Dear Readers,

How swell it would be to take my credit card, to book a flight to Paris and to stay for a couple of weeks…   I was feeling pretty darn happy here in Cramer Hill–retirement, plenty of food, plenty of books, my cats, my family, friends, my writing group, my new hat.  Not exactly in that order, but you know what I mean…a good life.  But, it would be better to be in a café in Paris watching the world go by and eating snails.  No, I’m kidding about the snails 

What would make me want to leave my idyllic life in Camden, New Jersey?  A book, blame a book…  Sometimes I travel through reading and I’m enjoying  We’ll Always Have Paris:  A Mother/Daughter Memoir  by Jennifer Coburn.  The mother’s tale made me remember a trip to Paris with my daughter, Kim, when she was fourteen.  I was twenty-four.  Or, was I fifty-five?  One of those ages…  Anyway, it was 1997.

To prepare ourselves for the trip, we watched the video, National Lampoon’s European Vacation.  We laughed at the goofy adventures of the Griswold family and how the dad (Chevy Chase) took a video of his wife taking a shower.  Of course, their video camera got stolen and that video made Parisian billboards.  So silly, so stupid, we thought.

Our first day in Paris, we walked nonstop.  That was fine, except that I had a terrible cold and spent a lot of time blowing my nose.  My feet blistered.  The cranky lady who sold me tissues scorned my French, but I still loved Paris. It’s beautiful.  Finally, we got back to our little hotel where there was a huge bathtub and I knew that after a long soak that I’d recover.

I ran a steaming bath of Parisian water and climbed into the big tub with my paperback.  Ahh.  My feet said merci beaucoup.  I started to breathe better.

The heavy door creaked open and I screamed, but it was only Kim, my sweet daughter.  I didn’t note that she had her point and shoot in her hand, but when I did, I used my paperback to cover myself.  “Get out of here,” I roared.

The flash went off.   “Take that roll out of that camera right now and leave me alone!” 

“Mom, I’m sorry.  I was playing around, you know, like the Chevy Chase movie.  I didn’t mean to push the button.”

“You better take that film out, cut it up and throw it out.  I mean it.”  I was mad.  Steaming like the water…

A week later back home from our lovely trip, I took the hundred (well, dozen?) rolls of film that we shot in Paris to be developed at the Ritz Camera in the Cherry Hill Mall.  I waited the hour, but there were so many rolls that I had to wait even longer.  I went outside to watch the machine behind the glass plate wall, that printer that dispensed the developed photos.  I idly watched the prints slide out–the Eiffel Tower, baguettes, Notre Dame Cathedral, bookstores and ……..

My worst nightmare. 

You guessed it.  There I sat in the Parisian water in the Parisian tub with a red nose, a shocked face and a paperback guarding my body. 

If I ever get to visit Paris again and I can talk my daughter into going with me, I’ll take a much larger paperback.

 

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Camden, NJ, USA…not Paris, France….oh well….

 

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Dear Readers,

To retire or not to retire?  That was the question. So many reasons pro, so many reasons con.

The fact that my mom is almost ninety was one of the main reasons to retire.  I’d felt terribly guilty that I wasn’t spending enough time with her and some of that time that I spent with her  I was feeling tired and was wanting to go home to decompress from a day at school

My mom came over today and I planned to do work in the kitchen while she read the Courier-Post.  All those years of multi-tasking haven’t faded after three weeks of retirement.  I figured I could talk to her while I busied myself with little neglected chores.

Then, it dawned on me.  I have a lot of time now–washing the teapots on my kitchen shelves could wait.  Forever, if necessary!

My youngest and biggest cat, Bello Antonio Ferra, jumped onto the kitchen chair where I was sitting next to my mom. He rubbed his face against her.  She isn’t very comfortable with animals, but they adore her.  I pulled up a chair on the other side of my mother and we started to talk about the details of retirement, Social Security, pension, health benefits.

My mother asked me if I would miss the schoolchildren and I said yes.  A good memory sprang to mind.  In the first few minutes while the kids hung up book bags and waited for breakfast, I would put on a music video on the SmartBoard–that big wonderful sort of wall I-Pad.  A favorite was The Star-Spangled Banner sung by the military cadets before an Eagles game.  They learned the song, mastered English vocabulary and recognized Andy Reid, Bill Clinton and George Bush.

I opened my laptop and showed that video to my mother.  The jets flying over thrilled her and she remember how my dad and she had enjoyed an air show.  Then, I remembered how my mom liked Oprah and I showed her the interview between Oprah and Pharrell Williams.  We watched Pharrell’s Happy video and she loved it, especially when the children danced.  Me, too!  Next, I put on that silly video, What Does the Fox Say?  She laughed at the computer fox scatting at the end.

Whoa…  This was good.  Sometimes it has been awkward to sit together for hours and to find a new topic of conversation.  I thought, “Thanks, You-Tube.”

 I tried to remember Mom’s favorite songs.  At first, I drew a blank.  So did she.  Then, I remembered her favorite hymns and found them on You-Tube videos with the lyrics, all sung by Alan Jackson–The Old Rugged Cross, In the Garden, What a Friend We Have in Jesus.  We sang together, neither of us with good voices, but enjoying these rare moments of shared enjoyment.

 I found America the Beautiful.  She remembered all the words.  Both of us had learned them in elementary school in North Camden.  Then, we sang This Land Is Your Land.  The two Marguerites, eighty-nine and sixty-four, were on a roll.

“How about I’m a Grand Old Flag?”  she asked.  We sang it while watching the words on the screen.  It reminded me of the Saturday program that I had for kids long ago and that was one of the favorite songs of the group.

Finally, my cell phone rang and we stopped singing.  Mom picked up the newspaper and Bello remained on his chair next to his human grandmom.  I washed teapots on one shelf only, but that was fine.  I was glad that I was retired and let myself stop multi-tasking.  Singing with Mom was much more fun.

 

Written by Marguerite Ferra, Camden, NJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

Didn’t you use to look forward to mail in your residence mailbox?  The one where real paper mail came to you…  Today I found something that was hand-delivered to my Cramer Hill mailbox and not by the postman.

It was a envelope addressed to me and in big letters, it said, I STILL LOVE YOU!

I recognized the return address–way out in the Jersey countryside where a student of many years ago had moved.  I had heard that her family had moved out of Camden.

Inside was a note saying that her mother and she had tried to visit me to show me something, but no one was home.  The note said that she still remembered me very well.  Inside was a copy of her high school National Honor Society certificate.  Oh, wow.

My heart flipped. I was so happy for her.

School had been incredibly difficult for this child, but she had tried hard in my ESL class. She paid attention in class and got her mom to sign her homework.  She tried to speak English clearly, but she had a speech impediment and a heavy accent so she was painfully shy.

Every day she came into class and, with her kind and hopeful big brown eyes, she looked to see what she could do for Mr. Mendez (my co-teacher) or me.  She discreetly kept an eye on my belongings if I had to leave the room.  That year (and only that year in my teaching career) we had two children who took things.  She grabbed a broom to sweep the floor if she thought it looked dirty.  She asked to carry my bags if I had to travel to other classroom.

Her family was so nice, too. When I was home for a long time with terrible bronchitis, they got my address somehow and appeared at the door with a small bouquet of mixed flowers– the mom, the dad, the uncle and all the children. Well, you know how you feel about unexpected company when you have a bad hair day, you’re wearing a sweaty flannel nightie and you have nothing good to offer from the fridge?

I looked like a ghost with ratty, damp hair and I felt weak as a wet dishrag.  Thank goodness, my sweet husband jumped into company mode and ordered pizza and Pepsi from a local pizzeria on River Road.  We sat at the dining room table while they fretted that I was so sick. All I could muster was a wobbly smile and the strength not to put my head on the table. 

My student’s lovely mami sliced the pizza, poured the soda and gave out the napkins. Soon everyone was diving into the pizza and, miraculously, my husband found ice cream in the freezer.  It turned out to be a happy party, talking, laughing and me leaving the room to cough.  I survived the bronchitis and went back to school with that memory of being loved even on my worst hair day ever.

 But, the next year, (she was my ESL student again) one Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, I sensed that her family needed a little pick-me-up. It was just a feeling.  Maybe because she ate all the vegetables in the school lunch and ate the ones that the other kids disdained?

 My husband and I were both working and we had more than we truly needed.  It was a good day to share.  I put cash in an envelope and wrote, “Happy Thanksgiving,”  I told her to give it to her mom and not to open it.

Weeks later, a staff member who works with parents told me that the girl’s dad had a problem and wasn’t at home anymore.  The young uncle didn’t live with them anymore either.  The mom told that staff member that on that day before Thanksgiving that they didn’t have a penny left and there was no food in their home.  She told her that, out of the blue, a teacher had given the family money enough for food until she got her next meager paycheck.  The mom didn’t say who the teacher was, but I was glad that it was me and I wished that I could have put much more into the envelope.

The mom continued to raise her well-mannered, studious and gentle kids on her own.  All the teachers loved them. Some teachers made sure that the family got food baskets on holidays and helped in other ways that they never disclosed until years later.  The girl was no longer my student, but I’d see her from time to time.

Finally, we were out of touch, but I still remembered her.  I prayed that her family was okay. Some people criticize the poor, but most are good people who are trying hard.  I know that from teaching for so long here in Camden.

What a wonderful surprise today to find her letter and to know that she is a member of the National Honor Society!   I’m going to hang that paper on my writing room wall and whenever I see it, I’ll smile that she and I remember each other.

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Camden, NJ  (Cramer Hill)

 

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Dear Readers,

I spent most of today with my mom who lives next door in her brick row house in Cramer Hill.  She’s eighty-nine and she laughs at the very idea that she is that age.  It just tickles her when she remembers that she is almost ninety.

 I made her brunch–waffles and two little sausages.  She would only eat one of the sausages and made me eat the other.  Oh well, it was a tough task, but I handled it with ease.

Then, I made her coffee and we leafed through magazines.  I read her the question from an article in the magazine that I had, “What is the most beautiful place that you’ve ever seen?”

She stopped to think.  My brother sat down with us and offered, “Niagara Falls?”

“No, my house!” she said proudly.

I pressed her, “Okay, but how about the second most beautiful place that you’ve ever seen?”

We waited. 

“409 Vine,” she said.  That was her childhood home in North Camden.

“Mom, you’re a homebody,”  I laughed.

She has traveled a bit–Niagara Falls, the Jersey Shore, New York City, Florida, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Las Vegas, Acapulco.  Apparently, nothing in those places could compare with home for my mom.

Now I like my house.  However, I have to say that it can’t compare with the Red Rock Mountains in Nevada, the Eiffel Tower in Paris or the Alps in Switzerland.  Or–a lot of other places much humbler than those!

What was the most beautiful place that you have even seen?

 

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Cramer Hill

 

PS if you would like to follow my blog, click on FOLLOW at the top of the page. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

I vowed that if I could retire that I would spend every minute doing something useful—decluttering closets, planting a garden, making all the recipes that I admired in the New York Times magazines but were too tired/lazy to try.  To complete all the projects on my list might take me a year if I worked steadily and did not indulge in guilty pleasures.

What did I do today?  I  read in bed.  I lunched, long and leisurely, with a lovely high school friend.  We celebrated my retirement at the Cheesecake Factory. Yes, I did have a piece of chocolate fudge cake with whipped cream for dessert.  We talked…a lot.  Shelley and I traded stories about how it felt to be a teacher, a retired person, a wife, a mom, a person who should resist chocolate fudge cake. 

Shelley was my Algebra II tutor at Woodrow Wilson High School.  Through no fault of my tutor, I did not ever understand math once it got abstract.  Shelley was not deterred by this experience and she went on to become a math teacher.  She even remained my friend for forty-seven years and stayed the same–funny, down to earth, kind, smart and honest.  Thanks, Shelley, for the tutoring, the lunch and the friendship.   

After lunch, I went to Barnes & Noble, strolled around and treated myself to a few books.  Ah..real books are a guilty pleasure right up there with chocolate fudge cake.  Books–real books–not books on my Kindle, are a treat.

To continue my day in the same nonproductive but delicious manner, I took a nap in my air-conditioned bedroom with Reina, my little cat.  I ignored chores calling my name.

And…if that was not enough, my husband and I went to a birthday party and for the first time, I ate mole poblano—tender, delicious chicken with mole sauce.  Wow.  I did have a piece of Kahlua chocolate and vanilla birthday cake.  Double wow.

We drove home fifteen miles in that thunderous rain in the dark.  Triple wow–but not a good wow–unless you count that we got home safely.  That probably is a triple wow.  I was scared.

Now I just can’t keep up a steady stream of guilty pleasures.  I’m going to tackle some of the projects that I promised myself to do.  But, it was a super day.  Hope you had one, too.

 

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Cramer Hill

 

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Dear Readers,

I’m writing this Sunday night, but somehow the WordPress has me on a different time and I don’t know how to fix it.    It seems like yesterday that I was struggling to use a mouse and to cut and paste.  No, it wasn’t really YESTERDAY.  I love technology, but I wish that it could slow down for a few years so I could catch up.

One reason that I love technology is that it has produced Facebook and that many former students have gotten in touch with me.  It is the coolest feeling in the world to know that kids from 1972 still remember me and tell me that I was a good teacher…although I don’t think that was true.  I was only eight or ten years older than most of them…  But, how lovely to be remembered so generously… Some of their favorite memories were the day that the priest brought his huge dog into my classroom and the dog pooped on the floor, the day that we went to Philadelphia via a public bus, visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art and ate Chinese food in Chinatown and the day we sailed around the NYC Harbor–I was not the captain, luckily! 

Today I heard from another former student who was a pleasure to teach…he loved to study and organized study groups in the fifth grade.  He went back to his country and we were sad.  Our loss, Mexico’s gain.  Thanks, Facebook, for making this little reunion possible.

I guess you always remember your teachers.  Who was a teacher that you could never forget and why?

 

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Cramer Hill

 

PS  If you want to follow my blog, that would be fun!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

Living here in Camden is great because we are close to many places where they serve foods from all over the world.  Today my husband, Carlos, and I brunched in a place in Pennsauken called Mi Tierra Colombia.   (My Land, Colombia)   We often frequent this cute little eatery at Route 130 and Browning Road next to the Radio Shack in a strip of stores.  We enjoyed our food (scrambled eggs with bits of ham and red and green peppers for my husband and chicken, rice, beans and salad for me) and we loved our fruity cold drinks.  Carlos had guanabana (soursop) juice and I had mango juice– fresh and delicious.

We watched a server put something in two little brown paper bags, put the two bags in a big white plastic bags and give them to two tall men at the counter. .One paid  grabbed the paper bags out of the plastic and tossed the plastic bag on the counter.  He handed one of the paper bags to his friend and they immediately pulled out a sort of little round cake from the bag.

The two men tore into the cakes.

They looked so almost enraptured that I said to my husband, “What were they eating?  They couldn’t wait to eat it.”

Carlos called over the server and she explained that they had ordered arepas, a sort of round flat cornbread cake with cheese.  Curious to see what had sent the two men into such a state, we ordered one to take home.

Wow!  If I knew it was going to be so good, I would have started eating it in the restaurant, too.  The arepa was sweet, a little crunchy, a little corny and a little greasy.  Incredible.  Carlos and I shared one in our house, but I could have eaten an entire arepa myself.

I looked up arepa on the Internet and found out that there are many variations of the arepa and that it is generally a breakfast food.  Yum, yum, yum.

Don’t you just love to eat?  Food is such a good part of life and I know that I am blessed to live in a country where food is abundant for most of us.  Admittedly, there are Americans and people all over the world who are hungry and that is truly regrettable and extremely unjust.  However, I’m not one and I thank God that I’ve never had to go without decent food.  I’m happy about food, but I never forget that I’m one of the people in the world who got a good deal in life.

The rest of the day was pleasant, too–a visit from my daughter and a new book on my Kindle, Face-Off, an anthology of stories by authors of thrillers.

Life is good.

 

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Cramer Hill

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

As difficult as it may be to leave the delightful part of Camden called Cramer Hill, I did venture out this beautiful Friday to spend the afternoon in the delightful part of Philadelphia around Rittenhouse Square Park.

Although hot and humid, there was a breeze and the breeze did not blow off my new hat.  I wore a straw hat with a black band that I bought in Target.  It not only shaded my face from the sun, it also hid my hair that was not looking its most fantabulous.  But, I think it is a good hat.  While my daughter, Kim and I, watched Wimbledon, she observed that several people in the front row seats watching Novak beat Roger were wearing the same type of hat that I have.  I wonder if they, too, shopped at Target..

My friends and I lunched at a restaurant that looked like Paris. Good food.  Good conversation.  Good ambiance.  The best part was that we paid in dollars and not in euros. I saw people staring at my hat.  They must have loved it.

We decided to find gelato and, boy, it was delicious.  I’m glad there are no gelato cafes in Cramer Hill. I might become addicted.

Back home, I finished reading my new book, Everything I Never Told You: A Novel, by Celeste Ng. One of my retirement goals is to write down the books I am reading.  Just in case you’re interested…  The book was very good, but not exactly cheerful so I think I’ll have to reread another book that I’ve read this summer which is funny.  I love funny books.  Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Book by Janet Evanovich.

I love the Stephanie Plum books and I am proud to say that I met Janet Evanovich at the Cherry Hill Barnes & Noble a few years ago.  It wasn’t by chance.  No kidding, I waited at least four or five hours in line.  It was worth it.  Ms.Evanovich is a lovely, friendly lady.  She looked tired and I almost said, “Don’t sign.  It was good enough just to meet you,” but she picked up her pen and signed my copy of her latest Plum book, whatever one it was. I’ve read them all…

I’m reading another book that was written by a former classmate from Veterans Memorial Junior High School and Woodrow Wilson High School, Erwin Ford II.  George V. Higgins, The Life and Writings, is an impressive biography of a famous crime fiction writer.  I’ve read a bit of it and I’m happy that I’m going to learn about this popular Boston novelist.  I’m also happy that I’m reading a book written by someone I knew.

Ha ha!  When I was in Grade Six, I thought I’d keep a list of the books that I’d read.  But, I worried that I’d already read so many, what was the use?  Now I wish that I had kept up such a list.  Brother, Sister, it would have been very long, probably a big, fat notebook.  Now, several decades later, I will keep a notebook, “Books That I Have Read in My Retirement.”   I wonder how many millions it might fetch after my death.  I hope that my heirs don’t fight over it.

Thanks for reading my post.  It would be nice if you’d like to follow me!  It’s exciting that my posts have been read in Thailand, Norway, Puerto Rico and the USA so far.  I’m new to blogging so I keep checking my statistics on WordPress.  I’m laughing because the statistics are much more fun than the statistics of Student Growth Objectives and Teachscape.  I’m having fun being retired!

Marguerite Ferra

writing from Cramer Hill

Dear Readers,

As difficult as it may be to leave the delightful part of Camden called Cramer Hill, I did venture out this beautiful Friday to spend the afternoon in the delightful part of Philadelphia around Rittenhouse Square Park.

Although hot and humid, there was a breeze and the breeze did not blow off my new hat.  I wore a straw hat with a black band that I bought in Target.  It not only shaded my face from the sun, it also hid my hair that was not looking its most fantabulous.  But, I think it is a good hat.  While my daughter, Kim and I, watched Wimbledon, she observed that several people in the front row seats watching Novak beat Roger were wearing the same type of hat that I have.  I wonder if they, too, shopped at Target..

My friends and I lunched at a restaurant that looked like Paris. Good food.  Good conversation.  Good ambiance.  The best part was that we paid in dollars and not in euros. I saw people staring at my hat.  They must have loved it.

We decided to find gelato and, boy, it was delicious.  I’m glad there’s no gelato cafes in Cramer Hill. I might become addicted.

Back home, I finished reading my new book, Everything I Never Told You: A Novel, by Celeste Ng. One of my retirement goals is to write down the books I am reading.  Just in case you’re interested…  The book was very good, but not exactly cheerful so I think I’ll have to reread another book that I’ve read this summer which is funny.  I love funny books.  Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Book by Janet Evanovich.

I love the Stephanie Plum books and I am proud to say that I met Janet Evanovich at the Cherry Hill Barnes & Noble a few years ago.  It wasn’t by chance.  No kidding, I waited at least four or five hours in line.  It was worth it.  Ms.Evanovich is a lovely, friendly lady.  She looked tired and I almost said, “Don’t sign.  It was good enough just to meet you,” but she picked up her pen and signed my copy of her latest Plum book, whatever one it was. I’ve read them all…

I’m reading another book that was written by a former classmate from Veterans Memorial Junior High School and Woodrow Wilson High School, Erwin Ford II.  George V. Higgins, The Life and Writings, is an impressive biography of a famous crime fiction writer.  I’ve read a bit of it and I’m happy that I’m going to learn about this popular Boston novelist.  I’m also happy that I’m reading a book written by someone I knew. 

Ha ha!  When I was in Grade Six, I thought I’d keep a list of the books that I’d read.  But, I worried that I’d already read so many, what was the use?  Now I wish that I had kept up such a list.  Brother, Sister, it would have been very long, probably a big, fat notebook.  Now, several decades later, I will keep a notebook, “Books That I Have Read in My Retirement.”   I wonder how many millions it might fetch after my death.  I hope that my heirs don’t fight over it.

Thanks for reading my post.  It would be nice if you’d like to follow me!  It’s exciting that my posts have been read in Thailand, Norway, Puerto Rico and the USA so far.  I’m new to blogging so I keep checking my statistics on WordPress.  I’m laughing because the statistics are much more fun than the statistics of Student Growth Objectives and Teachscape.  I’m having fun being retired!

 

Marguerite Ferra

writing from Cramer Hill

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

Today is the 44th anniversary of my first trip on an airplane.  If you ask if my first flight was at the age of one, thank you, that is very flattering, but no.

I was twenty years old and I was wearing a blue and white mini-dress with white knee socks and white sandals and feeling cute. My hair was long and blonde, no silver strands among the gold. Our group of Rutgers Camden students was about to spend seven weeks in Europe, six weeks studying French in Lausanne, Switzerland and one week touring Paris.  The joy!

My Aunt Lucy and my mother had taken me shopping — thank you, Aunt Lucy and Mom, and so my suitcase was packed with pretty dresses as well as the heaviest French-English, English-French dictionary that I could borrow from the library.  I wore the dresses and loved them.  I don’t think that I opened the dictionary.

What a wonderful trip! Just thinking about the people we met, the little adventures that we had and the places we visited is making me smile right out loud right here in my row house in Camden.  Thinking about being twenty years old is making me smile, too. 

Happy Anniversary to me!  Happy Anniversary to all the students who got on the plane that day and to Mr. and Mrs. Alminde who were brave enough to chaperone!  Hooray to happy memories!

 

Marguerite Ferra

Writing from Cramer Hill

PS  It was my friend’s birthday, too.  What a great birthday for you, Linda…  Love you!  We had so much fun, didn’t we?

 

 

Dear Readers,

Some years ago I started to write a terrific book because………

If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”

― Toni Morrison

…just like Toni Morrison advised, it is a book that I want to read.

 It’s the story of my friend, Antoinette, and her years in Cuba as a young American woman who couldn’t get back to the USA.  Her Cuban dad had sneaked his American wife and three young daughters out of the country to help the Cuban Revolution.  

It’s going to be such a great book…  I just better finish it. 

Antoinette and I worked at Western Union Telegraph operators at the Central Telephone Bureau in Moorestown, New Jersey.  We became friends when I found out who was punching in my time card…early!  Our first names and last names had the same amount of letters (Marguerite Wunsch) and (Antoinette Chicca)…..!  This new operator on “the Spanish line” didn’t always wear her glasses so she grabbed the first card that looked like hers–by the length of the names.  After I hunted her down and thanked her for making me early to work every day, we became good friends.

She told me bits and pieces of her life in Cuba.  I begged her to write it down.  She said that she didn’t have a word processor.  I didn’t have one, either, so nothing happened.  We both did get word processors and then computers.  Nothing happened. Then, I joined a writing group.

 Sharon, good friend and writer, advised me to write a book about that time in Antoinette’s life–what a story, she said, Instead of sneaking out of Cuba, a family sneaks into Cuba.  The oldest daughter ends up making a life there, but she is longing to go back to the USA. Love and romance.  Joy and sorrow.  Creation and desperation.  Sharon and I agreed–that story deserves a book.  

Antoinette and I worked on the book for years–in her living room, in my bedroom, in a nameless diner where they told me to put away my laptop, in a pizzeria, in Taco Bell and any other place where we could get together…and anywhere there might be food.  Hmm.  I think we met in Dunkin Donuts, too.  Food jogged her memory and nourished my typing hands.  It was fun.

I started out in the first person, then changed it to the third person.  Big mistake.  Changing it back to the first person was a minor nightmare.  It was not fun.

I workshopped chapters.  I dreamed about the plot.  I obsessed about the characters.

Then, I got tired.  I was teaching full-time and I lost my zip.  Now I’m retired (hopefully, re-fired) and I intend to finish the book.  I’m going to read my draft, reread and reread my draft and write it from scratch.

Antoinette is rushing me because she hoped that the book would be picked up for a movie,  She is worried that Jennifer Lopez will be too old to play her character if I don’t finish the book soon.  

Now that I am retired, I have a lot of time to read.  And, I want to read this book.

So I’m going to write it!  

 

Marguerite Ferra, blogging from Cramer Hill

 

(In case you don’t know, Cramer Hill is a section of Camden, New Jersey.)

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

Here’s my second day of blogging and my twelfth day out of Camden City Public Schools.  Oops, I mean, Camden City Schools.  Somehow the people in charge ditched “Public.” 

There are many reasons for this change that I don’t understand, nor wish to understand.  However, I have a sneaky suspicion that it’s because ….at least TWICE,  over nineteen years,  I saw papers come from downtown with the word spelled without the “l” in public.  Why not err on the side of caution?  By the way, I swear that I did not make that up. 

I’m feeling more relaxed than other summers.  I don’t have that urgent feeling that I must complete all my projects, visit all my friends and relatives, travel all over the world and get slim and beautiful in just two months.  Aha!  I have the rest of my life.

As I’m typing, I’m looking at my bureau where stands a congratulations card from a friend:  A Word of Caution:  It takes a certain amount of time to adjust from the rigors of the workplace to a life of retirement and ease. About two minutes ought to do it.

That’s so funny, but I think adjustment might take me longer.  Teacher retirees tell me that the reality of retirement hits when school supplies go on sale in August and you realize that you’re not going to spend a few hundred bucks, or more, at Staples, Wal-Mart, Target, Robert Bros., or Lakeshore.  

I did have a clue, though, right here in July.  I was at the check-in at Wegman’s (buying food—nothing for school kids)  and  I grabbed a few of the sturdy recyclable bag and started to say to the cashier,  “I am a teacher and I had a lot of these bags, but I gave them to my students.”

I caught myself at “I am” and I managed to stutter, “I was………”  

I stood there in line and the thunderclap nearly knocked me to the floor.  I am no longer a teacher.  I was a teacher. 

ALERT!  ALERT!  ALERT!  Readjustment of my identity is in order.

Next time in line, I might say, “Hey, I’m a blogger.” 

In case the cashier wants to know?

Marguerite Ferra

From Cramer Hill

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

I didn’t intend to post today, but I’m in bed, my right foot packed in ice.  While I’m resting my poor foot, I figured I’d be productive and start my blog.  Hello, readers!

Somehow my old Toshiba Satellite laptop, otherwise known as the cinder block, fell on my foot a few hours ago.  I knocked the old gal off a chair.   Don’t ask me how.   One of those mysteries of life…  It happened so fast.

Yow.  It hurts a lot.  My foot will be black and blue tomorrow or as my husband, Carlos, said, morado.  (I think that’s a purply-plum color.)

What a way to begin my life as a blogger….

I wanted to start off with something positive and exciting about my retirement, blogging, reading, writing, eating and living in Camden.  Instead, I’m writing how I’m disappointed that my favorite laptop did this to me.  Did this laptop do this to remind me to get writing?  Or, did she sense that I bought another, much lighter, and that I’m going to retire her?

I don’t know how to use the new Toshiba laptop.  But, she is light.  Her keyboard is marvelous, just like my old laptop’s keyboard.  That’s why I bought her. I’m super picky about keyboards and I love the flat, smooth, glossy keys—hard to find.  But, her Windows 8.1. had me boggled when I bought her at the end of  my last school year.  I was too pooped to figure her out and thought that I’d learn to use her after I retired.  She’s still hidden away, waiting for me to learn to use her.

If only the new laptop had fallen on my foot…

 

Marguerite Ferra from Cramer Hill