In my youth, I was the second youngest of seven siblings. Just two weeks before my second birthday, my mother was two months pregnant with my youngest sister when my father slipped on ice and hit his head, but he went to work anyway. He suffered a debilitating brain aneurysm that led to a stroke. Miraculously, he survived at the age of 42.
At the time of his stroke, my father was operating the El train from 69th Street into Philadelphia. It took the standby crew almost 15 blocks to move his body enough to regain control of the train. Scary, right? However, that’s a story for another day. As challenging as this was for my dad, my stay-at-home mother faced even bigger difficulties in 1958. She had to feed six children while pregnant and also nursing her husband back to health. My father didn’t return home from the hospital until after my youngest sister was born.
It took nearly 18 months after my father’s stroke for my mother to find a job and for my father to recover enough, with considerable help, to manage the household. Thankfully, my two oldest siblings were very responsible at ages 12 and 10. They, along with my older brothers who were 8, 6, and 4, and me at just 2 years old, had to grow up a little faster in this situation. This context sets the stage for my question.
From first grade onward, we each had chores to complete every night, which we took over from our two older brothers once they found jobs in the area. If we wanted something extra—like soda, candy bars, or movies—we quickly learned that we had to work for it. We accomplished this through various means, such as delivering newspapers, mowing lawns, shoveling snow, selling candy bars for high school fundraisers, or running errands for our neighbors.
My mother often shared a story from when I was about four or five years old. I would wait for the bus at 58th and Springfield Avenue. As adults got off the bus and made their way down our street toward 59th Street, I would ask them if they wanted some company. If they agreed, I would offer to walk them to the end of our block-for a nickel.
In 5th and 6th grade, I helped a neighbor whose husband had passed away. His widow, Mrs. Krakivitz, hired me in the fall to camphor flake, tie, and winterize Karastan rugs in their basement for her customers. She paid me $5 per rug. Additionally, we had a neighbor who owned a commercial transport business. If he needed items like a refrigerator, stove, or dryer moved, he would pay my friend and me $5 each for our help.
In 1968, we purchased a fixer-upper in Drexel Hill, and our family spent most of our summer vacation and weekends that fall working to renovate it before our big move to the suburbs. During that summer, I was 14, and my 16-year-old friend got a job in the kitchen at Drexelbrook Country Club, earning $1.60 an hour along with a meal that included a burger, fries, and soda prepared by the chef. Once I turned 16 and obtained my driver’s license, I was offered a job at the pharmacy around the corner from my house, where I mainly handled the cash register and delivered prescriptions.
A few months later, in the summer of 1972, I started working at Acme Markets, where I eventually retired after 42 years. Now, I enjoy pursuing my passions at my own pace. These include playing guitar with friends, making wine, writing, spending time with my grandchildren, traveling, and connecting with my older siblings.
Point to Ponder: If you possess a strong work ethic and aspire to achieve something greater than yourself, what are you waiting for?
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