Heritage (Philip, Christie, and Diane)

Coming up is the thirty first part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first a friendly reminder that May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, and Best Day’s origin embodies the holiday perfectly. Especially since this was founded after our fearless leader Benita had a heartfelt conversation with her grandmother in Hong Kong. And in these crazy times, it's more important than ever to support Asian run businesses and Asian run non-profits. You can donate, subscribe to our newsletter, send a note to our older buds, or follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. If you want to volunteer yourself, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. And if you know older buds with stories, then you or they can submit them through our portal right here.

In honor of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, we'd like to share a few stories from our Asian older buds, Philip and Christie, about the values they brought over from their home.

Philip Pai, Philadelphia

03.12.2020

Story About Buddhism

When I was young, I followed my relatives to worship about a Temple, a Buddhist Temple. Actually, I am not a believer in Buddhism. Recently I got some information from Buddhists. They said that Buddhism is a faith that was founded by Siddhartha Gautama (The Buddha) more than 2500 years ago in India with about 470 million followers. Scholars consider Buddhism one of the major world religions.
The founder of Buddhism Siddhartha Gautama who was born into a wealthy family as a prince in present day Nepal. The religious former Buddha is considered a extraordinary man but not a god. All the Buddhists live by five moral precepts which prohibits:
• Killing living things
• Taking what is not given
• Sexual misconduct
• Lying
• Using drugs or alcohol
Types of Buddhism
• Theravada Buddhism
Prevalent in Thailand, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Laos and Burma
• Mahayana Buddhism
Prevalent in China, Japan, Korea, Singapore and Vietnam
• Tibetan Buddhism
Buddhism is different from Christian or Catholic or Muslim. They think if human beings do something good or best in the world everyone will become a Buddha. So, there are many gods in the world. So, if you love people, help people you can become a Buddha or god.

Christie (Chong) Yang

10/04/202

Missing My Mom in China During the Pandemic

Last time I visited my mom in China was August 2017. I spent the entire month taking care of her and myself as well. I was planning to go back to China in 2020 but never imagined the devastating Covid-19 came in which turned into the most horrific experience in the modern era throughout the entire planet.
Since the Covid-19 started in Wuhan, China the virus spread too fast to stop, the city was shut down immediately on January 20 when it was Chinese New Year Day. Millions of Chinese were forced at the transportation like train stations, bus stations on their way to visit families for once-a-year family reunion. China started to force the “Zero Police” entirely throughout the whole country, no one was allowed to be remote anywhere but to isolate at home.
As for people like me abroad, we’re not allowed to travel to China to visit families. A lot of Chinese like me whose parents are old seniors, majority of them were sick and need care but we are not allowed to visit or even pay the respect of those who passed away. As cruel as it has been for adult children who live abroad not able to pay respect to say goodbye to their elder parents before departing to another world, most of them suffered mental health in depression and grieving. As a profession psychotherapist myself, I have counseled more patients who are Chinese Americans’ or Chinese Immigrants’ grief in the loss of their parents and in guilt for regretting not visiting them prior to Covid-19 attacking the world.
Last night I talked to my mom through video chat, the social app WeChat with my younger brother’s cell phone. I saw mom was in tears. I was worried about whether she would survive this winter since yesterday the weather has changed much colder. Mom is 94 years old and I’m grateful she is in fair health. I told her I will see her at Chinese New Year.

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 31.”

Diane Richardson

11.22.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 31

Today I’m going to tell you about my friend named Gert. Gert is from Stuttgart, Germany. She is a tall blond with blue eyes. She married a black soldier in Germany and he brought her back here in the states. After a short time here he was being teased and harassed by his friends and family for marrying a white woman. So, he threw Gert out of his house.
I met Gert at the neighborhood corner store where she rented a room over the store. We became friends and she would often visit me. I had a neighbor named Rich who was interested in Gert. He would always come over when he would see her. Rich is black and his wife is white. They had no children. They had been married for ten years trying to conceive, to no avail. Fertility doctors and all.
Rich and Gert started to have an affair. He told her his situation and told her “Do not get pregnant.” Gert told me “I’m going to get pregnant and give him something he wants most in the world.” She figured he might be shooting blanks since his wife never got pregnant. So she started messing around with another back guy, and after three months she became pregnant.
She told Rich the good news. He was so happy; he was elated after all these years he’ll finally have a child. He told Gert that he would have to tell his wife as the child would pe part of their life. So, he did tell his wife. She was crushed. She asked him, “How do you know the child is yours?” He answered “Because I’ve been having an affair with her for a while and I know and trust her”. The wife said “O.K. We will take care of her during her pregnancy, but we’re going to have a D.N.A. test when the child is born. If this is your child he or she will have the best life and education.”
The child is born. Rich told her “We’re going to have the test.” Gert fought hard and long against it. Rich asked her what’s the problem. Gert said “It’s your bitch of a wife that’s putting you up to this.” That’s when Rich first started having his doubts about being the child’s father. He told her if there is no test, there is no more us.
The child is born, the tests are done. Rich is not the child’s father. The end of Rich and Gert’s relationship. The end of Rich’s marriage.

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 Asian and Pacific Islander Heritage, 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

Meal Prep (Frances & Diane)

Coming up next is the thirtieth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first let's talk about food. 

We all eat to live, and our working days are spent making the money to buy the food or in some cases growing the food we'll eat later. With the modern supermarket and online delivery, it can seem easier than ever to get exactly what we want, when we want. But there's always little hiccups here and there, due to lack of funds, lack of time or lack of options. Today's stories show some creative ways for older buds to go food shopping and to get their square meals.

Frances Bryce

09.07.2021  

Detours

The city offers many buses, trains, and the subway. To get from Point A to Point B I have become accustomed to walking out of my door if I needed to go to anywhere on South Street on a plan and hunch to 2nd and Lombard that I planned on. Sunday, the day of the Farmer’s Market is open at the above address- 2nd and Lombard, my intended destination. As we approached 15th and South, the driver alerted the passengers that the route was blocked, and we could wait until SEPTA informed us that the trip could be continued (Detour).
30 minutes later we were informed that the blockage was still in effect, and he would be returning via another route. The driver offered a very sincere apology. I began to think of my options, buses run infrequently on weekends and holidays. 15th and South is quite a distance from 2nd and South. A possible solution, wait on Broad and Lombard and return home.
No buses in sight, I was fortunate to get a bus on Broad and got off at Walnut Street. Still a sit and wait (who knew how long). I began to walk to one of my favorite places, Reading Terminal, with a previous stop in Rittenhouse Square with a book in my bag. The wait was short.
At Reading Terminal I was able to have lunch, purchase a meal for later and all the fruit and produce that I missed at the farmer’s market. A detour can be another way of not letting a bus detour stop me from using another plan to have a great day. There are many other routes that let me achieve a day that I had not planned.
My final bus route ended at 23rd and South. The area has a wonderful yogurt with which I rewarded myself for such a pleasant day. No detour stopped me.

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 30.” 

Diane Richardson

11.08.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 30

Today I would like to tell you about my Hubby’s cousin Ron. Ron lives across the street from a large church in South Philly that often holds weddings and funerals. Whenever either is held, Ron gets all dressed in a suit & tie and attends the services. He goes to the funeral repass services and the wedding receptions where there is a buffet of food, drink and pastries all homemade from family members.
He goes over to the church early in the month to get a monthly program of what’s going on so he can plan his monthly activities. He shops at Goodwill and Salvation Army for suits and ties. He’s always the one of the sharpest uninvited guests there. After he eats, he always packs up a few platters to take home. Then comes back and packs a few more to go. None the wiser. He’s been doing this for years. Even going so far as volunteering to sometimes clean up so he wont be considered a stranger.
He never has to go food shopping or cook. He always has plenty of homemade food and pastries on hand.

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 food and how they find it, 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

Volunteer Appreciation (Elliott & Diane)

Coming up next is the twenty-eighth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first some appreciation for our volunteers. Yesterday, I went to The Philadelphia Senior Center's Volunteer Appreciation Ceremony. The most interesting thing about the event was how many older buds were present as volunteers. Of course, there were the older bud representatives of each group, but there were also several older buds and baby boomers volunteering without actually attending the Senior Center...or any senior center necessarily. Apparently,  we have a larger percentage of volunteers born between the forties and sixties than we did back in the 2000s. I believe it might be double, but don't quote me on that.

We've been getting in new prospective volunteers to write and read on behalf of older buds with visual impairments, many of whom are older buds themselves. One prospective volunteer was Nancy, who wrote for Elliott. They struck up a friendship over their shred tastes in literature, and Elliott believes she knew exactly how to write and read aloud his story as a result. I'm looking froward to sharing the story Nancy transcribed, but in the meantime, here's a classic story from older bud Elliott.

Elliott Doomes

09.12.2019

Who Am I?

This is a story about two people who seemed to be compatible in every way. With the exception of controversial issues. They can never agree on the correct stand to take. Whichever stand one would take, the other would contradict and take the opposite. They would argue their points almost to the point of verbal hostility. They would even go so far as to judge and condemn the others’ opinions. I think that they could accept the fact that they are different people, and allow each other to be who they are and not judge them for who they think they should be. That’s the key point right there. Perhaps in that understanding and acceptance, they could begin to bond and form a lasting relationship and friendship.
Now this is the third person coming here, and this is what he says: he said “Well, sound and interesting advice, sir. But tell me, how do you stand on controversial issues?”
Well let me say this: I may not always be right, but I’m never wrong.
I’ve met people like that; they’re never wrong. I don’t care what you say, they’ve always got a way to interpret something. There’s a guy here who’s like that. He’s gone everywhere, he’s done everything, he’s even worked on a nuclear submarine if you can believe that! I call him every once in a while, and ask why he doesn’t come to the center. He says, “Most of the days, I’m down at the casino.” Well that wouldn’t be for me. Maybe one day I might go in a group, but he’s going in two, three times a week, but for what? But the stories that he tells me! He’s done everything. Whatever you say, he’s done it. One day he’s going to tell me he was Admiral or something.

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 28.” 

Diane Richardson

10.25.2022

When I Met My Husband Part 28

So at this time I am on assignment at a O.B. GYN practice at H.U.P. I don’t like working O.B. GYN because there is nothing but women all day every day and I need to see some men sometimes. My agency knew I didn’t care to work the practice but not why. They needed a tech to work until they hired someone permanent which who knows how long that could be. So, they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I agreed only because they were closed on weekends and holidays. Their regular tech was getting married and leaving the country.
The practice was owned an operated by a husband and wife team. I’ll call them Smith and Jones. The wife Smith, the husband Jones. Smith was white and Jones was black. He loved soul food, and she didn’t know how to cook it so they would go out to eat most nights after work.
After I had been there for a little while I asked if I could make a suggestion. I told them I had a trusted family member that was retired and could cook up a storm. I could talk to her and ask if she would be interested in cooking for you. She could do the grocery shopping and have dinner ready when you get home. They asked if I knew her well and if I trust her.
I answered, “Very well. I wouldn’t recommend her if I didn’t, I wouldn’t put my reputation on the line.” They said they would meet with her, and I talked to her and she agreed to meet with them. They met, loved each other, and agreed she will be their cook. Everybody was happy. I want everyone to know who the cook was,
Pearlie Mae!!!
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 of volunteering or volunteer appreciation, 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

The Lost Chapters (Diane & Diane)

I have a confession to make. I do not have part 24 of Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” I checked previous weeks, but it’s just not coming up. There’s a few more parts of her story that I also cannot find. However, the next part to her story follows pretty well from Part 23, so that’s what I’m posting. I’ll continue posting chapters of Diane’s story in this way, and I will let you know when I find the lost chapters.

Without further ado, Part 25 of “When I Met My Hubby” by Diane Richardson

Diane Richardson 

10/18/2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 25

 

So Joe and I are enjoying our new home and all is well. But every day I hear knocking on the wall from the right side of the house. It happens almost every day and night. I asked Joe what he thought about it, and he says, “Don’t know.” The knocking continued for a couple of months then stopped.
Then my neighbor on my left asked me if I knew the old lady on my right has passed away? I said I did not. I said I don't know anyone as I am new here. She went on to explain that the mother (the homeowner) was discharged from the hospital to home hospice, care to her daughter Lydia. She said the mother left Lydia the house.
The next thing I know there was all kind of construction going on at the house. A new front and back porch and a new wrap around deck put our deck to shame. Let me not forget the new Mercedes. Lydia was doing it up. I wondered if I should have called the police when I heard the knocking on the wall. What could I say, I hear knocking on the wall? I was new there and if I had known there was and old lady living there, I would have known what to do.
To Be Continued …….

 

And we also have a bonus story from Diane!

 

Diane Richardson

02/08/2022 

My Uncle's Funeral

 

I come from a very large family. We all live in different states all across the country and we all don’t know or have met one another. The only time we all really got together is at weddings or funerals. My grandmother had thirteen children, four girls, nine boys. My father is one of the boys and I doubt he had any problems in school with bullies.
Our family always used Bakers Funeral Home on North Broad Street. It is the largest funeral home in Philadelphia that has three parlors inside that could hold three services in one day. So, this day I went to attend my Uncle Cecil’s service. So, I walk into the parlor, I see a group of people I think I recognize. I approached them, they embraced me and hugged and cried. We all started talking and crying together and saying how good a person he was and how we all loved him. We all had a good cry together. As I am standing there crying with everyone, I hear my aunt Erma, my father’s baby sister, yell out to me. “Diane get over here. You’re at the wrong funeral!” So I said good bye to everyone I was crying with and went to the correct funeral.

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

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