still pregnant, but most accomplished their aim. Many, if not most, were married.
I really worry that women who do not have access to legal services will go back to servicing themselves with coat hangers, forks, or catheters, etc. Women’s services should be kept legal and available because “desperate women will do desperate things” when they have to.

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 19" by Diane Richardson:

Diane Richardson

08.23.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 19

Today I am writing about Joe’s sister I’ll call her Sara. She’s never been married or had children. She’s been in a relationship with a man I’ll call Bob for over thirty years. Bob was a high-ranking politician and was married with children when that met a charity function. Sara was twenty-two and Bob was forty-two. They started having an affair and he made it clear from the beginning what the rules were, #1 He was never leaving his wife and family for her. He had children in college, and he didn’t want any more. And if ever she would get pregnant and have the baby, he would take care of the child without a doubt. But there would be no more them: The end of their relationship. Because that would be the end of his marriage. He made it clear at the beginning of the relationship, she’s twenty-two and he’s forty-two and she’s a virgin. And there would be no future together for them. She would not ever bear children and she could have anything in the world she wanted “that money could buy.” He asked her repeatedly, “Will you go along with these terms?” She agreed.
First, he paid for her education. Four years at U. of Penn, Master’s in Business Administration. Upon graduation he got her a high-ranking city job with an office and a car. When she was in school for four years, he paid all her living expenses and car note. He had her living in a high-rise condo and a new car every two years. What she really wanted most in the world is to live right next door to her mother. Bob approached the neighbors on both sides of her mother for the purchase of their homes. He bought the homes on both sides of mom’s house. He got the three homes built into one. Sara now has everything.
But then Bob died. His funeral service was packed and anybody who was anybody was there, even the mayor. After all the years of them being a couple everyone knew who she was, as they say, everyone knew what time it was. While his wife, children and grandchildren sat at the front Sara stood at the front door greeting the guests and seating everyone.
She was thanking everyone for attending and accepting and collecting all the sympathy cards while the wife and kids sat right there. Y’all ain’t never seen nerve like that. Luckily no fight broke out and the service and repast went well. Oh, by the way, Bob left Sara a half million insurance policy. To be continued ….

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 women's services, 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

Shift (José and Diane)

Coming up next is the eighteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, the seasons are shifting.

I blinked and Diwali was over. Halloween was hard to miss, and Día de Muertos came on its heels. While looking through stories for today's post, I remembered Gloria seeing ads for Christmas movies in the middle of October. I also missed two weeks of posts due to my own madcap schedule, so I'm getting back on the horse while it's still running. Diane's story reflects the rapidly shifting schedule, and José's story reflects a classic Halloween tradition:

José Dominguez

08.10.2021

Levitacion

This is not a scary story, not an adventure trip, just a nosy 15 years old adolescent mingling with the power and trickery of the “prince of darkness.” My aunt's house was the most inappropriate place to do that kind of irreverence but we didn’t mind, for us it was only a play. The house was build according to a Spanish tradition where rooms were lined up in a square and communicated in between; all of them with a door to the central patio. I was sharing my rented room with Victor, my brother, and our furniture consisted in two beds and one small bureau in between … well, it's also necessary to say that there was a large color old lithography of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall as a permanent guardian or permanent intruder according to the circumstances. That night after dinner we gather in our room with the presence of Antonio, another tenant, Jorge Cordova, a neighbor friend and another guy who whose name I can’t recall. Jorge invited us to participate in a levitation session; “nothing serious” according to him. We agree and warned the group to be quiet since my aunt was super sensitive and super aggressive. He explained the procedure and at the same time we followed his instructions. “Ok, I need one volunteer to lay on bed with his crossed arms in the chest, motionless until we finish, and not to be surprised if he is risen.” Antonio accepted as volunteer and we started following Jorge instructions. I switch off the light and were distributed; two persons by each Antonio’s side. Then Jorge explained, “First we are going to do an experiment. Using your thumb and index of each hand we are going to rise Antonio, ready...one…two…three, up it goes!” Antonio was risen only a few inches, his body weight was not evenly distributed so the legs went higher than his trunk and head. “Ok,” said Jorge, “Now I’m going to utter something to José and he will repeat the same message to Victor and he to the fourth. Then, I will say something different and you will do the repetition person to person. Ok? Let’s begin, put your fingers in position.”
With low but clear voice he pronounced to my ear: “Este es un muerto ” (this is a corpse) and each of us passed to the rest the messages: “Ya apesta” (It stinks), “Pesado como un metal” (Heavy as a metal). “Ligero como una pluma”(ligth as a feather). “Vamos a levantarlo” (Let’s rise him). “En El hombre sea del Diablo”(In the name of the devil) and voilà Antonio went high up to our shoulders.
In that precise moment my aunt erupted screaming saying, “This is a Catholic house and you want to turn it in a devil’s cave. Shame on you, stop your sacrilegious play and repent.” Antonio fell down so strenuously that he only managed to say: “Who is screaming as Hell?”

 

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 18" by Diane Richardson:

Diane Richardson

08.09.2022

When I Met My Husband Part 18

I hope you all remember my last story on 7.19 where I told the story of the female inmate at a prison getting assaulted by a male prison guard. The guard was fired and arrested after all the tapes were pulled and viewed and after threats to my safety, I left the assignment. I sure miss the two hundred dollars a carton I used to get from one particular inmate. I still go to their clubs and restaurants on occasion. They appreciated me looking out for their loved ones. I still had people looking out for them after I was gone. They are all out now or transferred to another person.
If you remember my friend and coworker married the cigarette guy, we’ll call Al. They live in a lovely condo around the corner from me across from the Art Museum. They are living large and we sometimes dine together.
So getting back to Joe, his knee has been bothering him so I suggested he go see his new Dr.’s I recommended him to. Dr. Quintialani and DeSalvo. They suggested that he have arthroscopic surgery (same day procedure.) He had the surgery, and they gave him a note to return to work in six months, with pay. He went back to work two days later. The note wasn’t accepted so he had to go back to the Dr. and get the note reversed so he could return to work. They changed the note but told Joe it was against his better judgment. Who wouldn’t want to be out of work for half a year with pay? Him. Talking about loving your job. I’m not looking forward to his retirement.

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 paradigm shifts, 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