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. 

.  

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.

.  

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.

OAK KNOLL AND A DIRT BIKE

I've always been a "nester" and not owning my own home is something that just didn't feel right.  We had sold our home in Georgia and made a small profit, but when we started looking to purchase a home in Mendham, our hearts sank.  There was no way.  Not only were the prices triple what they were in Georgia, but the taxes were astronomical.

 

I did some research in the newspapers and phone books and located a school in Parsippany that taught real estate sales.  The class was about six weeks long and then you would take a crash two day week-end course to prepare you for the state examination in Trenton.  At that time, real estate agents in that area were not allowed to write contracts,  so the sellers and buyers attorneys were always used for that.  Getting financing, if needed, was up to the purchaser and most of the people in that area already had the means and contacts at their banks to get their mortgage.  So, the agents, basically just showed the properties and made cold calls to get listings.  I could do that.

 

I passed the class, took the crash course, got on a train to Trenton,  passed the exam the first time,  and, poof, became a licensed real estate agent.   Passing that exam was quite an achievement for me.  I hate test taking, but I studied very hard and was confident I knew the material.   I made a few calls to Brokers, and found one in Basking Ridge.  It turns out, his office was the exclusive sales office for the newest exclusive development in Mendham called Oak Knoll.  Frank Yingling was the Broker and had two or three agents already working for him, but we worked out an agreement for me to work through his office to sell property.  This is the way I became friends with our next couple of best friends in Mendham.  Lucille, a husband and wife couple, The Ports, and I were the agents to cover Oak Knoll's model home.  The development had lots of three and five acres.  The homes were custom built and expensive! 

Lucille Cerra was already a licensed agent and actually lived in Mendham Township, just right up the road from Oak Knoll.  Lucille's husband, Frank, was a builder in the area.  As luck would have it, Lucille took me under her wing and helped me get my "feet wet."  Eventually, I would make a few sales in the Oak Knoll development, and another sale in another county and then the market went south.  It was a difficult time for a lot of people.  Especially real estate sales agents.

But, the good news was, Lu and Frank became such good friends and mentors to our family - just like the Beltons. They invited us into their home and circle of friends, and taught my children the "proper" way to eat spaghetti.   We visited their farm in Carbondale, PA, and later,  their home at the Jersey shore town of Sea Girt.  After we moved away, they visited with us and we visited them in Sun City, SC,  one summer when they rented a place there.  They ultimately retired to Aiken, SC.  We visited them there as well a few years ago, but sadly,  they have both passed away.   Their only son, Donald, carries on Frank's tradition and builds custom and "green" homes in the Aiken area.  He and I have become Facebook friends.

Frank and Lu were good folks and the salt of the earth.  They always were special to us and Frank became a mentor to my son Jim, taking him under his wing and taught him how to use a hammer and saw.   Frank taught him that the easy way wasn't always the right way.  He instilled in him the value of doing a good job at anything he did, even if it was raking leaves or cutting grass.  Jim always respected Frank's advice and remembers him to this day for his kindness to him.

Frank and Lu had a farm in Carbondale, PA, that was used for skiing in the winter and a dirt bike race track in the summer.  Our son Jim has always been his own man.  He worked a paper route, pumped gas, raked leaves, or whatever he could do to make his spending money when he was a teenager.  He had severe allergies which were found the first spring we were there when he came in from school with his eyeballs turned wrong side out.  He took allergy shots for many years which allowed him to survive cutting grass and raking leaves. 

 He wanted a dirt bike really bad but we had told him that he couldn't have one.  I always worried they were too dangerous and did not like him riding one.  He saved his money, working for Frank and all the other odd jobs he could and bought himself a bike anyway, and stowed it away at Frank and Lu's barn.  I imagine Frank was in on the deal from the get go, but wouldn't swear to it.  He was crazy about Jim.   If he knew, I'm sure he figured it was safe and maybe Jim just needed a little more time to work on me.   He was probably right. 

BIG BLACK STATION WAGON

If you didn't have a station wagon, you were certainly out of the ordinary.  We decided it was time was us to blend in, so we went down to some little town just over the line in Pennsylvania and bought us a fancy, black Ford station wagon.  It had a "way back' seat, a back seat and a front seat.  The kids fought over who got the "way back" because they knew my arms or even my switch wasn't long enough to meet it's target back there.   A station wagon was the SUV of the 70's and 80's and for good reason, if you had a family.

Before we purchased the station wagon, we tried our luck at family camping.  We had a normal four door car.  Trust me, a family of five can't put everything they need to camp in a tent in a four door sedan.  But, we tried.  Sollie fashioned a wooden box to hold the gear that would fit into the trunk to help organize the area for our regular stuff.

We made a few trips over to Lancaster County in the Amish Country to a nice little camp ground called Robin Hill,  with some church friends.  (We were going to a Baptist Church at that time, but that's another story)  After a couple of those short week-end trips, we thought we were skilled enough to set out of a week-long vacation and to our hometown in Georgia, camping in the Smokies along the way down and the outer banks on the way home.

We had to squeeze in as much time as we could so we drove all the way to Cherokee, NC for our first stay.  It was a pretty good place, with nice showers, and a lake for fishing.  It does rain a lot in the mountains,  however, and I think we may have had a total of 4 hours sunshine during our few days there.  We toured the village at Cherokee, and the kids got their pictures taken with a real live Indian, complete with feathered headband and leather boots and loin cloth.   By the end of the second full day, we were over our excitement.  The cots were not comfortable, the rain misted through the canvas and we were damp all the time.  The Coleman stove worked just like it was supposed to, but Sollie doesn't like to grill outside, so guess who wound up doing all the cooking?   Sitting in the hot, humid night air around a campfire was not my idea of fun.  The kids had tired of the fishing hole, and were cranky and didn't want to touch each other in the small tent where we were packed in like sardines.  The mosquitoes were big as buzzards at night,  but we did get them to catch lightening bugs one time. 

After a couple of days in our home town, we proceeded back up the interstate to our destination of Nags Head, NC.  It rained the whole way there, and after we unpacked and set up camp, it continued to rain, misting right through the canvas, making for a miserable, hot, damp and cranky  bunch of campers.  After a while, maybe a few hours enough to rest, we packed up that gear and headed home.  That camping equipment was never used, by us, again.  It brought a fair price in our garage sale just before we moved back to Georgia.  We were definitely over camping.  Period. 

One summer, I rented a cottage at "the shore" and we set out for a week at the beach.  True to form, Sollie was called to come back to the office, and he had to drive to Saddlebrook every day and back to the shore in the evening.  Not a great vacation.

I did a lot of day trips in the new station wagon to find my way around, after I realized that not everybody in NJ was in the Mafia.  One time, Teresa and I set out for some little town, just over the river,  to visit the Mother of the Pastor in our hometown of Swainsboro.  I found her home without a cell phone or GPS!  Just plain old road map.  Imagine that!  She was gracious and we had a good visit and got home in time for the boys to get home from school.  The drive over took us through some beautiful countryside with field stone houses, rail fences, and wildflowers.  Several towns in the area were worthy of driving to, just to view the beauty and hopefully get to see someone famous.  Peapack (yep, that's correct) was where Jackie Kennedy went to ride her horses.  The locals tried to keep up with when she would be there, hoping to see her.  There were other little villages with quaint houses and names like, Tewksbury, Schooley's Mountain, and Pohatcong.  All worthy of a short day trip to shop or just take a drive. 

Sollie had to go to Germany to the main factory and when he returned, I decided to surprise him at the JFK airport upon arrival.   I took the three kids, we loaded in the station wagon, and headed out for New York, after dark.  I had nothing but a road map and guts, but I drove there, and all four of us found our way to the gate to surprise Daddy as he got off the plane.  We drove home listening to all the stories about Dusseldorf, Germany and wondering how an uneducated country boy from south Georgia could be so lucky to have all the blessings and experiences of life in the city.   The answer is simple.  He was a genius at his trade.