Theatre Week (Eleanor, Frances, and Denise)

It's the beginning of Philadelphia Theatre Week! A week devoted to showing off all the cool new plays our city has to offer. To celebrate, we have stories from some of our favorite theatre buffs:

Eleanor Kazdan

04.14.2021

Sudden Fame

I was plucked out of obscurity at age 14 when I got the lead role in our high school musical. I was a pretty shy girl, not too confident. I had recently emerged from an awkward stage of pimples, frizzy hair, orthopedic shoes and being dumped by my best friend. I was already an accomplished musician and had been taking singing lessons with Mrs. Rutledge for a few years. I heard about auditions for Ice Pool, an original Canadian musical. I chose the song, “As long As He Needs Me” and used it numerous times over the years after that for auditions. I remember getting out on the stage and feeling confident. I sounded good! But still I was shocked when I got the part: Heather, the romantic lead. I had never acted before but learned my lines diligently.
But ugh—as the romantic lead I had to kiss Murray Balshin at the end when we overcame all obstacles to our love. He was a nerdy guy, definitely not someone I wanted to kiss. We were coached to place our lips just to the side of each other’s. Very antiseptic.
It was all pretty heady stuff! I was called out of my 10th grade class numerous times for rehearsals. I became well known in the school. I also lost my baby fat and became svelte. No time to eat. People complimented me on my new thinness. This started my years of obsession with food and being thin. In those days, most eating disorders didn’t have a name. Later I learned I was a binge eater—binging and starving, that is another whole story. Ice Pool was a success. An LP recording was made of the performance. I have no photos since I lost my high school yearbook. I was angry with my parents when we moved at the end of that year. My fame faded. The new school did not perform musicals. The year of Ice Pool was a watershed moment for me!

Frances Bryce

04.25.2019

Play Cancelled

Recently a friend and I bought tickets to see a play depicting the life of Marvin Gaye. We live in different parts of the city. She in the west of the city and I live in the south, Center City. We agreed to meet at the theater for the performance at 3:00 pm. I arrived about 2:30-2:45 pm and she was not there. A notice on the window stated the performance had been cancelled. My reaction was a disappointed one. A couple from New Jersey had driven over and we expressed our disappointment. One of the ladies said she did not get a notice of the cancellation. I recalled getting a series of calls that I did not recognized, so I did not answer, my rule if I don’t know or recognize the number and no voice mail is left, my assumption is that it is probably a scam or robocall. On reflection, it was probably a call to let me know the play was cancelled. We who were wondering why stayed for a short time went to the box office for a receipt and was informed that the amount of the tickets had been returned to my account. I took a bus and returned home.
Assuming that my friend who is always early had read the notice and was on her way home. She does not have a cell phone, so I could not check that she was now home or on her way there.
When I finally was able to get her she informed me that she arrived after I left and remained in the area until 3:30pm. I asked why she stayed after she knew the production was cancelled and after the time it was past the register time of 3:00 she stated that she was waiting on me.
I said we will agree that if any future events that we were to see cancelled. Then we would leave and for her to consider an inexpensive cellphone so we could connect with each other.
She arrived later than usual she told me, because the driver carried her two blocks from her stop and not being a fast walker, it was necessary to retrace the two blocks where she wanted to catch the next bus. I now will try to think about other ways to be sure we are on the same wave length.

Denise W

10.25.2020

I’m Not Going to Have a Sad Day

Well basically next Wednesday, October 14, would be six years that mother went to be with the Lord, and so I’ve decided to celebrate this year with things we did that were fun. I’m going to try to put in my heart that I’m not going to have a sad day. Why would I have a sad day? I want to remember my mom and I want to remember the fun things we did. And one thing she loved to do was to travel. We spent a lot of time in New York. She also loved plays, Broadway plays. So she said, “Denise we gotta get a ticket to Lion King.” I said, “Okay, sure.”
So I bought a ticket to Lion King in New York and we stayed at the Hilton Town Square because we arrived in the afternoon, we had lunch, and the play was at night. So she really truly enjoyed the Lion King, the music, particularly the song ‘He Lives in Us.’ She was singing it over and over and over and over. She saw that song from a very spiritual point of view. And another play we enjoyed was Aida. She loved Aida. Aida was very different. We did see that here in Philadelphia. I think it was Walnut Street if I’m not mistaken. Then we saw Beauty and the Beast. She enjoyed Beauty and the Beast. We also saw concerts such as there was a lady could sing like Mahalia Jackson, and so the play, I think it was called ‘Mahalia,’ so we went to see that in person. James Cleveland was another gospel singer that she loved and I loved. We went to see that play. We also saw most of the plays in Lancaster, PA. Lancaster, PA Sight and Sound Theater, that has religious plays based on the Bible, so we enjoyed those plays too. But, next Wednesday is the anniversary, it will be six years.
One thing we did, I’m originally from West Philadelphia, and when I was a young lady, about six or eight, a little girl, we would go to a place called a Jamaica Inn in West Philadelphia. There we would have my favorite meal, which was egg foo young. While dining there, I would hear in the background Diana Ross’ music. Diana Ross for example the song ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ and that era. Diana Ross- I mean the Supremes. That was before she became Diana Ross. So, I decided, long story short, to recreate next week. I want to have egg foo young, and play Diana Ross on YouTube and then maybe play some of the music from the showtunes of Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, et cetera and Aida of course. And I thought I would remember her in a way that was uplifting and just kind of recreate some the things that we did and enjoy. And I guess that’s what I love about my mother. She was always going to, I mean she always took me to Ice Follies when Ice Follies were popular, a circus when a circus was in town. Whatever was in town, or the zoo, of course we went there a million times, but whatever was in town or a play or some cultural event, my mother would be sure to take me. And I enjoyed that part of her, and that’s the part of I want to recreate next Wednesday, God willing. That’s all.

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

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

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Clothes (Ann and José)

Last Tuesday, José came in wearing a very sharp outfit. After everyone at Best Day complimented him, he explained that he got the cool duds from an in-law who was downsizing. I'm no stranger to shopping at thrift stores, and finding really cool outfits there, and this particular story reminded me of one of Ann's about the memories held in her clothes. You can read that, and a bonus story from José, below:

Ann von Dehsen

07.27.2021

Fabric Memories

It is true that objects hold memories I look around my apartment and remember who gave me this, where I was when I bought that, the joy I felt when my daughter gave me a Buddha statue that I had admired weeks before when with her in Chinatown and the anger I felt when my then husband very loudly contested my purchase of a painting at an outdoor starving artist show in Key West. The painting still resides in my apartment; obviously he does not.
Last week I decided to pull out my under-the-bed-storage box containing dresses, suits and more formal wear that I hadn’t worn for years and due to aging skin in certain places, probably never will. It was time to make a donation pile. But very quickly, it became apparent that memories were also woven into the fabric of these garments. The first clothing group was serious conservative work clothes- nice suits, dresses and wool skirts. Usually when I wore these, it was to present back-to-school-night, parent/teacher IEP conferences, or an occasional presentation at a workshop or convention so these clothes brought back anxious memories and were easy to put into the donation pile.
The next group was funeral clothes- 2 dresses and one suit. They were all dark but they also all had a small amount of color trim and lightness. I decided to keep them not because they hold the dark memory of funerals but because they also hold the light and happy memories of my parents and several friends who died way too soon.
Now onto the happy box- it contained clothes that I’ve worn to happy, fun occasions- vacations, birthday brunches, wedding and baby showers, casual dates. There was one dress with a memory that made me laugh out loud as I pulled it from the box. It was a simple, short V neck, sleeveless dress that was completely reversible. One side was black, and the reverse was a gray and white geometric print. I wore the back side on a dinner date with a man who was very nice but had a somewhat boring and myopic personality. To liven things up, I went into the ladies’ room between courses and quickly flipped that dress to the geometric print side to see what my date’s reaction would be. Well actually there was no reaction until the waiter finally whispered to me, “How did you put on a new dress so quickly?” Anyway, I kept a few dresses from this pile and finally decided to donate the reversible hoping some other woman might pull the same trick.
And finally, my last 2 dresses…. Mother of the bride, both as different in style as my 2 daughters are. For one, after many days of shopping finally found an expensive dress in Nordstrom. For the other more casual wedding, I actually found a dress in a Media consignment shop for $20. I got more compliments on the $20 one than the Nordstrom extravaganza. Of course I kept these 2 dresses that held such picturesque wedding images.
So back under the bed went my storage box, holding a considerably lesser amount of clothes. I keep these clothes in hopes that if someday I am funning short of memories these garments might trigger a few.

José Dominguez

02.11.2021

Refleccion Vestido: A Dress Dissonance and a "Poor Man's Body"

After Maria’s death all her clothes packed in boxes ended as a present to our dear friend Dora who was, and still is, in tremendous economical distress. Among those garments there was one related to a petit family affair that I kept imprinted in my neurons.
The mentioned dress was the one Maria used in Ponchos’ wedding back in 2009. In a previous trip of the couple to Juarez, Sasha asked us about the way we were going to dress for the celebration; Maria showed her a green dress that she believed was appropriate for the occasion and told her that I was going to use a black suit and the issue was settled. After Sasha returned to Philadelphia; days later Maria’s affluent friend gave her several very fine clothes. One of them fitted her body exactly as if it was made specifically for her. I told her that dress was better to be used at the wedding than the option previously pointed to Sasha; she agreed and I decided also to change for a light color since the formality will be in summer. At the wedding day we faced a disaster; the in laws were not so happy about our appearance; Maria’s color dress was very similar to Sasha’s mother dress; my suit was almost the same color as Myron’s. We noticed several not verbalized signs of discontent; providentially the day ended full of happy memories that diminished our wedding protocol transgression. the damage was done and satisfyingly it didn’t become a family tragedy.
Later, looking in the internet I found a rule that we violated: (speaking about groom’s parents) ” You should opt for a different color than the bridesmaid dresses and mother of the bride dress”. Years had passed after the wedding etiquette incident. Now, living in Poncho’s house I find myself in a new world of experiences oriented mostly by the here and now. Related to the way I dress I can say that I have learned to prioritize weather protection instead of good looking. The result was expending less in garments instead of making an investment on image pampering. In that venue almost all my clothes were Ponchos’, and successfully they are suited for the climate demands and to my body size. Joking with Poncho I told him that I have a poor man's body because everything suits me.
Fortunately, here, in the USA I have entered in a new world; now I have less money than ever but, at the same time, I have, as ever, a far diminished interest on money. That simplicity of life did not begin in Philadelphia. Just arriving to America in December 2012 Maria put me in touch with big stores of secondhand clothes. The Mexico I left behind, or, more properly, the Jose I left behind, was more embedded into class ideology, and I, as a beneficiary of the system, shared and cherished consciously or unconsciously some ideas that gave me advantage and comfort; one of those was about the use of pre-owned clothes; in some upper class mentality to buy not new clothes will be perceived as a decline in status since only poor people will do that. Here in US we found a culture more open and rationally oriented to recycle and to use resources properly; such way of thinking helped people, as me, that do not have enough money or do not want to spend it unwisely. As my brother Ramon said, I was born again, we ended spending much less money in clothes and at the same time did not accept social pressure to live a good life.
After three years of being legal residents we were invited to share our lives with Beatriz and Alex who happen to live in Houston. We moved to their apartment that was located in a large and fine building in League City, Texas. Just want to mention that the garbage service was very efficient and clean. Tenants had several large containers available were to put the waist. One morning I took my trash bag and went to the public container. My surprise was when I found a neat white long sleeve shirt hanging to the metal structure. It was covered with plastic and ready to be used. I interpreted that someone wanted to make me a present. I took the shirt and it fitted perfectly to my poor man's body…

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

 

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

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Before She Gets Famous (Carolyn)

I got a message from older bud Carolyn announcing her move to a critique group of writers, publishers and editors. She's working on her memoir right now and hoping to get it published. And today's blog post is all about Carolyn, in honor of her development as a writer, and in anticipation of her future as a published memoirist. Y'all can say you knew her before she got famous!

Carolyn Boston

10.31.2021

Nature's Gift from Fairmount Park

Deer Park. Fiji, Perrier, Aquafina, Dasini, Poland, Voss - when you hear the names of these popular brands, what comes to mind? Yes! Spring Water! Many of these famous brands claim to be pure as a mountain stream. The bottled water from these companies is not free and the money they make from selling their water products has created an industry worth millions (if not billions combined) of dollars.
Now, what if I told you that in the 1940's
an endless flow of uncontaminated, unadulterated, fresh running stream of pure, clear Spring Water was free to the public in Fairmount Park? That's right. Families would bring their own jugs (as many as they wanted) to the designated fountain. All people needed to do was turn on the spigot/faucet and fill their jugs until they overflowed. The Spring water was free. Imagine that!
Once a week my father would load the back of his car and trunk with as many jugs as possible. I cannot recall if people purchased the jugs at the local hardware store or not. Sometimes the neighbors would hand my father their jugs and ask him to fill them for them. I always accompanied my dad when he drove to Parkside Avenue to get water. I would help out by turning the spigot on and off when the jugs were full. I was very young and to me that job was a big deal.
I still see the fountain in the park where we got our "free water". I always look for it. However, if you didn't know what to look for, you would definitely miss it. The fountain is almost invisible, resting close to the curb and sitting in a small recess not too far from the street. The fountain's water supply was cut off of course, and it remains disguised surrounded by an abundance of greenery.
During the 1940's horse troughs were located in many spots throughout the city. They were filled with the same spring water and had a faucet on them as well. I remember that a horse trough stood directly across the street from where my family and I were living. I have not seen a remnant of any of any of the horse troughs, however, that does not mean that one or two may still be in existence hidden somewhere in the park.
Mother Nature and Fairmount Park gave (in abundance) free pristine water to everyone
in the community who needed drinking water. My personal opinion is that no bottled water in 2021 will be able to capture the clean pure taste of the spring water my family and I drank from the fountain at Fairmount Park in the 1940's. I said it. I believe it and that settles it!
If you wish to learn more: Google "Many Philadelphians Drank Spring Water From The Tap In Fairmount Park". (Facebook)
Google "Fairmount Park 1943 Spring Water."

Carolyn Boston

07.09.2020

The Value of Life

I just was reflecting today about how grateful I am to be alive. And during this pandemic I've had time to reflect on what life is about and what the purpose of life is. And how much I value life, and how precious it is to me and how fleeting it can be.
I reflect mostly on my mortality and the mortality of others and it is a glare in all of our lives. We realize how dangerous others can be with their lives. If you don't know the purpose of a thing you'll abuse it, and that's a quote from a pastor that I knew years ago. And I see so many people abusing their lives. I also see there's a tremendous amount of fear, a thread, maybe a cord, not a thread, but a cord a fear that is running through all of this nation and literally the world because of this pandemic.
Before this pandemic we used to think about if there was a death in the family or if we had a funeral to go to of a friend or a co-worker, we thought about those things, we thought about death when we attended those funerals. But when we left we went back to our lives and we didn't think about death that much. However, now with this pandemic we not only hear about it but we see it every single day. And then there are issues with murders, violence ending in death and suicides, sickness ending in death.
So every day I know myself, I think about my mortality as I am sure many others do. Death has never been more present or real in our lives now. I believe that the bizarre and erratic behavior of other people that we see on television, they're acting out of the fear of the unknown because they don't know what's coming. They don't know what's going to be. So, that fear has fueled a lot of bizarre and erratic behavior of the people that I've seen on tv.
Those that are congregating in clusters and not wearing masks and not wearing their gloves and just taking, it appears that they are taking everything in light of the pandemic in I remember very clearly seeing a young man say, “Well if I die, I die.” And I thought about the quote of one of our famous forefathers and one of the things he said was "Give me liberty or give me death.” So, when I hear people say “Well, my liberty is being taken from me because I have to wear a mask and I am an American.” And I thought about that quote, “give me liberty or give me death,” because many may end up in death. But they've chosen liberty. So I see this so much and some have put their heads in the sand and said, “There's nothing going on and I'm going to continue to do as I did before.” But nothing is the same anymore and it never will be. We have to embrace the fact that all the changes we're going through are going to be with us for quite some time and they are going to evolve into something I think perhaps even better especially with the technology. But with the fear of death, with the fear of dying, if we don't know why we're here what the purpose is for our lives, what we need to be doing to help others to strive to not be selfish as we are in this country, and that's my personal opinion, and be arrogant about it. It’s not gonna get us to wholeness, it’s not going to get us to unity. And I have gotten up everyday and been frustrated and I would not sleep because my concern for the people that have gone out and just behaved as if it were 2 years ago. It isn’t; those days are gone.
So we're living, the most important thing is to live in the real, to stay in the moment and understand this is real and we will get through it. but we have to be focused on what can we do to help other people live. So we're living in a very perilous time but what we decide to do, the decisions we make, will make a difference in other lives.

Carolyn Boston

07.30.2020

Tranquility

My back and shoulders sink into a relaxed position. The air around me is a soft whispering breeze that brushed the back of my neck, and I melted into a transformed mellow state. My breath exhaled from my lips. Then, I no longer feel the tightness in my chest from holding in my breath from nervousness. The trees are waving their leaves ever so quietly in a wispy dance. I watch them and appreciated their gracefulness. Huge, gliding puffy clouds, pregnant with sunshine and dazzling white light came down to kiss the scene. I said to myself, “I wish I could recreate this magnificent sight on canvas,” because the beauty of the sight was awe-inspiring. The sea was silent and calm; it looked like polished glass. The clouds floated across its surface in slow motion. The sea displayed tricolors of aquamarine, topaz, and lapis. My breath was no longer laboring and the rhythm of my chest almost came to a standstill. My senses gave me permission to be quiet, motionless, and peaceful. Then I whispered to myself, under my breath, “This is where Heaven meets Earth. This is tranquility.”

When I was a young kid, my father always took us to a place called League Island and it was so beautiful. And this is really what I was writing about, what I felt. I must’ve been about 10 years old, but I never forgot that beauty. So I did want to share it with everyone, and the whole purpose was to calm us down.

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

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

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Coffee or Tea? (Gloria and Eleanor)

America is very much a coffee country, and the teas Americans drink tend to be green teas or flavored teas or fancy fruit teas. You can get a decaf coffee anywhere in the states, but getting a decaf black tea isa lot harder. One barista even told me "I don't think that exists" when I asked if his cafe carried decaf black tea. And then a month or so ago, Gloria started writing stories about her favorite teas (a woman after my own heart) which reminded me of Eleanor's love of coffee. So reader, coffee or tea?

Gloria Nhambiu

11/30/2021

Tea and Thoughts

I am an early riser. I am up at 5:00 am every morning. Go down to the kitchen and put on a small saucepan of water for my morning tea. I drink all kinds of tea, but my favorites are green tea and red bush tea. Red bush tea comes originally from South Africa and has a mild, slightly woodsy taste. I drink my tea hot with no sugar or cream. My tea mug holds two and a half cups. I drink all of that while watching the morning news programs.
My husband wakes and comes down around 10:00 am. We each make our own breakfast. I usually have a sandwich while he has the traditional eggs, bacon, sausage and whatever else he can find. Since it’s just us, meals are not formal. There is plenty in the house since I buy too much when I shop but I no longer enjoy cooking.
Since the COVID shutdown we spend lots of time together, but meals are not at all formal. We eat while reading or talking or watching television. At least three times a day I have a mug of tea. I usually finish with a mug of green tea in the evening. While I love my teas my husband drinks sodas, mostly Cokes. We each have our own tastes and that works just fine for us after 57 years of marriage.

Gloria Nhambiu

12/21/2021

My Morning Tea

When I was a little girl, I remember the smell of coffee brewing in the morning. The smell went through the whole house. There probably was no such thing as instant coffee then. This was the 1940’s so I doubt there was instant anything. I never drank coffee even in my teens. Many of my classmates at Bennet College did drink coffee though.
I discovered coffee when I began working as a Clinic Aid at Einstein Southern Division. This was a small hospital at 5th and Reed streets in South Philadelphia. I was on the morning shift and worked from 7:00AM to 3:30PM. That meant I had to leave the house by 6:30 AM to catch the bus that got me to work by 6:50. I lived only 12 blocks from the hospital. Morning coffee became necessary to wake me up.
Over the years I tried many coffees mostly instant. Brewing took too much time. Tea was a rarity if it wasn’t iced. Then about 20 years again I discovered the world of what I call exotic teas. I found a red bush tea at Trader Joe’s, and I fell in love with it. When Trader Joe’s discontinued it, I began ordering it from Amazon. Everything can be bought on Amazon.
I also tried many exotic teas and now have at least a dozen kinds in my kitchen. But red bush has become my favorite. I ran out last week and with the help of another tea loving shopper, found that Acme supermarket carries a Rooibos tea native to South Africa.
That will hold me until my order of Rooibos tea comes via Amazon. By the way Rooibos means Red Bush in Afrikaans.

Eleanor Kazdan

~2012

A Lifelong Love Affair With Coffee

I think I first drank coffee when I was 17. It was instant coffee. When I was a child, the only time that my parents made coffee was when they had company. The pot percolated joyfully on the stove, awaiting their arrival. I seem to remember drinking instant coffee with my boyfriend when I was 17, with milk and a teaspoon of sugar.
When I was 19, my friend Kathy and I went to Europe and discovered coffee- real coffee. Actually, it was only me. Kathy already drank espresso with milk every morning. It was part of her Hungarian heritage. France, Spain, Austria, Italy- we felt very sophisticated drinking our café au lait. In France, from a bowl sometimes brought to our room on the fifth floor by the hotelier, big steaming bowls of coffee to wake us from our reverie of yesterday’s adventures.
When we got back to Toronto, Kathy and I continued to drink coffee on special days together at the coffee mill. I always ordered a cappuccino, savoring the moment the bitter liquid surfaced from the deliciousness of frothy milk, a moment of sensory awakening. Still, I never made coffee. Then, when I was 21, I met the love of my life. He lived in a room on a small street in Toronto and had very few possessions except a mattress, boxes of LP records- that’s very old-fashioned now- and a Melitta coffee maker. I soon learned the joys of grinding your own coffee, smelling the pungent aroma, and watching the hot liquid drip slowly into the pot.

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

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

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

Cookie Season (Ann)

We're halfway through cookie season, so Ann is regaling us with her own story of selling cookies as a Girl Scout:

Ann von Dehsen

02.08.2022

Cookie Time

When I started writing this, I was eating the last of my Thin Mints, still my favorite Girl Scout cookie so it took me back to my brief time as a Girl Scout. I did not enjoy cookie selling season. Back then cookies were sold door to door in January, and, in North Jersey, there was usually a good 3-6 inches of snow on the ground throughout the month. So, I’d bundle up in many layers, trudge through the snowy and often icy walkways to my neighbors’ front doors hoping I wouldn’t drop my pen in the snow or lose my order sheet to the cold winds.
Some of my fellow scouts told me their fathers sold the cookies at work. Great idea! Of course, my father would happily do it too! Wrong! When I asked him about it, he said “absolutely not, this is your job, it’s not my job. Sorry but it’s your responsibility.“
Wow, I was really not expecting that reply! So, at our next Girl Scout meeting, I was felling a little dejected as I listened to some of the girls’ (or fathers’) sale totals so far—my totals were far behind. Walking home in my Girl Scout uniform, I saw Mr. Esposito’s trash truck near our driveway. He always said hi to all the kids but today he stopped me and said “Wait, are you selling cookies? Me and the guys, we want some!” No problem I said as I whipped out that order sheet and within 5 minutes I had sold about 30 boxes to Mr. Esposito and his two workers. “My family, we just can’t get enough!” said Mr. Esposito as he hopped into his truck. With that shot of adrenaline, I walked right past my house and into another neighborhood where I sold several more boxes.
When it was time to report our final total sales, I was still behind the father daughter duos, but felt like I finally deserved my seat at the end of cookie season pizza party.

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

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

Curated by Caitlin Cieri

To Stay or Start Again (José and Eleanor)

Valentines' Day was this Monday, and that got me thinking about how love changes when you get older. How do you keep the fire alive when the honeymoon period ends? How do you know when a relationship is over? How can you find a new relationship after losing the love of your life? These older buds, with their years of wisdom, are more than happy to answer some of our questions about love:

José Dominguez

04.01.2021

My search for love in the internet

“Why don’t you get marriage again Pepe?” asked Lolita, a 6 year old girl, in a family gathering at Houston Texas. I answered because: “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?” She insisted.
“Of dying in the intent of being at the level of the demands and expectations.” Lolita was confused by my answer but all the gown ups laughed. That marked my beginning of the search for a partner. The second happening related was to meet a truly happy couple in our Catholic Church who contracted an internet company to find a love partner, and they did. Thinking on the easiness of meeting people I decided to contract one of those companies to find me a couple.
Oh, it was an overwhelming experience! The first tip to increase the probability of success was to upload a good photo of myself. For that purpose I used a tripod and a camera timer to make several trials. The first was a straight shoot but it looked as passport photo. I turned my face to the right and somehow my face’s imperfections were exposed and I thought it was a negative PR effort. Then I turned my face to the left and the shadows appeared around my eyes and a remembered a horror picture about Dracula so I continue insisting. With glasses with no glasses. Smiling or serious. Looking up or looking down. I was tired of so much vanity that decided that my multifaceted personality was more or less touched by one of those silly photos and I thought that Photoshop will do the rest. Secondly I had to write something about me that communicated what kind of alien I was. So I simply wrote: “I don’t have too much demands to ask to the person I want to find, except to be as much human as she can be because it’s the only thing I can offer, a constant pursuit of humanism and that’s it.”
My next activity was to scan the many photos posted in the website, and after spending hours of concentrated effort decided to select as favorites a few of them. It was a weird feeling to select without to be in touch, but I didn’t create the system so I claimed as favorites 5 or 6 of them. But wait a minute, none of my selections prospered, none of my favorites asked more information. But I didn’t mind my Photoshop photo and my enigmatic plea of humanism created a big attraction of many ladies interested in my poor humanity. I received a lot of selections as favorite.
Next I began to read their expectations and I sensed their were out of my imagination. Many of them loved to cruise in the Mediterranean, in the Pacific islands, Bali, etc. Many others were action oriented and loved to ski at Aspen, Canada or Switzerland, most of them enjoyed to drink wine in fancy restaurants listening romantic music, other included to dance modern music. Others loved to share their vital spaces with dogs, cats, birds, plants, fishes, etc., several indicated that loved to be passionately kissed at the light of the moon until the sunrise. I was in shock! How am I going to cruise in the Mediterranean Sea if I need my SEPTA Senior Id Card to transit in Philadelphia? How am I going to eat lobster and champagne if I always leave home with my lunch and tea in my bag because I can’t afford to expend money (thank God that the Senior Center give me the chance to eat for free). How can I go skiing in the mountain if walking in the streets of Philly is per se a challenge and a treat to my security and well being? How am I going to stay awake kissing a lady for hours until the sunrise when it happens that at 9 or 9:30 PM I’m not included among the awaked population? No, no, surely I was overwhelmed by those profiles.
Alas I was very seriously reprehended by an offended lady who marked me as favorite and who I decided to ignore, so she texted me: “You are not conscious that I selected as favorite so perfect idiot”, she wrote. Well, I thought at least she found a kind of perfection in me. But please don’t think I was playing as a total passive and indifferent observer. I was in contact to several ladies but after I tried to answer their questions about me the contact was ended. One asked the books I like to read and I submit my modest repertoire and that was it. Another asked my life’s goal and I answered that my goal was to have no goal. An exception was a very religious lady to whom I decided to cut any relationship because her strong religious feelings could confront us on serious matters as the eternal life. Looking my statistics, my fans were diminishing by the day surely because my poor flirtatious skills so I canceled my membership to the website. They asked for the reason and I told them that I have found what I was looking for, which was absolutely true.

I become totally sure that it was better to continue with my normal life with no struggle over having the proper, perfect or convenient companionship. The only condition would be to be authentic and honest the rest would be tanks to the law of the consequences, to my karma or to the will of God. 

Eleanor Kazdan

12.21.2021

Love Letters

I was fortunate to meet the love of my life when I was 21, we have now been married for 50 years. I’m not sure either of us fully appreciated each other or the amazingness of what we had in the beginning. I suppose it’s hard not to be a bit blasé in one’s early twenties. We had frequently been apart for periods of time — Gary went to week-long science conferences and I occasionally went on choir tours — and I welcomed those times as opportunities to feel more independent.
In 1976, when we had been married for about five years, we had a two and a half month separation. We had moved to England with the idea of living there. Gary was going to get a job and I was going to pursue my singing career. It didn’t work out the way we had hoped, and Gary decided to return to Toronto to finish his studies. After much thought I decided to stay in London for a few months to continue my musical studies. I would live with my aunt and uncle in the suburbs.
Communication in those days wasn’t what it is now! There were no cell phones, no computers, and telephoning was astronomically expensive. So we wrote letters, knowing it would take about five days for the other person to receive them. We were both lonely and missed each other terribly. We spoke on the phone once a week for five minutes. Our feelings for each other were intensified by being apart. So began two months of incredible letters, many pages long, filled with longing, loneliness, as well as details of our daily lives and personal struggles. We wrote almost every day. I have kept all those letters and hadn’t looked at them for many years. Recently I dug them out of the fireproof box, trying to piece together some family drama when I was in London and Gary was staying with my family. I found what I was looking for, and I began to read those many letters. What a blessing and a gift it is to still have them. Gary and I have begun to read some of them aloud to each other. There are so many details of that time that have been forgotten. And there they are in those letters from long ago.

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

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

Curated by Caitlin Cieri