Philadelphia's Anti-fed Feds

Philadelphia's Anti-fed Feds

July 14, 2015

J. Glenn Eugster

I thought you might enjoy looking at this list of people that worked in Philadelphia for BOR, HCRS and NPS during the period between 1976 to 1990.   My list, compiled from my notebooks attempts to list those I worked for and with doing work on rivers, parks, heritage areas, landscapes, etc.  I've included some of those who volunteered as well as temporary and full-time employees.  It doesn't include all the valuable people that assisted these folks, such as mailmen, administrative staff, public relations, etc.  If you see someone missing, or something that needs to be changed, let me know.  

Over the years my time working for federal agencies in Philadelphia gave me the opportunity to work with an amazing array of talented and dedicated people.   As I flipped through some of my notebooks I was pleasantly surprised to see some of the names of people.  I looked further and started typing names and couldn't stop until I went through each of the notebooks.

Enjoy and be safe.

Glenn

DRAFT----Philadelphia Feds (1976 to 1990)

July 14, 2015

A

Jody Artur

Mark Appel

Ray Andrews

Red Arnold

Dean Alexander

B

Julia Bell 

Barry Bohnet

Lee Anne Beauchamp

Bradley Burke

John Bayless

Mike Batcher

Nancy Balderston

Wendy Brown

Halie Bostwick

Larry Brose

Bill Bock

Phyllis Johnson-Ball

Barbara Becker

Don Briggs

Joan Batory

Barry Bohnet

Carol Beall

Carol Beall’s daughter???

Jeff Butler

Mike Berman

???? Basnight

Bruce, Sabrina

Chuck Bears

Michelle Byers

C

Harry Compton

Mary Ann Connelly

Heidi Cooke

Elizabeth Chace

Martha Cruisius

Christina Cruz

Bob Cambell

Mike Creasey

Tony Corbisiero

Kevin Coyle

Dennis Canty

Joan Chaplick

D

John DeWitt

Jonathan Doherty

Deb Darden

Lisa Dewey

Joe DiBello

Bill DeCarme

Faith Douglas

Daniels, Ann

DiMuro, Ron

E

Mark Everett

Laura Eugster Doyle

Fred Eubanks

Glenn Eugster

Connie Estrada

Delores El

F

Carl Frederich

Peter Fine

Karen Frank

Chick Fagan

G

David Glassburg

Dave Gross

Bob Gift

Deirdre Gibson

Mike Gordon

Roberta Gilrude

Dorothy Geyer

Edwin Grahm

H

Helene Hollander

Ed Hay

Marsha Hulme

Chuck Hull

Fred Herling

Joann Halenda

Jack Hauptman

Wanda Hobart

Scott Hall

Martha Hollis

Daniel Haas

Dave Hampton

I

J

Ann Jones

Joanne Jackson

Sasi Judd

Michael Jennings

Mary Jaron

K

Dave Kimball

Pat Kennehan

Barbara Kaufman

Shirley Krissell

Alicia Kale-Riddell

Kathy Kester

Cecily Corcoran Kihn

Janet Kroupa

Elizabeth Korman

Mary Koniezny 

L

Joanne Lawrence

Elizabeth Luckens

Dave Lange

Michael Linde

Mary Lee????

Lusk, Rich

Paul Labovitz

M

Mike May

Sarah Massey

Bob Munson

Deb Miller

Terri McGettigan

??? McArdle 

Kim Matthews

Kevin Murray

Ricki Levine McKenzie

George MacPherson

Bob McIntosh

Dick Martin

Rich McDermott

Dixie McKinnon

Greg McKinnon

Louvinia Madison

Renee McKnight

??? McDonald

????Maurich

Helen Mahan

N

Kel Nelson

Judy Newmark

Kathryn Newland

O

MIchael O’Brien

P

Sandy Prevan

Drew Parkin

Kathy Polosky Kates

Sherry Peck

Monica Payne

Gerri Pendelton

Carmen Perez

Q

R

Julie Rignor

Alan Raggins

Victor Rydlizky

Elaine Rosenberg

Valerie Ross

Andy Raddant

Ruth Raphael

David Rivera

S

Fritz Steiner

Tom Sexton

Shelly Styles

Adelle Stephens

Lewis Santiago

Suzanne Sutro

Mescal Stephens

Kathy Shaw

Bob Schenck

Evelyn Swimmer

Pat Sheehan

Delores Sculli

Gay Sprowl

Barbara Stratton

Lynn Stoddard

Aubrey  Sheriff 

Ken Schwartzkopf

Flossie Sears

T

Brad Thompson

Milia Tsouasis

Elizabeth Titus

Christine Tougas

Frank Thomas

Charlie Tracey

U

Cathy Urbanek

V

W

John Wilson

Wendy Wagner

Arville Washington

Skip Weiner

Paul Wieser

Peter Iris-Williams

Kent Wimmer

Patty Weber

Dick Williams

Peter Wycoff

Nancy Woods

Gene Woock

Rosalind Wilson

X

Y

Joan Young

Z

Others Needing More Research

Genese???

Mary Kimit???

Dan Forester???

Cindy Jackson??

Fernando?  

Phil???

Bruce ??

Dorothy????

Harriett????

Diane??

?????Hucks

Mary Jaron???

Maybry????

Others???

“I’m Working Here! “

“I’m Working Here! “
By J. Glenn Eugster
May 12, 2008

On May 2, 2008 I retired from the federal government after working for four agencies for nearly 33 years.  Prior to joining the feds I worked for another 7 years for local, state, and regional governments and the private sector.  Earlier this year I turned 60 years old and my departure probably caught many people by surprise. Most days I look younger than I am but after 40 years of working with and for governments I need a change.

As I went through the process of withdrawing from the federal workforce I found myself avoiding the “R” word--retirement.  Retirement has always seemed so foreign and far off to me and it wasn’t until the last several years that I started to think that a change and a federal pension would be good for me. I never dreamed that I would retire at 60 but I must admit that when I was younger I thought I would always have plenty of time to think about the day when I would no longer go to the office and follow the routine of a full-time public servant.  The last twenty years has flown past me at warp-speed and the decision day arrived sooner than I expected. 

I announced my intent to retire in late November 2007 with measured statements and slogans and a pretty good strategy.  I knew it was time to move on from the job that I had taken with the National Park Service in 1999.  Over the years I found that it never made sense to stay anywhere for too long a time and by 2007 I knew it was time to move on.  Ideas, relationships and routines tend to get stale if you linger someplace too long.  Although I didn’t want to stop working I did want to stop working where I was working for good and not-so-good reasons.  

As I broke the news to family, friends, managers, partners, and co-workers I carefully stated that I was going to continue working both as a consultant and in pro-bono arrangements.  My passion for the work I do, and want to do, remains and I’m not foolish enough to believe that one day, after nearly four decades of landscape architecture, regional and ecological planning work that I can just walk away.  After all I don’t play golf and I’m still deeply committed to helping people and protecting communities and landscapes. 

My work ethic, more than my retirement strategy, comes from my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.  The members of my family have always worked and their work ethic rubbed-off on me at a very early age.  Our family was very blue, or actually no, collar and whether you worked or not was never discussed.  Everyone worked without question, for all the right reasons.

My first job was when I was 6 years old. My Mother, Josephine--Jay, loaded up my red wagon and sent me down North Oakwood Road, an unpaved road in the hamlet of Laurel, NY to sell vegetables to our neighbors.  Jay would bring the vegetables from her Aunt Cha-Cha’s farm in Aquebogue, NY, load my wagon, give me some basic pricing instructions and send me down the road.  I was an extremely skinny and shy child and the idea of going door to door to sell vegetables to people I didn’t know was most challenging. 

The vegetable sales route was the beginning of what has been, up to this point, a wonderful work experience for me.   Over the last fifty-four years I have had an interesting array of jobs of all shapes and sizes.  My work selling vegetables was fortified by ten years in Catholic school.  With the help of priests and nuns I was trained, at the earliest age to sell chocolate bars, raffle tickets, and Christmas cards to help raise money for the school and the church.  Although selling vegetables to rural neighbors was challenging the act of regularly hawking candy, cards and books of chance to complete strangers was frankly a bit traumatic.

When we moved to Laurel I soon became friends and a traveling companion of Dave and Steve Nostrum who lived on our road and also went to school with me.  Dave and Steve were as extroverted as I was introverted and I found comfort in following them around because they seemed to know what to do and were able to talk to people with comfort and ease.  They also were well-versed in finding work.  Their motivation to work rivaled the philosophy of my family and added a creative dimension that in hindsight was purely entrepreneurial. The Nostrum brothers knew how to find jobs and make money mowing lawns, raking leaves and shoveling snow and Eastern Long Island had an abundance of each.

After serving as a work apprentice with the Eugster-Stazweski family, Catholic school and the Nostrum brothers finding jobs and working soon became second nature to me.  My interest in and motivation to work would lead me to many interesting jobs that came my away or were a creation of mine.  Over  55 years of time I would work as a: short-order cook; a pool-cleaner; an asphalt paver; a grocery store clerk; a college athletic department staffer; a chrysanthemum bud pincher and flower picker; a sod and shrub planter; a college dorm switch-board operator; a library front-desker; a parking lot attendant; a county inventorier of street furnishings and traffic accident sites; a writer; an inside and outside painter; a Presidential campaign worker; a newspaper delivery person;  a driver of cars and trucks for people and belongings; a planning and architectural draftsman; a landscape architect and regional planner, a manager of government agencies and projects; a fundraiser, community organizer, public interest advocate and board advisor.  

In hindsight the direction of my working pursuits has never been vividly apparent to me or others but it always reflected my belief that it is always better to work than not to work. Up until recently my motivation has never really been about the money, although over the years I have been paid very well for the services I provide.  More importantly my joy has been my love of doing things that help people and the satisfaction that I get from trying to do something large or small and do it as well as I can.  I continue to believe that the work we do belongs to us, and we alone decide when and how well it gets done.

Despite my recent decision to retire I can’t imagine that I will ever actually stop working completely.  My pension and our life-style provide the freedom to break from the routine of the last 40 years and slowly meander off into the soon-to-be-discovered opportunities and excitement of a future that is less known.  More importantly, many things have changed in my life and the lives of the people that I love and care about.  I envision an array of new jobs, travels and experiences that are far more important than anything I could be doing for the government in a regular job. Hopefully the tasks I take on will draw from my life list of jobs of the past and a new set of skills I will develop as I continue to stay involved, engaged and passionate about my life, family, community, and work interests.  Without a doubt from this day and beyond I’m working here!

Tour de Bay: Upcoming Events

Tour de Bay: Upcoming Events
By J. Glenn Eugster
July 22, 2005


I'm sending this to you because of your interest in heritage, heritage
tourism and food heritage.

Crisfield's Crab and Clambake Wednesday was an amazing 2005 Tour de Bay
event that left adults and children satisfied and speechless.  Nearly
6,000 people attended the event and local news reporters indicate that
some of the attendees continue to pick the last remaining crabs.   Former
local-hero Kevin Miller of Indiana won the distinction for the person
traveling the longest distance to attend, Caz Harvey did his amazing
"butter-corn-roll at the Red Roost, and DOI attorney Jeff Bernstein is
rumored to be writing a song about his hard crab experiences.

Although the smell of steamed crabs and Old Bay seasoning may still be
with you, it's not too early to plan for the next legs of the Tour de
Bay.  Be sure to mark you calendar for the following events.

*  The 57th running of the Crisfield National Hard Crab Derby runs this
Labor Day weekend September 5-7, 2005.  It's the NASCAR of the crustacean
world.
http://www.crisfieldchamber.com/crabderby.htm

*  The St. Mary's County Oyster Festival and National Oyster Cook-Off and
Shucking Contest in Leonardtown, MD.  on October 15-16, 2005.  Root for
the cook of your choice and sample the recipes of some of the best chefs
in the Mid-Atlantic states.
http://www.usoysterfest.com/

*  The Urbana, VA Oyster Festival is to be held on November 5, 2005.
Venture down into Old Virginia among the Niewoldians and enjoy raw oysters
and more.
http://boaters-channel.com/webdocs/belmont/belmont_images/urbana-pics/index
_urbana-pics.htm

*  If you prefer MD ideology to VA's the St. Michaels Oyster Festival is
Nov. 5, 2005.  Oyster slurppers believe that this is the best oyster
festival anywhere.
http://www.baydreaming.com/stmichaels.htm

*  Wrap-up the Tour de Bay with the 35th Annual Waterfowl Festival on Nov.
11-13, 2005 in Easton, MD.  The festival combines art, wildlife, food,
music and song into three enjoyable days.
http://www.waterfowlfestival.org/

I hope to see you on the circuit.

Stage Two of the Tour de Chesapeake: St. Mary's County Oyster Festival

Stage Two of the Tour de Chesapeake:  St. Mary's County Oyster
Festival

By J. Glenn Eugster
October 4, 2004

The second stage of the Annual Tour de Chesapeake will be held on October
16-17, 2004 at the St. Mary's County Oyster Festival.  The Festival
features the "Oyster Cook-off" and "The National Oyster Shucking
Contest".  The Fair begins at 9:00 am Saturday morning and is held at the
Fairgrounds in Leonardtown, MD.

The morning edition of the Fontana Free Press reports that Charlie
Pettrocci--aka Chef Petro's has not been confirmed as a contestant for
this year's Oyster Cook-off.   Although there is considerable hope
throughout Southern MD, and the Chesapeake Bay watershed, that Petrocci
will return to culinary competition this year, calls to Chef Petro have
gone unanswered and unreturned.

Whatever your taste in shellfish (oysters on the half shell, scalded
oysters, fried oysters, oyster fritters, oyster stew, oyster appetizers,
etc.),  and other Southern MD specialties (Southern MD stuffed ham
sandwiches, funnel cakes, barbecue sandwiches, burgers, dogs, etc.), or
your interest in crafts, exhibits, games, dancing or music, the Oyster
Festival offers something for everyone.

For more information on the St. Mary's County Oyster Festival go to:
http://www.usoysterfest.com/

The Tour de Chesapeake is a series of food heritage events that feature
authentic Chesapeake bay shellfish, finfish and other foods, served by
local people and businesses, in bay communities.    The stages of the Tour
de Chesapeake include: the Crisfield, MD Crab and Clam Bake(third
Wednesday in July), the Urbana, VA Oyster Festival (November 5-6, 2004),
the St, Michael's, MD(November 6, 2004), the Easton, MD Waterfowl Festival
(November 12-14, 2004), the Gumbo-Heads Annual Meeting, Washington,
DC--date to be determined, and the Crisfield, MD Soft Shell Spring Fair,
May 2004.

What Do You Say to a Squirrel?

What Do You Say to a Squirrel?

By J. Glenn Eugster

November 9, 2009

As a young child I was fortunate to always receive wonderful birthday and Christmas gifts from parents and family members who loved me.  One year I received a scale model that allowed me to assemble a life size plastic replica of a squirrel complete with life-like eyeballs, realistic whiskers, and a fur-like spray-on substance to cover the plastic body with.  For kid who liked sports, cowboys and Indians, and army stuff, this struck me as one of those loving but off-beat educational gifts that I would appreciate as I got older.

I assembled the squirrel and placed it in my room on a bookshelf overlooking my bed where it stood silently for quite a few years.  Little did I know that this was my introduction to these strange yet endearing animals who seem dedicated to regular interactions with humans.

My wife Deborah and I live next to a 43 acre city park in Alexandria, VA. Fort Ward Historical Park was major reason why we purchased the home we live in and it affords us nature and history on a daily basis.  Although the leaves will change with the seasons and park visitation will vary over the year, the one constant that we have are squirrels.  Each day they are running along our fences, climbing trees, digging in the lawn, the flower beds, and our potted plants.  They move about as if they are working on a deadline and have no time for anything but the task at hand.

The only time I’ve seen these squirrels stop is when we wander into an area that they don’t think we should be in.  It is then that they will position themselves on a tree limb or trellis and let loose an irritable chattering noise in our direction.  They speak to us with an impatience that seems unreasonable given that we pay a substantial mortgage on our home and surrounding property.  Then again, perhaps they lived on our property before it was developed and feel as if their interest in the land predates our claim.

When I was a young man attending college one summer I made periodic visits to my parents home in Laurel, NY.  If I visited on a Saturday I would spend the night roaming local bars and nightspots before returning to the house.  If it was very late when I pulled into their yard, and I had to much to drink, I would often grab my sleeping bag which I always kept in the back of my car and wander into the back yard to sleep under the stars and one of the big oaks growing on the property.  At night the sky was clear, bright with stars and as peaceful as any place I can recall.

When the sun rose Sunday morning the peaceful quality of my outdoor bedroom was almost always broken by a squirrel who would climb a branch over me, look down, and chatter in an aggressive and belligerent tone.  Suffering from sleep deprivation, too much alcohol and not enough coffee these encounters would always result in harsh words between us.

I’ve also seen the squirrels stand on the deck outside the window to our enclosed sunroom.  They seem to know that glass separates them from our two Birmin cats, Mr. Percy and Ms. Pearl.  The squirrels stand in silence no more than 18” from the window where Percy and Pearl stare and let loose with a soft guttural noise that must suggest what they might do if the door were to open.

One evening I called my Aunt Stella who lives in Greenvale, NY.  I call her regularly to see how she is and to exchange information about each other and other family members.  The calls are almost always enjoyable and they keep this important connection to our family which is shrinking in many ways while growing in others.

This evening’s call led Aunt Stella to share a story about how she and her long-time companion John spent the afternoon repairing a hole in the eave along the roof line to her house.  Evidently over time they began to hear noises in the walls of the house and suspected that a squirrel or other wild animal had taken residence in the house through the hole.

Aunt Stella and John were both in their late 70’s when this story was told and my aunt went into great detail telling me about how she and John made this repair.  She said that they got the ladder out of the garage; carried it to the side of the house where the hole was; brought a piece of wood, a hammer and nails to the ladder; held the ladder and climbed it to cover the hole with the board; and nail it to the eave.  Her story continued with she and John carrying the ladder and the hammer back to the garage feeling as if this was a job well done.

Much to their surprise, as they lugged the ladder down the driveway toward the garage, they noticed a very excited and irritated squirrel looking at them from inside the basement window.  Upon reflection Aunt Stella and John soon realized that as they fixed the hole to the eave they had boarded-up the squirrels entrance and exit, while the squirrel was inside.  With its escape route blocked the squirrel quickly worked its way through the walls until it found a way into the house and the basement.

Inside the house the squirrel entered a heightened state of confusion and panic running from floor to floor, room to room, window to window.  Aunt Stella and John entered the house and embraced the confusion and panic as they tried to find a way to get the squirrel to leave the house.  They opened doors and windows, shouted spirited slogans of encouragement, and waved their arms.

Eventually the squirrel left the house and Aunt Stella and John closed the doors and windows before returning to the driveway to put the ladder and hammer away.   

Much to my surprise this Sunday morning as I read the Metro-Section of the prestigious Washington Post I came across a report called ANIMAL WATCH which read:

ALEXANDRIA, West Bellefonte and Commonwealth avenues, Oct. 23.  Residents called the Animal Welfare League about a squirrel that was perched on top of a third-story window air-conditioner.  The squirrel didn’t move despite residents’ repeated knocking on the window.  An animal control officer opened the window, and the squirrel scampered away.  The day before, the residents had repaired a hole in the eave, which had been occupied by a family of squirrels.  The officer suspected that the squirrel did not realize that the space was no longer available.

These days Deborah and I regularly maintain our home to reduce the chances of noises in the walls or small furry faces with big teeth staring at us through the basement window.  We also continue to wonder if the next call to Aunt Stella will include another rousing story about the squirrel family’s reentry into her home in Greenvale.  Although we love our children and grandchildren we won’t ever buy them a scale model of a squirrel to complete and pose in their room.  With nature nearby, we, and Alexandria, VA, have enough squirrels and we are sure that more are on their way. 

Resolution Recognizing Elise Gold’s Tuscaloosa Time

Resolution Recognizing 

Elise Gold’s Tuscaloosa Time

Whereas, on August 20, 2008 with considerable natural talent, hard work, pomp, circumstance, family tears, tight genes, and the admiration of parents, relatives and small animals, Elise Gold, the daughter of Birminghamians, Eli and Claudette Gold, will begin her college education at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

Whereas, this academic pursuit represents yet another amazing and impressive step in the life of Elise (aka, “Princess Charmin Potty-Head, II, Little Bits, Kiddo, Cokie Gold, Cousin Elise”) Gold.

Whereas, Elise—a happy child, came into our lives on February 4, 1990 as a lovely baby, with barely a peep, amidst tornado watch sirens, rumbling thunder, jumping animals, and friends wagering in the waiting room about the sex of the child-to-be. Moreover, fairly soon after her arrival she developed a knack for crying, from just after dinner until bedtime.  She also managed a toot-salute the day she was baptized.

Whereas, her parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces, friends, young children, and customers in the check-out line have used every waking moment of  her lifetime to give her insight about the ways of the world including what she should and shouldn’t do now that she is relatively free of the tyranny of their influence. Moreover, her family has spent a lifetime preparing her for leaving home by:

telling her what she should and shouldn’t do; 

teaching her how to read and write, while urging her to go right when she was a natural southpaw; 

taking her on annual birthday celebrations and Daytona beach walks, while helping her build sand castles and eat “handy” ice cream birthday cakes, acquire boardwalk splinters and pierced-ears, use playground swings and see-saws, and play hotel Bingo;

enabling her to eat her weight in steaks, shrimp and sundaes; 

taking her for a lap around the Daytona Racetrack;

helping her know the difference between Richard and Tom Petty, and Bobby Allison and Bob Allison; and

teaching her to sing chorus, after chorus of “The Weather is Fine for Flying” on the flight to Daytona Beach. 

Whereas, Elise, has spent a lifetime preparing for this southbound journey to the Crimson world of Tuscaloosa from the family nests by honing the skills she will need in college including:

cheering for “Bama” at a very young age;

flying off of playground swings, on her belly, face-first creating beard-likes scrapes on her face;

colliding with young boys at break-neck speed to incur and deliver bruises and black-eyes;

dancing to American Idol while ridiculing other contestants; 

swimming with and without water wings; 

playing Ocean Isle wiffle ball like a girl;

falling down and tripping up stairs in Alexandria;

eating vast amounts of candy and chips in Greenvale,

singing unscheduled songs from the “Wizard of Oz” at church during mass; 

applying cucumber eye-treatment to family members at Ocean Isle; and

working hard at writing, reading, decoupage, day-time sleeping, late night phone calls, Math, Best Buy, Carvel ice cream cake, and making Valentine’s Day cards. 

Now, therefore be it resolved that the Gold, Stazweski, Doyle, Fiore, Cheshire, Shaw, Bakowski, Holmes-Butler, Parga, Eugster-Weatherly families, and their associated collection of cats and dogs, using their influence on Jacobs Road, Capitol Hill, East Howell Ave., Hillside Ave., East Barber Ave., talk radio, television, Elm Street, and other high and low places, recognize the extra ordinary accomplishments and potential of Elise Gold and designate August 20, 2008 as:

 “Elise Gold’s 2008 Crimson Tide Day”. 

Specifically we agree to recognize all that she does; make nice-nice for at least one day; supply genuine smiles, platitudes, and bowls of trans-fat-free chips and dip, and slabs of lean red meat; and work harder to appreciate her status as an independent, free-thinking woman, for as long as we can remember to do so. 

At a time when life often steals some of the people we love the most, Elise Gold and her accomplishments, continue to be a gift and good news to those who love her from near and far.  May you finish what you start on this day and know that we are very proud of you!

Be it further resolved that a copy of this resolution be provided to Ms. Gold.  

Approved:  Palm Bay Hotel Beach Club Association, August 7, 2008.

Concentration

Concentration
By J. Glenn Eugster
May 29, 2013

My Aunt Lucy was abucted, following a fall and emergency ride, by two seemingly friendly relatives over one-year ago in broad daylight.  She was taken by car, wheel chair, and jet to a remote outpost in the southeastern US. Her abductors waited until she couldn’t stand her temporary rehabilitation residence in Glen Cove, NY any longer before they whisked her away from where she lived all her life.  Small talk about cloud formations and cocktails helped soothe her apprehensions on the flight south.

Since her arrival she has been kept in a loving-type of elderly lockdown.  Over the course of her abduction she has been moved about, first from room to room, and then from location to location.  Along with the various drugs that medical staff seem intent on giving her, this movement of body and mind keeps her constantly wondering where she was, is and will be.  As she continues to adjust to her incarceration one thing she clearly understand is that this isn’t NY.

Talking with Aunt Lucy is often entertaining and reflective of the changes she is going through.  On a good day “it’s okay”.  On a bad day “it’s like a concentration camp”.  As I talk to her I try to take my cue from her, not deciding what we should or could talk about, or whether what we are talking about is real or imaginary.  Some days the conversations  are wonderful and other days they a bizarre.

For example, my aunt will occasionally tell me that “these are not my pants”, “there are Gypsies living upstairs at  night in my house”,  and “they were doing construction across the hall last night”.  I checked on the Gypsies half-wondering if the reports on her pants and construction might be true.   One night while working inside her home I heard a radio playing upstairs but decided I wouldn’t  check upstairs or mention it to her.  Frankly it was nice to have someone in the house again.

The inmates at the place she stays in now are reportedly mistreated during meal-time, according to my aunt.  “The oatmeal is watery”, “there’s no butter for the grits”, “they give us different color plates” and “they only have corn flakes”.  Her mealtime stories break my heart and I regularly mail her pats-of-butter and bags of Lucky Charms not knowing whether or not her mail is screened for contraband, melted or crushed.

My aunt regularly gives me lists of items that she wants smuggled into her compound.  “I don’t have any white blouses, black slacks, sunglasses, sun visors, sandals, nightgowns, or multi-colored vests”, she says repeatedly to make sure I understand.  “Where is the watch with the big numbers I gave you to hold for me?”  “Where is my jewelry?” “Where is the notebook that I use to record my bill payments?”

Her lists are wonderful as they describe items, their appearance, the rooms they are in, and helpful hints.  They are exact and serve as a treasure hunt taking me through closets, the basement, upstairs, behind couches, into cupboards, under tables, and beneath layers of family archaeology.  “It’s behind the couch”.  It’s in a plastic bag under the kitchen table”. “Just go in the basement and it’s on the right”.    Most places are accessible except for the basement which makes the movie “Silence of the Lambs” seem like a fairy-tale.

More often than not I find what she wants.  Sometimes there are fourteen blouses and twenty-three watches to choose from but after telephone consultation I usually narrow the search and find something close to what she was looking for.  Not that this work isn’t without its hazards.  The clothes are dusty and there is black mold in the basement.  Unhealthy conditions don’t concern my aunt and once she berates me for being a wuss and throws down the challenge of returning to NY to look for things herself I put my mask and doo-rag on and search-on.

She often asks me to care for her yard as well.  “Just snip the English Ivy so you can mow the lawn”  not realizing that the lawn went to old field the shortly after she arrived in the South. Gutters have fallen down, adding more water to the toxic concoction in the basement.  Trees and shrubs are overgrown and the grape arbor came down during Hurricane Sandy.  More than the vitality of the plant life all of the yard speaks to how diligent she was maintaining her property.  

Despite the efforts of other abductors to get her to wear the clothes she has, or those they have purchased for her, she is steadfast on shopping herself.  “The clothes they buy me don’t fit”.  She called the Orvis Store on her block in NY and arranged for her own credit card, ordering two more white blouses to go with the fourteen I sent her.  Her complaint about her clothes has some merit.  “I need new clothes, my body has changed”.  No doubt the pats of butter never made it to her grits.

Aunt Lucy struggles in her confinement to be entertained.  Cable TV and unlimited phone calls only go so far with her.  “There is no NY news on television here.  I don’t know these channels.  We are in a different time zone. The people here are all either crazy, sleeping or boring”.  She continues to believe that access to her savings would cure this problem.  “Why can’t I have money?” she repeatedly chants.  Fortunately, of late, she met a man who she likes.  She enjoys their time together but can’t understand why he has so many clothes.  She thinks he might have money and recently asked me to Google his finances.  I told her that her nose has grown since she moved south and not to snoop.

Surprisingly she doesn’t seem to realize, yet, that all she needs to do is call a cab and she can leave anytime she wants to.  The security in the compound is erratic and she still has a fairly quick step to her.  Incarceration may be weighing to heavy on her these days.  On occasion she will ask me, “Is this it?”.  I don’t believe it is and I tell her that it is still her life and she decides how she wants to live it.  I ask her if she wants to leave and she says, “Oh no, it would be too expensive to go somewhere else.  This is okay”.  Obviously the Gypsy life isn’t for everyone.