The Suit

Hanging on the wall of my parents home is a picture of my father, Raymond. My guess of his age in the photo is eighteen to nineteen years old. In our first home in Milford, Connecticut, the picture hung above a photograph of my parents dancing at a wedding. When we moved to Maine, it was placed in the same arrangement...just a different wall. The same as when my parents moved to Florida for a year then came back to Fairfield, Maine. Their last home is their current home. They’re number thirteen on a dead end street across from a cemetery. Some might find that a little creepy. I think it’s pretty funny, myself.

On Tuesday, my mother had a doctor’s appointment so I volunteered to stay with my father while my sister took mom to see her physician. It was routine stuff. It wouldn’t take long, they said. The roads had been cleared of the snow that had fallen overnight. Dad was always worried about all of us when the weather wasn’t sunny and 75. Come to think of it, he worries about us when it’s that nice out, too.

Dad and I made small talk about the stimulus package the government was looking to pass, the weather for the weekend and how my son, Anderson, was doing in school. I sat in my mom's chair and looked up at the wall of photographs. The one of my father was hanging below a sketch drawing of the church they were married in. He had mentioned to me about six months before that he wanted me to find a tie just like the one in the photo so he could give it to Anderson to wear to church. I looked all over. I scoured the internet, called department stores in Connecticut, to no avail. 

I asked my father “Dad, where did you get that tie?”

And the story began.

“I bought that tie. I bought the suit, too, with my own money.”

He went to tell me exactly how.

My father was thirteen years old in 1949. The family was very poor. There were five sons at that time before the two little sisters came along. The house on Madison Avenue in Bridgeport they grew up in is now a parking lot next to an ice cream shop. His father was a box nailer at the Bridgeport Brass Company. That company, years before my father and his father were born, is credited for spinning the copper wire that made the first long distance telephone line from New York City to Boston possible. His mother, with five boys, worked hard at being a mom. From the stories they have told me...she had her hands full.

On a late winter day his mother, Grace, brought home new clothes. They had saved enough to buy each of the rambunctious boys pants and shirts. They were growing like weeds and hand me downs only lasted so long. She presented my father, who was tall and very lean, a pair of knickers. In the 1940s, it was common for teenage boys to wear “short pants” or knickers. They came just below the knee and sometimes they fastened with a buckle. My father took one look and asked her to return them because he was NOT going to wear them. She wasn’t very happy about the response. They had spent their hard earned money on new clothes for their eldest son only to have them refused by him. His excuse? He wanted to wear pants. Long pants. 

She told him “If you want pants, buy them yourself.” Grace took him and the pants back to the store she had already come from and told the manager her son didn’t want them. The manager asked him “What do you want?” My father perused the clothing and his eyes landed on a suit.

The Suit.

“I want this.” His mother knew she couldn’t afford it and, once again, told him he would have to buy it himself. Raymond walked right up to the suit and looked at the manager and asked him “Will you please hold this suit for me? It may take me awhile to get the money but I will be back for it.” He picked up a tie and asked him to hold it as well. They left the store with no pants and no suit. However, he did leave with a determination and an idea.

Before it became cheaper to buy at grocery stores, milk was delivered in glass containers by the milkman. A man in a white suit and cap would travel by truck with hundreds of bottles of milk to deliver around the city. He would arrive in the early hours of the morning, go to the stoop of a home and pick up the empty containers. He would then leave fresh full bottles in their place. With five growing boys, the family went through a lot of milk. 

Raymond, being the go-getter he was, woke up early the next morning and greeted the milkman. He asked him if he could work for him to earn a few dollars a week. The milkman thought a moment and told him “Well, I would finish earlier every day. Why not?” So they made plans for the next morning for Ray to start delivering milk.

After a month it had turned to Spring and the earning was slow. It was getting closer to Easter and Ray wanted to be able to wear the suit to church on Easter Sunday. The grass had sprouted up so he took the family lawnmower and went around to the houses in their neighborhood and sometimes beyond. On the weekends he went door to door asking to mow lawns. The money started adding up but it still wasn’t enough. He didn’t think he would be able to purchase the suit in time. What could he do?

Go to his favorite uncle, of course.

Howard Holt was born Halvor Fostvet in Eydehamn, Norway. He came through Ellis Island on the ship Stravangerfjord in 1923. A master craftsman who built cabinets, tables, chairs, and even boats, Uncle Howie, as he was lovingly referred to, was a kind man. He and his wife, Dorothy, doted on children. They couldn’t have any of their own so they spoiled all of their nieces and nephews. I can say I was lucky enough to be spoiled by them as well. He was my godfather and I was his only godchild. Never a holiday went by without them sending me a card with a little something stuffed inside whether it be a two dollar bill or a bunch of stickers. When they would visit, a bag of candy was brought with them just for me. Their hugs were the biggest, the warmest and the longest.

After school, Ray went to visit Uncle Howie who was building another project in his workshop. He wasn’t at all surprised at his nephew’s unannounced visit. They lived less than four miles away. Ray would often take the half hour walk to see him and help him with whatever he was working on. It was with him my dad learned to make the cabinets in our home in Milford, put upstairs bathrooms in our homes in Fairfield. He even built a garage. We were always so amazed that he could do all these different things. When we asked where he learned how to do it all he would always answer “Uncle Howie”.

That day Ray started helping like he usually did and tried, as casually as a thirteen year old boy could, to slide into conversation that he was saving money for something special. Uncle Howie, who could read between the lines, mentioned that he could use an extra hand around the workshop. “Some jobs are just too big to handle alone.” Right away Ray asked if he could have the job. How could he say no to his favorite nephew?

In a matter of two months a young man went from having no job to having three all at once. Each day was closer to Easter and he wanted that suit in time. In the mornings he would deliver milk. After school he would mow lawns. In the evenings he would help his uncle.

The Saturday before Easter, Ray counted all his money and headed straight for the store. The tinkling of the bell went off and it announced to the manager the arrival of the young man with whom he made a deal with a few months prior.

“So, I suppose you’re here to pick up your suit.” said the manager.

“And tie.” Ray quipped.

“Hmmph,” was the manager’s response. He went out back and a few minutes later a large cardboard box tied with string was in the man’s hands. Ray counted out the bills and coins to the exact amount. When the manager was satisfied he rushed home to his room. There he untied the string and lifted the cover. It was just like he remembered: Navy blue with a matching tie with an embroidered cross. He resisted the urge to put it on right then and there. He didn’t want to risk a single wrinkle. He hung it in his closet to await the next morning. 

And what a morning it was. Easter Sunday was as big a deal then as it is now. Families getting ready to head to church would see a flurry of activity in order to get there on time. Can you imagine what my grandmother went through to have five boys clean, fed and in their Sunday best before it was time to leave? 

Things came to a standstill when my father walked into the room. There he was in his new suit and tie standing before his mother, father and four brothers. “Raymond! Where did you get that?” 

“You told me to buy it myself so I did.” He told them of everything he did and how much he had saved in order to wear the new suit special for Easter. His parents were so proud of what he had accomplished. His brothers, well, they’d rather wear the knickers.

St John’s Episcopal Church on Fairfield Avenue in Bridgeport was full that day. Each person sitting in the pews had a full view of the choir raising their voices to the Lord in song. In that choir was a tall, young man in a snappy new suit and a big smile on his face. Though no one’s smile could be bigger than the ones of the parents watching their son who had worked for months just to wear a new suit to Easter Sunday service.

Where is the suit now? My parents like to be prepared for everything and that includes the time they pass on. The suit is now in a box and is ready for when my father passes on. The suit he bought as a thirteen year old boy will be the suit he is buried in. 

And tie. Never forget the tie.

True Tales of a Talker #7: The Car Payment Collector

I never did have much luck with cars.

My husband and I leased a vehicle knowing I would most likely be over the mileage by the time the lease was up. We were going to buy it outright so I tried not to go very far over the limit. Unfortunately, family life had its way for helping me rack up the miles. We didn't want to but sometimes it would be me making the trips back and forth to Auburn more than once a week. Those miles can really add up quickly but there was no other choice at the time. It was such a great vehicle and I enjoyed driving it. I was hoping to have it for a long time.

Until the engine blew up over just over 2,000 past the warranty and two days shy of the lease being up.

Fast forward through the arguing with the dealership, finding proof of the engine known for being faulty, negotiating with the dealership and then calling the head office of the maker of the vehicle and I was fortunate to be put in a used vehicle that I had to buy outright with the $7,000 for the new engine of my old car factored in. 

In other words, I got screwed.

While paying for the "new" used car, I got a phone call six months later on a Thursday asking me for the money to pay for the overage of miles. I had forgotten that was even a thing. Since it went back to the dealership (and they auctioned it off for the bargain price of $4,000), it was completely out of my mind. You can imagine the shock of thinking there is another bill to pay on my already stretched income. They wanted $18,000!

At four o'clock in the afternoon the repayment center shuffled me around from representative to representative until a woman came on the line by the name of Audrey M. She listened to my story, the sniffling and the down right ugly crying. Do you know what the first thing she said to me was?

"Miss Sharon, I am going to make something happen for you."

And I believed her.

After forty-five minutes of sitting in my car talking to her and relaying the story of what had happened with the vehicle and the true situation of our finances, we connected with her supervisor, Carol. 

Little did I know how incredible that "something" would be. 

Miss Audrey had me retell the story to Carol. Then they said they were going to place me on hold. After being on hold for another twenty minutes (but being updated every five minutes that they were still working on things), Miss Audrey came back on the line. She said in a hushed voice "Now, I know I shouldn't tell you this, Miss Sharon, but your story touched me. I know what it's like to be in tough situations but I can tell you have an honest heart. I can tell you're not one of those people who would lie into getting a better deal. I can feel that from you. So I talked with Carol. Carol's last day at her position before taking the next step in the company is tomorrow. I asked her to do the impossible for you. And she did."

What did she do?

I was informed that she would cut the bill by eighty-five percent IF I could pay twenty payments of a negotiated amount of just over one hundred dollars a month.

That was it? 

What about the rest of it?

The rest would be forgiven. 

While still on the phone, Miss Audrey sent me the paperwork to sign. I signed it and sent it back by email right away. She then sent it to Carol who signed off on it as well. They sent me a copy.

Carol then came back on the line with us and said "This was my final act as supervisor. I think I made the good choice by making this deal. Everyone needs a break sometimes and, after talking with you, I can tell this was the right thing to do." She wished us well and hung up.

It was like a miracle!

Every month for the next twenty months I called Miss Audrey directly. She gave me her extension and I made the monthly payment with her. With each phone call, she would ask how my family was, how my band was doing and if my work was going well. In the thousands of phone call she received each month, she never forgot me.

And I'll never forget her.

True Tales of a Talker #2: The NY Edition

Another day at work and another tale to tell.

When you deal with insurance companies you are eventually going to get some characters. This phone call did not disappoint. This customer service representative even had ties to Maine.

From my cubicle at Maine Veterans' Homes, I called United Healthcare for help with a stubborn claim. You can call them stubborn when it takes multiple phone calls and over a year to have the insurance company FINALLY see where they’ve gone wrong and pay a claim according to the guidelines associated with it. Stubborn little things. I hate it when they hang around for longer than they’re supposed to...like black fly season.

As the call connected, I would have bet my last dollar I heard a New York accent on the other end saying “Thank you for cawling You-neyed-ed Healthcare. This is” for this instance we’ll call her ‘Rhonda’ “Rhonda. How are you doin’ today?” That last part sounded like a legit imitation of Joey Tribiani on F*R*I*E*N*D*S.

I answered “Absolutely fabulous, Rhonda! How about you?”

“Oh, well, that is fabulous to hear! I’m doin’ alright! How may I help you?”

I poured out my claim troubles to ‘Rhonda’ and she was ready to help. While giving her all the information she would ever need and then some, she went to work researching the phone calls I had previously made and dug into the claim like the Golden Girls digging into their nightly cheesecake.

While she was scanning her system for information, I asked her if she was working from home. She revealed that she had been working from home since March and was glad she was. Living near Tampa, she felt safer working from home. With Florida being one of the hotspots of the COVID-19 pandemic, she hadn’t been to the gym or the beach since the lockdowns had started. She was really sad about it because in the beginning of the year (my guess it was probably due to a New Year’s resolution) she wanted to get healthy so she started going to the gym 4 to 5 times a week. In the 3 months prior to the pandemic, she had lost 40 pounds and was so proud. Now, she was home with her teenage son and her cats and searching for a treadmill to get back on track of her fitness regimen.

She also missed going to the beach and I told her I used to live in Saint Petersburg for three years. I could hear her typing away as she said she didn’t understand why everyone thinks Clearwater Beach is better than Saint Pete Beach. I totally agreed with her. I used visit John’s Pass and visit the Red Skelton store (which no longer exists).  

The one thing I regretted not seeing in Florida when I lived there was a rocket launch. I asked her if she watched the NASA Atlas V launch with the Perseverance Rover aboard this morning. She said with living a few hours away and starting work as early as she does she was unable to. I told her I had signed up my son and myself on the names to go to Mars and we were on that ship! She asked me if I had seen and I said yes. She then assumed I lived in Florida. I said “No, ma’am, I live in Maine.”

That’s when the joy in her voice became full blown.

‘Rhonda’ jumped at the chance to say she loved Maine. She grew up in Brooklyn (I KNEW IT!) and used to summer in Maine with her family. Coming from the city to driving to rural Maine where her cousins lived in trailers with acres of land with trees and streams was a complete shock to her. Hearing her say that it was so QUIET in Maine made me think how lucky we are we have this kind of peace. She could see the stars and while she was here it was her only time seeing fireflies. She looked forward to visiting every summer. Autumn was quite another trip for her. Her family would head north for the fall foliage and she remembered visiting the pumpkin patches and drinking apple cider. It was her favorite time of year. If you have ever heard of the Fresh Air Fund, the exuberance for Maine in her voice must be how those children feel when they travel here to get away from inner city life for just a few weeks. A few hours north and a completely different world. One that ‘Rhonda’ looks back on with fondness.

As we concluded our phone call with the claim being sent back to be reprocessed with all the information I had given her she gave me my reference number. Then the words I love to hear came through my headset:

“Thank you for cawling You-neyed-ed Healthcare. It was a pleasure tawking with you, Sharon. I hope you stay safe and have a blessed day.”

You too, Rhonda. You too.

Mysterious Truck Driver

In early 2000, I was a 26 year old contestant in a karaoke contest at a Skowhegan, Maine bowling alley/restaurant and lounge. If you made it to the finals you had the chance of winning $1000. I was excited because I loved to sing and we could really use the money. Back then, I was working three jobs and helping my, now former, husband get through nursing school. He would be graduating in just over a month and starting what would be his lifelong career. Myself, I was a medical biller for a mental health facility making just over $9/hour. I was also working for a temp agency and sang in a band almost every weekend until the wee hours of the morning.

 

The few trips we had made out of the state included Virginia, Florida, Tennessee and Washington, DC. This time, however, I would have to be making a trip alone. Washington D.C. in the dead of night was going to be quite the challenge.

 

The evening that I won my preliminary round of the contest I was told the date of the finals. My jaw dropped. It was the only weekend that I would not even be in Maine. The people who ran the contest looked at me incredulously. They told me I HAD to be there because I had a really good shot at winning. I needed to make a decision.

 

The reason I would not be able to participate was because we had promised my sister, who had never driven anywhere by herself, that we would travel to DC with her for the weekend. She was a huge fan of the television show, Emergency!, and her favorite actor, Randolph Mantooth, was going to be there that same weekend of the contest. He was the guest of honor at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. There was going to be a display of memorabilia from the show and he would be there to introduce it. She really wanted to meet him.

 

I couldn’t be in two places at once.

 

When I told my husband he asked what we were going to do. We talked with my sister and hatched the plan to have him drive down with her in her car and spend the one night in the hostel we had all found in a travel book. I would drive down as soon at the contest was over and meet them at the Washington Monument the next morning at 8am.

 

At 5 am the day of the contest I wished my husband a safe trip and he left to meet my sister to travel the nearly 600 miles to their destination. I tried to go back to sleep. I took the day off specifically for that purpose but to no avail. I had always been a morning person and that day was no different.

 

I packed a light bag for the trip because I knew, win or lose, we were staying overnight and traveling back the next day. As luck would have it, I won the contest and the $1000 prize!. It was 10 o’clock at night and after changing my clothes I climbed into my 1993 Mercury Tracer and headed for the highway.

 

In 2000, I had an actual map. That’s it. No GPS. No cell phone. No English woman’s voice on an app to help guide me. It was me and the Rand McNally Road Atlas of the United States. I would travel I-95 South the entire way down.

 

As soon as I hit the Massachusetts border I noticed something peculiar. There were no cars. The only vehicles on the road were tractor trailers. When you’re under five feet tall in a compact car and there are semis in front, behind and to each side of you, you start to feel a bit nervous. I kept wondering if they could even see me at all. I found an opportunity to get to the right travel lane. I put my blinker on and it just so happened the truck in front of me put its blinker on. I moved over and so did they. When he would change lanes I did as well. This went on for a little while.

 

I finally had to pull over. Being awake for almost 20 hours was starting to take its toll on me. It was nearly 2 am and, though I had packed an overnight bag, I had failed to pack snacks. I saw the sign for the next rest stop and realized the truck was also going to rest as well. I parked my car and went to the McDonald’s to order food and a drink with caffeine. I never drank caffeinated drinks but I needed to stay awake for the rest of the drive. I looked at around at the people coming inside the building wondering if the truck driver who had been my guide was one of the patrons filing in.

 

I finished my late night snack, used the facilities and headed out. I filled the car with gas and started back on my way. I pulled back onto the highway with another six hour drive ahead of me.

 

About ten minutes down the road a truck pulled up alongside me and I saw a light go on in the cab. I saw a manly hand wave at me but that was all I could see. I turned my light on and waved back. Our lights went out and I heard his air horn blare. He sped up and pulled in front of me.

 

My truck driver was back!

 

Sure enough, the license plate was the same. It’s hard to forget when you were staring at the back end of the same truck for hours. Together until we reached DC the semi and I changed lanes. The driver would always wait for an opportunity to make certain I had enough space to change lanes with him.

 

The sun was starting to come up and the miles melted away. I started to see signs for the DC area. I knew I had to start following them. My hand reached for the signal but I didn’t really want to. I had followed the same truck for nearly 400 miles. I considered it and its driver my guardian angels. I flicked the blinker on to take the exit and I could see his hand wave out his window. I rolled down mine and waved back. He blew his horn and I exited the highway to find the Monument and my waiting family.

 

I’ll never know who he was or what triggered him to stay with me for so long or remember the name of the company he drove for. All I will remember is that this driver was a friend. He made my trip more enjoyable, less stressful and definitely more interesting. 10-3. If you're a trucker, you'll know what that means.

A Baseball Mom's Story

"Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference."-Winston Churchill

He was stuffing his mouth with the last two popcorn chicken Chad had made for lunch. We had been rushing around trying to finish our errands for the day. Sundays are busy for us. I pick up Anderson after church and try and visit my parents. Anderson loves to see them. Since they are housebound we travel to see them. They love his visits. Today my mom had him giggling about something. When we're there, he likes to help out. He changes the cat's water and brings them things they need from other rooms. He loves to talk with them. When we get ready to leave, he gives his Grammie a kiss and his Papa a firm handshake. And then a hug. He hasn't reached the age where hugs are not cool anymore. I hope he never does.

He grabbed his hat and I stuffed his glove in his bag and we piled into the car. For the next fifteen minutes it takes to get to practice, Anderson and I  discussed what it was he liked about baseball. Automatically he said "It's fun."

That's what it should be. It's what it starts out as for every child that picks up a ball and glove. If they're lucky, their coach will teach them the same thing.

At the beginning of practice, the kids were throwing to one another. There were new kids, seasoned pros and those in between. There were heated balls, rainbows and wild throws. After a few minutes the kids gather around Coach Dee who told them that "winning is great but it's not everything. The game should be fun."

They practiced grounders making sure they were "down and ready". Then it was pop flies Shouting "Mine!" & "I got it!", the kids were shagging them, stepping and throwing.

They practiced hitting plastic and rubber golf balls one child at a time while the others were in the outfield sliding across the gym floor to gather them up. The first one to hit the back wall would get a dollar. They were all swinging for the fences. After one batter finished they all scrambled to pick up as many as they could. There were seven boys at practice so they made quick work of  it.

On Anderson's turn, it became apparent he had approved from last year. His confidence had grown. He was more focused. His swing was more powerful.

He even tried pitching. He had a few nice pitches right over the plate.

Where did this kid come from?  He's growing not only as a player but as a young man. He's making choices, trying new things, finding himself and, for the most part, doing it without me. I am his driver to practice, his home catch practice partner and his cheerleader at his games.

Whatever he may lack in height he more than makes up for in his attitude. He's always smiling, always excited for practice and games. He amazes me every day. This game is something he loves, something he strives to be good at. I'm proud of the player he has become and the person he's become.

                              

Paid To Shop At Walmart

You have to admit it: Walmart DOES have good deals and families with little money to spend are more apt to shop at one of its many locations that seem to be within a short distance from their home. While filling my cart in central Maine a year ago, I proceeded to the checkout and started making conversation with the cashier. She noticed I was buying a national brand cat food and she asked me 

“Did you know they have this brand cheaper at another store?”

That’s right. The employee had told me that I basically should have been shopping at the store down the street to get a lower price and save myself money. Sort of.

She went on to tell me that she had been saving money with the Walmart Savings Catcher App for about six months and had already saved $30. She said I should consider downloading the app to my phone and start saving that day. The app compares the prices on the items I purchased to the same ones in the different stores in my local area to see if they are being offered for a lower price. When they find a lower price, they notify you and give you the amount on a reloadable gift card on the app that you can access on your phone.

No traveling necessary. And, it’s FREE!

It sounded too good to be true but I told her I would look into it. After putting away the groceries and, with the kids help, this mom was able to download the app onto my phone. They also showed me how to scan the receipt, too.

Here’s what you do:

Go to Playstore on your device.

Search Walmart and you’ll see its pretty blue and yellow symbol.

Install it on your smartphone.

Scan your Walmart receipt.

It’s THAT easy!

Three days after doing this I received a notification on my phone saying a lower price had been caught.

The first shopping trip I saved $3.17.

Now, each time I shop at Walmart I scan the receipt into my phone and in a few days it lets me know if they have found a lower price. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.

To date I have saved over $120!

When you are checking out, you can bring up the app on your phone and use your savings to pay for your groceries. There were a few weeks where money had become extremely tight. When I needed bread and milk and just couldn’t count enough change from the car console, I was lucky enough to have that money sitting in the account to pay.

You can also use the money on the gift card to buy things from their website. I used some of mine this year to buy a few Christmas presents on Black Friday. The deals were so good but I didn’t want to have to wait in line at 10:30pm Thanksgiving night in order to save money. Because I had the app, I didn’t have to get up early or set foot in the store on that crazy day.

If you don't have a smartphone, you can go to their website and make an account there as well!

It’s simple and easy to use. My son likes to scan the receipts into my phone as we are leaving the parking lot. It makes him feel like he is helping. When you get the notification on your phone that you saved money, it’s a good feeling.

For a busy mom like myself, it is a time and money saver and it can be for you, too! Take the first step now and download it to your phone today.