tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91044036808341318502024-03-13T08:20:12.705-04:00The Best Day of My Life So FarReducing older adult isolation through storytelling since 2009Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger841125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-51336678419973405222023-05-11T13:00:00.000-04:002023-05-11T13:00:00.156-04:00Heritage (Philip, Christie, and Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white;">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. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Especially since this was founded after our fearless leader Benita had <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://blog.bestdayofmylifesofar.org/search?q%3DAsian%2BAmerican%2BHeritage%2BMonth&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw2ly7u_LNzkHIMjDpdnF3Uo" href="http://blog.bestdayofmylifesofar.org/search?q=Asian+American+Heritage+Month" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">a heartfelt conversation </a>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 <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw3i8rx-Oj46f_FrqAJUdig_" href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">donate,</a> <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v%3D001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%253D&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw3ol0TTf_UGzTn-hIUCXYHy" href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">subscribe to our newsletter,</a> <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw3K6OA70zXJ-S3j6NCyTaCA" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">send a note to our older buds,</a> or follow us on </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw3PazjWkq1eLd9SJDX80w2s" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw1dSAuAuPR8rV7U_oz_3zoS" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw3ZzmKA5WqbsywVioQ722di" href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Twitter.</a> If you want to volunteer yourself, then email us at <a href="mailto:info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org" target="_blank">info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org</a>. And if you know older buds with stories, then you or they can submit them through our portal </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1683906193786000&usg=AOvVaw0dMUbhmMyjhAD4oaG_TEPU" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Philip Pai, Philadelphia</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">03.12.2020</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Story About Buddhism</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">The founder of Buddhism Siddhartha Gautama who was born into a wealthy family as a prince in present </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">day</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> Nepal. The religious former Buddha is considered a extraordinary man but not a god. All the Buddhists live by five moral precepts which prohibits:</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Killing living things</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Taking what is not given</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Sexual misconduct</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Lying</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Using drugs or alcohol</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Types of Buddhism</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Theravada Buddhism</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Prevalent in Thailand, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Laos and Burma</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Mahayana Buddhism</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Prevalent in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">China</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">, Japan, Korea, Singapore and Vietnam</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">• Tibetan Buddhism</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Buddhism is different from Christian or Catholic or Muslim. They think if human beings do something good or </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">best</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydYN8WkU5s5pLcQ2lQG1OJiYKp-lIGHol95tRNW1Y1nRm4WCoNNfsu-ltmHVYUK-Dy6dSRSw2xX4rh5idWuiBMWaLAIyRgH-3BSeJQellVGiLzuScu7V5loXuLGieuBiJvZ53Yb0cIQYrV_21zpeM6zPjhyFocyxLm6Q-SMrtbSwBMMOVq4wNXZIw/s960/Photo%20Apr%2011,%202%2032%2029%20PM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydYN8WkU5s5pLcQ2lQG1OJiYKp-lIGHol95tRNW1Y1nRm4WCoNNfsu-ltmHVYUK-Dy6dSRSw2xX4rh5idWuiBMWaLAIyRgH-3BSeJQellVGiLzuScu7V5loXuLGieuBiJvZ53Yb0cIQYrV_21zpeM6zPjhyFocyxLm6Q-SMrtbSwBMMOVq4wNXZIw/s320/Photo%20Apr%2011,%202%2032%2029%20PM.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Christie (Chong) Yang</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">10/04/202</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Missing My Mom in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">China</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> During the Pandemic</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Last time I visited my mom in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">China</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> was August 2017. I spent the entire month taking care of her and myself as well. I was planning to go back to </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">China</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> 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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Since the Covid-19 started in Wuhan, </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">China</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> the virus spread too fast to stop, the city was shut down immediately on January 20 when it was Chinese New Year </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Day</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">. 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. </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">China</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> started to force the “Zero Police” entirely throughout the whole country, no one was allowed to be remote anywhere but to isolate at home.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">As for people like me abroad, we’re not allowed to travel to </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">China</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> 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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeCEkj6uqn8-yjmvst44qYqvq7YfbtlDP9V-qj6x4VqCCjpGrjQt2fbP0E-n1w88sA9s1XJU3Uh6KmU-hwKUuNEBpetTaocqkizvM17wfuhZHNQ3rPxOjtISmzmJFkmw3gSXgWi6bhvSncUera443FozOXBMfJevkQ9OIws_SujZpmDy1b_WtaO6B/s4032/IMG_5893%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeCEkj6uqn8-yjmvst44qYqvq7YfbtlDP9V-qj6x4VqCCjpGrjQt2fbP0E-n1w88sA9s1XJU3Uh6KmU-hwKUuNEBpetTaocqkizvM17wfuhZHNQ3rPxOjtISmzmJFkmw3gSXgWi6bhvSncUera443FozOXBMfJevkQ9OIws_SujZpmDy1b_WtaO6B/s320/IMG_5893%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 31.”</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Diane</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Richardson</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">11.22.2022</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">When I Met My Hubby Part 31</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyishUQfUskCOJdCbs5Skfg6FATIiIDDAXcoGV9_m26fqVWdeqKLr5SXkLcpFeXbv9N_E01gLld3Rg3LOn9PBB-y1SOItNxGlscb6jtlfAmNPFyQ17lix66f4DvUoScRybU3iRaP3_IT3cUn3t-DYvcgiwHys50GXBJIErk8jKiZ2sFm7dvUgeua0E/s4032/IMG_8211_11222022%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyishUQfUskCOJdCbs5Skfg6FATIiIDDAXcoGV9_m26fqVWdeqKLr5SXkLcpFeXbv9N_E01gLld3Rg3LOn9PBB-y1SOItNxGlscb6jtlfAmNPFyQ17lix66f4DvUoScRybU3iRaP3_IT3cUn3t-DYvcgiwHys50GXBJIErk8jKiZ2sFm7dvUgeua0E/s320/IMG_8211_11222022%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories of Asian and Pacific Islander Heritage, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4aQ1LeyfkTeBMZ4UCVlNQ_jqsyXr-u0zFE9m6p6UCq1zFqzkVlta0pBjXx9NCgMrn5Tx51FJjk3wy0jpTFbozY3YyG7jhPuvqLa4hzoQ94ZIzkUvecyym_mc8-hSXzFrK4vGRhpaH6w9ChqFIMEIskSO01uH8S5gU4M5j-tx-dkK0H3iu3VHghEE/s640/IMG_5543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4aQ1LeyfkTeBMZ4UCVlNQ_jqsyXr-u0zFE9m6p6UCq1zFqzkVlta0pBjXx9NCgMrn5Tx51FJjk3wy0jpTFbozY3YyG7jhPuvqLa4hzoQ94ZIzkUvecyym_mc8-hSXzFrK4vGRhpaH6w9ChqFIMEIskSO01uH8S5gU4M5j-tx-dkK0H3iu3VHghEE/s320/IMG_5543.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-1599679419962537692023-04-29T12:54:00.003-04:002023-04-29T12:54:17.349-04:00Meal Prep (Frances & Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Coming up next is the thirtieth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first let's talk about food. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">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.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Frances Bryce</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">09.07.2021 </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Detours</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">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 <span class="il">day</span> 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).<br />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. <br />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. <br />At Reading Terminal I was able to have lunch, purchase a <span class="il">meal</span>
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 <span class="il">day</span>. There are many other routes that let me achieve a <span class="il">day</span> that I had not planned. <br />My final bus route ended at 23rd and South. The area has a wonderful yogurt with which I rewarded myself for such a pleasant <span class="il">day</span>. No detour stopped me.</span></span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYPD7aMWQyrXrLHM-88_G97TwXYLkUGNgOYlio0YUzzgpHE7ZKlaNNSLTKrREIWrrcrLa-s0razkjUEtEUzXzO21bYPVV-e2YoK2B-nJx6SRncc0dPUQx1TYkzYUDdMii8uneZSUao2oOtT2W6q7krnZd1u2xZNY81QcBxkIm6zU1oT4iO8rWDiSp/s3264/IMG_1743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYPD7aMWQyrXrLHM-88_G97TwXYLkUGNgOYlio0YUzzgpHE7ZKlaNNSLTKrREIWrrcrLa-s0razkjUEtEUzXzO21bYPVV-e2YoK2B-nJx6SRncc0dPUQx1TYkzYUDdMii8uneZSUao2oOtT2W6q7krnZd1u2xZNY81QcBxkIm6zU1oT4iO8rWDiSp/s320/IMG_1743.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 30.” </span> <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Diane Richardson</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">11.08.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I Met My Hubby Part 30</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">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.<br />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. <br />He never has to go food shopping or cook. He always has plenty of homemade food and pastries on hand.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bzPi6nwUAjCrZhXIn1MbNZiA9kOQWhYGX-Yl31uBXYHvgoYiFE870KLycC44eHflo6QKHSc3q0psYgOA6JAtMFmlCuherhfkQPc9oh806-hcIfJ9q9-vgskdQgaxTzAoc5jnJ2Hl_8x8wjW3i5JGSk6bxsXmMiRaYbEo7a8ed7vpzvNiDCgcDLdq/s4032/IMG_7460_11082022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bzPi6nwUAjCrZhXIn1MbNZiA9kOQWhYGX-Yl31uBXYHvgoYiFE870KLycC44eHflo6QKHSc3q0psYgOA6JAtMFmlCuherhfkQPc9oh806-hcIfJ9q9-vgskdQgaxTzAoc5jnJ2Hl_8x8wjW3i5JGSk6bxsXmMiRaYbEo7a8ed7vpzvNiDCgcDLdq/s320/IMG_7460_11082022.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories of food and how they find it, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCI1JB1hpWrKawkDQNhuB7r9ZFv4Xt762GPdaQEri1d7IxEc4-lfoq_qZMn9oTi-KUQm6Mn_eF0J2sn-6dHc4pQLYNzeTvp3FOjVeTEfzZu9U09ACM284nxWNZQg7YBO-zYfU2pAQYQg6Lmh6VZaaC4A6gq928ynuXAPicFtDUi_9ZiuPD2kDHwqU/s640/IMG_1175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCI1JB1hpWrKawkDQNhuB7r9ZFv4Xt762GPdaQEri1d7IxEc4-lfoq_qZMn9oTi-KUQm6Mn_eF0J2sn-6dHc4pQLYNzeTvp3FOjVeTEfzZu9U09ACM284nxWNZQg7YBO-zYfU2pAQYQg6Lmh6VZaaC4A6gq928ynuXAPicFtDUi_9ZiuPD2kDHwqU/s320/IMG_1175.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all. <br /></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6MVoqvAVauq5Kh9GcWaIFadfwxfyree3dLCzs-wD-TbSuP2aNBMBOEbBYmdbeQ76mk-uFW-R1ZKqeVczSkfVdh_LiPo_V30z_W36g9ZupuJalZaMpyohORmnn46BBlkK6eTO3aO66K_QP0dhHgn1mrvw2MNXu7ZRcySIPlR4WrE7iHNt8HulR6LKa/s640/IMG_1177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6MVoqvAVauq5Kh9GcWaIFadfwxfyree3dLCzs-wD-TbSuP2aNBMBOEbBYmdbeQ76mk-uFW-R1ZKqeVczSkfVdh_LiPo_V30z_W36g9ZupuJalZaMpyohORmnn46BBlkK6eTO3aO66K_QP0dhHgn1mrvw2MNXu7ZRcySIPlR4WrE7iHNt8HulR6LKa/s320/IMG_1177.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-49044511106438320852023-04-20T12:49:00.000-04:002023-04-20T12:49:00.983-04:00Volunteer Appreciation (Elliott & Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 13px;">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.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px;">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.</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Elliott</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> Doomes</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">09.12.2019</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Who Am I?</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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 </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">form</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> a lasting relationship and friendship.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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?”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Well let me say this: I may not always be right, but I’m never wrong.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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.</span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZHQDL8jDy5J2TbQfq9N55boT1Ao5y3BIA2uCSuIPBaMmyimiRQvjKgQ7vfS1-kiXfdE1PKMPQBBtv_-f7L50xPQ3_Vq8AdR_BpwUbRUfILXLM3VEXC7F7Dqq7KCBOUQzjF-ErGugDdQK1-CgkwvhiGcuGmGuwMGRrysrekqLyQ_wQ62J7gQM904J/s4032/IMG_3548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZHQDL8jDy5J2TbQfq9N55boT1Ao5y3BIA2uCSuIPBaMmyimiRQvjKgQ7vfS1-kiXfdE1PKMPQBBtv_-f7L50xPQ3_Vq8AdR_BpwUbRUfILXLM3VEXC7F7Dqq7KCBOUQzjF-ErGugDdQK1-CgkwvhiGcuGmGuwMGRrysrekqLyQ_wQ62J7gQM904J/s320/IMG_3548.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 13px;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 28.” </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Diane</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Richardson</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">10.25.2022</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">When I Met My Husband Part 28</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">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,</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Pearlie Mae!!!</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">To Be Continued …….</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGw3lRhXUR_uAtf3sNRizjNwp0cCPr5twL9Lx6WpaVX0JcV8F__YFyaxfyXax8ha49zMbNpWWtS0fcfKj0SnGBzSVoo5LLOvxlmZaPG5elSPcT3atGAjeo_OuzccGPJNHNCVp46-PKCH5Hj0Y2yOXoOQpcVTVItb16dsEHcoA8EVygnUvwusZAGYu/s4032/IMG_6759%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGw3lRhXUR_uAtf3sNRizjNwp0cCPr5twL9Lx6WpaVX0JcV8F__YFyaxfyXax8ha49zMbNpWWtS0fcfKj0SnGBzSVoo5LLOvxlmZaPG5elSPcT3atGAjeo_OuzccGPJNHNCVp46-PKCH5Hj0Y2yOXoOQpcVTVItb16dsEHcoA8EVygnUvwusZAGYu/s320/IMG_6759%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories of volunteering or volunteer appreciation, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #2198a6; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQvvgPUeWBLIBmJrZ1sVw4y7315QJefn8jLXt_xtqf0bH_CV-9BtbavdzKDD8byBzfaylYUP3uBNC3zHCn-i8Y8useCslYWGK1BsgCtybgHnodoCCrFd09q7vtN4gtDLDvIKhea-yKdRdkq8SeV-IzbHnvWcdL2ov-jRcll0kBZsXEJ5jyoGSlu3k/s2436/IMG_3515.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2436" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQvvgPUeWBLIBmJrZ1sVw4y7315QJefn8jLXt_xtqf0bH_CV-9BtbavdzKDD8byBzfaylYUP3uBNC3zHCn-i8Y8useCslYWGK1BsgCtybgHnodoCCrFd09q7vtN4gtDLDvIKhea-yKdRdkq8SeV-IzbHnvWcdL2ov-jRcll0kBZsXEJ5jyoGSlu3k/s320/IMG_3515.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="color: #2198a6; text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;"> all. </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTT8-JmWsVNb0H-6xWxZ7dP-NCODCViFIhmV-Phe2YNjriY1MYHUEzyVfeOYEPiAXAMsxrRqXcgWhS7v21twwILleA2Y_aWX9st_PtyBelHxPRLSvepbAYfLyMUp78ZdFj93icv756VoARc79k_47V9wJ9HC8j69A-ZFrI-YlUgFzd2D_YjVVWfcm/s4032/IMG_3516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTT8-JmWsVNb0H-6xWxZ7dP-NCODCViFIhmV-Phe2YNjriY1MYHUEzyVfeOYEPiAXAMsxrRqXcgWhS7v21twwILleA2Y_aWX9st_PtyBelHxPRLSvepbAYfLyMUp78ZdFj93icv756VoARc79k_47V9wJ9HC8j69A-ZFrI-YlUgFzd2D_YjVVWfcm/s320/IMG_3516.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-11978806483466711682023-04-13T13:00:00.029-04:002023-04-13T13:00:00.277-04:00The Lost Chapters (Diane & Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></span></span></p><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Without further ado, Part 25 of “When I Met My Hubby” by Diane Richardson</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il">Diane</span> <span class="il">Richardson</span> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">10/18/2022</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I Met My Hubby Part 25</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />To Be Continued …….</span></span></span></div></blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VkpC2r2-J0h2SQReo-X7bgOA0a5_UhxfuuwjtfCZbX0YSJxJ8S4LRQIZLMurWo9lIlFut9DJLMirxFAdUb16BvMZYLOPCPwPvDAUjkMaYzj5pZni75QrepPXl5C0AQUSMkMc4ylDFtJjH7AZb7anMa3ZAxPffltmcaPzU3yPvJ1cSk4WWylNoi_z/s4032/IMG_6438%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VkpC2r2-J0h2SQReo-X7bgOA0a5_UhxfuuwjtfCZbX0YSJxJ8S4LRQIZLMurWo9lIlFut9DJLMirxFAdUb16BvMZYLOPCPwPvDAUjkMaYzj5pZni75QrepPXl5C0AQUSMkMc4ylDFtJjH7AZb7anMa3ZAxPffltmcaPzU3yPvJ1cSk4WWylNoi_z/s320/IMG_6438%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">And we also have a bonus story from Diane!</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il">Diane</span> <span class="il">Richardson</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">02/08/2022 </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Uncle's Funeral</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">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. <br />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. “<span class="il">Diane</span> 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.</span></span></span></div></blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooVYxVpA3ywPseYt18PCF-p5M-025Op_CaQSII6kIyVWpPD6XLdhSDPBGV8pUPx5ZklYejde0-AkEbIZXWS6eWybHd1vT98HhoqbCotSQamSodHIcsPUbAt-01tkvJyEZ25V-ExNJEPW1WBZ_8dk5MDXYBpNhm71opVEkzzeD1zxLRLUtTkDAjV7m/s4032/IMG_2565%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooVYxVpA3ywPseYt18PCF-p5M-025Op_CaQSII6kIyVWpPD6XLdhSDPBGV8pUPx5ZklYejde0-AkEbIZXWS6eWybHd1vT98HhoqbCotSQamSodHIcsPUbAt-01tkvJyEZ25V-ExNJEPW1WBZ_8dk5MDXYBpNhm71opVEkzzeD1zxLRLUtTkDAjV7m/s320/IMG_2565%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></span></span></div><div><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories of love and/or marriage, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcN7-yKRHMeCiZbJwchDnN3sg0Cjf4bUylMLdS_FgGHW9GkztJKA2z3Iu1TJI6KJQlW8z_QvslMpQEjdwVkv3rsKWm0581gFbb-zOuzeJXDUK0JIEATLtYTvFjOqTfCzeTgj0i4FqsP3cHXELnQH5qTQ6fgkelYke3CyBdAx6G7lrnkkHFYuNOEMoG/s4032/IMG_3333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcN7-yKRHMeCiZbJwchDnN3sg0Cjf4bUylMLdS_FgGHW9GkztJKA2z3Iu1TJI6KJQlW8z_QvslMpQEjdwVkv3rsKWm0581gFbb-zOuzeJXDUK0JIEATLtYTvFjOqTfCzeTgj0i4FqsP3cHXELnQH5qTQ6fgkelYke3CyBdAx6G7lrnkkHFYuNOEMoG/s320/IMG_3333.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all. <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8a_7Th1gR8-hyLjqD-ufJ5S2i2BGt6ztt4BXTpXhyrqR2ijfbKL5CEU2riRVASB_4Qug4XHSDusOifuphYmdZSwnuE6ZuLVRplo3FHXYwCPeiUVorRWaetXg8I09HCsZvAagqdk-5fgNDzFJSEz99BH3skaLS0SVIIGpgtqfTLF3aIJ4u7NK0hPU/s4032/IMG_3345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8a_7Th1gR8-hyLjqD-ufJ5S2i2BGt6ztt4BXTpXhyrqR2ijfbKL5CEU2riRVASB_4Qug4XHSDusOifuphYmdZSwnuE6ZuLVRplo3FHXYwCPeiUVorRWaetXg8I09HCsZvAagqdk-5fgNDzFJSEz99BH3skaLS0SVIIGpgtqfTLF3aIJ4u7NK0hPU/s320/IMG_3345.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-61391919075457926812023-02-23T15:42:00.005-05:002023-02-23T15:42:31.214-05:00Compare and Contrast (Ann & Ann)<p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white;">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:</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Ann</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> Von Dehsen</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">01.39.2019</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Day</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">As I sit here watching the </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> fall gently outside my window, I think back to the joy of </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> days when I was in elementary school.
To insure a </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">day</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> following a prediction, the kids in my neighborhood all did a version of a </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> dance before getting into bed. Once in bed, we would chant ourselves to sleep by praying to the </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> Gods, "Please let it </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">...please let it </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">...please let it </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">."
At daylight, we would ceremoniously life the shade an inch or two hoping to see </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> 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... </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">SNOW</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">DAY</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">!! 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 </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> gear, pulling our sleds behind us ready for all types of </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> 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 </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> 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 </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> 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 </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Day</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">."
Later at dinner, conversation would turn to the possibility of tomorrow being another </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">day</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">. While my parents warned that that was highly unlikely, my sister and I repeated the entire </span><span class="il" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">snow</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> 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! </span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZx1J_4LOQQhPc6zLzbxAsZi9czjglKXc_1koWxqGY4cCqbBop8tF0_7biieOZECrhtZs5DJXWqVHYvaB8Xi0RKz5uGD3r-BTuhhu2pTZKBjtnt3SIjZE1KW1wKAyhHIAECHkMZtX8SCIrPrNFqbNMM_BmsU8mo73A6g9Atb4xrsuqWB5uIpTqcsb/s3264/Photo%20Jan%2031,%202%2007%2039%20PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZx1J_4LOQQhPc6zLzbxAsZi9czjglKXc_1koWxqGY4cCqbBop8tF0_7biieOZECrhtZs5DJXWqVHYvaB8Xi0RKz5uGD3r-BTuhhu2pTZKBjtnt3SIjZE1KW1wKAyhHIAECHkMZtX8SCIrPrNFqbNMM_BmsU8mo73A6g9Atb4xrsuqWB5uIpTqcsb/s320/Photo%20Jan%2031,%202%2007%2039%20PM.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">And here's the same story, retold in 2020:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Ann</span> von Dehsen</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">12.17.2020</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Snow</span> <span class="il">Day</span> (2020 Revision)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">As I sit here watching the <span class="il">snow</span> fall gently out side of the window,I think back to the joy of <span class="il">snow</span> days when I was in elementary school. To ensure a <span class="il">snow</span> <span class="il">day</span> following a prediction<br />the kids in my neighborhood all did a version of a <span class="il">snow</span> dance before getting into bed. Once in bed we would chant ourselves to sleep with the mantra, “Please let it <span class="il">snow</span>, please let <span class="il">snow</span>, please let it <span class="il">snow</span>.”<br />At <span class="il">day</span> break we would ceremoniously lift the shade an inch or two, hoping to see <span class="il">snow</span> instead of asphalt. if we did, down to the kitchen we would fly, waiting for the magic hour<br />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 <span class="il">SNOW</span> <span class="il">DAY</span>!!! 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.<br />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 <span class="il">snow</span> in full <span class="il">snow</span> 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 <span class="il">snow</span> gods kept us safe and sleds never quite met cars.<br />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 <span class="il">snow</span> 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.<br />Later after my <span class="il">snow</span>-weary father made it safely home from an icy commute we asked our parents about the chances for another consecutive <span class="il">snow</span> <span class="il">day</span>. Though they highly doubted it we did another <span class="il">snow</span> dance and chant to cover our bases.<br />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 <span class="il">snow</span> days.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgIJSeix20i8QuZOy-B4jqfXxaXxWD_IGYTYyzgipzco3Xiy5kg5cxBWP65qjqLayWdQoRwO91en7o3Ro2CBO8tlqUvjMt_1OZ3mVAn2fXc13TKwZZEwomxJGzoZIZ5rOiexOf0gSWZ4WOJorQHoaaaSQ3a2mFbtcDw1a8cOie9AEPKFu9SbReY6V/s1440/Ann%2012172020.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1440" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgIJSeix20i8QuZOy-B4jqfXxaXxWD_IGYTYyzgipzco3Xiy5kg5cxBWP65qjqLayWdQoRwO91en7o3Ro2CBO8tlqUvjMt_1OZ3mVAn2fXc13TKwZZEwomxJGzoZIZ5rOiexOf0gSWZ4WOJorQHoaaaSQ3a2mFbtcDw1a8cOie9AEPKFu9SbReY6V/s320/Ann%2012172020.tiff" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about how the way you see life has changed, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifncYemnzD3zKKHPMrTKFvJwR6-EY2doQVT1F5RGRrz4t_A56G2FC9Z7BHrL-KjQ7k_R5jDokpmw2EksctsD9Qeu9WILyuSfXBjzv-YFT4sP7EcxTBGcrxP8x1_-6QmuL1cH-TQgzBiecFxvxhEPRr2IEvTiLHFLK5uUUJNXj1KZRqYmTTDLsQ2AUd/s4032/IMG_2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifncYemnzD3zKKHPMrTKFvJwR6-EY2doQVT1F5RGRrz4t_A56G2FC9Z7BHrL-KjQ7k_R5jDokpmw2EksctsD9Qeu9WILyuSfXBjzv-YFT4sP7EcxTBGcrxP8x1_-6QmuL1cH-TQgzBiecFxvxhEPRr2IEvTiLHFLK5uUUJNXj1KZRqYmTTDLsQ2AUd/s320/IMG_2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8WieFYC7Yy5X63bAyGzzsKomWraP5LCmz-buHitnHbamfOpgYAiqoP11MkLWqRqJGNQJGcwaBcFhPP-MGtc1XhaVPzl7HpmbjEEvgm8kXuWjK7toGdqTZPC7bWD-STSYaljZMRccrofews-5KD5eEbSDXNoiyaGnqbCgeHLtkeaRl8Ni4KZh-Uhgp/s2436/IMG_2015.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2436" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8WieFYC7Yy5X63bAyGzzsKomWraP5LCmz-buHitnHbamfOpgYAiqoP11MkLWqRqJGNQJGcwaBcFhPP-MGtc1XhaVPzl7HpmbjEEvgm8kXuWjK7toGdqTZPC7bWD-STSYaljZMRccrofews-5KD5eEbSDXNoiyaGnqbCgeHLtkeaRl8Ni4KZh-Uhgp/s320/IMG_2015.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-14352082637330936422023-02-16T13:00:00.043-05:002023-02-16T13:00:00.204-05:00Valentine's Day (Diane and Gloria)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">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:</span></span></span></p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahOLXlAvkveMMLuBGLPmZ7Guq7YTYJ4XD-M7RvIqf4wf4EAnvdEh0rIVS8pKqdwnneQgi6lwuXI6yG4kOVMIMbb7usQtOPS_q7V0yYFTLV_hauAHi2x6W3lecDWjHFsm_XAOjxgtNoYi9aM7aVe8ckYPh2jE983hLkTEAp77Gm2Hc9Hf6NmssaDlN/s4032/IMG_6884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahOLXlAvkveMMLuBGLPmZ7Guq7YTYJ4XD-M7RvIqf4wf4EAnvdEh0rIVS8pKqdwnneQgi6lwuXI6yG4kOVMIMbb7usQtOPS_q7V0yYFTLV_hauAHi2x6W3lecDWjHFsm_XAOjxgtNoYi9aM7aVe8ckYPh2jE983hLkTEAp77Gm2Hc9Hf6NmssaDlN/s320/IMG_6884.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">05.24.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">Wedding on a Beach</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">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. </span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFUu_zSfACPktGT7F5n_EteFvMDcl39F2BxCdDjYUL8rTlnKUDd7Z5Aqj56OQb-aygxYgtwjYV2W9h03EBSqBkxB1crzGX52iXBmz0spdbKV7QHz9YdtgKFyk4H7MR-pU3tiTlPihAn_X8jfb8o1DPhkCHiFkWw_KIenU1kuLTM0dReMh9HM9EFreS/s1864/IMG_6890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="1864" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFUu_zSfACPktGT7F5n_EteFvMDcl39F2BxCdDjYUL8rTlnKUDd7Z5Aqj56OQb-aygxYgtwjYV2W9h03EBSqBkxB1crzGX52iXBmz0spdbKV7QHz9YdtgKFyk4H7MR-pU3tiTlPihAn_X8jfb8o1DPhkCHiFkWw_KIenU1kuLTM0dReMh9HM9EFreS/s320/IMG_6890.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">Gloria Nhambiu</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">05.10.2022 <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">On Keeping My Maiden Name</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">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 <span class="il">forms</span> for a “name change.” I told her I had not planned to change my name. <br />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 <span class="il">forms</span>. 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 <span class="il">wedding</span>) and my clients knew I had married and still called me Miss Purnell.<br />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 <span class="il">forms</span>
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. <br />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.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZnviwtY2HV9MFxkBgLpA3tk6iN_mQx1zU0NMUW9L2IuSTWlHQZ0M8JiLP4RQBNK84dgAC89s5mY7KDEcSkObPBj6tlRhVjoi5fcHTejleZjhuee7FSpE1QKkA8Kz8QOV8qUniXYuAkxfEeyBVc-XeToCddEf6CuN48pAK0UCQYQ44MbGTwI2HRwS/s4032/IMG_5994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZnviwtY2HV9MFxkBgLpA3tk6iN_mQx1zU0NMUW9L2IuSTWlHQZ0M8JiLP4RQBNK84dgAC89s5mY7KDEcSkObPBj6tlRhVjoi5fcHTejleZjhuee7FSpE1QKkA8Kz8QOV8qUniXYuAkxfEeyBVc-XeToCddEf6CuN48pAK0UCQYQ44MbGTwI2HRwS/s320/IMG_5994.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories of love and/or marriage, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiktAOcV5YzZ-A1YAyAAY6r-l6QDw06d76oPktGvO7ggPrUE4x_kwWIdjw6l6sam216XAXQq0gOfh9YMk3dlmk0eFwpnmePcymvAMCuz4ORWz_JXywTPD0OHpmxbIJXkvZoCitDEjPe_-Ok8Pq4fOxgIiO5McJPPqxWCIiXZVSZRDU9obGGkYeO9YXa/s4032/IMG_1502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiktAOcV5YzZ-A1YAyAAY6r-l6QDw06d76oPktGvO7ggPrUE4x_kwWIdjw6l6sam216XAXQq0gOfh9YMk3dlmk0eFwpnmePcymvAMCuz4ORWz_JXywTPD0OHpmxbIJXkvZoCitDEjPe_-Ok8Pq4fOxgIiO5McJPPqxWCIiXZVSZRDU9obGGkYeO9YXa/s320/IMG_1502.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> <br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP2AUMCZ7OgS100NFJkRbdy8N-Kvm6DTsNsE6sxMuW6PZLGus99gzBCBjooo-Mpcbn2ETKTSDiaPbnD0xYXkoYC9DwM6W1ThIk7LdS6bJRWaD_T52lLtD1hmKuk7tAeG_qEvErGNAfDTp4x08rJGycpwVt1NGhGTYLvFrHIGLJnHY7TV2y6KTBdLfa/s2436/IMG_1503.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2436" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP2AUMCZ7OgS100NFJkRbdy8N-Kvm6DTsNsE6sxMuW6PZLGus99gzBCBjooo-Mpcbn2ETKTSDiaPbnD0xYXkoYC9DwM6W1ThIk7LdS6bJRWaD_T52lLtD1hmKuk7tAeG_qEvErGNAfDTp4x08rJGycpwVt1NGhGTYLvFrHIGLJnHY7TV2y6KTBdLfa/s320/IMG_1503.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span> </span></span></span></span></span> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-67176935701475331322022-12-22T12:45:00.002-05:002022-12-22T12:45:08.863-05:00Christmas Come Early (Gloria, Ann, Frances, Norman, José, Elliott, & Diane)<p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Happy Holidays, everyone! Best Day's present to you is a big haul of stories from older buds Gloria, Ann, Frances, Norman, </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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!</span></p><p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Gloria</span> Nhambiu</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">11/09/2021</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Untitled</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Each year the Hallmark TV stations offer <span class="il">Christmas</span> movies for over a month in mid-summer encompassing July. The company does this to introduce its newer <span class="il">Christmas</span> ornaments.<br />In mid-October the <span class="il">Christmas</span> movies start again to usher in the holiday season. <span class="il">Christmas</span> 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.<br />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.<br />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.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span class="il"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4ndThlmGauvip0dOpobkmtVrVnSUm-Eyi0UqjHqvaKlvb1jfYQZ2DkqHMrEglEmTeWrNFqXTcPWm4kX9P0VnNp1LuEaHQIZMd7_oFxr4Jy_N7dxJ9FYrHxqtDiTPH-zfmGwjF9sx6YiDPGTblOnaiGKlZ43gUwvMNhCjEppeMqsjnH1rHYhGAy3H/s4032/IMG_6699%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4ndThlmGauvip0dOpobkmtVrVnSUm-Eyi0UqjHqvaKlvb1jfYQZ2DkqHMrEglEmTeWrNFqXTcPWm4kX9P0VnNp1LuEaHQIZMd7_oFxr4Jy_N7dxJ9FYrHxqtDiTPH-zfmGwjF9sx6YiDPGTblOnaiGKlZ43gUwvMNhCjEppeMqsjnH1rHYhGAy3H/s320/IMG_6699%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Ann</span> von Dehsen</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">11/30/2021</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">The <span class="il">Santa</span> Secret</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">This year my 7-year-old grandson Max is having serious doubts about <span class="il">Santa</span>’s existence. Back in October, he questioned me about the actual mail service to the North Pole and the likelihood of <span class="il">Santa</span> ever really receiving his letter. Apparently, he’s been testing his theory out by writing to <span class="il">Santa</span> 5x’s addressed simply: to <span class="il">Santa</span>, North Pole, and putting them in the corner mailbox.<br />Last week he came downstairs after playing in his room and said to his mom, “I don’t think <span class="il">Santa</span>’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 <span class="il">Santa</span> is real, but I’m sure he’s still doing his own undercover detective work.<br />His mother, my daughter Kerry, was much more blunt about the <span class="il">Santa</span> 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.<br />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 <span class="il">Santa</span> 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.<br />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 <span class="il">Santa</span> were possible during COVID, but Macy’s offered a 1-1 visit with <span class="il">Santa</span> and 2 elves over Zoom, so Rachel scheduled a visit. Paul was very quiet but eventually told <span class="il">Santa</span> 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!”<br />Rachel found out about <span class="il">Santa</span> 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 <span class="il">Santa</span> or Easter Bunny either. She recovered quickly when we assured her that yes, there would still be presents.<br />As for me, my overly sophisticated 1st grade friend told me point blank there was no <span class="il">Santa</span> and I was a baby if I still believed. But even today I still believe in the magic of <span class="il">Santa</span> as witnessed by the chills and smiles I experience when <span class="il">Santa</span> appears at the end of the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. I’m convinced he is the real <span class="il">Santa</span>.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkATtYzv_tPu3bW1CauaZydlV0PgovOLxqRGbAs3tLOJvWxrNTR2LyaRqqCaq-4082RH7cj0Wf2w6pWGxrQcI_QWzza-YWNoBWa7HQbvqYaAhA3-O-Y8LwyIqCqi-JRPJcC5F77sE6_CFNhK5Tnx3B1gV72jJmmvY8hTBTMvQXBHGrP8dY79BNhjA/s4032/IMG_8197%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkATtYzv_tPu3bW1CauaZydlV0PgovOLxqRGbAs3tLOJvWxrNTR2LyaRqqCaq-4082RH7cj0Wf2w6pWGxrQcI_QWzza-YWNoBWa7HQbvqYaAhA3-O-Y8LwyIqCqi-JRPJcC5F77sE6_CFNhK5Tnx3B1gV72jJmmvY8hTBTMvQXBHGrP8dY79BNhjA/s320/IMG_8197%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Frances Bryce</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">12/17/2020</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Missing the Season</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">I have written about the weather in California and Philadelphia. When I lived in California I remembered and loved the sunshine<br />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.<br />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<br />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 <span class="il">holidays</span>. 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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtINhou1T6BCVqHgU3k9mcHiBKuw_FZInsxS1vhMrEcIUwzP4t2fmfKy6mHPPXFdEgDpkhrrgXzvRKK-am6n5h2LceWHOT1WD3_gX7tDE7wTryKMipXCKsUq_u7cJMJqcenbzVzJbe8qkrgMHumpwBzLIGE5NEbmrNstUVYyYxThBoxRfCcYVUp96/s1077/Frances%2012172020%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="1077" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtINhou1T6BCVqHgU3k9mcHiBKuw_FZInsxS1vhMrEcIUwzP4t2fmfKy6mHPPXFdEgDpkhrrgXzvRKK-am6n5h2LceWHOT1WD3_gX7tDE7wTryKMipXCKsUq_u7cJMJqcenbzVzJbe8qkrgMHumpwBzLIGE5NEbmrNstUVYyYxThBoxRfCcYVUp96/s320/Frances%2012172020%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.tiff" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Norman</span> Cain</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">01/02/2020</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Love Anguish- Holiday Season Story Revisited</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />Right here at this center, 509, I attended the <span class="il">Christmas</span> 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.<br />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.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5o56ChXsQzJfLyTPyznHZhe_tjqbV4ClI8IA8wCh1GUfBst8Gim37A4A93BLEGXMwCQuOA8OsqB41kDZHinFG8IeXmo2gR6IZQmSj7l_YOi26JdhvG4cjkwEjLHOW4epIq6OkJLS6oTnvmXmp-cO2Yf0JSCy2Uq4MY-0yHfkU80isuMTzXfK7ltU0/s4032/IMG_7180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5o56ChXsQzJfLyTPyznHZhe_tjqbV4ClI8IA8wCh1GUfBst8Gim37A4A93BLEGXMwCQuOA8OsqB41kDZHinFG8IeXmo2gR6IZQmSj7l_YOi26JdhvG4cjkwEjLHOW4epIq6OkJLS6oTnvmXmp-cO2Yf0JSCy2Uq4MY-0yHfkU80isuMTzXfK7ltU0/s320/IMG_7180.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Jos</span>é Dominguez</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">05/27/2021</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">My Last <span class="il">Christmas</span> in Mexico</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">My last <span class="il">Christmas</span> 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?<br />“My family eats all days of the year!” he answered.<br />Faking innocence and perplexity I asked, “What is the problem? What is my fault?”<br />He calmly asked: “Where is your new sticker? You are driving with a old sticker.”<br />“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.”<br />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.”<br />“What do you want to tell me?” he questioned.<br />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 <span class="il">Christmas</span> 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 <span class="il">Christmas</span> present given from you to a stranger, a simple fellow citizen.”<br />“Ok, that’s my <span class="il">Christmas</span> 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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPeHe95k4C-MVsuqvpNNmVK7A7ucNlbMC-L3l-D-FGq3v-zIKn9_a_sYI6BsAEG71efiNu51CwMtZC0Jh4fVfsy0poE7qFX9kpcEpBMbQ2o5dD0S1clAzy5lesJdcxP4VMQAMlU8HD1i1LT_mfK6J6d8GfAG0A624XVjAzRpw1Bnf9E0_U6EaSGOG/s4032/IMG_8479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPeHe95k4C-MVsuqvpNNmVK7A7ucNlbMC-L3l-D-FGq3v-zIKn9_a_sYI6BsAEG71efiNu51CwMtZC0Jh4fVfsy0poE7qFX9kpcEpBMbQ2o5dD0S1clAzy5lesJdcxP4VMQAMlU8HD1i1LT_mfK6J6d8GfAG0A624XVjAzRpw1Bnf9E0_U6EaSGOG/s320/IMG_8479.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Elliott</span> Doomes</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">02/06/2020</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Experience Is the Best Teacher</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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<br />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.<br />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.”<br />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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtjKG0DMbBFKx0nGDTgkwUVVwe7JVIz4NnsY2Lv0kJlIRW2-su9qK4hCJ4F9U5S7xPPvcgIuMwkSVZn6j0A_tHHgnEYrErO8naOYmn0L4N3d5_SxLo6mcYZzmszqvbz9AdWLpTOPBR26qNcKR15i-VvrmVxoX7Tl8OcqzjHEm8cHcWtNLcbyCuaB1/s1024/imagejpeg_0%20(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtjKG0DMbBFKx0nGDTgkwUVVwe7JVIz4NnsY2Lv0kJlIRW2-su9qK4hCJ4F9U5S7xPPvcgIuMwkSVZn6j0A_tHHgnEYrErO8naOYmn0L4N3d5_SxLo6mcYZzmszqvbz9AdWLpTOPBR26qNcKR15i-VvrmVxoX7Tl8OcqzjHEm8cHcWtNLcbyCuaB1/s320/imagejpeg_0%20(3).JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div><p></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">12/28/2021</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">P.A.L.M. Ardmore Senior Center</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrrJoJhvRj9UIBAXtbyfNRoRNohY0LV77EbM6Cgkycwv6mN_Cx3hxcgiJzMqWlk7g8Q90XUn_WjxHvmmLL1TC1_YA1KSIAVDX8PBLwpoeBfZzjzgSswtIUW5yCz3r3pKmj3iRXELxUjS_jPJPUy9Qn2LUapeo-5L3BZWRf0uKLw1cif9PL-TQPZ-B/s4032/IMG_8480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrrJoJhvRj9UIBAXtbyfNRoRNohY0LV77EbM6Cgkycwv6mN_Cx3hxcgiJzMqWlk7g8Q90XUn_WjxHvmmLL1TC1_YA1KSIAVDX8PBLwpoeBfZzjzgSswtIUW5yCz3r3pKmj3iRXELxUjS_jPJPUy9Qn2LUapeo-5L3BZWRf0uKLw1cif9PL-TQPZ-B/s320/IMG_8480.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any holiday stories, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXtlP2jsrpm1eCzZ0E6IRP-JQt_zWbLzhNdYxg7EdlNngeDv1F0bnVbd3wahUzekKPP1tamTcMDIrSbfhZaPk05XNXQMuAU7wwq1J5S--__ceh3q2lSemhY1qtai7Or3kneJDb2C-m3sOju77ohQ9eMbHy9NaIomQ38o3z2rjhpukkMlzwrJJ0SkO/s1024/imagejpeg_0%20(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXtlP2jsrpm1eCzZ0E6IRP-JQt_zWbLzhNdYxg7EdlNngeDv1F0bnVbd3wahUzekKPP1tamTcMDIrSbfhZaPk05XNXQMuAU7wwq1J5S--__ceh3q2lSemhY1qtai7Or3kneJDb2C-m3sOju77ohQ9eMbHy9NaIomQ38o3z2rjhpukkMlzwrJJ0SkO/s320/imagejpeg_0%20(1).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></div>And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiongaacc2hSFulwb3kqb_oJlNhnVYr26NPNVT8-EtBKshu7awAiMJVw7XlLhD1c7rDeD2g5ZUqYhCbwG2JOJWVVk5jZ3DR6bLlqyFs4nwq8l_jRIufLujS6jUaDBsevLGTbe2SvlJXISh9UHsPxJdJHurANiKOaSYmuDNE2OZ1ko8EpKoz5d6b-SG3/s1024/imagejpeg_0%20(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiongaacc2hSFulwb3kqb_oJlNhnVYr26NPNVT8-EtBKshu7awAiMJVw7XlLhD1c7rDeD2g5ZUqYhCbwG2JOJWVVk5jZ3DR6bLlqyFs4nwq8l_jRIufLujS6jUaDBsevLGTbe2SvlJXISh9UHsPxJdJHurANiKOaSYmuDNE2OZ1ko8EpKoz5d6b-SG3/s320/imagejpeg_0%20(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-66593104846417053662022-12-15T13:00:00.049-05:002022-12-15T13:00:00.214-05:00A Surprise at “The Bus Stop” (Elliott and Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the twenty-third part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby,” but first some surprise reunions.</span></p><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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…</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVs5-yMOJKkLfLV8-iDoGRlv9_PMfKbrKLrPoMWzP0qwx1wlg45Zv0GmZ2lrrcEJcOPJQ8xyyHxf4RnfqpUpVvdv1yH9HxVI_-zy5vg7BkxJBYrr_seWmGk_0rlfze-XSLq6BLzYdgfEDwTX4oCtOdyy-NsB3AwLQT-EL8Q8AHd2qLXMtVBRm_Z0AV/s1024/imagejpeg_0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVs5-yMOJKkLfLV8-iDoGRlv9_PMfKbrKLrPoMWzP0qwx1wlg45Zv0GmZ2lrrcEJcOPJQ8xyyHxf4RnfqpUpVvdv1yH9HxVI_-zy5vg7BkxJBYrr_seWmGk_0rlfze-XSLq6BLzYdgfEDwTX4oCtOdyy-NsB3AwLQT-EL8Q8AHd2qLXMtVBRm_Z0AV/s320/imagejpeg_0.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>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.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">There’s no greater pleasure than reuniting with an old friend you lost track of.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Elliott</span> Doomes</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">02.20.2020</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Industrious Kid</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.<br />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.<br />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.</span> </div></blockquote><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0UoeO5djHXqrcQf-mTSzfPtF6tjYLM94AGntvAxe9oHBjy4UCcekyId-pY2igv4MeUYgkXqyUF7QPH-u9fLUZ7cVCZCabfF7as4HnIsKdHREpKnu5orArsr4xaafb8eqk3wX5c3RIrG3UKEWtHCECOHy4v9yOgOYATqMdEDpBG9bmeKkw6LtCouq/s4032/IMG_9114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0UoeO5djHXqrcQf-mTSzfPtF6tjYLM94AGntvAxe9oHBjy4UCcekyId-pY2igv4MeUYgkXqyUF7QPH-u9fLUZ7cVCZCabfF7as4HnIsKdHREpKnu5orArsr4xaafb8eqk3wX5c3RIrG3UKEWtHCECOHy4v9yOgOYATqMdEDpBG9bmeKkw6LtCouq/s320/IMG_9114.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></div></blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 23.”</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">09.20.2022</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">When I Met My Hubby Part 23</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.<br />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.”<br />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?</span></div></blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSDLRaysPuShDNSb4Aoxq0UScn29WKYsIqVkiJDFNrKKE27P12GWnntQ8GBDY4j75jxGTJpFzr1kcbkyvYVTAGevUB-gey08VKEy8zTcUmoHCBIvEZ2RP6UU3e8xoo8FfbAhGYwxEqWBKBYmvPWh3qFR1YiA3WwV7S3UjwZvUZLjsr1E14WkqaTlD/s4032/IMG_5090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSDLRaysPuShDNSb4Aoxq0UScn29WKYsIqVkiJDFNrKKE27P12GWnntQ8GBDY4j75jxGTJpFzr1kcbkyvYVTAGevUB-gey08VKEy8zTcUmoHCBIvEZ2RP6UU3e8xoo8FfbAhGYwxEqWBKBYmvPWh3qFR1YiA3WwV7S3UjwZvUZLjsr1E14WkqaTlD/s320/IMG_5090.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about reuniting with loved ones once thought lost, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sFZbVte4_nMOZaqZ6IHn06haWYUZjrvAg3tsYGswH22h_DBP_Bu_VwnmLOpvKyX6a1LjcXCnIWJsLz3CdfojBWRRJbEZjH3CVTic54mHF1AxyoywtdWmP-0zFoW1-S9DWKGYY8ifQK44ys218EwxYI3Curfc5cCoiGi0xgvYqGmRnQwWyJoRXgw6/s4032/IMG_9112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sFZbVte4_nMOZaqZ6IHn06haWYUZjrvAg3tsYGswH22h_DBP_Bu_VwnmLOpvKyX6a1LjcXCnIWJsLz3CdfojBWRRJbEZjH3CVTic54mHF1AxyoywtdWmP-0zFoW1-S9DWKGYY8ifQK44ys218EwxYI3Curfc5cCoiGi0xgvYqGmRnQwWyJoRXgw6/s320/IMG_9112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px; white-space: pre-wrap;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbvTOWcgLys_Qes_Oj7-Y1hGHzcuQPaPH9pvMrAq-w1eFxa4YCHH9DHjc8Db1Hp3ghL8iM6MQIGhDHHu81yIMNMf1bEPDxj15bwDYFaxtCVCFXTXxKrfERUV9H3PF_wfr_Pk8usn5jDkFgX1cpFrY5i-lujfoSXk0S0OqvOcl_S6v5qFOkthwn8LS/s1024/imagejpeg_0%20(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbvTOWcgLys_Qes_Oj7-Y1hGHzcuQPaPH9pvMrAq-w1eFxa4YCHH9DHjc8Db1Hp3ghL8iM6MQIGhDHHu81yIMNMf1bEPDxj15bwDYFaxtCVCFXTXxKrfERUV9H3PF_wfr_Pk8usn5jDkFgX1cpFrY5i-lujfoSXk0S0OqvOcl_S6v5qFOkthwn8LS/s320/imagejpeg_0%20(1).JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;"><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></div>Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-1684532085110042542022-11-24T11:56:00.002-05:002022-11-24T11:56:53.508-05:00Happy Birthday! (Frances and Diane)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;">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!</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;">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:<br /></span></span></span></p><p></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">Frances Bryce</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">11.10.2021</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">The Honorees Reluctant Birthday Celebration</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">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. <br />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.”<br />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.”<br />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.<br />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.<br />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. <br />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.</span></span></p></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ioqq3dutjI/Y3-f0FYMmLI/AAAAAAAAFvA/Z_XHiqjF7QwwuxEQI8A53FpfZ1AoL-WeACNcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_7135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ioqq3dutjI/Y3-f0FYMmLI/AAAAAAAAFvA/Z_XHiqjF7QwwuxEQI8A53FpfZ1AoL-WeACNcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_7135.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 22" by Diane Richardson:</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">09.13.2022</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">When I Met My Hubby Part 22</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">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. <br />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.”<br />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. </span></span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWmTRf5rU6pR_lNkTUWCT043oynY1G7aN9FHLr0jtFkxyKqKpYfoJbRxrscQx1MMV_x_Kwnc7CxSnknJMQlLEXvCX8z6tHyqM_qWzXZRcRAZrj4czh4QVrtW4zgc1-Su3QytLlhh2CgRVeATk9iJLV4KNffCmKDS9cs3q4MdnIxgXAPHdtoa0VwlJ/s4032/IMG_4783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWmTRf5rU6pR_lNkTUWCT043oynY1G7aN9FHLr0jtFkxyKqKpYfoJbRxrscQx1MMV_x_Kwnc7CxSnknJMQlLEXvCX8z6tHyqM_qWzXZRcRAZrj4czh4QVrtW4zgc1-Su3QytLlhh2CgRVeATk9iJLV4KNffCmKDS9cs3q4MdnIxgXAPHdtoa0VwlJ/s320/IMG_4783.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about Thanksgiving, birthdays and any celebration, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkZypobVeCZo5m4IMv6W0Glh2SI3UuZZskbTn5KK_SAbY1_TN6DVABcQJoZLFLqX9JDIHV9nIVh1-b-hHyi1UqY-o6eRlLz333Tp3Jw0uc4hFAhN4MHHUsDBoKtQT1KWjSCmch2uFTaDBt5DaajCxaPAWFuEqJcxPgRA3bWxSfaMBzq06twCJw0lQ/s4032/IMG_8211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkZypobVeCZo5m4IMv6W0Glh2SI3UuZZskbTn5KK_SAbY1_TN6DVABcQJoZLFLqX9JDIHV9nIVh1-b-hHyi1UqY-o6eRlLz333Tp3Jw0uc4hFAhN4MHHUsDBoKtQT1KWjSCmch2uFTaDBt5DaajCxaPAWFuEqJcxPgRA3bWxSfaMBzq06twCJw0lQ/s320/IMG_8211.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHmavgNW-REVHroPl7vBmLndFvIQv4gI9dNjYc3yHbvYFoBR8AXTDJWeFX2r7T3bNzIZ0-WYoAXHY6WQmSZc5Wkv4Wcq2ARM8dziIlzb3Vfzgs5jWjqcLSzWPiP8l55L-LbPdSc10H31lQFIzG5dIyNhbWH56E_KZwApmdihBBOwziJSSc3eYPgcD/s1918/Happy%20Birthday.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="1918" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHmavgNW-REVHroPl7vBmLndFvIQv4gI9dNjYc3yHbvYFoBR8AXTDJWeFX2r7T3bNzIZ0-WYoAXHY6WQmSZc5Wkv4Wcq2ARM8dziIlzb3Vfzgs5jWjqcLSzWPiP8l55L-LbPdSc10H31lQFIzG5dIyNhbWH56E_KZwApmdihBBOwziJSSc3eYPgcD/s320/Happy%20Birthday.tiff" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-8140322451283109562022-11-17T13:35:00.001-05:002022-11-17T13:35:05.710-05:00Two People (Ann and Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.</span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Ann</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> von Dehsen</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">12.14.2021</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">The Politics of COVID</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Carolyn</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> 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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Carolyn</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> went south for college, and I went north, and we lost temporary contact. We reunited again for weddings, but </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Carolyn</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> lived in Cape Cod and again our communication was inconsistent. Eventually </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Carolyn</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> 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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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?”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">“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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">“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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-b39VFtYzbJIvEI_KYsfGAFGMH7Bj1foab2dpC_octYdYIrSWsB8aCI0-gh7m_L_f8d7XBMeV33AzhOkG4byETnduLyqaqAacJEJtDGdCJS-Ydyon_ppx78XqzhnwBGM0paL9mCoq-90mjeMPDmZwAT7dgpq_l3MCXgwoTan8FasGfzsDZB3Pfm2/s4032/IMG_9044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-b39VFtYzbJIvEI_KYsfGAFGMH7Bj1foab2dpC_octYdYIrSWsB8aCI0-gh7m_L_f8d7XBMeV33AzhOkG4byETnduLyqaqAacJEJtDGdCJS-Ydyon_ppx78XqzhnwBGM0paL9mCoq-90mjeMPDmZwAT7dgpq_l3MCXgwoTan8FasGfzsDZB3Pfm2/s320/IMG_9044.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 21" by Diane Richardson:</span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">Diane</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"> Richardson,</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">09.06.2022</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;">When I Met My Hubby </span><span class="il" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;">Part</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="il" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;">21</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">He answered, “I told you before, you can have anything you want. What is it that you want?”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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?”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">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.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span class="il" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uGgDdy-A2P4Kwrmy1bOtdP1MvPdJHUuq_-hb1KJLZNHs9qUBuSuKnp--iChZu7skJ5t3lxiXCYUsfsinPumD0qwmOci_R_D22JRXSje_2LS2trqKqpS5Mf2B1nMKgwn4US7WYlOLBwiazupcwzR9Vb602vsKK-AynHCGfkk4X4WbXLkX55_GzK95/s4032/IMG_4492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uGgDdy-A2P4Kwrmy1bOtdP1MvPdJHUuq_-hb1KJLZNHs9qUBuSuKnp--iChZu7skJ5t3lxiXCYUsfsinPumD0qwmOci_R_D22JRXSje_2LS2trqKqpS5Mf2B1nMKgwn4US7WYlOLBwiazupcwzR9Vb602vsKK-AynHCGfkk4X4WbXLkX55_GzK95/s320/IMG_4492.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about two people breaking apart or coming together, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div><span class="im"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpGz6Q2b4wRNGlLJRLkzszJU1M1j9roQ6syddiA8m_akPaXjryzVI2S5Va8JVWiQGszEU_q-PWguI_fXZ2XX-vdFZAT9er_zI51dpwoq0B847HdDrKBeU5Evn7hsQkA-7uoBMgVWfAW2qHFooPR7e1BQaCgfkgz38gseFFImWkDEdbRKvy4B1x3fh/s4032/IMG_7815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpGz6Q2b4wRNGlLJRLkzszJU1M1j9roQ6syddiA8m_akPaXjryzVI2S5Va8JVWiQGszEU_q-PWguI_fXZ2XX-vdFZAT9er_zI51dpwoq0B847HdDrKBeU5Evn7hsQkA-7uoBMgVWfAW2qHFooPR7e1BQaCgfkgz38gseFFImWkDEdbRKvy4B1x3fh/s320/IMG_7815.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div>And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></div><div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-23837982412856749362022-11-10T15:12:00.006-05:002022-11-10T15:12:29.134-05:00 Women’s Services (Gloria and Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.</span></p><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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:</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Gloria</span> Nhambiu</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">10.11.2022</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Women’s <span class="il">Services</span> Must Be Legal and Available</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.<br />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.<br />I really worry that women who do not have access to legal <span class="il">services</span> will go back to servicing themselves with coat hangers, forks, or catheters, etc. Women’s <span class="il">services</span> should be kept legal and available because “desperate women will do desperate things” when they have to.</span></div></blockquote><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVB_8B27FiATyywN1r7eZxzPxMGo_YwXAqQgdmhYIGk4wPDoIww1f9zo40cW39vjEuZLgz8DEeGTQ75i2oEmXG9VsU7rLRzLovzf60epEsmBAg6JDbxSNZ93x45fQkOfGqKStIUgL0ExIMMzjuBpeYZ_T7GaB0ReoMEBIkxx3RQ7kONiqEdlfTEjI/s4032/IMG_6184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVB_8B27FiATyywN1r7eZxzPxMGo_YwXAqQgdmhYIGk4wPDoIww1f9zo40cW39vjEuZLgz8DEeGTQ75i2oEmXG9VsU7rLRzLovzf60epEsmBAg6JDbxSNZ93x45fQkOfGqKStIUgL0ExIMMzjuBpeYZ_T7GaB0ReoMEBIkxx3RQ7kONiqEdlfTEjI/s320/IMG_6184.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 19" by Diane Richardson:</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">08.23.2022</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">When I Met My Hubby Part 19</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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 ….</span></div><div><br /></div></blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-xP0eAMF5nINbPJEEtpW0VjLmQMb36rh_hWT-5d6YpFZ_HvtsTYcbo6J6FhOsRYWMrHhzxygW3PtjjUvKBFfY3nbJ2mS4pNgMPb_gYtMVDmi-keeyNx79l3t_3Rconma9k5nOqAGPuLsRFw2HdijaLlbkv5oR1LM9YH7nP2Le1Urpq4hY6qZ2mfU/s4032/IMG_3858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-xP0eAMF5nINbPJEEtpW0VjLmQMb36rh_hWT-5d6YpFZ_HvtsTYcbo6J6FhOsRYWMrHhzxygW3PtjjUvKBFfY3nbJ2mS4pNgMPb_gYtMVDmi-keeyNx79l3t_3Rconma9k5nOqAGPuLsRFw2HdijaLlbkv5oR1LM9YH7nP2Le1Urpq4hY6qZ2mfU/s320/IMG_3858.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about women's services, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh7SwKidSU2UQ9xY-dwdAuDApRnjriQxPtkbV-Wo80axdDeTTD7-kN00bbInmSPogfZmC2ootCQruNFKt2iPjFaoOGJG5cZct4wmVjYCmXuJboSa3Vo86kS4CevxlZ6rFnFPC3hI5gdwRJZAFNF3fr6z4adBczzJ8nJC0cONnWsDArXLF8C4qxk2B/s4032/IMG_7465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh7SwKidSU2UQ9xY-dwdAuDApRnjriQxPtkbV-Wo80axdDeTTD7-kN00bbInmSPogfZmC2ootCQruNFKt2iPjFaoOGJG5cZct4wmVjYCmXuJboSa3Vo86kS4CevxlZ6rFnFPC3hI5gdwRJZAFNF3fr6z4adBczzJ8nJC0cONnWsDArXLF8C4qxk2B/s320/IMG_7465.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div>And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></div><div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-13888118984265883292022-11-03T13:00:00.001-04:002022-11-03T13:00:00.233-04:00Shift (José and Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Coming up next is the eighteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, the seasons are shifting.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">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:</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">José Dominguez</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">08.10.2021</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Levitacion</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">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.” <br />With low but clear voice he pronounced to my ear: “Este es un <span class="il">muerto</span>
” (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.<br />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?”</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_f2-_DC-uJvrPrFaQuOof_jso_x3dp6vLFi3klPTQOlq3fQuxNQotxi1nC6t9aY3-v8_SKIZ_En5ZTTGk5nbGY4Ps0hCdHYqzhPHByCjp3JyVkAb6nuoUhWU-f8TM48uKgDVyR4tioUED6L60-ywCrnckMXgPXke_jKXS6pDCcRefuq0UrdxY1oY/s3264/IMG_0712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_f2-_DC-uJvrPrFaQuOof_jso_x3dp6vLFi3klPTQOlq3fQuxNQotxi1nC6t9aY3-v8_SKIZ_En5ZTTGk5nbGY4Ps0hCdHYqzhPHByCjp3JyVkAb6nuoUhWU-f8TM48uKgDVyR4tioUED6L60-ywCrnckMXgPXke_jKXS6pDCcRefuq0UrdxY1oY/s320/IMG_0712.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 18" by Diane Richardson:</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">08.09.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I Met My Husband Part 18</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">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. <br />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. <br />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.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksW8tBRgrPRaqnhb-BlVmh7j1XUOXQCEJGrPjJb8nR9Y5cmOaltonuflXtsxgE7TsEGiJcVUSg_EasDm_cuAMGUy22skSXFITldBgeECshM7SqHgadDC9hW9C17MjmgUNEYuBrbudkevDRefbfrz5XHuaeo3P1kYHrFVWKbIVNRYFxpQv9RxuTU1_/s1024/imagejpeg_0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksW8tBRgrPRaqnhb-BlVmh7j1XUOXQCEJGrPjJb8nR9Y5cmOaltonuflXtsxgE7TsEGiJcVUSg_EasDm_cuAMGUy22skSXFITldBgeECshM7SqHgadDC9hW9C17MjmgUNEYuBrbudkevDRefbfrz5XHuaeo3P1kYHrFVWKbIVNRYFxpQv9RxuTU1_/s320/imagejpeg_0.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><p></p><p></p><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about paradigm shifts, </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsJyYGSMC8deIG0LuuarJ4fdi5ZXM_HxXQZfOV_HX8aEZcciAZ_p1H3PBUeXTlxDHIY9qnaHwKDPr18JN4ngK2iYis-7iyCAQXHpTBJVvt33ZtqGvOIgEAEHLhdQy-Zlis68LpTaIFoHrWeYxp3Hne_lKQzpWgHxT808xQkYWag1J5MHEFuAFnOMC/s4032/IMG_7185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsJyYGSMC8deIG0LuuarJ4fdi5ZXM_HxXQZfOV_HX8aEZcciAZ_p1H3PBUeXTlxDHIY9qnaHwKDPr18JN4ngK2iYis-7iyCAQXHpTBJVvt33ZtqGvOIgEAEHLhdQy-Zlis68LpTaIFoHrWeYxp3Hne_lKQzpWgHxT808xQkYWag1J5MHEFuAFnOMC/s320/IMG_7185.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-5681664023428053412022-10-13T13:00:00.027-04:002022-10-13T13:00:00.250-04:00Day of the Girl (José & Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the seventeenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, International Day of the Girl.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Tuesday was the International Day of the Girl, and in a surprising coincidence two older buds told excellent stories about women's issues. Gloria's story about the need for safe and legal abortions will need to be transcribed before we share it with the world. But José's story about his teenage daughter speaking out against a teacher is right below. And even Diane's "When I Met My Hubby" story revolves around fighting sexism:</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">José Dominguez</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">10/11/2022</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Beatriz's Feedback With Consequences</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Beware of what you ask, you may end up obtaining it and later, after you have what you asked for, the real struggle begins. I have learned that to ask a question I must be sure that I can stand the consequences of my asking. Perhaps that’s why Solomon asked for wisdom instead of stuff. After receiving an answer to my question, my response will show if I’m improving in human quality or if I simply ended with the expected answer just to continue social conformity. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">A long time ago when living in Ciudad Juarez. My daughter Beatriz was 13 years old. She was studying at the most prestigious secondary school in the city, which was called Colegio Mexico; Catholic Maristas Brothers were in charge of the school. They are Chatolic teachers dedicated completely to education, and they had a good reputation in this field; the school offered Secondary and High School levels. She was in the second grade. Since very little my daughter was very straight and outspoken and did not have limitations to express her thoughts. One day one of the school teachers, asked for feedback, according to him to improve communication and effectiveness, since, I suppose there was turmoil around his way of teaching due primarily to his personal traits. Accepting the teacher’s invitation Beatriz wrote an extended essay about her feelings and thoughts and delivered the paper to the teacher. The next news was that I received a phone call where I was requested to have a person-to-person talk with the school director. I attended punctually and was promptly received; after asking me to take a seat, the director told me that he had a paper with Beatriz's feedback to her teacher in his hand. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">“Well and what about?” I said. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">"It happens that it says things that puts your daughter in a position where we can not admit her in our school and I regret to tell you that she is no longer a student in Colegio Mexico." </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">I felt offended for sure, but decided not to miss the opportunity to state my opinion. I said to him: “Fortunately this day came, so I can rescue my daughter from a school that praises hypocrisy as a fundamental value; I suppose that the teacher who asked for the feedback was waiting to be glorified even when he did not deserve it. I guess he rather prefers conformity and passivity from his students; for that reason, I think this is not the school I want for Beatriz and I believe that such a teacher is not at the level of honesty and maturity of her. Thank you for freeing her from this evil influence just in time, and I’m sorry about the harm that you are going to cause in the future to those students that will continue with that immature educator. Come, Beatriz, let’s go!”</span></span></p><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">And we disappeared forever.</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFT-mX2G4nkXyt1yJlsLtXCpMa5rZEkwNyuXrD-SE5pctDYshEQsR0ff3tv-7_p6qgwEEi4lbF5TjO2otyspdbvnweOE1tgmhS99IKNq8iPfzD-rNpYPDlxGp6Rd4adcw_7b8cHxEe1v2kcHVGlP8bZUbQ4gSN5llhfrRe3ogaUDt2dwkhmU7wJ9c/s4032/IMG_6185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFT-mX2G4nkXyt1yJlsLtXCpMa5rZEkwNyuXrD-SE5pctDYshEQsR0ff3tv-7_p6qgwEEi4lbF5TjO2otyspdbvnweOE1tgmhS99IKNq8iPfzD-rNpYPDlxGp6Rd4adcw_7b8cHxEe1v2kcHVGlP8bZUbQ4gSN5llhfrRe3ogaUDt2dwkhmU7wJ9c/s320/IMG_6185.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 17" by Diane Richardson:</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">07.19.2022</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">When I Met My Hubby Part 17</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">So, Joe and I are doing well. He’s so sweet and kind. I can’t believe I’ve been blessed with him in my life. Since he is now paying the rent, I can save all that money. I sure appreciate that. I’m still at the prison and most of the guards are fair to the inmates except this one. He’s especially cruel to the female inmates. He gets pleasure in demeaning them and denying them their privileges.<br />Most of the females bend over backwards to please him. There is one female that doesn’t, and he makes her life a living hell. He disrespects and degrades her every chance he gets in front of everyone; and she does it right back to him. This infuriates him.<br />One day he caught her alone in the hall, grabbed and started banging her head into the concrete wall. She started screaming and we ran out into the hall where her head was bleeding. He was saying she assaulted him, and he was restraining her. He pushed his panic button, and all the guards were coming. What he didn’t know was I saw him assaulting her.<br />So, the police were called to take an incident report and the female inmate was transported to the hospital and I reported to the police what I saw. There were incident reports taken from everyone. The Phila Police Department internal affairs were brought in to take statements from everyone. The guard asked all of us to make a statement in his favor verifying his statement. I told everyone if they did, I would swear they were lying, and they didn’t witness the incident as they were not there.<br />The guards often get the staff to falsify statements for them, but not on my watch. I said do you all want to risk your jobs to cover for his abuse? The inmate was hospitalized for a while and the guard was put on administrative leave. I got a couple of threats from C.O.’s telling me to mind my business. After talking it over with Joe, we decided it would be in my best interest to come off of this assignment.</span></div></blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBr1D0SPzdXaARPyY0ZSsLjvOjiVgRARZH_GYjp-N9x3PdyOR_Xmz1lFjhYAFM1o6CYyUFQPYTBXY7ZnhtzUc37ppY-7j0PY70TMW4ZyEEEfHsS2VtA8zNnA-BTxfwH5VgyTr-tOusLY8bdjHjTAMLzVACNC4871GZVGSRJeE0oN8J9w-vT2WswY4z/s4032/IMG_0581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBr1D0SPzdXaARPyY0ZSsLjvOjiVgRARZH_GYjp-N9x3PdyOR_Xmz1lFjhYAFM1o6CYyUFQPYTBXY7ZnhtzUc37ppY-7j0PY70TMW4ZyEEEfHsS2VtA8zNnA-BTxfwH5VgyTr-tOusLY8bdjHjTAMLzVACNC4871GZVGSRJeE0oN8J9w-vT2WswY4z/s320/IMG_0581.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about the strength of women, </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">then you or they can submit stories through our portal right </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">. 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.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76v5Scify5bZ0D9l2xpBjoFzl3Fgvm3Y0iupgaNK2uhqReHYoH27Wqv_ZwkKRVzXDQ1NonKtNXkHKw0bK1QIwu-iVUT7f_AjkDtukRhRNI-4o79ZdjVKzAP6o4OKFHKV4Ar8dwPl-taJelQ-eoepTrQqTClDdEwjdGvnqaPHsjjPzdWQJfiEH59DX/s2989/IMG_Virtually%20the%20Best.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="2989" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76v5Scify5bZ0D9l2xpBjoFzl3Fgvm3Y0iupgaNK2uhqReHYoH27Wqv_ZwkKRVzXDQ1NonKtNXkHKw0bK1QIwu-iVUT7f_AjkDtukRhRNI-4o79ZdjVKzAP6o4OKFHKV4Ar8dwPl-taJelQ-eoepTrQqTClDdEwjdGvnqaPHsjjPzdWQJfiEH59DX/w640-h165/IMG_Virtually%20the%20Best.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gRxRp-p6XrJWgB3i7n1sCqV8J_H-8lvsJoPR-A1MW67RO3PeAHoReuj6ctKvRbq7H0HypW4seK7kXkyRMLzv3rsyLLfyRfWQGsmPCLkKKud1BXfWElfDwIpSxZbPHBuINMSnQ9tBNRFmYUFcakhMMwi4yyzf3BJ0QGUP5qfKkMzGqWyFNdksKTcc/s4032/IMG_6190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gRxRp-p6XrJWgB3i7n1sCqV8J_H-8lvsJoPR-A1MW67RO3PeAHoReuj6ctKvRbq7H0HypW4seK7kXkyRMLzv3rsyLLfyRfWQGsmPCLkKKud1BXfWElfDwIpSxZbPHBuINMSnQ9tBNRFmYUFcakhMMwi4yyzf3BJ0QGUP5qfKkMzGqWyFNdksKTcc/s320/IMG_6190.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-74420645868487680892022-10-06T14:00:00.000-04:002022-10-06T14:00:00.202-04:00Change of Space, Change of Pace (Ann & Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">Coming up next is the sixteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, a change of pace and a change of place.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Deborah came to visit last Tuesday, and she got to finally meet older but Chong in person. Also, older bud Chong returned to her second class and is looking to be a regular now. It's always a joy when the new people become regulars. You may have also noticed that the room in this week's photos is slightly familiar yet slightly different from the room in last week's photos. That's because we've moved back into our old room! So in honor of the change in space/pace, I'm sharing a story from older bud Ann, which segues nicely into Diane's latest story:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">Ann von Dehsen</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">02.18.2021</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Ultra Coffee House</span></p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face=""Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">The summer of 1967 was known as the summer of love or more specifically the summer of sex, drugs and rock and roll. Hippies converged from Haight Ashbury to New York's Greenwich Village. Music exploded with sounds of Jimi Hendrix The Doors, Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin. That summer I was 15, between my sophomore and junior year of high school. I lived in a small, conservative, middle class town but even there both girls and guys were growing their hair to never before seen lengths. We all sported bell bottom jean, tie dyed tee shirts, love beads and peace sign jewelry.</span><br /><span face=""Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">While I can't speak for all my classmates, sex and drugs had not yet happened in my immediate circle of friends; but Rock and Roll was definitely our soundtrack of the summer. I think every guy in high school was in a newly formed rock back, often giving impromptu concerts from their open garage door on hot summer nights. But as I said my friends were mostly 15 or 16 and in New Jersey you couldn't get a drivers license until you were 17, meaning our weeknight summer social life was pretty much non existent. We wanted a place where our high school bands could play and we could dance and socialize a couple of nights a week. So we decided to make that happen.</span><br /><span face=""Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">Our high school took in four towns so there were plenty of temples and churches with rental halls that seemed the most likely candidate. After several no's with finally got a yes from the Community Church of Harrington Park, which I am proud to say happened to be the church where I received my Sunday school education. The minister loved the idea and promptly put the youth minister in charge. For lack of a better term we called it the Coffee House Project.</span><br /><span face=""Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">Of course there were many details to be worked out, but the most pressing was finding furniture since the church only had those big old long banquet tables and hard folding chairs. Fortunately for us a year earlier a very expensive Italian restaurant had very suddenly been abandoned and deserted by its now vanished owners who left all its contents behind. Now the restaurant was in the northern New Jersey town of Northvale well known for its mafia connections. In fact years later the bowling alley scenes in the Sopranos were filmed at the Northvale bowling alley lanes. So I'm just saying the vanishing restaurant wasn't that hard to explain.</span><br /><span face=""Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, the youth minister got in touch with Northvale police who agreed to meet us at that abandoned restaurant tear down the police tape, unboard the doors and windows, and allowed us to take whatever furniture we wanted under their supervision. I had never again witnessed such a haunted real life scene. Between the cobwebs there were stained linen napkins and tablecloths still on the tables, empty bottles of wine, random silverware and plates on the floor, busboy stands with half filled trays, discarded high heel shoes and coats and hats still in the coat closet. Apparently it was a very quick getaway.</span><br /><span face=""Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">So now we had our place, our furniture and our youth minister sponsor. We formed committees to figure out details which briefly ended up being the following: we were open from 8 to 11 on Tuesday and Thursday night. We scheduled those local garage bands weekly who were thrilled to play for free. It cost $2.00 to get in and that money went towards replenishing our food offerings consisting of soda, potato chips and pretzels, which was ironic since we once called ourselves the Coffee House; or to be more specific we had chosen the name Ultra Coffee House. Of course there were other rules and the youth minister and his wife discreetly monitored our behavior from afar. But all in all we were a huge success often turning people away.</span></span><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">I have fond memories of dancing with both girls and guys to songs like Light My Fire, Foxy Lady, Wild Thing, and Sitting By the Dock of the Bay. I smiled a lot during that summer of 1967.</span></div></blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDT08Lxu1wSMH5JuL6DtrxiJEtrQuhvwje72aVofihmitAxWLvfP5cD5eHl4XKDXZY5wTsd3umvlRSI36l1o9TV9CkUMNkoWFvW37dmIhXJZNjRNQbLXrwVrbWJS0rDmXv_G0WnkliHUxGuL0pfUGJx-AJAzHQNPb72ip3nYyzSrsm56vMqKRVlxt/s462/Virtually%20the%20Best%2002182021%20copy%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.tiff" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="260" data-original-width="462" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDT08Lxu1wSMH5JuL6DtrxiJEtrQuhvwje72aVofihmitAxWLvfP5cD5eHl4XKDXZY5wTsd3umvlRSI36l1o9TV9CkUMNkoWFvW37dmIhXJZNjRNQbLXrwVrbWJS0rDmXv_G0WnkliHUxGuL0pfUGJx-AJAzHQNPb72ip3nYyzSrsm56vMqKRVlxt/s320/Virtually%20the%20Best%2002182021%20copy%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.tiff" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 16" by Diane Richardson:</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">Diane Richardson</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">07.12.2022</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">When I Met My Hubby Part 16</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">So, I’m currently assigned to Philadelphia Industrial Correctional Center on State Road. A prison, and I work in the Medical Clinic taking care of the inmate’s medical needs. And they were so appreciative of us and thanked us all the time. Since they banned smoking in jails and prisons, the inmates would complain how they were dying for a drink and a smoke.<br />One of my favorite patients, an Italian mobster, asked me if I would consider smuggling in some cigarettes. He offered to pay me $200 a carton. I could have the money sent to me or I could pick it up. And he asked my co-worker Charlene to smuggle in liquor. These guys were Italian mobsters, and the money was nothing for them. They wanted what they wanted at whatever cost. They have been drinking and smoking all their lived and the withdrawal was killing them. They would do anything for a drink and a smoke.<br />I smuggled in two cartons of cigarettes at two hundred a carton. He would send the money to whoever I wanted it to be sent or I could pick it up. The choice was mine. My co-worker Charlene would smuggle in the liquor. These inmates owned several businesses, bars, clubs, restaurants etc. They would insist that I patronize their establishments on a regular basis and bring all my friends. They were so appreciative of me making their family members lives’ a little more comfortable and enjoyable. They couldn’t thank us enough. One establishment owner offered his catering services for Joe and I’s wedding for free.<br />I would sometimes bring my daughters, Tara, and Tia. They don’t like hanging out with old people, so I mostly took Pearlie Mae and her sisters. Joe never wanted to go so I just brought him a bunch of food home. My co-worker Charlene fell in love with one of the inmates. Charlene is the one that smuggles in the alcohol. Her and Al fell in love. She would call down for Al to come up for his blood pressure check. They would be in the exam room for a long time. The guards knew what time it was, and what was going on. They got married upon his release. They had a big, fat, beautiful wedding and anybody who was anybody was there. They now live around the corner from me in a high rise across from the Art Museum.<br />To Be Continued.....</span></div></blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqptLKElcHLo7dcozQ_hyh-FebRjcaaOAk7dCYPF3qP-DS1hsbwV8IfVpUsInEU6dywL072p8gCGH8SAJD-pb2WVaUNL4J-RB5G-Wwh-kQOLvhKiYZ-gVN1-RT9z8SV6B4bBLZZ7nKc2ZAJGOVKWzSPUmHn-qbbNDKJr4UkSOnvqRlWD8uFn5cDxx3/s4032/IMG_0290%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqptLKElcHLo7dcozQ_hyh-FebRjcaaOAk7dCYPF3qP-DS1hsbwV8IfVpUsInEU6dywL072p8gCGH8SAJD-pb2WVaUNL4J-RB5G-Wwh-kQOLvhKiYZ-gVN1-RT9z8SV6B4bBLZZ7nKc2ZAJGOVKWzSPUmHn-qbbNDKJr4UkSOnvqRlWD8uFn5cDxx3/s320/IMG_0290%20-%20Caitlin%20Cieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about changing places or spaces, or even run-ins with the mafia, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1dp41IpY7nmV0W7pgd9m4JNNjBFnnqx7aCV7SpLfiwZoU0kfcOvjx-ikJD1heAMTqaSJZNvZRjyAo5DwdxWhO3GMhYUjbGnMiEgQXRhJMWcjMCOgXI-yFyj_6qSYLsoHfGBOpPBjGnau70u6FW8BbNcbu8gWCaU00c-MovV4-xVmjg5mcPx_vwQG/s4032/IMG_5913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1dp41IpY7nmV0W7pgd9m4JNNjBFnnqx7aCV7SpLfiwZoU0kfcOvjx-ikJD1heAMTqaSJZNvZRjyAo5DwdxWhO3GMhYUjbGnMiEgQXRhJMWcjMCOgXI-yFyj_6qSYLsoHfGBOpPBjGnau70u6FW8BbNcbu8gWCaU00c-MovV4-xVmjg5mcPx_vwQG/s320/IMG_5913.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-33479250018817464482022-09-30T13:00:00.000-04:002022-09-30T13:07:37.469-04:00Neighborhood (Eugene and Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the fifteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, let's talk about community. It comes up in both stories today, in very different ways. Best Day is very much a community project, with roots in Philadelphia, and it's all about community. And it's not just your neighbors and coworkers. It's the people on the streets, it's the people in the hospital, it's the people in prison. And it's only a small step from one to another. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Check on the people in your life regularly. You never know what they're going through. And the next time someone talks about the homeless or prisoners needing to work harder, remember how difficult it can be to keep on top of your payments...and how easily something can derail your life. People need people, that's the truth of the world.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Onto Eugene's story:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Eugene Charrington</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">03/27/2020</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">The Happiest <span class="il">Day</span> of My Life</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">The happiest <span class="il">day</span> of my life was the <span class="il">day</span> when I and my <span class="il">best</span> friend dropped me off on Pine Street, West Philadelphia. I am originally from New York, where I lived nearly all of my life. New York lately has become terribly expensive, impersonal and discriminatory. I left my last residence in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn without a new room or apartment to move into. For about six weeks I was “couching it” at friends’ homes, which wasn’t ideal.<br />One night at Doug’s house we spoke about giving Philadelphia a try. He booked a room with me with Air B and B. November 24th I left for <span class="il">Philly</span> with Doug who remained quiet, very quiet as we drove <span class="il">south</span> on the Jersey Turnpike. After about an hour and half a sign said Cherry Hill, New Jersey and minutes later another said Camden which was across the bridge.<br />I felt relieved when I saw the Ben Franklin Bridge. New York and all its headaches was now behind me. And now my new life would begin in Philadelphia.</span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBpdultd-rNj1bT7FGoovwdV5Qvy4ZytdhbEyhDtQsr61e-4rxI22SMGZ5WEcKsoz6lDDbn1C84qXNlQ2Z9ndqvH270SlgTvrkJVwKTM5KGjUusWcK3EhS3zsQlG-Cf9icz6hDEP7QKrVpSYBe8x2dP2AsrUM7nM0U5KsljRUVM9t1or4ThEiFi8Xf/s3264/Photo%20Mar%2023,%202%2005%2021%20PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBpdultd-rNj1bT7FGoovwdV5Qvy4ZytdhbEyhDtQsr61e-4rxI22SMGZ5WEcKsoz6lDDbn1C84qXNlQ2Z9ndqvH270SlgTvrkJVwKTM5KGjUusWcK3EhS3zsQlG-Cf9icz6hDEP7QKrVpSYBe8x2dP2AsrUM7nM0U5KsljRUVM9t1or4ThEiFi8Xf/s320/Photo%20Mar%2023,%202%2005%2021%20PM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 15” by Diane Richardson.</span></div><div class="yj6qo"></div><div class="adL"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="adL"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div class="adL"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></div><div class="adL"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">07/05/2022</span></div><div class="adL"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">When I Met My Hubby Part <span class="il">15</span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">So, I am now on assignment at the Medical Dept. at the Phila. Industrial Correctional Center (P.I.C.C.). It’s on State Road around the corner from Holmsburg Prison. It’s not different from any other clinic. The inmates come up to the clinic for glucose checks, immunizations, flu and pneumonia shots, EKGs, eye exams, OBGYN, etc. The only thing that was different was when there was gang or territorial fights. If two gangs got into a fight that were from different areas or cities, all the guys from those areas had to fight each other. That was the code of the jail. You’re either with me or against me. I used to hate seeing the inmates all beat up and injuries and how we had to irrigate their eyes from the pepper spray from the guards breaking up the fights.<br />People used to often ask me aren’t you afraid to work there? I would answer no. I’m surrounded by guards. It’s safer working there than anywhere. I used to walk through the prison unescorted by guards and get on the elevators with the prisoners. The elevators had cameras and panic buttons. I would walk to the employee cafeteria for lunch or dinner. The food was catered by A.R.A and Stouffers food services for the employees. I wouldn’t be afraid. I’m from South + North Philly so I knew most of the inmates. Half were my friends, the other half my family. All of the prisoners used yell at me from the tiers. “Hey what’s going on Parks? How’s your brothers doing Parks?” (Parks was my name at the time).<br />My co-worker who is Italian got acquainted with another Italian inmate and later would wed upon his release. I got pretty close to come of the regulars that would come up for B.P. checks and sugar checks. One of my favorites as a guy named Rudolph. I would call him Rudolph Vasalino. I’ll tell you about the mobsters I used to do favors for next week.<br />To Be Continued</span></span></div></blockquote><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPxpXKMKXqAGfF8KZzPy9TQ1PMkA8H7Anl1348XZm0MeZIktbNnsuDxRoPj9U7RmDX_Tr5MPsVC9HJcTpejYufsN5PT0zPUNu7HBPfibb1OuzQiB76e0hA-Chlx_NcE4KqF5_debOMQCSv7oc0xJLTI-01hmkYa-WFWGQdMHN88s-k9IQ5EO6ktR6/s4032/IMG_9903.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPxpXKMKXqAGfF8KZzPy9TQ1PMkA8H7Anl1348XZm0MeZIktbNnsuDxRoPj9U7RmDX_Tr5MPsVC9HJcTpejYufsN5PT0zPUNu7HBPfibb1OuzQiB76e0hA-Chlx_NcE4KqF5_debOMQCSv7oc0xJLTI-01hmkYa-WFWGQdMHN88s-k9IQ5EO6ktR6/s320/IMG_9903.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about your neighborhood, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_U-tOV0xXmLgpZ8SJ-lTKLYFpxaspZnIbXk5HrIQCGWN_spGBQ3q-yivwO-n4N9UqEz756smDXVKJ9JOKGHjE1MCWieN_ySP5iMu8fdQdJ7vPfYp4pRUmPtYN6Cl_uHtfKIn0btCl4Uh5I_WpPALsW0ws66d-MmefIL5g5TtGw8q1p52bLpxCQBM_/s4032/IMG_5552.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_U-tOV0xXmLgpZ8SJ-lTKLYFpxaspZnIbXk5HrIQCGWN_spGBQ3q-yivwO-n4N9UqEz756smDXVKJ9JOKGHjE1MCWieN_ySP5iMu8fdQdJ7vPfYp4pRUmPtYN6Cl_uHtfKIn0btCl4Uh5I_WpPALsW0ws66d-MmefIL5g5TtGw8q1p52bLpxCQBM_/s320/IMG_5552.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span> all.</span></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Eles9s5J7gme2SjSdXSg9XRDzdbDuwOGsSKhU7pusMCJBgtYHsn5cc7ldgAJI2lHn96xn1skKyl-56u2ON1099GcuYds2tMkXR-26S23vJtoBATiAfCV0m-3s-rEUbDdSbioFmEo7rei4VhMA7dPOUg-1r9bQWFJsLKlaZYHI4lKou_srrVY11yW/s437/Deborah%20Smile.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="437" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Eles9s5J7gme2SjSdXSg9XRDzdbDuwOGsSKhU7pusMCJBgtYHsn5cc7ldgAJI2lHn96xn1skKyl-56u2ON1099GcuYds2tMkXR-26S23vJtoBATiAfCV0m-3s-rEUbDdSbioFmEo7rei4VhMA7dPOUg-1r9bQWFJsLKlaZYHI4lKou_srrVY11yW/s320/Deborah%20Smile.tiff" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il" style="font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="adL"><span class="il"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-45486163127411236332022-09-22T13:00:00.061-04:002022-09-22T13:00:00.202-04:00Domestic Bliss (José and Diane)<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the fourteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, relationships.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now that Diane and Joe are in a stable relationship, I wanted to share another story of a couple being content to spend time with each other. José's story isn't quite as calm as Diane's, but it follows the theme of making the most of every part of a relationship:</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Jos</span>é Dominguez</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">02.15.2022 </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Olvidos</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“How do you dare to give lessons and speak in front of so many people if
you forget everything and hardly know the day you are living?” Maria
asked me when I was working as a schoolteacher in Mexico. Later, after
we married, she confessed to me that when I was working as a lawyer, she
was terrified about my memory lapses and usually she recommended my
security to all saints since my omissions could be a danger to my life.
But I guess I was not completely lost. Perhaps I just had some
misfortunate failures or if you want to put it another way, they were
only confusions of priorities that conducted me to the wrong way. I just
want to tell you a few events that I keep in memory because I already
forgot the rest … I guess that is called selective amnesia or
intentional premature small trials of Alzheimer's. It happened before my
marriage to Maria; when I started dating and interacting with ladies.
I’m speaking about my beginner’s stage when my naiveness was mixed with
my stupidity in an insoluble bond. A certain, night I invited a young
lady to mutually amuse ourselves and when we were in the preliminary
manifestations in a burst of intimacy I said, “It’s wonderful to meet
you Elena.” As soon as I finished my sentence I received a hit in my
left chin and resulted in being expelled far away from her, falling to
the ground like a broken pinata and the lady continue screaming, “I’m
not Elena. So idiotic if you don’t control your partners' names, better
not to say nothing, stupid moron” and left me with a lesson of life free
of charge. <br />My second significant memory break to remember was the
first Maria’s birthday that I happened to witness. She told me the exact
date but I, in an overconfident movement, decided not to take note. I
don’t remember what day I selected as her birthday and bought something
that I found meaningful to our relationship that by the way was super
ok. The night of the present delivery I nocked Maria’s house door and
her mother invited her to come in, the family was reunited as usual and
Maria asked “What do you have in your hands” and I responded, “It’s a
present for you, happy birthday” at the same time that I handed it to
her. Everybody laughed and was astonished so I questioned what did I say
that was so funny and Maria answered, “My birthday is not today but I
appreciate your intention. The day does not matter.” Later Maria told me
in a laughing mode that her mother, who by the way was a very strong
and wise woman, advised her “Maria, it’s better to take with a sense of
humor Pepe’s memory interruptions if you want a peaceful life with him.”
And she was right. Her exact birthday day did not matter. Nevertheless I
found the way not to be so foolishly omissive for the rest of my life. <br />Another
case happened when being married we were invited to a wedding at the
Ciudad Juarez Country Club. It was a high-level party and I asked
Maria’s sister and husband to join us. The day of the party we were very
elegantly dressed, it was the priority of the day so everything was
suspended to allow us to attend to such event. I drove my car with the
four of us but something strange happened. The country club was closed,
the lights shut and a sign saying closed on Mondays, so I realized that
our date was for Tuesday and I didn’t know what to do…. The only human
response that broke the mortal silence inside the car was Irene’s
husband who laughed so loudly that alleviated the troubled situation.
“I’m so sorry,” I articulated with a guilty voice but Maria didn’t say
anything. There was a painful silence and I was waiting for a terrible
and justified burst from my almost always efficient marriage partner.
After we arrived home, she expressed to me, “My mother warned me about
something like this…so, I cannot say I’m surprised and I can’t say I
didn’t know about your predisposition to mess dates, amounts, names,
etc. Thus let’s continue living as usual.” Of course, I didn’t take
advantage of the situation. Nevertheless in a very natural way things
evolved as prognosticated. Maria was explosive but at the same time an
intelligent person. She knew I was not going to be born again with
complete memory capacity and she was not going to worsen the incident
with her recriminations…so, we lived a happy and imperfect marriage life
as the majority of the couples do.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0Bz0KlRKvWEg5eZwFlU9gfU15KXNlzZmDsgpgpWWI9_l2hzaRwKO-o_yM0KKi3C9Uw0WJS4BSVdnv6Uk_fOHFSwHj6DyEHb23v4QpfNO7FVMR68fAjEmP03uldeOTeORW-vV65R5C6SgX5NTxxfXI1hdDkROsnPs2YBJL7RcFFOd2Hjjb-dpHXyv/s4032/IMG_3257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0Bz0KlRKvWEg5eZwFlU9gfU15KXNlzZmDsgpgpWWI9_l2hzaRwKO-o_yM0KKi3C9Uw0WJS4BSVdnv6Uk_fOHFSwHj6DyEHb23v4QpfNO7FVMR68fAjEmP03uldeOTeORW-vV65R5C6SgX5NTxxfXI1hdDkROsnPs2YBJL7RcFFOd2Hjjb-dpHXyv/s320/IMG_3257.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 14” by Diane Richardson.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">06.28.2022</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When I Met My <span class="il">Hubby</span> Part <span class="il">14</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il"> </span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il">So, I am now happy Joe is no longer one of Philadelphia’s most eligible
bachelors. We continue to enjoy each other’s company. He works six days a
week. On most days I would take him dinner as he worked evening and
night shifts. I would take him dinner after I got off work. Most of the
times I would wait in his office until he got off. And we would go back
to my place, and he would take me to work in the morning. At that time, I
was working at the Family Court at 34 S. 11th Street doing paternity
tests. <br />Our romance is going on for about two years now. We rarely
went out as he was only off one day of the week and I was perfectly fine
with that. I would love to watch him sleep. Pearlie Mae would sometimes
invite us to her church functions, and we would attend and enjoy the
services. After the service there would be a nice luncheon or dinner.
People would often ask me “How can you be in a relationship and never go
anywhere?” I would reply, “I don’t need to go to the bars or clubs to
enjoy myself. I enjoy myself just fine being alone with him. He’s off
one day a week and I look forward to enjoying him all to myself.” <br />To Be Continued…….</span></span></span></span></div></blockquote><div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiea6ZxYiODkiFfhdMw2UjMz4fjZ6cywX98d3B4yToDQV_mydz-reOgOa9acOPGPiaa-knkHRHFBfS-xVJOgdPIVzugAS5jATD-85HDgaHy7LRY7S6O8RmKMjzzYFb_UHMUprNB9Agh-17xwvtYHNaa4rGN_PuRD42blM3R976PQC2HLxZlQX6TSnKc/s1024/imagejpeg_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiea6ZxYiODkiFfhdMw2UjMz4fjZ6cywX98d3B4yToDQV_mydz-reOgOa9acOPGPiaa-knkHRHFBfS-xVJOgdPIVzugAS5jATD-85HDgaHy7LRY7S6O8RmKMjzzYFb_UHMUprNB9Agh-17xwvtYHNaa4rGN_PuRD42blM3R976PQC2HLxZlQX6TSnKc/s320/imagejpeg_0.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about domestic life, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrBbKvzcr8nQxq_kgZYlNrTT6ufs2-cFB3PdswFT73ht70Ca2bFwARPpndiiKqpsXymp6KUTHIUzOSDv2JmdARsYLenLGPLp3AASCunQy2PIeBqu-dHJzhyjUzSX7nlSdEUeGirrDg5ts_Xnu2CU5wwCOoc5vH-PhkJV-yb3_8CiSpbj5GA4UWcHM/s4032/IMG_5106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrBbKvzcr8nQxq_kgZYlNrTT6ufs2-cFB3PdswFT73ht70Ca2bFwARPpndiiKqpsXymp6KUTHIUzOSDv2JmdARsYLenLGPLp3AASCunQy2PIeBqu-dHJzhyjUzSX7nlSdEUeGirrDg5ts_Xnu2CU5wwCOoc5vH-PhkJV-yb3_8CiSpbj5GA4UWcHM/s320/IMG_5106.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"> <br /></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuUxP9YeA-tWrfSSrQCPv9ikor8B4K2Lbrq2IWOsRjF4wMuq3kS6Ce66SIiEE0eeol3lMDcQXYmEfQTTocWKkxo1izSLdaNSCWuZ2rqg-93qXnMF_m6CtD-4dDOZzCM1cZpB5Nk5bfjlyEW6-NL3vB3if0GB_1Sr5cdb3fZs1L6BkSytA_v2NC3s7/s4032/IMG_5108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuUxP9YeA-tWrfSSrQCPv9ikor8B4K2Lbrq2IWOsRjF4wMuq3kS6Ce66SIiEE0eeol3lMDcQXYmEfQTTocWKkxo1izSLdaNSCWuZ2rqg-93qXnMF_m6CtD-4dDOZzCM1cZpB5Nk5bfjlyEW6-NL3vB3if0GB_1Sr5cdb3fZs1L6BkSytA_v2NC3s7/s320/IMG_5108.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy National Hispanic Heritage Month! </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); white-space: pre-wrap;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri </span></span></span></span></p> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-40497819286181968132022-09-15T13:00:00.044-04:002022-09-15T13:00:00.244-04:00The End of the Beginning (Ann and Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">Coming up next is the thirteenth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." And things are starting to get serious.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">By this point, the "When I Met My Hubby" saga had become a regular installment, a routine part of Best Day. Diane would introduce her next installment as "When I Met My Hubby Part..." and then point to Ann who knew which part it was by heart. This story took several twists and turns, and turned into more than just a woman and her husband. This became the story of a life, a chronicle of Philadelphia in years gone by. And we're nowhere near the proposal yet! This is just when Joe and Diane go steady!</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">So before we go into the story of the beginning of Diane's romance, we're sharing a story from her hype man Ann about her first divorce:</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ann</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> von Dehsen</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">02.25.2021</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My First Divorce</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">At the age of four I went to nursery school two mornings week it was strictly a morning program held in the owner’s large Victorian house. The whole first floor was converted into the school and each little high ceilings room some with stained glass windows had a title: The block room, the art room, the pretend room etc. I loved going there because to me it looked like a castle from the fairytales and my mother read to me. After morning circle and we children were allowed from room to room to room until the closing storytime circle. My friend Timmy and I spent a lot of time in the pretend room playing house. True to mid-1950’s social norms I put on apron from the dress up box while Timmy put on a tie and a man's hat with a little feather on the side.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">While I fed bottles to our two baby doll children Timmy would ride around and indoor riding toy</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">pretending to be going to work and then ride home quickly when I was making a pretend dinner</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">with the pretend food in the pretend kitchen. It was a good marriage. One day Timmy and I were playing with children sized scissors in the art room and decided we would cut each other's </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">hair</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">. He gave me a chunky cut as he cut big chunks all around my </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">hair</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> in random spots. I gave his bangs and a nice zigzag cut. Satisfied with our creations we played outside until it was time for the closing circle. But as we all gathered on the rug, our teacher looked very serious and told us that she had discovered a </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">hair</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> in the art room and that some kids have been cutting </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">hair</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> which was not allowed. She also said that if the kids that did it admitted that they did it they would not be punished. Now only a sightless person would not be able to identify the chopped up culprits. But Timmy and I stood our ground and shrugged our shoulders as if to say “Jeez who would have done that”. As moms started to come for pick-up the teacher told me and Timmy to stay put. A few minutes later she returned with our startled Moms who said in unison “what happens to your </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">hair</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">” I burst out into tears saying “I'm sorry, I'm sorry” to my mom and then to my teacher a very anticlimactic confession. “I did it, I did it” As Timmy chimed in “I did it too.”</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After we had all calmed down Timmy and I were handed brooms and dustpans and sent off to clean the art room. We were also not allowed to use scissors for a couple of weeks. When we returned to school the next week we were both sporting rescue haircuts. I had a pixie and he had a crew cut. We no longer played much together if at all. I guess our four year old brains blamed each other for getting into trouble. One day though I did ask him if he’d like to play house with me and he said “No, I don't wanna play with you ever again.” And then I realized my days and making his dinner and taking care of his children were over. I call it my first divorce because, simply put, isn't that what happens when adults get divorced? They no longer want to play with each other anymore either. The End</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXagHf8mK6XpiTFBZHtSYxbCbmzjAQl188frkhBHKNIlVKKJbIDdYDTp9v-6FxGcV8-TbhQJ4wUyObJIJzPr0cDLXDx2ps-8PnslKe-yo7JCLHb28YrP4PQd0JKOj0zBz0_Jv9pGodKAVnhzgaapUBqdxMm7QJr8JywmNKQVgyUBS0yLkFad-CdnZU/s1409/Ann%20Photo.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1409" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXagHf8mK6XpiTFBZHtSYxbCbmzjAQl188frkhBHKNIlVKKJbIDdYDTp9v-6FxGcV8-TbhQJ4wUyObJIJzPr0cDLXDx2ps-8PnslKe-yo7JCLHb28YrP4PQd0JKOj0zBz0_Jv9pGodKAVnhzgaapUBqdxMm7QJr8JywmNKQVgyUBS0yLkFad-CdnZU/s320/Ann%20Photo.tiff" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby: by Diane Richardson, Part 13":</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il" style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il" style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Diane</span><span style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> Richardson</span></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">06.07.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">When I Met My Hubby </span><span class="il" style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Part</span><span style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="il" style="font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">13</span></span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">It’s been a few months. Joe has been coming over after work every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. While he’s taking his shower, I’ll be cooking his favorite snack, chicken wings. He loves chicken wings, hot out of the pan with bread and hot sauce. When he’s finished showering, I’ll bring him his meal in which he enjoys before falling asleep.<br />In the morning I said to him, “I want to talk to you about something.” He said, “Shoot.” I said, “If I ask you for something, could I have it? He said, “You can have whatever you like, what is it that you want?”<br />I said, “What I want is to be your girl, exclusively. I want you to no longer be one of Philadelphia’s most eligible bachelors. I want it to be you and I only. Only you and I. Can I have that?”<br />He answered, “You got it, will there be anything else you want?” I said “Not at this time.” He kissed me and I gave him a key to my apartment.<br />To be continued …</span></span> </p></blockquote><blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUBvnMfCl_ZEAXc5jrb-g5U_da9Y9GEJuvwNZ7vZlI33CS11k2X4nfca4KRk5VPKPdVfQg38lbiP9Urv7AqHMNdTy378W3UBdWq9x1TsbZPsZOnB0IoWhL1tlErZFZE8PQcO5PxzDkrcuGFvPoUF0TaL7BzqbuC58WQVXk2wQw7yloUx8WvkUAOQl/s543/Diane%20Picture.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="277" data-original-width="543" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUBvnMfCl_ZEAXc5jrb-g5U_da9Y9GEJuvwNZ7vZlI33CS11k2X4nfca4KRk5VPKPdVfQg38lbiP9Urv7AqHMNdTy378W3UBdWq9x1TsbZPsZOnB0IoWhL1tlErZFZE8PQcO5PxzDkrcuGFvPoUF0TaL7BzqbuC58WQVXk2wQw7yloUx8WvkUAOQl/s320/Diane%20Picture.tiff" width="320" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about the beginnings and ends of relationships, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCbBCBVx6CLA1QflLGLOLVVWdac5ldS3ONlvUq2rd_WPwI_vee44VpzjFsoa4yCp6VDRRjnlFBJG5cKDE51nyIO_TdjbbY-q-mpl0i_1WCYMJzvkMSVahwmSAEyTXMa18vsOP-D7kHyKTioKVgZduFx_Vrc-LEnFG1fd2ZYvjINVJtVHOzk3vhQH4/s2436/IMG_4798.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2436" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCbBCBVx6CLA1QflLGLOLVVWdac5ldS3ONlvUq2rd_WPwI_vee44VpzjFsoa4yCp6VDRRjnlFBJG5cKDE51nyIO_TdjbbY-q-mpl0i_1WCYMJzvkMSVahwmSAEyTXMa18vsOP-D7kHyKTioKVgZduFx_Vrc-LEnFG1fd2ZYvjINVJtVHOzk3vhQH4/s320/IMG_4798.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. <span style="line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;"> all.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0EPmWHYkvc6vj16UEXOnjNcc5q4FMvq4t5xxVtBMHcKsnrE_asSQJNYym9XKhd5HV9LS2C_LM9qxJ2ENlfaF3g-KnnWMilHxdgZHMusxNUajhZqNIatYmPKlQ71-rBrsGsqN-dPaDiZNAGwHfIis3wyizsi_QwMEjyjxJv2qXRcsdsieUK-SHbMi/s4032/IMG_4799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0EPmWHYkvc6vj16UEXOnjNcc5q4FMvq4t5xxVtBMHcKsnrE_asSQJNYym9XKhd5HV9LS2C_LM9qxJ2ENlfaF3g-KnnWMilHxdgZHMusxNUajhZqNIatYmPKlQ71-rBrsGsqN-dPaDiZNAGwHfIis3wyizsi_QwMEjyjxJv2qXRcsdsieUK-SHbMi/s320/IMG_4799.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-42285145740784097282022-09-08T09:30:00.000-04:002022-09-08T09:30:28.074-04:00Labor (Gloria and Diane)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming up next is the twelfth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, Happy Belated Labor Day!</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">I hope you were all able to take some time off during Labor Day, recharge and get ready for the autumn workload. When you think about it, labor is more than just the jobs we do. It's all the little things we do to keep our lives going. Doctor's appointments, home repairs, paying bills, groceries, tune ups. If even one of those things gives us more problems than we expect, then that's just labor on top of labor. And older bud Gloria has a story about a time she needed to do more work than necessary:<br /></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gloria Nhambiu</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">07.26.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Convenience of an Automobile</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been addicted to my cars for most of my adult life. I see a car
as a necessary convenience. As a mother of four, I transported children
to schools, medical appointments, friends’ homes and various other
places where they needed to be chauffeured. Sometimes I felt driving
them was safer than walking in our neighborhood. <br />Once my youngest
son called me to come and get him when he was at a classmate's house
party. He said drive past the house, and he would see the car and come
out. This seemed weird but I did as he asked. He ran out and jumped in
the car. He said he left because the drugs came out. This shocked me,
because these were prep school kids. <br />When my mother sold her small
house in South Philadelphia and moved in with me I chauffeured her
everywhere. Medical appointments, church, ladies club meetings etc. <br />Having
my own car gave me a sense of freedom. I did not have to ask my husband
to alter his schedule to transport me or the children.<br />Last week my
husband's car was stolen, and my car is being repaired. I feel really
strange without my own transportation. It’s funny how dependent one
becomes on something that should be a simple convenience. </span></span></span></p></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghVH19nNY4eWwC6xFE5A0-XLSgTsWlaMbXoudsVV0FB9PQ8as3DKnHMCkksL11RNcORPvYG8-hKJf-UU_VIwnTY1si0il2mv9hihwBHM_ru45Y-xHWmXBqx_TPSKTL7mE3mYzwgfZYLiFlvx0vvrPRl2fV9bFoobHl31InejJZfT-YsOrwCdF_Q4iy/s4032/IMG_1015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghVH19nNY4eWwC6xFE5A0-XLSgTsWlaMbXoudsVV0FB9PQ8as3DKnHMCkksL11RNcORPvYG8-hKJf-UU_VIwnTY1si0il2mv9hihwBHM_ru45Y-xHWmXBqx_TPSKTL7mE3mYzwgfZYLiFlvx0vvrPRl2fV9bFoobHl31InejJZfT-YsOrwCdF_Q4iy/s320/IMG_1015.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby: by Diane Richardson, Part 12:</span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il" style="font-size: small;">Diane</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Richardson</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">05.31.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I Met My <span class="il">Hubby</span> Part 12</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">Everything is going great for Joe and I. I really appreciated and
enjoyed the Thanksgiving Dinner he cooked for us. Pearlie Mae and Tia
are still flying back and forth to Vegas to gamble every chance they
get. Tara and I are staying local at Atlantic City utilizing their
comps, rooms, room service, shows, restaurants and limo service. We are
not gamblers like them. We have a problem losing our money. I’d rather
give my money away to someone in need than lose it. Its not a problem
for them to lose a thousand dollars. I get pissed when I buy a lottery
ticket and don’t win. <br />So, this morning after Joe and I had a nice
weekend together I asked him if he would take my rent to the rental
office for me as the rental office would be closed when I got off. He
said will do, not a problem. The next day when he came over, I asked him
was he able to go to the rental office? He said of course, I said I
would, didn’t I? I thanked him. He said “No problem. Let me hold on to
this rent book. I’ll be taking care of the rent from now on.”<br />To Be Continued…</span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NLMk35JBKcmkAYvJDfpaKK2JP9fGsNLLqje-T1IReap5k1JMIVQY9ZskWjBzM_sQZdXoZ3Lk8qjc083VglVwSum7nUqyeLjzxHc7ztDFK4vWPxEOHQYSMUbXJ_TQnznRSgpp7tPUJxwoEux5Ee1JorGwBF5N18a09NmUXhlRS8D2UY_NMvKLdKel/s4032/IMG_7055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NLMk35JBKcmkAYvJDfpaKK2JP9fGsNLLqje-T1IReap5k1JMIVQY9ZskWjBzM_sQZdXoZ3Lk8qjc083VglVwSum7nUqyeLjzxHc7ztDFK4vWPxEOHQYSMUbXJ_TQnznRSgpp7tPUJxwoEux5Ee1JorGwBF5N18a09NmUXhlRS8D2UY_NMvKLdKel/s320/IMG_7055.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></div></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about the work you do, then
you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjeDGAXkNTWUdgrbh6STIYHs1H-AXIyZXhqLa0ymvoopsgM5HHlQk7PGP2CJ5Gk5kEHk4yO1rbwz9FyxYEAwRJd9ViSuQA0HTRIx6JX1yAx9fj7J5oDk-xUMZflacQhkwfbtLzgRL9zH0YhKXfDSVkGdpaBqoEaM_qAziCaAB7XFLmvquyy6VlKIW/s4032/IMG_4506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjeDGAXkNTWUdgrbh6STIYHs1H-AXIyZXhqLa0ymvoopsgM5HHlQk7PGP2CJ5Gk5kEHk4yO1rbwz9FyxYEAwRJd9ViSuQA0HTRIx6JX1yAx9fj7J5oDk-xUMZflacQhkwfbtLzgRL9zH0YhKXfDSVkGdpaBqoEaM_qAziCaAB7XFLmvquyy6VlKIW/s320/IMG_4506.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span><span><span><span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after</span></span></span></span></span> all.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-85115215752434871472022-08-25T13:00:00.062-04:002022-08-25T13:00:00.210-04:00Cooking With Gas (José & Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming up next is the eleventh part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, some food for thought.<br /></span></span></span></p><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Food is my love language. I bond with people by recommending restaurants. Often, a friend of mine will go on a trip and I'll recommend a restaurant that's there. I started giving tins of tea as presents during the pandemic, because that meant a lot to me during supply-chain disruptions. I'll cook for people I'm close to, and I'm even assembling a cookbook as a Christmas present. <br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eating is an essential part of our survival, so I always appreciate stories where people show their love by cooking, saving food, or taking people to restaurants. Today's blog post has a double serving of food related love, from older buds José and Diane:</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il">José</span> Dominguez</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">05.13.2021</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Almost Frustrated Lunch Invitation</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">At the beginning of my law studies I immediately made some friends that
later became an important part of my life; almost all of them were
school teachers and very serious readers. Each one had a very different
approach to life and our paths mingled naturally, nurtured by the school
environment that gave us a common ground to share readings, discuss
social issues, communicate accomplishments, publish gossips, tell jokes,
etc. In the meanwhile, I was living in my aunt’s rented room paid by my
parents. As you can imagine living in that way was a blessing because
it gave me the opportunity to continue my studies and my life style; but
in another way had its own limitations. Well life is not perfect,
nothing is perfect except God, according to some believers. One
imperfect thing was the scarce and elemental food that I ate. In the
precise moment when the episode of this essay happened, I had been
eating the same simple menu for 7 years since I was 12. My monthly
allowance helped me to pay for my transportation, and virtually drinking
coffee or refreshments were a luxury. Nevertheless, since my father
used to work in the cinema business, I had a card that gave me and a
guest green light to enter to any theater for free. Sometimes I made
some extra pesos finding clients who wanted to see weekend movies paying
half the entrance. The reality is that when I was invited to eat I was
more than happy because it meant avoiding to have lunch or dinner as
usual. <br />One of my friends was Alberto Saenz. We called him “Beto,”
but since he was a classical music lover we ended calling him
“Beethoven.” He was a super intense fellow. Nobody knew more than him
about Mexican culture, Philosophy, music, art, etc. Always smiling, he
lived in a world made of beautiful art images, musical notes and
discussions with famous thinkers. Occasionally when I asked something to
him, he didn’t clasp the question immediately and I had to repeat the
interrogation since he was absent. Recognizing his lapse he begged for
my pardon and asked me to excuse his tardiness to respond; it didn’t
upset me. I knew he comes and goes from our world to his abstract and
intense inner space. He was teaching Philosophy at the nearest high
school and lived with his parents and two sisters. One day, don’t
remember why, he told me: “Dominguitos (nickname meaning little
Dominguez) come tomorrow to my house. I invite you to eat, can you be
there at 1:00 pm?” My obvious response was: ”Of course, Beethoven count
with me and my empty stomach.” Wow, for me it was a liberation to skip
my routinary menu and eat something different. <br />The next day, I went
to his house just in time. He received me joyfully as always and invited
to his room. It was a big room illuminated poorly, the walls were
filled with books and a lamp defined his bed with intense brightness;
clearly he was previously smoking and listening music. He began to speak
about the music that in that moment he was enjoying. Among other things
he told me: “There’s no other like Tchaikovsky. Do you know,
Dominguitos, that he is the most representative Russian composer and
perhaps the most creative musical author?” <br />“I don’t know too much of
music,” I responded, “But surely enjoy deeply a few of his creations…”
He interrupted me and started explaining how the author managed to
infuse the theme with the help of the orchestra. In that moment I
decided it was my turn to interrupt; my mind was wandering. I had been
there for one hour and there were no signs of my invitation to eat. I
was worried because in a few minutes I will have to take a bus to
school, so in the most friendly way that I was able to speak I asked
him: “Sorry to interrupt but just want to remind you that you invited me
to eat lunch at one and it’s going to be time to take the bus to
school. What is in your mind?” <br />He incorporated himself with one jump
and taking his right hand to his forehead said in a pleading manner:
“Excuse me Dominguitos, I forgot about it! Oh you have to accept my
excuses please! I feel very, very bad since I already ate!” Before I was
able to respond anything he took by the arm and draw me in a hurry to
the kitchen. “This has solution!” he said, with a mastery I didn’t know
from Beto he lighted the stove, placing on it a big frying pan and oiled
it. Later like a hurricane he took from the refrigerator lots of
groceries and began to cut in pieces onions, tomatoes, jalapenos, ham,
among other things. <br />“I’m going to surprise you with my favorite
creation: famous ‘Beto’s egg omelette,’ just you wait!!” With the same
frenzy of a director in front of an orchestra he moved his arms and body
cutting, throwing, mixing, seasoning. Very soon the food aroma and my
hunger expanded my gastronomical experience in such a way that those
scents were more vivids that Verdi’s operas in the Scala de Milan. I
devoured “Beto’s special plate” and immerse in my eating could see
Beto’s face shining with satisfaction. At the end of the <span class="il">meal</span>
I told him: “Beto, my stomach and I are very pleased, thank you.” He
saw me with a child like glance and smiling told me: “I’m glad you like
it, in the future I will not forget any of my invitations … promise.”</span></span></span></div></blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsa680TnSJiLI-6PaQkuVpUlQtnfBIKA_TcJqxtCfXhtaht1Kd2pcDz5kz2tEXnG05cannPLK6wQv7gJDzJneQFhxsCYU9i4b0B4671EZUJfD9NRnSLf7Do3EaqwdzEKohHbv9dNLSIxR7ebcJSocj8Cbln6tfizoyEI-l_r0uliet-52LDrVdnxBc/s278/Jose%CC%81%20Today's%20post.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="210" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsa680TnSJiLI-6PaQkuVpUlQtnfBIKA_TcJqxtCfXhtaht1Kd2pcDz5kz2tEXnG05cannPLK6wQv7gJDzJneQFhxsCYU9i4b0B4671EZUJfD9NRnSLf7Do3EaqwdzEKohHbv9dNLSIxR7ebcJSocj8Cbln6tfizoyEI-l_r0uliet-52LDrVdnxBc/s1600/Jose%CC%81%20Today's%20post.png" width="210" /></a></div></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby” by Diane Richardson, Part 11:</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diane Richardson</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">05.17.2022</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I Met My Husband Part 11</span><br /></span></span></span></div><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, getting back to when I first started getting to know my hubby. Thanksgiving was approaching and I didn’t have any plans. Remember I don’t work on weekends, holidays, Mondays, between Xmas and New Years and no summer months. Just when I wanted to, Pearlie Mae was having a big Thanksgiving dinner at her house. She invited me and my kids. My children declined the invitation as they are always flying around the world to concerts and hanging out on a beach at different islands. They will fly to anywhere in the world to see Beyonce in concert.
One time they were in, I think Aruba on the beach and when they looked over and saw Smokey Robinson. They struck up a conversation and he told them he was going to be doing a show there at one of the hotels. They asked him could he let them have some tickets. He said if you can name three of my songs, I will get the tickets to you. Of course, they didn’t know any. They excused themselves for a restroom break and called me and asked me. I told them the title of three of his songs. They returned to him and named three songs and he left tickets at Will Call for them (four).
So I declined Pearlie Mae’s invitation as I didn’t want to be around all those old people (those people were as old as I am now.) So I told Joe I would be home alone thinking about him. I asked if he wanted to come over, he said maybe for a short visit. I was disappointed, but oh well. At least I had the interest of one of Ebony Magazine’s ten most eligible bachelors in Philadelphia. I’ll continue to rope him in.
So on Thanksgiving morning, he called me from his car. There were no cell phones back then. He had a phone in his Lincoln Town Car. He said come down and help me bring some things up. I wondered what it could be. I went down and saw he had several containers of food. He cooked us a complete Thanksgiving dinner. We had to make two trips up the stairs to bring in all the food he cooked for us. I was so surprised and happy. We had a very good day and night.</span></span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hfqtjJrmjdP-Ue_o1fT_vc-XiXadHziA8_6iGQLrq1h3IupSWCUJm0NJ5PNfq6rnWydO-rRFNTln14CTGUx37Buyb7WPs7Bm50H41yWkRIQJYbgn1YeW9UTg-llQF8IaLFyV0I2fEKr4-DBsIxxnLVgRsM2VX6-lTtKBHAtgWI-xhvtSz9_YoTbf/s4032/IMG_6246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hfqtjJrmjdP-Ue_o1fT_vc-XiXadHziA8_6iGQLrq1h3IupSWCUJm0NJ5PNfq6rnWydO-rRFNTln14CTGUx37Buyb7WPs7Bm50H41yWkRIQJYbgn1YeW9UTg-llQF8IaLFyV0I2fEKr4-DBsIxxnLVgRsM2VX6-lTtKBHAtgWI-xhvtSz9_YoTbf/s320/IMG_6246.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">If </span><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories about students and teachers, then
you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2TI0FjYVwDL4RJijRZHZCtCf0Hzf2PbX5t0YIOPfzpbHv2Sn0N95_2NpZU7G0i7JDJMV1nbH8Wsu2SbfGAz_bbftq8gf3yWpLyDDVgijmQ8nqXCEd4ksmJ0fE3Pu2rFSjFkAqqTLEf3mVUJAdxvNHgWGnKTWAwEf_ibWxB2YJFN4Hvp9kV0CtAXx/s4032/IMG_3871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2TI0FjYVwDL4RJijRZHZCtCf0Hzf2PbX5t0YIOPfzpbHv2Sn0N95_2NpZU7G0i7JDJMV1nbH8Wsu2SbfGAz_bbftq8gf3yWpLyDDVgijmQ8nqXCEd4ksmJ0fE3Pu2rFSjFkAqqTLEf3mVUJAdxvNHgWGnKTWAwEf_ibWxB2YJFN4Hvp9kV0CtAXx/s320/IMG_3871.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>And <span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-11970899554400758922022-08-18T13:00:00.054-04:002022-08-18T13:00:00.188-04:00On Appreciating Teachers (José & Diane)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming up next is the tenth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, teachers.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">A good teacher can mean the world to a person. They can inspire you to do better in life, they can literally save your life, or they can simply cheer you up after a bad day. But not all teachers are good, and not all students appreciate good teachers. Teaching is a job that involves handling rooms full of people for several hours at a time, and balancing that with the demands of their staff, school board, bosses, etc. Both of today's stories are about times when teachers don't have students like you'd see in "Dead Poet's Society."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">José Dominguez</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">03.30.2021</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">About Discussing Seriously When Drinking <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">That summer of 1994 in the capital city of Chihuahua I was working for a
GM factory. I was invited to reunite with my old law school classmates
and some former professors. Several activities were organized like a
visit to our old school building, a group photo, etc. all oriented to
celebrate the opportunity to see us again together. After a fairly
succulent dinner we move to a different room to continue our chattering;
in the meanwhile, drinks were served at discretion. I was happily
surprised to be among some of my dear schoolmates after so much time of
absence. I was conversing with my friend José Manuel Aburto and with
some others companions. I have to say that in the room there were four
or five senior professors that I always remembered with respect. The
theme I was discussing with José Manuel was about the purpose of
education. It all started when my friend stated: “The idea in our Law
studies is to know the law to serve the society.” I continue inquiring:
“But most of us are not properly lawyers but businessmen, employees,
bureaucrats, <span class="il">teachers</span> and very few
practitioners. So our studies habilitated us to be efficient
interpreters and applicants of the law but not necessary seekers of
justice, but highly skilled technicians willing to apply the law
according to the customer interest.” José Manuel smiling told me: ”So,
you are implicating that our law studies are not significantly related
to our gains as professionals? Are you suggesting that our studies did
not enable us to care for our society?” I answered: “I’m not the person
to judge that so I can only speak for myself. I believe that I was a
beneficiary of many social circumstances that gave me the advantage to
study at a very high level. In that process my studies allowed me a very
rich experience of life when I met all of you, my professors, etc. Yet,
I have seen some higher educational systems that clearly define its
purposes, for example the Tecnologico de Monterrey system is looking to
educate future entrepreneurs. The Tecnologicos system are preparing
vocational operators to serve mostly big corporations. But what I want
to think hard is about how the future Law students can be inspired in a
very different way.” José Manuel interrupted me asking: “Now that you
are stating your preference for a different aim of education, please
give your point, how the Law School education can improve its
philosophical approach?” And I answered: “Well in general education has
the aim of making the students more human. The law as Plato says has to
make us better. Professors will help students by inspiring conscious
actions guided by values, and moral scrupulous. But my experience is
that I was trained to consume legal literature in order to apply it as a
modus vivendi.” “That’s enough,” said José Manuel and grabbing me by
the arm took me to the presence of <span class="il">professor</span>
Enrique Aguilar. He used to teach us the course of Obligations, a course
oriented to infuse legal criteria to read and interpret the civil law
and it’s very much related to motives and decision making that have
legal consequences. It was one of the few courses that I found
interesting. In those times he was very popular among students since he
also lectured courses at the high school level and many of the law
students took those courses with him. Those teachings were influenced by
his Marxist orientation and he navigated as a leader and model for a
new just society were work exploitation will be abolished. In addition,
he was a very good-looking guy and an accomplished public speaker. Now
Manuel confronted me with him and openly asked me: “Can you repeat to
Mr. Aguilar what you just told me about education?” I had to organize my
ideas since some colleagues surrounded us supposing something
interesting was going to happen. I explained about my experience and how
my opinion is that the curricula and the <span class="il">teacher</span>
approach had to be more oriented to human development and moral
maturity; I ended with a plea for courses to facilitate students to be
social leaders. Mr. Aguilar spoke with his pompous orator voice directly
to me: “You are completely wrong, as far as leadership facilitation you
have had the privilege to be student of some of the most accomplished
leaders and professors of the state and I can add… from the country...”
and he later mentioned a list of the academia. Regretting the
inappropriate circumstances for such discussion as soon as I had a
chance distanced from him and continued the chatting, avoiding getting
into more trouble; who wants trouble in the middle of a drinking
session? I remembered the saying “If you drink, don’t drive” and I
applied to this case I would say: “If you drink, don’t start serious
discussions.”</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPb3iPJ9W48mcdjCICh51dau0ZVLkKAbDUSaY46hv6JuctzD0ZmQ-SZoLtlAkGk7FpCw3rtLaPshVRj3TCeq0atYBdzVecou7mqjnESZOnsCyYWKHLG01RY0ftYV_a7quVKUXg93yA_eZqqDQqN5zA5Ygg5yJFFZZT9RzzXRQkxwtkYtgv-7lpAVfo/s4032/IMG_4469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPb3iPJ9W48mcdjCICh51dau0ZVLkKAbDUSaY46hv6JuctzD0ZmQ-SZoLtlAkGk7FpCw3rtLaPshVRj3TCeq0atYBdzVecou7mqjnESZOnsCyYWKHLG01RY0ftYV_a7quVKUXg93yA_eZqqDQqN5zA5Ygg5yJFFZZT9RzzXRQkxwtkYtgv-7lpAVfo/s320/IMG_4469.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby" by Diane Richardson Part 10:</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">05.03.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I <span class="il">Met</span> <span class="il">My</span> Hubby Part 10</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, at this time I’m on assignment at the Occupational Medicine
Department at the University of Penn Hospital. This department has
contracts with several companies in case of an employee accident or
injury. The employee that got injured on the job reports to our Dept.
for treatment and or therapy. This day I have an employee of the Phila.
School District, a male teacher who got assaulted by a male student at a
high school. The student was angry at the teacher for giving a failing
grade where he could no longer be on the football team. The large male
student caught the teacher at the marble staircase, picked the teacher
up and threw him down the stairs. The teacher was brought to the
hospital at <span class="il">my</span> department, Occupational Medicine. Where he was treated and released. <br />The
student was arrested, After the incident the teacher was continuously
threatened and harassed to not press charges and testify in court. His
car often damaged and tires flattened by the students. He told me this
when he came for therapy. He said according to his contract he could not
transfer to another school until the contract was up and the trial was
over, and there were no witnesses to anyone doing the damage to his
vehicle, or threats to him and he had no names of the students who
threatened him. <br />In other words, he just had to “Deal with It.”
Finally, he was permitted to transfer to a different school. The student
was found guilty and expelled from school. <br />To Be Continued… </span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIItrNRr2pNOIFNUJeRquwh-oqhJzJk-h4Kpy4RV-F19J4ikkiW15C4pgv3MZvQdDxi82-IfXCggny4FWnvBcW6VPCNp9o4s9ZmLTDV9XagXky5O21T8sL-ZQzN7_ZsRYUM97RHdfKY8Xbn7EiOJhVCL_nLAMzwxkHN83qB_5by96uvRZeTO3pn1_i/s4032/IMG_5663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIItrNRr2pNOIFNUJeRquwh-oqhJzJk-h4Kpy4RV-F19J4ikkiW15C4pgv3MZvQdDxi82-IfXCggny4FWnvBcW6VPCNp9o4s9ZmLTDV9XagXky5O21T8sL-ZQzN7_ZsRYUM97RHdfKY8Xbn7EiOJhVCL_nLAMzwxkHN83qB_5by96uvRZeTO3pn1_i/s320/IMG_5663.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And
if you or the older buds have any stories about students and teachers, then
you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;">And <span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Sf5B4qOwEiGHLqDRiM-6uCTUfJnQts1sr4uOutScU1QpZFN4IJrIXnWD-NbcyzSWnOEa_ZRaDYeGxHHQgSxSYfqTrVvA1yTUlnKn4KaRoPu2D8AS2pwDj5prRg6W-qE5bt4em8kHPF7E_9VKCmmZN-BVNvxJ-3ANsO_Sr91Emj9e3PzCH8rb01qr/s1872/Zoom%20Screenshot.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1872" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Sf5B4qOwEiGHLqDRiM-6uCTUfJnQts1sr4uOutScU1QpZFN4IJrIXnWD-NbcyzSWnOEa_ZRaDYeGxHHQgSxSYfqTrVvA1yTUlnKn4KaRoPu2D8AS2pwDj5prRg6W-qE5bt4em8kHPF7E_9VKCmmZN-BVNvxJ-3ANsO_Sr91Emj9e3PzCH8rb01qr/s320/Zoom%20Screenshot.tiff" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-44223810633463412832022-08-11T13:00:00.047-04:002022-08-11T13:00:00.210-04:00Unspooling (José and Diane)<p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the ninth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, a little bit more than you expected.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">When you start talking to people, you often find out their lives are more exciting than you ever expected...sometimes more than they ever expected. Sometimes these are unexpected feats of heroism or incredibly humorous moments, but other times it can be about hidden corruption or betrayal. Here's a few stories about what happens when you go beyond the expected story:</span></p><p><span style="color: #666666; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Jos</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">é Dominguez</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">05.03.2022</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">About Our Ancestors</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Father was a respectful man and also a person of strong points of view but not a capricious fellow. For example, he had respect for our ancestors and spoke with a kind of solemnity about my grandparents, great-great grandparents, great-great-great grandparents, etc. He covered at least superficially, three generations. He spoke about their hardships suffered while traveling and living in inhospitable lands as the North of Mexico; how the natives were not so peaceful to let those settlers take their land or transit freely through their territories; how members of our family had to suffer in hands of those angry original habitants. It was very interesting to hear him speaking about those decided settlers and how they survived and endured penalties and limitations. From our family's first generation in México there were not so many traces. There's only the oral transmitted story that the first Dominguez came soon after the Conquest, maybe around 1540. He was an adventure soldier who happened to be a “porta estandarte” meaning a soldier in charge of the army flag. I was aware that sooner or later I was going to speak about that guy so I decided to ask dad to expand his information about that Spanish soldier hoping to hear interesting stories of battles, accomplishments, titles, honors, adventures, etc. So I was prepared to integrate into my imagination the image of an audacious soldier carrying to those lands and antique times the seeds of their civilization, culture, religion, and all the values that in those times in the Western organized world were 100% European. But instead of those splendid words of magnificent outcomes, my father said: “Not much to say of those guys. Most of them were a pure gang of spoilers. They were a mob of robbers that came to dispose of our native ancestors and at the same time they immersed them in a foreign culture, foreign language, foreign religion. Poor native guys, they were no match for such militarized adventures. They were an easy prey. Even when presenting a stiff and bloody resistance, they simply were no match to them. The glory of the colonization was written by the conquers, as Bernal Diaz del Castillo, but the real story of the defeated never was written. It was lost in the immensity of the history, in the immensity of the indifference of a new world focused, thanks to the conquest, on the acquisition and treasure of gold, silver, money, and power certified and rationalized by a religion that advocates pain and suffering as a condition to get in Heaven; beliefs empowered by a legion of deacons, bishops, archbishops, cardinals and the rest of the priesthood bureaucracy. Of course there existed the exceptional presence of some few humanitarians as the Dominican priest Bartolome de las Casas and later, 300 years later, by the Catholic priest that ignited the Independence war, Miguel Hidalgo.There is too much to say about this ‘conquest’ but for the purpose of your questioning…. if someone asks you, Pepe, about our first ancestors, don’t be timid or shy to say that they were a bunch of thieves.”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">It was not what I wanted to hear and I thought to myself. “If I want to brag about the curriculum I have to integrate it with my own accomplishments”. I remembered a few days ago I heard a rabbi say, speaking about Judaic traditions and history: “History doesn't make us, we make history.”</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #666666; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xGWXLS_k8G8iVDEI-dtIpBIcpsM4BGYQFpf1RO49CfjBt0q3erHCqCjYHKbWlHSvHcXgeD1GokdDNoxhGmYtrdVsOKBLH1PDIeicmhLumWz-nKBInvg2-pNt-HTGsS5V202h6YQzPJDQliMJYqS9oF7CN87yHgzh3p-iJUhzOHR932slmLDXnKIh/s4032/IMG_5642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xGWXLS_k8G8iVDEI-dtIpBIcpsM4BGYQFpf1RO49CfjBt0q3erHCqCjYHKbWlHSvHcXgeD1GokdDNoxhGmYtrdVsOKBLH1PDIeicmhLumWz-nKBInvg2-pNt-HTGsS5V202h6YQzPJDQliMJYqS9oF7CN87yHgzh3p-iJUhzOHR932slmLDXnKIh/s320/IMG_5642.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby" by Diane Richardson Part 9:</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Diane Richardson</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">04.12.2022</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">When I </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Met</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">My</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Hubby</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Part</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">9</span></span></p><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">I’d like to refresh your memory as to how this story got started as one may wonder how I worked at so many different places. After raising </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">my</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> children, I decided to go to school to be a Registered Medical Technician. I went to National School of Health Technology. I’ve always been interest in the medical field. Upon completion I decided to work for a medical staffing agency where I can decide where and when I wanted to would. I could accept or decline assignments at different medical facilities, clinics, and hospitals. The assignments could last anywhere from one day to twenty years.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Medical facilities use staffing services to save money, not having to provide employee benefits and pensions. </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">My</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> personal schedule would be no weekends, no holidays, no Mondays, no work between Xmas and New Years and no summer months. The times I chose not to work I would receive unemployment compensation. I never worked for the money but for doing what I enjoyed doing. There’s not many facilities I haven’t worked over the years. I take the place or fill in for the regular technician for however long needed. The employee might need a day off, or call out sick, go on vacation or be retiring. When an employee is retiring, I’m needed to fill the position until the department could hire someone, however long that might be.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">I’m often asked if I would be interested in a permanent position, and I would always decline. Who wanted to be obligated to work every day? Not me. I only worked when I felt like it. Every time I was on assignment, I would strive to do the job better that the person I was filling in for. So every time an employee called out or put in for time off, I was requested. All the practice managers and especially the doctors loved me. They would be so happy to see me and treatment me very well. Even the patients would be glad to see me and often told me they wished I was there on a regular basis.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Us employees used to love the pharmaceutical representatives. They would shower the doctors and their staff with gifts in hopes the Doctors would prescribe the services and medications to their companies. They would send the Doctors and their families on trips and cruises; they would send and take the staff out to dinners to wherever we wanted to go. Us employees and whoever they wanted to invite. The Reps have a large expense account and can write this off on their taxes as a business expense. The Reps needed the doctors and nurse practitioners and physician assistants to prescribe medications from the companies in which they were employed. Pharmaceutical Sales is a multi-billion-dollar business as everyone knows.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">For example, the Dr. prescribes an MRI for a patient. MRI stands for Magnetic Resonance Imaging. The service provider would order the MRI and us techs would make an appointment for them to send the patient wherever or whichever company we chose. We have a variety of companies we worked with. We made the appointment for them, and the Rep makes the transportation arrangements for them. The patient would be so glad to receive free transportation. Door to door service.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">In return for our referrals, the Reps would take us and our guests to dinner at a restaurant of our choice. Even if I weren’t currently assigned to that particular clinic, I was always invited to the dinners. It would soon be on the news of pharmaceutical companies “bribing” medical professionals to prescribe medication and services to their companies. The medical professionals would receive expensive gifts and trips using their companies. So all of that became illegal and that was the end of that ride. We enjoyed it while it lasted.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">To Be Continued…..</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMudjdMX7HlBqxwZ6n0wGMtdWcUMVFhqfHe3nj7GPwtCZtrnDrFuwqmqEwFXu5ukFHB7Zu4Ic4Ou9Yg3FKUqqt_Zckmn_DwNkpTkNNDaPvpB5KyDy34USvKRUQVFKhpaUbder5fFd1tXNtYZy0kNmuZn7iDrYmQKOm4jczR0Rn5gX3zxLNa1f5V3B/s4032/IMG_4971.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMudjdMX7HlBqxwZ6n0wGMtdWcUMVFhqfHe3nj7GPwtCZtrnDrFuwqmqEwFXu5ukFHB7Zu4Ic4Ou9Yg3FKUqqt_Zckmn_DwNkpTkNNDaPvpB5KyDy34USvKRUQVFKhpaUbder5fFd1tXNtYZy0kNmuZn7iDrYmQKOm4jczR0Rn5gX3zxLNa1f5V3B/s320/IMG_4971.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any stories that escalate quickly, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">And <span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI8TfHWVJL-MpFtIENJzBMl3UAEjrtkcX8l-zJ496ceh6pwNnPVyzBPVVsBSQbXdIwlcHmVvIhjwYe14R3GivR-c0q8AeqfNjYrktzAfOWkOTjWCG-8gkXDdyrPnNfH20YhkYGKEpIwkx6nMiuc50Q4r8UDB6M_MHyzVb7sEYhj_ZNBUXNYajjxot/s1600/Resized_Resized_20220809_140058.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI8TfHWVJL-MpFtIENJzBMl3UAEjrtkcX8l-zJ496ceh6pwNnPVyzBPVVsBSQbXdIwlcHmVvIhjwYe14R3GivR-c0q8AeqfNjYrktzAfOWkOTjWCG-8gkXDdyrPnNfH20YhkYGKEpIwkx6nMiuc50Q4r8UDB6M_MHyzVb7sEYhj_ZNBUXNYajjxot/s320/Resized_Resized_20220809_140058.JPEG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-67879361234390861452022-08-04T16:00:00.053-04:002022-08-04T16:00:00.203-04:00A Little Break (Joan and Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming up next is the eighth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, a little break.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">The great thing about blogging websites is the ability to plan posts in advance; like this one. We're taking Best Day off this week, but we won't leave you without a few fun stories for your Thursday. Like this one from Joan about the best things she earned in her life:</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Joan Bunting</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">04.11.2019</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Best Things I Learned In My Life</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">In my lifetime I’ve learned many things.<br /> For instance I’ve learned
to do unto others as I would like others to treat me. I’ve also learned
to be respectful and considerate of others. I was taught how to carry
myself as a lady, love my enemies even though it can be very, very hard
to love someone who has hurt you.<br /> I’ve also learned to share even if
I only have a little or its my last. How to be a good listener, that’s
how you learn. Also everyone is not your friend.<br /> I’m still
learning how to keep my mouth shut sometimes, because when I’m trying to
tell someone a truth about something and they’re not able to accept the
truth, I’m accused of being a little know it all.<br /> Sometimes when
I’m talking I have to explain every small detail. I’ve always been a
talker around those I feel comfortable with. <br /> But to make a long story short, I’ve learned to love --- my creator with all my heart, mind and soul. <br /> One of my biggest lessons I’ve learned in this life is, to just at all times, to be myself.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUS-GoSMWQytcFXT0S_3PwN81LM7Vu3k769G-6l-G5RF1H1yw6I-lyTjl4eIbPprxcmwrBsziy9yuJpEJXBtkP2HYmoCpZeMUMZzBG70-Xgt_AYRlYqc1SZae32ziupxJuCrcHOHvkLscbHb5RHM8eMaWZtEQYPj1ZlKhKqmeh6ga9HUj7Lt9ll3DQ/s3264/Photo%20Apr%2011,%201%2036%2013%20PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUS-GoSMWQytcFXT0S_3PwN81LM7Vu3k769G-6l-G5RF1H1yw6I-lyTjl4eIbPprxcmwrBsziy9yuJpEJXBtkP2HYmoCpZeMUMZzBG70-Xgt_AYRlYqc1SZae32ziupxJuCrcHOHvkLscbHb5RHM8eMaWZtEQYPj1ZlKhKqmeh6ga9HUj7Lt9ll3DQ/s320/Photo%20Apr%2011,%201%2036%2013%20PM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby" by Diane Richardson Part 8:</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="il">Diane</span> Richardson,</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">04.05.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I Met My Hubby Part 8</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, I’m on assignment at the Family Court at 34 S. 11th Street to
collect specimens for D.N.A paternity tests of women and children on
public assistance or welfare and the potential fathers. On occasion
when a celebrity, executive, big businessman, athlete would be flown in
for the test, they would be photographed, fingerprinted, and show their
I.D. so as to not send someone in their place. We technicians would
often get offers from the males to rig the test in their favor. As
tempting as the offers were, I would refuse. I believe in Karma, what
goes around comes around. Nothing good comes to you when you do bad, and
I wouldn’t have any blessing in my life. I always believe in doing the
right thing. We got all kind of offers to get the potential fathers out
of eighteen years of child support. <br />The one that stands out to mind
is a Phillies baseball player with his championship ring on. He offered
us to rig the test in his favor and you know what he offered? Season
tickets for two in box seats to all the games, to get out of eighteen
years of child support. How dumb was he? One technician would look up
the schedule to see when an athlete was scheduled to be tested, and
assign herself to his case. She would contact him and let him know she
could rig the test in his favor for ten thousand dollars. That would be
music to their ears. Ten thousand would most likely less than they would
pay in a month, not to mention over eighteen years. She’d make
arrangements for the money transfer. This went on for a while. <br />One
evening I was telling Joe about this. He said how terrible, illegal, and
immoral this was. He said with my knowledge of this I was a contributor
of this crime and I have to report it. I did and the technician was
fired and all tests she did were retested. Joe said there’s no telling
how many lives were affected by her. How many children’s lives could
have been different with education and the opportunity they were
entitled to. <br />To Be Continued...</span></span></span> <br /></p></blockquote><blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcv1T1k_5iJ0VR0JXOPJTkuAHDNedAbD3ETLKv-onB0AHe_ORlpVY73ot-LwCjnG7NHrLfIqKs8aPJvoJxlJnp0mqjUCWj-sLkZsEufFpkQ9J4pRvnpjL7_QiRTqvcgAArPLSK4L_X-6O7fcKBrSE2KtX0Z8Mmfm8OE14q4qdk45mhIP-AjDke0C2/s4032/IMG_4750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcv1T1k_5iJ0VR0JXOPJTkuAHDNedAbD3ETLKv-onB0AHe_ORlpVY73ot-LwCjnG7NHrLfIqKs8aPJvoJxlJnp0mqjUCWj-sLkZsEufFpkQ9J4pRvnpjL7_QiRTqvcgAArPLSK4L_X-6O7fcKBrSE2KtX0Z8Mmfm8OE14q4qdk45mhIP-AjDke0C2/s320/IMG_4750.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have any break time stories, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4etjXRnZtFulRhztawdkwfPTNcAZMM7qU3OWW6STl_KHvtsf_DAIay6oJ0A2CU4p70RmK--nAfBMnroyl-VbKvECiLCiQ30IxacvmCLJq7Tvnr4zRlaXwS7BngEw5lF4pQF9Okknx4xwzoPhnnWPh-rxwmBfPTjBSXJZjnoAjsr0M6eMvqis-koy/s4032/IMG_1028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4etjXRnZtFulRhztawdkwfPTNcAZMM7qU3OWW6STl_KHvtsf_DAIay6oJ0A2CU4p70RmK--nAfBMnroyl-VbKvECiLCiQ30IxacvmCLJq7Tvnr4zRlaXwS7BngEw5lF4pQF9Okknx4xwzoPhnnWPh-rxwmBfPTjBSXJZjnoAjsr0M6eMvqis-koy/s320/IMG_1028.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span> <p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HPYDmeYYBO-gtBe-60K4xGQWDJQFKlCddoVzXJQH3lpxrHyvc07y8nxxPtANwFKatBS0tmqF5EVdoKewXmFE_oZTrZjvPkQpVEOoHAqkdHaI0SAS7PDMZJEXMLbQzFKmO8YgRP5Ys6VjOeKOvSvxOPUyMyG2dpdFc6sGpjeKy_V0AIVEZXCazxrb/s1024/imagejpeg_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HPYDmeYYBO-gtBe-60K4xGQWDJQFKlCddoVzXJQH3lpxrHyvc07y8nxxPtANwFKatBS0tmqF5EVdoKewXmFE_oZTrZjvPkQpVEOoHAqkdHaI0SAS7PDMZJEXMLbQzFKmO8YgRP5Ys6VjOeKOvSvxOPUyMyG2dpdFc6sGpjeKy_V0AIVEZXCazxrb/s320/imagejpeg_0.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-64158791451456031242022-07-30T23:19:00.002-04:002022-07-30T23:19:59.166-04:00A Series of Serials (Jewel and Diane)<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">Coming up next is the seventh part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, even more older buds writing serials.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">Older
bud Diane started a trend! A few more older buds started writing
serials too. Older bud Ken even said that writing serials encourages him
to come back each week to write even more. We can’t wait to share all
of these stories with you, and we already have our volunteers typing them up. In the meantime, here's the first part of a two-parter written by older bud Jewel:<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">Jewel Grace</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">11.02.2021 <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">Cape May – Day 1</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">So, I don’t exactly know what I am supposed <span class="il">to</span> <span class="il">be</span> doing here. I’m in my room just trying <span class="il">to</span>
rehydrate myself after drinking a cup of very strong hot coffee after
lunch. I had coconut shrimp wraps for lunch, and they were too good <span class="il">to</span> <span class="il">be</span> true, plus come clam chowder, also <span class="il">to</span> die for. My waitress was charming and was charmed by my words. She took off <span class="il">to</span> tell the chef.<br />Back
in my room; I guess I will watch some TV. I’m tired, it was a long bus
trip here. So, I am feeling pretty awful, also because I didn’t kiss the
feet of the people who run this place and just asked up front if I had a
question. But they all looked at me like I’m a little weird, like I
don’t really belong here. And by the way what is here anyway except for
an expensive old-style bed and breakfast stay in Cape May that an old
friend used <span class="il">to</span> stay at and now I’m afraid that
they’ll never invite me again here because I have done something awful
just by being myself and being awkward and they aren’t very nice. <br />They aren’t making me feel at home at all, so quite honestly, I don’t know that I would ever want <span class="il">to</span> <span class="il">be</span>
here again. Later I ate crab cakes for dinner, the smell of which
turned my stomach. But I ate them anyway because they cost a lot of
money and I never thought <span class="il">to</span> say “The smell of these makes me sick, could I order something else” which is what I would like <span class="il">to</span> have done. The cool thing was that I didn’t eat all the mac and cheese and I didn’t get dessert which was huge!<br />Now I don’t know what <span class="il">to</span> do with my life next.<br />Higher power, help me. Do I need <span class="il">to</span> kiss your feet?<br /><span class="il">To</span> <span class="il">be</span> <span class="il">continued</span> with Cape May – Day 2</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfV4Hb_9TasAWZRP2r2i1VpG0mxS07xlkqcJqyPdVdjwe1j4a0bGl4DxMtw71CQQvH7lVpuCD38IRs7H9nT8pgwN8JOfzuNloOIA4KzeocA3SxhawOpdVSmfUAYnZgHG6q6t7wTk0avdcNegEWSLoFbSNO32fkCDlAntNcBoJyZ3-GzYFvjoCk9gD/s4032/IMG_6695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfV4Hb_9TasAWZRP2r2i1VpG0mxS07xlkqcJqyPdVdjwe1j4a0bGl4DxMtw71CQQvH7lVpuCD38IRs7H9nT8pgwN8JOfzuNloOIA4KzeocA3SxhawOpdVSmfUAYnZgHG6q6t7wTk0avdcNegEWSLoFbSNO32fkCDlAntNcBoJyZ3-GzYFvjoCk9gD/s320/IMG_6695.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Husband" by Diane Richardson Part 7:</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il"></span></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="il">Diane</span> <span class="il">Richardson</span> </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">03.29.2022</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">When I Met My Hubby Part 7</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;">So at this time I was on assignment as a medical technician at the
Family Court at 34 S. 11th Street collecting specimens for paternity
tests from women and children on public assistance or welfare. Then the
males who may or may not be in the same state, named to be the father or
fathers. But that’s another story for another time and you’ll be
surprised. <br />So, Valentine’s Day was approaching, and I wanted to plan
a little dinner for Joe and I but I didn’t know if he even knew what
Valentine’s Day was, so I asked him and he answered yes, “I’m supposed
to buy you flowers and chocolates.” I said no, that’s not for me.
Flowers are only going to die, and I don’t eat chocolates. He said good,
you saved me a lot of time.<br />So, on Valentine’s Day he came to my job
with a giant teddy bear almost as big as me and a cute little diamond
ring. I was so surprised. I asked him if he would take these gifts back
with him as it was too much to carry on the bus. He said, “I’ll be here
to take you home when you get off.” I asked, “Don’t you have to work
this evening?” He answered, “I do.” I said, “I prepared a little
Valentine’s something for you to enjoy before you go to work. A nice
dinner, whipped cream and strawberries for desert and all your
favorites.” Needless to say, he didn’t make it to work that evening.
Good thing he was the Boss!<br />To Be Continued</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IjBT-YXc4PRWJ9T9IDWMWvLCxJUKqn9cKVThVFPC2slWstVn_Rh7Tii0o8cjKca_m7ewS58QwtC6I5J_UozD8b8slMgEr-vJK9kXD1WZolKVlqELTggoQsRgZ2W3a0dHKBfMMn1Aqt1EKi4qJNuxvtVMn38biw2epFNJaxtJXdiCVJOWe4CvmeXb/s4032/IMG_4470(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IjBT-YXc4PRWJ9T9IDWMWvLCxJUKqn9cKVThVFPC2slWstVn_Rh7Tii0o8cjKca_m7ewS58QwtC6I5J_UozD8b8slMgEr-vJK9kXD1WZolKVlqELTggoQsRgZ2W3a0dHKBfMMn1Aqt1EKi4qJNuxvtVMn38biw2epFNJaxtJXdiCVJOWe4CvmeXb/s320/IMG_4470(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have stories told in multiple parts, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheETPuqereIQeZ5ntF4N5WZxixiH0vSK8jXdtlZm-z15FfO-hTaAsia4wd1aBB7N-z8mZXzY5Zx0Ahnr8ixj0pmEPxeX06xXxpIDrzrYAVc8hiGT_9xzzc4Euc3wWrkZn23nMCudscGJOwwteiRzUAuc43I8YKiUYbTuDKKa2BCpPpFWH3gORHPYk1/s4032/IMG_1028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheETPuqereIQeZ5ntF4N5WZxixiH0vSK8jXdtlZm-z15FfO-hTaAsia4wd1aBB7N-z8mZXzY5Zx0Ahnr8ixj0pmEPxeX06xXxpIDrzrYAVc8hiGT_9xzzc4Euc3wWrkZn23nMCudscGJOwwteiRzUAuc43I8YKiUYbTuDKKa2BCpPpFWH3gORHPYk1/s320/IMG_1028.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-64645911983508970262022-07-21T13:00:00.047-04:002022-07-21T13:00:00.205-04:00Flights of Fancy (Cynthia & Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the sixth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, another travel story!</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">I have more trips lined up in the future, so I've got airplanes on my mind. It's weird to think that I'm feeling comfortable enough to go back on airplanes again; especially given how inconvenient flights have been lately. By an odd coincidence, both our stories involve airplanes. The first is a eulogy by older bud Cynthia for her late brother:</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Cynthia Morihara</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">10.22.2020</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Letter to a Friend</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">It is true that my brother made a hefty income as an emergency room doctor, but he used a lot of money to buy planes and run a small airpark. He flew himself to all his hospitals. He also hired many people as he was always starting up businesses and projects, most of which failed in some way or another. Although he was a good doctor, he was not lucky in business. He had many friends, as witnessed by the big turnout at his funeral. People came from all over the country, and I saw three of his best friends cry. I loved my brother, but he didn’t have good sense. He overworked, and he didn’t get enough sleep. Once, being so tired he forgot to put his landing gear down. He ruined his </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">plane</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">. It was unfortunate that he got himself into debt over his head. It was unfortunate that he died so young. I also lost a son, and that was and is painful for me.</span></span></p></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_-YrQ7oAaVhvteNf3RNJAMD3gHOt6hhZ3XdgNsvR137vr0iHORwdegHLpDW-XU9EVLxGPL7srSEV4ysxxifqPrp_3x2d43QLXzkz0yflTXdUjj8zAVLDAZwWhhhkVpSOqEr3I3DpnOlia-AuAS80gJzcW2SMwUtMnSH680uPnPhAOCLSoja_knLN/s478/Cynthia%20Pic.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="478" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_-YrQ7oAaVhvteNf3RNJAMD3gHOt6hhZ3XdgNsvR137vr0iHORwdegHLpDW-XU9EVLxGPL7srSEV4ysxxifqPrp_3x2d43QLXzkz0yflTXdUjj8zAVLDAZwWhhhkVpSOqEr3I3DpnOlia-AuAS80gJzcW2SMwUtMnSH680uPnPhAOCLSoja_knLN/s320/Cynthia%20Pic.png" width="320" /></a><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Husband" by Diane Richardson:</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">Diane</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> Richardson</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">03.22.2022</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">When I </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Met</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">My</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> Husband </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">Part</span><span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"> </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;">6</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">So, I continued going to the casino every Saturday with Pearlie Mae and having a good time loading up. I was telling </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">my</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> daughters about </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">my</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> trips and </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">my</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> youngest daughter Tia asked if she could meet us there as she lives in Voorhees not far from the casino. I told her where to meet us and told her we’d be in a red van. When she arrived, she said to me “I hate to tell you that’s not a van. It’s a candy apple red Cadillac Escalade.” I said, “Well, do tell.” Tia is a flight attendant for American Airlines and sometimes work for private companies for entertainers. She could write a book about it. Myself, Joe and her siblings can fly for free. Tara and Tia would fly once a month to a different island. I would fly on some weekends to Vegas then New York then home. Traveling to those islands was too much for me. I did it a couple of times to Aruba and Cancun. I mostly stayed in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">my</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> room. They would get ready to go out at eleven and I would get ready for bed. I can’t hang with them. So, Tia and Pearlie Mae began to get tight as Tia loves to gamble also. Tia put Pearlie Mae on her buddy plan where she could fly for free. She only had to pay the taxes. They would fly to all the casinos and gamble till their hearts were content. They lost a lot, and they won a lot. </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">My</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> other daughter Tara is a Harvard graduate and holds a master’s degree in nursing. She’s like me, a book worm with no desire to gamble. I get no pleasure in losing </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">my</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"> money. I’d rather give it away to those in need, than lose it to gambling. I donate money to a few organizations. I get pleasure doing that.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;">To Be Continued...</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9;"></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicu0U_PQSlSvUWBP-QMrnUHWNv_A3lRkEssYWK5Jg7oeenbeuclgM4fYCQloRxOg7OU_oc8T3mLKSVKFMt5hOigYFOE6NPAo9fquvhOz0RscHNP4r800qUVGIPXetdi867I5qtQ2x6uKiJtwqG5FohpTq0jyGH2oWbs-_vFHf-T2JToRBe4FuwIKJl/s4032/IMG_4201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicu0U_PQSlSvUWBP-QMrnUHWNv_A3lRkEssYWK5Jg7oeenbeuclgM4fYCQloRxOg7OU_oc8T3mLKSVKFMt5hOigYFOE6NPAo9fquvhOz0RscHNP4r800qUVGIPXetdi867I5qtQ2x6uKiJtwqG5FohpTq0jyGH2oWbs-_vFHf-T2JToRBe4FuwIKJl/s320/IMG_4201.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have gone abroad, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQUVhAGIy7KeaMnnBw7F-Igjo6NgN3XASbJEMAkL37F-encErcdtZXyK41GYM08ViklpB-gRCWBImfbkDJ5m8Zr71eHNqw4wQs_9tKSHAU1Q1ZPgMLwN5z2SpQRFknK3zC9qMqCMb8g4vG3o48Qh9PCFKuLEu4lVmLFUQ2z-NKZn__zSPV3LnRmPo/s2436/IMG_0590.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2436" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQUVhAGIy7KeaMnnBw7F-Igjo6NgN3XASbJEMAkL37F-encErcdtZXyK41GYM08ViklpB-gRCWBImfbkDJ5m8Zr71eHNqw4wQs_9tKSHAU1Q1ZPgMLwN5z2SpQRFknK3zC9qMqCMb8g4vG3o48Qh9PCFKuLEu4lVmLFUQ2z-NKZn__zSPV3LnRmPo/s320/IMG_0590.PNG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgaMr9HD9mXmKBYPfIO3TAA6Y4C6vtdWj1b1zc7GFyD7RHcPrpTpapM1YJ3eBbp-Bp6Q7eIEWV161UV5RyLuZrzz1xQxdmYlf9TCkOXAXEuIM9R3jPRVYYcH3nRmjIcYC3RSe3VkYcHTNln1j8TLRaXFc_wUhcB5RKPWPP60JIg5__6nizHijFzW7g/s4032/IMG_0591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgaMr9HD9mXmKBYPfIO3TAA6Y4C6vtdWj1b1zc7GFyD7RHcPrpTpapM1YJ3eBbp-Bp6Q7eIEWV161UV5RyLuZrzz1xQxdmYlf9TCkOXAXEuIM9R3jPRVYYcH3nRmjIcYC3RSe3VkYcHTNln1j8TLRaXFc_wUhcB5RKPWPP60JIg5__6nizHijFzW7g/s320/IMG_0591.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p></p><p><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104403680834131850.post-82580206118220028192022-07-14T13:00:00.000-04:002022-07-14T13:00:00.199-04:00Bon Voyage (Ann and Diane)<p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Coming up next is the fifth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, an update!</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">Sorry for the radio silence for the past few weeks, but after two years or being grounded, I finally got to travel again! To France, no less! I had a great time, but even more fun was how interested all the older buds were in my adventures, and hearing about their own adventures in turn. So for the next few weeks, I'll be posting stories of our older buds' own travels, along with some traveling from our very own Diane.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">Ann</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"> von Dehsen</span></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">03.22.2022</span></p><p><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">Parlez-Vous Français?</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">A few weeks ago, I wrote about my 1996 trip to London & Paris with my sister Ellen and art students and faculty from her college. This is part 2. After leaving London where I learned the correct pronunciation of </span><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">Bath</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">, not </span><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">bath</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">, we arrived at our very small hotel in Paris.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">During the trip to Paris, it was discovered that I was the only one in our small group who spoke barely passable French and I do mean barely. At check-in the French speaking rather stout, older, cigar smoking man at the desk, who didn’t seem to know how to smile, threw us out keys as my fellow travelers began making requests in my ear… “Ask him how far away is the Eiffel Tower? How do we get there? Are there any good but inexpensive restaurants nearby?” And many more.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">So, I took a big gulp and got through the first few questions which were answered bluntly with an arrogant “oui,” “non,” or “peut-être” I guess my annoyance with him was evident because as I slowly began the next question, he signaled me to come behind the desk. “Oh no” I thought, “is there a punishment for using poor French with an attitude?”</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">But as he brought me over to his desk in the back corner, he actually cracked a smile as he said, “My name is Joe and I’m an ex-pat from Brooklyn. I hate it when Americas come in here an assume I speak English as they ramble on and on. This ain’t the Ritz Carlton”. I give your French a “C”, but you made a sincere understandable attempt and now I will help you out.” With that he pulled various maps and restaurant menus in both French and English from his desk drawer and handed them to me. “Merci beaucoup Monsieur,” I said. “No problem, call me Joe and go fall in love with Paris” was his response. And do so we did!</span></span> </p></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMrLLbi90C1WdCm9XUUB-fWuFUUXSEJWSa7W9FZ5ZYk0q-Qhxp8TAnLfyKUgoVJ401tH724EKVjnmW59cDzX3T-TuEt092L-Xlbqef4Mqh_nGbJ-rIHTv4rydIyluOdg0Pp6Q4e9bT5JwBMmye_TTzbaGgoVy5_vkFkSJGrxJn3jreZdNHU5Bn0jL/s4032/IMG_4202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMrLLbi90C1WdCm9XUUB-fWuFUUXSEJWSa7W9FZ5ZYk0q-Qhxp8TAnLfyKUgoVJ401tH724EKVjnmW59cDzX3T-TuEt092L-Xlbqef4Mqh_nGbJ-rIHTv4rydIyluOdg0Pp6Q4e9bT5JwBMmye_TTzbaGgoVy5_vkFkSJGrxJn3jreZdNHU5Bn0jL/s320/IMG_4202.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;">We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Husband" by Diane Richardson:</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">Diane</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"> Richardson</span></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;">03.15.2022</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;">When I </span><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;">met</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;">my</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #fbfbfb; font-size: small;"> Husband part 5</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">So, I continued going to the Casino with Pearlie Mae every Saturday. She would book a suite for me to use while her and her sisters would gamble. I would relax, order movies and room service and then hit all the takeout restaurants to take home all that I could carry. Joe would sometimes come, and we would stay for a couple of days. I couldn’t get him to go to any shows though Pearlie Mae would get me however amount of tickets for the shows that I wanted. We even utilized the time service to ride to different casinos to see different shows at different casinos. Pearlie Mae was truly a high roller.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">One day Joe told me he had to have an annual physical for his job I asked if he had a primary physician, he said no. I told him, I had two friends that were physicians that had a practice not far from where I lived. He asked me to make him an appointment. We went to the appointment, and I introduced him to </span><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">my</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"> friends. Dr’s Quintianni and DeSalvo they were two young Italian guys. The doctor ordered an EKG and bloodwork. I told the Drs. I would do his EKG ad bloodwork. I did, and all went well. After the appointment, we went to Red Lobster for lunch. That was the place to go back then. Now it’s Ruth Chris. </span><span class="il" face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">My</span><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"> favorite restaurant. He informed me he had an appointment to get his taxes done, and if I needed mine done. I told him I needed mine done and he made an appointment for me, to be done same day as his. We had them done and went out to dinner at his favorite diner on Baltimore Pike. After that day we went there often. The food was really good, and they gave you large portions. So, I started inviting him over on a regular basis. I was really feeling him and would cook all his favorite dishes. I love to cook, and he would appreciate the home cooked meals, as all he really did was work. He was an automotive engineer, and his job was his life. He worked the evening and night shifts. I would often take him lunch or dinner to his job and wait for him in his office until he got off. And he would take me to work in the morning.</span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9;" /><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;">To Be Continued</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPmcC7J2OGYoGCzEoXSxKydWdAB6AxrxiFE6C8zVjxBAIxMblS4dfgpcXKpdMFtqdFvwlSgD8E2tBiYwBqk-qcfr2jCqcs5ce1Yi7aHy_ecfbdWEYkMW-mKN2QfO6J3ecqODfpE8_8cuRYumdYFczHtCCWtQ12PlC-cu73WCzgN6N0Tr4-Ttb3hWR/s4032/IMG_3971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPmcC7J2OGYoGCzEoXSxKydWdAB6AxrxiFE6C8zVjxBAIxMblS4dfgpcXKpdMFtqdFvwlSgD8E2tBiYwBqk-qcfr2jCqcs5ce1Yi7aHy_ecfbdWEYkMW-mKN2QfO6J3ecqODfpE8_8cuRYumdYFczHtCCWtQ12PlC-cu73WCzgN6N0Tr4-Ttb3hWR/s320/IMG_3971.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span face="Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-size: small;"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica;">If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then</span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: helvetica;"><span class="im"><span class="im"> email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.</span></span> You can also share our older buds' adventures by <a href="https://bestdayofmylifesofar.wedid.it/" style="text-decoration-line: none;">donating to Best Day,</a> <a href="https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/manage/optin?v=001D3268UKoOnHrqb4hWrl6-iTr99FZNgwCfCxdrSUSl9xUdfa0o6f-bqCkShsg90Y7wGb7qVPBhPkFDuDBJwjjzjV201FedBz3RpH9vYZxO6E%3D" style="text-decoration-line: none;">subscribing to our newsletter,</a> <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScMtXuTPny6TzTAWu7pQgQFjv9rNpKVSSXTQ5PLJCKCFcrI6A/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;">sending a note to our older buds,</a> or following us on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNEdG9Ed_RhAXNCknRHDUcqftXOcnw" href="https://facebook.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNGvA3NCMwP74jBOLtoHWvSSY52P4g" href="https://www.instagram.com/bestdayofmylifesofar/" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/bestdaysofar" style="text-decoration-line: none;">Twitter.</a> And if you or the older buds have gone abroad, then you or they can submit stories through our portal right <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform&source=gmail&ust=1590164844984000&usg=AFQjCNHxl-zVFS_r1wrACdPiknsmF2iLiQ" href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScSceHVm92CBLCj-iQRKEzNFXOQn_6LJADxz-zsBT1QfweopA/viewform" style="text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a>. 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.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">And don't forget to maintain contact with the older buds in your life. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;">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. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_Internet_access#2016:_UN_Resolution" style="text-decoration-line: none;">It's a human right,</a> after all.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFno7C6-zsQCEg6B2SMdeLsu_5ZDG1Xy0dAROO8InzFKmNWUkkIxkrTSOOw4aNaeXx7jBiy3Vg-uto8B7AO_Jk72FELyVeT9UqrXdK1aXZNExc4VZ4OOU4JKmGoI9DtalI6UZRZY21Ryiph2wtNNkWGyBVlVg5SoQmVxcGc_8EbQQ7lQeH7ShCpzid/s4032/IMG_0324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFno7C6-zsQCEg6B2SMdeLsu_5ZDG1Xy0dAROO8InzFKmNWUkkIxkrTSOOw4aNaeXx7jBiy3Vg-uto8B7AO_Jk72FELyVeT9UqrXdK1aXZNExc4VZ4OOU4JKmGoI9DtalI6UZRZY21Ryiph2wtNNkWGyBVlVg5SoQmVxcGc_8EbQQ7lQeH7ShCpzid/s320/IMG_0324.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span class="im" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 16.9px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">Curated by Caitlin Cieri</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com