A Slice of Life: Family Vacation

Ever since I wrote about Aunt Betty, I've felt nostalgic for the vacations my family spent with her family in Ocean City, Maryland. They started around 1974 and went until about 1983...after that, we grew up and grew apart.

We looked forward to Ocean City vacations all year. Usually, we'd go for a week in August. My parents would split the cost of renting a unit with my aunt and uncle. The units were big enough to hold us all comfortably: my parents, me, my brother, my aunt, uncle and two cousins. We never stayed in the same place twice...that was part of the fun.

Here are my parents with my aunt and uncle.


I love everything about the ocean: the sight, the smell and the sound of the surf. On Sunday morning and every morning afterward that I could manage it, I would get up just before sunrise to go down to the beach and watch the sun come up. Most of the time I went alone because I couldn't persuade anyone else that the sight was worth it.


There was always something to do, rain or shine, day or night. On a cloudy, cooler day, we'd walk along the beach and collect shells or go down to the arcade on the boardwalk.

On sunny, hot days, look out! We'd be in the water, body surfing or riding the waves on rented rafts. These pictures are of first me and then my brother riding a raft.



We didn't need TV at all. In the evening, there was lots of ways to entertain ourselves:







Going to the boardwalk at night was always fun. There were two fantastic artists there. One sculpted in sand and I know his artwork has been on the internet. The other worked in chalk crawings. Both artists' work was religious and beautiful.

Other things we'd do on the boardwalk: shop, visit the arcades and play games, and go to the amusement parks. Those were always a lot of fun! I enjoyed taking my young cousin on the scariest rides or in the haunted houses. She loved going with us!

Our most favorite night time activity, though, was a big roundof UNO. The more of us that played, the more fun it was and we had some side-splitting times with the game!


Ah, those were the days!

A Slice of Life: Heidi

The prompt asked for the birth of a child and I wrote about Billy but how can I leave out my two younger kids?

Heidi was sort of our miracle child. When Billy was about six months old, I finally persuaded Rich to go to the doctor and get his cold checked out. He'd been sick for months, snored so loudly people could hear him from different rooms and, scariest of all, his heart was beating so hard it would shake the bed.

The doctor sent Rich for an X-ray and we were stunned to learn that his heart was very enlarged. When we went to the hospital so he could have a scan done of his hear, Rich collapsed and was admitted. He was in the hospital all week while the doctors stabilized him and tried to figure out what was going on. Why had a young man developed heart failure like that? He was only 27 years old! After he was released, he was referred to Johns Hopkins Hospital.

The news was even bleaker than we realized. Not only did Rich have cardiomyopathy (an enlarged heart) and congestive heart failure, he also had an aneurysm in his aorta! If the surgeon didn't operate, Rich would die. While we were there having tests run on Rich, a geneticist came in and said he believed Rich had Marfan Syndrome. There was a 50-50 chance our children would have it too. Could anything else go wrong?

Rich had the surgery on December 26 and survived. The surgeon had to replace his aortic valve and made a graft back to his heart. The doctor used a mechanical valve and if the room was very quiet, you could hear Rich ticking like a watch. Unfortunately, the surgery didn't seem to help much. The doctor implied the prognosis was not good and when I called him later to ask him, he told me Rich had a survival average of about five years.

I was stunned. I was also pregnant with Heidi. My family doctor had suggested I not tell Rich yet because he was still recovering from surgery and the news might depress him. How could I not tell him, though?

I was glad to see that instead of being depressed, Rich was overwhelmed with joy. The news gave him hope, he said.

My pregnancy wasn't very eventful except for stress and the fact that Heidi stayed breech almost to the end. Ellen, the midwife, had me practically standing on my head to encourage the baby to flip...and finally she did.

About a month before I was due, we went back to Hopkins for a follow up with the surgeon. He did a physical exam, muttering that he couldn't believe it. It sort of scared us and he said, no, no, this was good. He then sent Rich for X-rays and then confirmed it must have been a miracle--Rich's heart was smaller and the prognosis now was very good!

Not long after that, I went into a cleaning frenzy. At the same time, Billy developed a painful ear infection and we had to take him to the doctor. I had to hold him upright in my arms so that he could sleep. We were watching the Olympics and it was close to midnight when I realized I was in labor. Luckily my cousin was home and able to come and watch Billy for us.

We got to the hospital around half past midnight. I was astounded to learn that I was already 7 cm dilated! Heidi was the easiest delivery of the three kids. I could have had a party in the birthing room. We continued to watch the Olympics during the breaks between my contractions. At around 3:06 in the morning, Heidi was born. Our baby of miracles--the miracle of birth and the miracle of Rich's heart.

More Baby Pictures From Times I Don't Really Remember

Do mothers and fathers bathe their babies in the kitchen sink anymore or is that a thing of the past now that there are special infant tubs on the market? I don't remember this, of course, but I sure look like I was enjoying myself!

Sometimes I think I look more like my father and then other times when I see a picture like this, I can see my resemblance to my mother. I guess I look like them both!

Yep, I know what this bottle is used for ... but do I have the strength to lift it?

Oh, Ma, enough milk already! Can't I have some soda? Oh wait...parents don't give that to their babies yet!

We've always had a cat from my babyhood way on up into my 50s. This one is Bootie.

This is one of those family gatherings at my grandmother's house I wrote about earlier. I think this was for Thanksgiving dinner.


I'm the little girl down in front and that's my cousin Gary nearby. I'm surrounded by aunts and uncles. It was so nice to grow up in a town with so many famliy members around! The love was almost palpable.

A Slice Of Life: My Best Friend

I met my first best friend in junior high, 8th grade to be exact. I'd spent a year of misery in the enriched program of the 7th grade. I was a pariah and had just one friend, another outcast. I didn't fit in because I was just too emotionally immature. The other kids made fun of me and I crumpled. By the end of the year, I was begging to get out of the enriched program and back on the regular track.

That was where I met my first best friend. She was already hanging out with a sweet but terribly insecure girl and the three of us became fast and true friends. Having a friend makes life bearable in school. We laughed together, gossiped together, shared our notes and our dreams and our resentments of authority and parents.

When we were in junior high, anything could give us the giggles and I'd laugh so hard I'd collapse against a locker, practically in tears. Other people would look at us like we had six heads but I didn't care--I had friends now. My friend's parents had emigrated to this country after escaping the Communist regime in eastern Europe; I told my friend all about my family.

We shared a few adventures together, one day "breaking out" of school right after lunch and heading for downtown. We did nothing that day but walk around talking. It was better than being in school!

I wish I could say that I'm still best friends with her but we drifted apart a few years after high school. I lost touch with her until very recently. Two years ago, I got her email from our class reunion organizer and I wrote to her. She wrote back, very excited to hear from me but said she had to go out of the country for a few weeks. She said she'd write me back but she never did. I tried to email her once or twice but never got an answer back.

Oh well...I get it. Sometimes you just can't go back to the way it used to be.

Here is my first best friend with another classmate. We went back to visit our old teachers at junior high one day. I took the picture.

A Slice Of Life: Billy

Soon my son Bill will be 21 years old and yet I remember his birth as if it was just the other day. One thing I remember clearly is the baby pool taking place at work. My first husband, Rich, and I worked for the same market research company up until about 2 weeks before I was due. My due date was May 1, 1987, but people were guessing as early as April 1 and as late as Mother's Day.

Rich was one of the latter and I was horrified. "I'm ready NOW," I kept saying to him. "How could you have picked that day?"

He shrugged. "I just have a feeling," he said.

May 1st came and went and I was disappointed but not surprised. First babies are always late; however, I was more and more uncomfortable as each day passed. My midwife, Ellen, advised me to keep walking.

On May 8, a Friday, I set out to walk, lost my balance and fell hard on my hands and knees--right in front of the mailman, who totally freaked out. He helped me back to my apartment where Rich took over and cared for my badly skinned knees. Bandaged and wearing a new set of maternity jeans, I set out again. A block down, I ran into the same mailman.

"What are you doing?" he cried. "You're going to give me a heart attack!"

"I'm having this baby," I told him. "If I don't have this baby by Sunday, on Monday I have to be induced." Oh, horrors!

The following afternoon, May 9th, my water broke while Rich was at work. I was totally unhappy about that because I'd learned in childbirth class what that meant: go to the hospital. I didn't want to ... yet. I wanted the contractions to start. I called Rich and Ellen. Ellen said I could stay home only until 7 p.m. and then I had to get to the hospital. Meanwhile, I walked in circles.

My contractions still hadn't started by the time we got to the hospital. Ellen agreed to let me walk around the floor another 2 hours but then she had to follow the rules and have them start a pit drip (induction of labor). Oh, how I dreaded that...I'd learned that the contractions would come hard and fast!

Unfortunately, by 9 my contractions were still mild and I'd dilated only to 3 cm and so they would have to induce me. Yes, the contractions were hard to manage and very painful but I have to say I had the best coach in the world. I would not have been able to endure it without an epidural were it not for Rich's steadfast support. Every time I'd start to lose control, he'd say "Look at me, look at me" and then he'd begin breathing. I focused on him and breathed along with him.

Some funny things I remember from that night:

When I had to bend my knees to start pushing, the nurse took one look at my knees and freaked. "What happened to you?" she wanted to know. She wanted to redress the scrapes. I kept telling them I was fine and leave me alone.

When I got to the transitional stage, I kept falling asleep between contractions. It was so weird.

Another woman was admitted to the hospital soon after I was and we both had the same doctor. Actually, Ellen was in attendance but since she hadn't been credentialled at that hospital yet she wasn't allowed to "catch" the baby. For some reason, they put this lady way down at the end of the hall. We both began pushing at the same time and I could hear my chubby doctor running from one end of the hall to the other.

"Who's going to go first?" the nurse asked him.

Already I'd been pushing almost 2 hours and Billy was just beginning to crown.

"This one," the doctor decided. He ran into the room and began pushing on my abdomen.

I had enough presence of mind to be totally surprised and annoyed. I didn't complain, though, because Ellen had already saved me from a C-section. The doctor wanted to do one because he felt I wasn't progressing fast enough.

Doctors.

So Billy was born at 4:23 and the doctor ran down the hall to the other lady. Her baby was born less than 5 minutes later.

It was Mother's Day.

Rich won the pot and I got a rose at each and every meal. Best of all, we had a brand new, perfect little boy.

"Billy Bear," I whispered to him when I finally got to hold him.

He is the best Mother's Day present I will ever get.

He Did Hold Me!

I thought I had all the pictures of me as a baby and toddler but then realized my mom had given me an album full of pix. I looked and sure enough, there are tons of pictures from times I don't remember! :D One of the best surprises was pictures of me with my grandfather--and he's actually holding me!

Obviously, these pictures were all taken the same day as the ones I posted earlier. Here is my dad with my grandparents and me.

I was christened in April and my godparents were my Aunt Joyce and Uncle John, my mother's brother and sister-in-law. Here I am with my grandparents.

My dad holds me, flanked by my Aunt Joyce and Uncle John.

My parents are quite a handsome young couple aren't they?

Small Memories

The very first memory I have is going into the kitchen to get a bottle of milk from my mom, returning to the living room and flopping on the couch to watch cartoons...always the TV, right? And this would have been back to around 1956 or 1957!

I also remember a dog named Sweetie who wasn't sweet at all. Whenever I would run, she would chase and snap at me. She had to go when she attacked my knees and bit me so hard they bled.

I remember my grandparents would come and pick me up to take me berry picking with them. I loved it! Blackberry bushes weren't as much fun, if I remember correctly--the branches could scratch you. Grandma used to take me to the grocery store with her on Saturdays and there I could pick out a Little Golden Book to bring back to her house. All the books were shared with my cousins and I got over that minor annoyance by telling myself that I was the one that got to pick them out.

I was luckier than most kids nowadays because families tended to live within close proximity of each other. Until I was 10, my cousins were also close playmates. In this picture, my mom holds my brother Pete. My arm is around my cousin Robert and that's my cousin Anne to our right.



When I was 5, I went to kindergarten. Our bus driver was a Ketcham, a distant relation of mine through my grandmother's family. Everyone knew everyone else back then. I could go to the corner deli by myself as a very little girl and buy red licorice whips with money my parents gave me.

This is my kindergarten picture. My hair used to be a shade of auburn!



This handsome young man is my very first fiance, Glen. Everyone thought we were so adorable saying we were going to get married when we grew up. We would sit together on the bus and it wasn't always so great. Once Glen stepped into a pile of dog poo and it didn't all quite come off his shoe. He was pretty stinky and I think I would have sat somewhere else except that we were engaged and I felt obliged to stick by hi. Pee-yoo! We would visit each other for play dates and here we are, graduating from kindergarten!



I've often wondered what happened to Glen and if he is happily married now. Before second grade, my parents bought a house in Brentwood and we moved from Islip. I remember how my grandmother cried and my mom tried to reassure her we'd just be 10 minutes away. I think Grandma enjoyed the fact that we could walk back and forth to visit. This picture was taken while I was in first grade but I'm not sure if I was still going to Islip or if we'd already moved to Brentwood.


This picture was taken in third or fourth grade. My hair had already darkened to brown and I'm now totally brunette except for the gray.

My Grandparents

Here are my grandparents as I remember them. They'd moved from their big house to this little cottage. My grandma had to give up her grand piano and was so sad about it. None of her grown children had room for it either and so she had to sell it. They don't look thrilled, do they?

I remember my grandfather was dour and stern and so I rmeember he always looked grumpy. My grandma, though, usually smiled for pictures.

This is more the way I remember my grandma. She loved her garden! Grandma is a mixture of heritages. One side of her family has lived on Long Island almost from the beginning. She was related to the Smiths and Ketchams, two prominent Long Island famillies.

She is also descended from a French Huegenot, Ruel Rulon. His brothers smuggled him out of the country by hiding him in a wine barrel headed for "the colonies". He landed in Barnegat NJ and went on to found a family that eventually included my great-grandfather, a lighthouse keeper.


Here Grandma looks very serious again but she's in her kitchen. I thiink she loved this room best of all. You can't tell it from this picture though!


I don't know a lot about my grandfather except that:
He was from Arendal, Norway; was a fisherman and a carpenter (hmmm); was a Seventh Day Adventist and read from his Bible daily; was totally against guns; had two deaf sisters, was hearing impaired and suffered from diabetes; and raised sunflowers. He just loved them. I learned from my grandma's diary that he was an abusive man, beating on not only Grandma but his own children as well.

I'll write more stories as I remember them.

Little Me

So now I finally make my appearance on December 19, 1954. I was two weeks late which meant that Mom brought me home around Christmas. She told me later it was very busy and she had trouble getting my grandmother to help. Grandma was very busy with all the Christmas preparations, Mom complained, and there was baby me crying and crying. Oh dear. At least I'm not crying in this picture.


My Grandma was the most important person in my life other than my parents. I loved going to see her and was very attached to her.


Here is my mom and me...


and my dad and me. My parents look so young, hardly more than kids themselves! Things were different in the 1950s, though, and they were considered mature adults at 24 and 25.


Here I am again with my grandparents. Although I remember my Grandma hugging and kissing me, I don't remember my Grandfather ever showing any affection. He was very cold and aloof and pretty sick by the time I developed any memories of him.

I was fascinated with our Christmas tree. I believe this picture was taken in 1956, when I was around 2 years old. I loved all the pretty lights.

In 1956, my parents were struggling and it was hard for them to make ends meet. My father was and is a proud man and never liked to ask for help from family or a handout. That year, my mother told me they couldn't afford to get me any presents but that she'd saved up all these Campbell's soup labels so that she could get me a doll. She said that I looked so sad that year and they felt guilty. I don't know...I think I look pretty happy in this picture. I think Mom's guilt may have been getting the better of her.

1957 was a much better year in terms of Christmas. I loved my rocking horse and spent hours rocking back and forth.


I got another gift earlier that year, one that I think I was not so pleased with at first: a baby brother, Peter Jr. I remember going to see my parents at the hospital after my brother was born. I wasn't allowed inside so my grandparents stood with me on the lawn while Mom and Dad appeared in the window with baby Pete. I don't think I was very impressed at first.



Later, though, he became more interesting and I liked him a whole lot better. The quality of this picture is terrible, I know, but I wanted to show the contrast of feelings I had for my brother when we were just babies.