FUN, FRIENDS, and OFF TO BLACKSTONE

Our trip to Maui was just one of many through the years with our friends, Frankie and Ray, during the 80’s.  We also had the pleasure of meeting other members of their family and to this day, remain good friends.  Sollie and I had not had many good friends as couples after we married and moved away from our home town.  There is nothing more precious than good friends, especially when you are in a new area.  We were in new areas often.  There is a difference between acquaintances, friends, and good friends.    Thank God, we were richly blessed with all three through the years.

Our travels together took us to San Francisco, where we spent a week sightseeing and touring, and making memories together.  Alcatraz, China Town, Fisherman's Wharf, Wine Vineyards, Ghirardelli Chocolate Factory, and the Redwood forests were all dazzling to us country folks.  Hanging on riding the famous cable car from Union Square to Knob Hill and a show with the “man himself”, Tony Bennett singing “I Left My Heart,” were also highlights to remember. 

Through the years, we spent several days in Orlando, Nashville, Washington, DC, and just about every summer, we rented a condo in the Destin/Ft. Walton beach area where we sunned, played golf, and swam in those pristine waters of the Gulf.  In the fall, we spent one week-end every year in Cashiers, North Carolina,  where we rented the same cabin every year overlooking the beautiful valley and mountains beyond.  Each place, each condo and each trip was spent sharing laughs, meals, shopping, reading, and just enjoying our good friendship.  I might throw in here, that being from different political parties never entered our discussions. Not even once.  We simply had fun together and it was a given that each couple shared expenses when buying supplies or eating out.  I have a few funny stories from those trips.  I may share with you on another post, but not this one.

By 1993, a new job was calling Sollie’s name in Blackstone, Virginia.   Our daughter was living with us at the time, so we left the house in her charge, and rented a furnished apartment in Blackstone where we became instant and forever friends with the owners, the Sheffields.  The Olympics were due in Atlanta the next year, and I began to hear about homes being rented for that time in the area.  Since we lived within a few miles of the Equestrian events, it occurred to me that we might rent our home and pick up some extra money.  So, I tried to figure out a way to do it successfully, but at the same time, control who it was rented to.  I made a deal with Teresa that she could live there until the games but that I would rent it out if I could, and then place the house on the market.

Sollie’s job took him to the main office of his company located in Englishtown, New Jersey.  Occasionally, I went along for the ride to do some junking and antiquing.  Englishtown is a big area for horse lovers and there was a tack shop in the village.  I took along some photos of our house and proceeded to venture down to the shop to try my luck, asking if the owner might be coming to Atlanta for the games.  He wasn’t, but offered to let me post the pictures along with the information on his local bulletin board.  Within a short time, I had a call from someone who wanted to rent the house.  Bingo! 

The following months were spent getting the house ready for rental and to put on the market for sale.  Everything proceeded as planned without a glitch.   Teresa bought a house, our house rented, and our house sold.    Providential?  Indeed.

ALOHA MAUI!

Life wasn’t all bad.    After a while, you pick yourself up, pull up your big girl panties, brush yourself off, and carry on.  Fortunately for me, I had a wonderful support group of church friends, personal friends, and a family who loved me back into reality.   I now had confidence in the fact that no matter what, everything would turn out in accordance with God’s plan for my life.   

Sollie was still commuting to Milwaukee and about the only good that came from that as far as I was concerned, was that he accumulated an enormous amount of frequent flyer miles which allowed us to travel to places we had only dreamed of.  Our dear friends, Frankie and Ray were our constant companions and “partners in crime.” 

We planned our trip for months to Maui with them and finally the big day came when we flew out of Atlanta, first class, mind you, on Continental Airlines headed to our condo on the shores of the beautiful beach in Kihei on the island of Maui.  Not a week before our flight, Aloha Airlines (which we were booked on from LA to Honolulu and on to Maui) had a plane that lost a door in mid-flight and that very plane greeted us, shrouded, and under investigation on the tarmac in Maui.    I tried not to look.

Since Frankie and Ray flew a different airline, they had arrived earlier and had picked up the rental car and some maps and off we went to our condo.  We were not disappointed!  We could look right out from our balcony to see the locals harvesting some coconuts and beyond that, the most beautiful blue water I have ever seen in my entire life.   Ray immediately proceeded to the coconut guys who were up the tree, and begged a coconut for our Pina Colada's,  which we had worked up a real appetite for,  by this time.  Oh, what a sight!  We were giddy with gratitude for our good fortune with our accommodations and of course, the Pina Colada's added to our excitement!  Fresh coconut, fresh pineapple - it doesn't get any better than that.  We spread out all our literature and Ray, who was always designated as our “tour director” made the plans for the next few days. 

For seven days, we crammed in everything we could.  We visited the local villages along the coast with their beautiful old banyan trees where the oldest banyan in the world grows in Lahaina.  We lunched at the piers which had yachts and boats belonging to the rich and famous.  The family owned, Kula Botanical Garden with its wooden stairs tucked into the hills, made our leg muscles and our “buns” burn, but the display of 2,000 species of indigenous flora and fauna was breathtaking. 

One day, we got up early so we could make the trip to Haleakala National Park to witness the sunrise at the enormous crater and volcano.  It was worth every minute of my having to arise before sun up, which I don’t do very well.   Frankie and Ray and Sollie kept me laughing every mile of the way with hilarious antics and stories.  And “stories” they were!

Of course, no trip to Maui is complete without a Luau, and that nasty tasting poi which is a Polynesian staple made from underground plant stems of the Taro plant.   We picked the event that the owner of our condo recommended and were greeted by girls in grass skirts giving us leis which were made of shells.  The waiters brought us Mai Tai’s and hors d’oeuvres   Then the Kalua Pua’a (roasted pig in a ground pit) was placed on the huge buffet, along with just about anything you could imagine, including the nasty poi which tasted like bland hominy poured from a blender.   Then the hula girls took to the stage.    

There is no way in the world for me to describe the hilarious antics of Sollie and Ray, when the grass skirted girls invited them to the stage to have a few lessons in the art of Hula dancing.   These guys alone, were kind of bashful, but if you put the two of them together, on stage in front of hundreds of people, they showed no shyness at all.  They were movie stars!  They were all eyes when showed just how to swerve their hips and sway.  The harder they tried, the funnier it got, and they brought the house down.  

The road to Hana is truly one of indescribable beauty.  The black, red and white beaches were beautiful against a background of blue water like I’ve never seen before or since.  Occasionally we got out of the car and walked through a rain forest, or to a waterfall, or to a look-out over the ocean.  There were mango trees that lined some sections of the road and they fell like apples from a tree.    The waterfalls were sometimes tucked back into rocks with clear pools of water below and the rain forests are exactly that.  It rains inside them because of the humidity.   A bad hair day is a given if you go there.

After our exciting week, we boarded our separate planes and headed home.  Sollie and I had an interesting young lady sitting across from us who was dead drunk and had a little cassette player and with earphones plugged.  Tears were streaming down her face, but she made no sounds.   We sat there whispering to each other trying to imagine what was distressing her so.  She'd had a death in the family?  She's been jilted by her boyfriend?  She was sad to be leaving Maui?   Once in the air, she ordered more Mimosa's, which just added to the show for us.  She continued to cry and drink until she passed out cold and missed her destination in Honolulu!  It was another hilarious event to add to our memory book of the trip to paradise!

MY "COME TO JESUS' MEETING

At one phase of life or another, most all of us come to a point in life where we need to have a "Come to Jesus" meeting with ourselves.  For someone who had always been in control of every situation that arose, I found myself completely out of control of everything.  My life seemed to be a failure at everything I had tried to do for those most important to me.  I no longer could reign in my children and prove to them what I felt, in my heart, was right and good for their future.  I couldn't fix their problems, no matter how I tried.  Although I hated moving, I could not predict that next year I would live in the same house, be able to grow a garden, become involved in activities, and commit myself to anything permanent.   For whatever reasons, I had built a wall of resentment and hurt around myself and vowed to never let anything or anyone ever hurt me again.    I had to have my meeting. 

My wonderful doctor in Atlanta knew I was in trouble.  He encouraged me to seek counseling and guidance from a psychiatrist, but made me promise that I would allow him to find me the best doctor he could locate in the whole metro area.  I wasn't disappointed in his choice.  A lovely woman, near my same age, who changed my future and my outlook in life forever. 

It's important to get to know ourselves first.  Otherwise, how can you possibly assist others.  A regime of weekly appointments, reading about controlling factors, and finding appropriate medication followed.  I learned that, no matter what, I was not going to be able to change the future for anybody.  I learned it wasn't important if everything didn't match when I served a meal to guests, or had sterling silver flatware, or if the dishes weren't washed and put away immediately; that my own health was primary; that I needed to explore outside activities that pleased me, not everyone else.   And most of all, I learned to laugh and I wasn't a bad parent or wife, after all, but I was an enabler because I cared so much I needed to control.

My "Come to Jesus" meeting about myself and my outlook on life, changed my future.  It took some time, but eventually I was back on the map and there for whoever needed me and asked, but I now knew my limitations and where to draw the line in the sand regarding behavior.

BRIGHT LIGHTS TO DESPAIR

• Leaving the hills and coal country of eastern Kentucky after only one year, we returned to Rockdale County where we purchased a small home in the city limits of Conyers, near work and schools.  We were battered, but we were not broken.   Down, but not out.  We immediately went to work getting re-established and rebuilding our confidence and self-esteem that comes after bankruptcy and financial loss.  Sollie worked for a local plastics manufacturing company and I went to work in the big city of Atlanta at a large real estate firm in Peachtree Center.

Tim was discharged from the Army, came home, got a job and soon found a girl he loved and we had a small marriage ceremony for them at home.   The marriage ultimately failed in a few months.     Jim and Cathy moved to Conyers, where they both found jobs right away and soon bought a nice little home.   It wasn’t long before we found we were going to be grandparents!    Teresa was in high school. 

Commuting daily to Atlanta, gave me an opportunity to explore life in the fast lane – literally.   My daily commute to Atlanta gave me a time to pray while I drove in, and reflect on the day,  on my drive home.  I loved my job, felt like a real city girl in my carefully chosen business suits and high heeled shoes.  I shopped at Rich's, Davison’s and other favorite stores for bargains on my lunch hour or after work.    The office staff in our firm would go out together for lunch several times a week at the great restaurants nearby.   The bosses, all VP’s of the firm, would take us to lunch at high end places like the Capitol City Club, Hugo’s, Nikoli’s Roof, and Midnight Sun.  At Christmas, we had large parties in the beautiful Westin Hotel ball room , special events in our conference room, and I participated in the planning and execution of these as part of my job administration and personnel staffing.   We had all the local movers and shakers for special cocktail parties to celebrate opening of a new industrial or retail complex.   We celebrated "Light Up Atlanta" in Peachtree Center - a first for the city.  It was an exciting, almost fantasy world for me, since I had never been exposed to the city life and bright lights.  I had a lot to learn about life in the city and never felt comfortable dining with the executives, but it was just part of the life of most downtown firms in Peachtree Center.  I got a tremendous amount of valuable experience and was very happy with my career. 

No matter how late I got home in the evenings after my commute, I would always arrive home before Sollie.  His job was paramount and he worked late hours, leaving home early and returning late, but for the most part, he worked nearby so he didn’t have to commute.   I would come home after work and prepare our supper and usually Teresa and I would eat alone.   If she had any extra curricular activities, I attended alone.    Looking back, I know that time of my life could have been better spent at home, taking part in the life of my daughter who needed my guidance during a time in her life when peer pressure and social issues were at their height.   I didn’t spend nearly enough time being a Mother.  Perhaps it would have made her life easier.  Perhaps not.     Hind sight is 20/20.  

Since my Mom has recently turned 70, we jointly decided she should sell the family home and retire from her beauty shop forever.   Sollie and I bought a home with a basement “in-law” suite, but Mom decided she wouldn’t be happy with country life and we moved in our newer home giving us additional space to store some of her furniture.  We located a new “high rise” retirement home just opening in Covington, so Mom moved from Swainsboro to Covington Square.  It was not a difficult decision for her to make.  She was ready for a change and was anxious to start a whole new life at 70 years old.   She fit right in with the residents and was located right in downtown near everything she could hope for.   The very first week, determined to go to church, she promptly fell and broke her ankle in the vestibule, before we had even unpacked all the boxes.    Surgery and hospitalization followed and then on to rehabilitation in Decatur followed by weeks in a wheel chair with me driving from Atlanta to Covington to check on Momma, go home to prepare our meals, do laundry, etc., and fall into bed.   

Sollie was now working in Milwaukee, WI as Plant Manager of a large plastics manufacturing company, and came home every other week-end.    He was a happy camper taking on a brand-new challenge, head on.  Since I wouldn’t agree to move to Milwaukee, he was a real absentee husband and father now.  Some week-ends, I would fly to Milwaukee to spend the week-end with him at his apartment in the hotel near Lake Michigan.  We had a week together and drove down to Chicago, took in some museums, and later drove to Door County, a beautiful spot in the upper part of the state right on the Lake.   Life seemed good.

But, by the middle of the 80’s, life at home was becoming dark.   I had already decided to stop the madness of commuting, and found a local position with a developer and enjoyed the extra hours of sleep.    I wanted some time for myself to enjoy the things I had always hoped to do, but couldn't, because of my work schedule.  Without going into private details, a series of events led to personal despair, depression, and downright gut wrenching agony.  I thought I would die.  I wanted to die.  Nothing seemed to be working the way I had planned for my life and family.  I longed for a life of peaceful existence and harmony.  I cried buckets of tears.  I prayed.  I cried more tears.   What did I do to deserve the hurt, grief and misery?  Stress, pressure, and sadness dominated.  How could I keep going?  

Last Goodbye

While I talked to a stranger in the hall, the doctor came in.  It couldn't have been more than five or ten  minutes.  We had already waited a couple of hours as he dozed in the hospital bed waiting for the procedure he had hoped would help with the misery of pain and embarrassment.    Many men suffer from prostate problems and we were hopeful this would be the answer to prayers for a chance at normalcy in his daily life and maybe we could take a little road trip to visit the kids.  Other procedures and drugs had not helped. 

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When I looked down the hall and saw the entourage rolling his bed out, I hurried back down the hall and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, "I love you.  See you later."  He smiled, said "love you too,"  and was whisked away into the operating room. 

The following 36 hours were the hardest of my life.  In disbelief,  I was told he was intubated and would be going to ICU where, hopefully, he would be taken off the intubation tomorrow.    Precautionary measure.  My mind  whirled.   The doctor is trying to explain what happened and kept repeating, "does that make sense?"   "No, it doesn't make sense!"   He offered to call my children to explain so I didn't have to, and they could hear it from him.  Complications.  Obscene visions plague my mind, but nothing to prepare me for the scene or outcome.

60 years of marriage,  plus another 10 or so,  for our childhood crushes,  have been annihilated by something horribly wrong.   The hours and days that follow are a blur of activity totally new to me.  So many details and so many decisions that must be made.   Friends called, family came,  Facebook messages written, food brought.  I operate on auto pilot.  Always the strong one.  The one who has always been in charge when duty called,  or in a crisis,  now is wandering around like a lost child in the night.  Wanting to comfort my children, and at the same time, wanting to be comforted, I stoically walked from room to room, thanked people, and tried to be hospitable to a house full of family and friends.

  

Every now and then, I think this is just a bad dream.    I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow and find him out in the sunroom  in his chair where he played his computer games,  watched squirrels, an occasional fox, and birds, or on the patio chatting and laughing with the neighbors.  

All through the years, he traveled sometimes two weeks at a time, or left for work long before I got up and came home many times after I had gone to bed, but I always knew it was temporary.  This time, he won't be coming home.  I miss him.   

SOMETIMES BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE

Being back on Georgia soil was a great feeling, although we would miss our friends in New Jersey.   We rented a nice house in Conyers on Old Salem Road, which at that time, was largely countryside.  Sollie set about trying to establish his consulting business, the boys were in Rockdale High School, and Teresa was enrolled in Flat Shoals Elementary.  We were living on savings until we could get established with jobs.   After a few months in the rental house, we were able to purchase a home in Conyers, on a street where we would meet more of the best friends of our lives,  Frankie and Ray.

We joined the Salem Methodist Church, just up the road, and quickly found a new network of friends there.  Sollie was involved with the Men's Club and I, as I had always done, sang in the choir.   .  The church had a great youth program and I helped drive them around to sing Christmas Carols, cooked spaghetti, and got to know the other parents during the many outings.  The kids got involved with the youth group and my boys agreed, reluctantly, to be soldiers in their Easter program and they did a great job!  Our next door neighbors, who were fairly new to town, joined the church as well. 

It wasn't long before it became apparent that money was drying up and I had to get a regular job that would guarantee an extra income.  I went to work at the Clayton County Board of Education, in the Personnel Office, where our old school friend, Cliff Walton, was the Director of Personnel.  I had worked there briefly during the 60's and had the experience they needed for the job.   I commuted every day from Conyers to Jonesboro until a vacancy opened in Conyers with the Rockdale BOE and I was hired. 

Sollie and our next door neighbor, who had no experience in manufacturing, but had contacts with local banks, began to talk about going into the plastic recycling business. At that time, this was a totally new, and untouched area of the market with only two other companies in the United States doing recycling.   I'm very "security conscious" person about my "nest", and worried about putting our whole livelihood on the line in such a gamble.  I was petrified.  So,  we talked to our Minister, prayed together about it, and Sollie and his partner set out to beg, borrow, and steal enough money to commence their business with another leap of faith. 

There were people coming out of the woodwork who wanted to get in to the operation after our initial investment.   We found our fair share of shady characters who also promised the moon,  but were found to be not so reputable.  The local bank was skeptical, but agreed to wage their confidence in this new and upcoming business because of the increased volume of plastic goods in the world and the idea of recycling was brand new.    

The operation began with waste plastic yarn from carpet manufacturers and car batteries.  Hercules and Mobil Chemical were a couple of their suppliers.     The yarn waste sometimes came in huge, hard clumps of plastic and Sollie designed a large tub-like piece of equipment that would essentially work like a household blender and chop up the large chunks, breaking it down so it could be fed into the extruder, improving the operation down time.  He worked day and night.  Seven days a week, most of the time.   The next two years were definitely the most heart wrenching of our lives.     

Sol and his partner purchased used equipment because of the astronomical costs of new equipment and lack of big bucks needed for collateral.  It was either broken down, or didn't work at all, most of the time they were trying to produce a product.  They had business prospects running out the yazoo,  but couldn't stay in operation long enough to keep up with the orders.  One night,  an employee accidentally fell into the densifier , losing one of his legs.  Another time, Sollie was called at 3:00 am (a common occurrence) and while working in the electrical panel, his hand accidentally slipped, causing the panel to explode in his face.  He lost all the hair on his face and some from his head.  He face was badly burned and he drove home.  

He came in, woke me up telling me he was burned, and I jumped up, promptly fainting at the sight.  He picked me up, but while trying to find something to put on his burns, I fainted again and fell into the shower stall.  He picked me up again, and threw me on the bed, telling me to STAY!   Our son Jim, woke up and got him in the car and drove him to the hospital in Conyers.  The Emergency Room door was locked.  They couldn't get anyone to the door and had to then drive to Covington, to the hospital where he was treated and admitted.  He had nearly lost his eyesight.     After a couple of years trying to make it work, it was time to give it up.  We had to file bankruptcy.   Sollie and his partner went down to the plant and physically worked for days to produce enough product to sell to pay our lawyers to file our bankruptcy.  Personal tragedy seemed to multiply.

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It's amazing how many dishonest people can tag you when they think you're valuable to them.  We had our share during this time.  The final blow came when our attorney took the money we had paid him for filing the papers, somewhere around $1200, and we never heard from him again.   Just prior to the business closing, my Grandmother Elkins suffered a stroke in the nursing home.  At some point, she had been given a bath and scalded in a whirlpool tub and suffered 2nd degree burns on her buttocks and legs.  She could not speak, and ultimately was sent to the hospital, where she finally lost a foot and lower leg,  due to gangrene,  which set in because of infection from the burns. Two days after Granny was burned, my father, at age 62,  fell from the kitchen table, and died of an aortic aneurysm.   She died about three weeks later.  I believe she was about 82 years old at the time of her death.  

We managed to hire a personal friend, who was an attorney in Jonesboro, to file our bankruptcy but it meant another $800 we didn't have.  Our family life was in shambles and we had one son in college, one in high school and a middle school child.  We lost our home, a car, our main source of income, and a whole lot of dignity, but mainly we felt we had failed those who trusted us.  We had done everything we thought we were supposed to do, prayed about it, and had failed.  We had personally signed every bank note, and borrowed money from family.   We were as low as we could get.  Bad things do happen to good people. 

Sollie was immediately offered a job with Keller Industries, where he had begun the whole process of his career several years before, and we made our next move.  The hills and hollers of Williamsburg, Kentucky,  became our next home.    We were there only a year before they decided to close the plant down, but the good news is, that our son Jim met his future wife, Cathy, where she was an upcoming graduate of Eastern Kentucky College and they married just before we left Kentucky to head back to Conyers.  The 70's were coming to a close.   But, without all the bad stuff, we would not have our wonderful daughter in love and the beautiful grandchildren and great grandchild we have today.  I think it was a good trade.

I

MENDHAM'S LESSONS IN LIFE

Our years in Mendham gave us an opportunity to learn so much about people.  It was such a small area, yet it was right smack in the middle of so many opportunities for growth in mind and spirit.   The historical value of the area,  is one that is revered by the locals and you never see a home allowed to go into a state of disrepair that has anything of value to offer.  Mendhamites restored and repaired their homes and continued to raise their families where they were born and raised.  I don't know about now, but at the time we were there, schools were excellent.  They did not accept funds from the federal government and chose to run their educational system to reflect their needs and desires through taxation.  Money well spent.     Every child was treated the same way with respect to their abilities.   Crime was non-existent as far as we could tell.  Homes and cars were seldom locked.  Mothers looked out for all the neighborhood children and every home was always open to all of them.

The rolling hills between Mendham and Bernardsville were breathtaking!  The Roman Catholic Mallinckrodt Convent for the Sisters of Christian Charity sits high on a hill that overlooks the road below.   It was not uncommon to see the Sisters in town in full traditional religious habit.  There were churches of every denomination in the area.

As you continue on towards Bernardsville, there are mansions built in the Gothic Revival and Georgian styles that are indescribable.   Bernardsville Mountain was home to estates such as Peachcroft, Westover, Harmony Hollow, and Little Brook Farm.  Tall Oaks, a sprawling Georgian mansion was home to the swing era band leader, Tommy Dorsey, and was built in 1909.   Others, such as the George B. Post family and Mike Tyson have lived in the sprawling estates that line the road to Bernardsville.   A drive to Bernardsville from Mendam in the fall was simply breathtaking!

I can't remember how I became invited to join, but I became involved with the Espsilon Sigma Alpha or ESA, a philanthropical organization developed to provide assistance to established programs that serve human needs and produce new programs to improve the quality of life.  Our Chapter worked hard raising funds for St. Judes Childrens Hospital and I met some wonderful "sisters."  Through ESA, we were thrown into another circle of locals and enjoyed social events with them during our time there.

The boys were now either in, or approaching high school.  Teresa was still early elementary school, but we had some decisions to make about our future.  We were a long way from our parents, who were approaching their senior years.  With the end of the Vietnam war, Watergate scandal, sitting in gas lines to get a few gallons of gas, the bottom falling out of the real estate market and rise of interest rates,  along with the fatigue of a daily commute or week long business trips, we reluctantly decided to come back home to Georgia. 

Sollie had some business contacts and had gained a lot of experience.  He was well known throughout the plastic manufacturing industry as being one of it's best technical engineers.  So we hoped for the best and took that leap of faith.   We decided to locate in Rockdale County, another bedroom community of a metropolitan area where there were great schools and a small town atmosphere.   Although it was a growing community, it was safe and in close proximity to the airport.  United Van Lines was backing up to our door again.

It important for me to say, if there was discrimination against blacks, Jews, Hispanics, or any race, it was not obvious to anyone we knew.   It was a very diversified community with many different races and religions.  This little village, and the adjoining one of Brookside, in Mendham Township, represented the best of the best,  as far as we could tell.  They were the firemen, policemen, carpenters, shop keepers, and families who stuck together.  Proud people.  Good people.  Living here gave me the opportunity to see and know that main stream America exists and those who work together can accomplish their dreams for the future of their children.

Those same people, were at the threshold of a changing society with the rising prices of a piece of dirt and taxes to go with it.   Some are still there today in the homes  where they have lived all their adult lives.  Some have sold their home places and were able to retire to places where their dreams of retirement could come true.   The point is, people who want decent towns will plan and diversify when they have to, accept new people, live within their means,  and still have the most important things in life, their community.