Day of the Girl (José & Diane)

Coming up next is the seventeenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, International Day of the Girl.

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:

José Dominguez

10/11/2022

Beatriz's Feedback With Consequences

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. 

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. 

“Well and what about?” I said. 

"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." 

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!”

And we disappeared forever.

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 17" by Diane Richardson:

Diane Richardson

07.19.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 17

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about the strength of women, 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

Change of Space, Change of Pace (Ann & Diane)

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.

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:

Ann von Dehsen

02.18.2021

Ultra Coffee House

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.

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.

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby, Part 16" by Diane Richardson:

Diane Richardson

07.12.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 16

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.
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.
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.
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.
To Be Continued.....

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about changing places or spaces, or even run-ins with the mafia, 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

Neighborhood (Eugene and Diane)

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. 

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.

Onto Eugene's story:

Eugene Charrington

03/27/2020

The Happiest Day of My Life

The happiest day of my life was the day when I and my best 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.
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 Philly with Doug who remained quiet, very quiet as we drove south 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.
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.

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 15” by Diane Richardson.

Diane Richardson

07/05/2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 15

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.
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).
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.
To Be Continued

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about your neighborhood, 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

Domestic Bliss (José and Diane)

Coming up next is the fourteenth part to Diane Richardson’s “When I Met My Hubby.” But first, relationships.

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:

José Dominguez

02.15.2022 

Olvidos

“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.
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.
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.

 

We now return to our continuing story, “When I Met My Hubby, Part 14” by Diane Richardson.

Diane Richardson

06.28.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 14

 

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.
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.”
To Be Continued…….

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about domestic life, 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.

Happy National Hispanic Heritage Month! 

Curated by Caitlin Cieri  

The End of the Beginning (Ann and Diane)

Coming up next is the thirteenth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." And things are starting to get serious.

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!

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:

Ann von Dehsen

02.25.2021

My First Divorce

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.
While I fed bottles to our two baby doll children Timmy would ride around and indoor riding toy
pretending to be going to work and then ride home quickly when I was making a pretend dinner
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 hair. He gave me a chunky cut as he cut big chunks all around my hair 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 hair in the art room and that some kids have been cutting hair 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 hair” 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.”
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

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby: by Diane Richardson, Part 13":

Diane Richardson

06.07.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 13

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.
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?”
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?”
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.
To be continued … 

If you want to transcribe for Best Day, then email us at info@bestdayofmylifesofar.org. You can also share our older buds' adventures by donating to Best Day, subscribing to our newsletter, sending a note to our older buds, or following us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. And if you or the older buds have any stories about the beginnings and ends of relationships, 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

Labor (Gloria and Diane)

Coming up next is the twelfth part to Diane Richardson's "When I Met My Hubby." But first, Happy Belated Labor Day!

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:

Gloria Nhambiu

07.26.2022

The Convenience of an Automobile

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.
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.
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.
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.
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. 

We now return to our continuing story, "When I Met My Hubby: by Diane Richardson, Part 12:

Diane Richardson

05.31.2022

When I Met My Hubby Part 12

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.
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.”
To Be Continued…

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Curated by Caitlin Cieri