MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-51

Teddy had family but they didn't bother with him. A brother lived in New Jersey and another brother in the coal mine region of Pennsylvania. Teddy couldn't recall what towns they lived in. He had tried to visit the Coal Miner once but when he showed up at the front door he was told the brother "wasn't home" and " not to come back again."

"I bet he thought I wanted money from him," Teddy said in a low voice. "I don't want anything from him."

He claimed to have another long  lost brother  somewhere in Texas who supposedly did contact Ted. He thought the last letter ( several years ago) came from Kileen, Texas but wasn't sure. After Teddy broke his hip and ended up in the Manor he lost touch with this sibling. No mail was ever forwarded to him from his old address.

Teddy asked me to help. I tried finding the brother over the new and mysterious thing called the Internet. I wrote to the police department in Kileen, Texas, explaining the situation. They checked old army records, social security numbers and the local phone book, all to no avail.

Was Ted confused on the location? He was pretty sharp in certain areas but foggy when it came to dates and times. He had little conception of time, keeping in mind where he grew up and where he was living now.

With or without family, Teddy was a happy guy. He made friends easily with his sense of humor and infectious smile. He claimed to have "trained" many of the aides working in the nursing home. He had his routine, how to wash him, how to dress him, and other care needs. Because he was now exclusively in a wheelchair and still suffered  from violent tremors , he  could do very little for himself. 

He was able to hold his harmonica, use a remote control for his television  and slowly push his chair, all important in his life, but could  not feed himself. When he tried to hold a fork , spoon or cup he would make himself so nervous food or drink was spilled on the floor or on himself, to his anger and embarrassment. That's where I came in.

Ted  never complained. He loved watching the Phillies and Eagles on his little TV, staying up late to watch the West Coast games or listen to them on his transistor radio. A white  Phillies pennant and a red Phillies cap hung on his bulletin board on the side wall, along with countless photos he collected over the years, mostly Polaroid snapshots of former nurses and aides who took care of him at one time.

A large cardboard picture of Jesus adorned the wall as well, and at times iIwould glide by his room and see him sitting quietly during commercials for his soap operas, eyes closed tightly, praying aloud, asking God to please help him walk again someday.

A local junior high teacher dressed as Santa Claus each holiday season. He would visit all the residents, passing out cookies, fruit  and candy canes while taking photos with the residents for a keepsake. Teddy had at least five years' worth of Santas on his bulletin board.

He always  played bingo at the nursing home , excited to win prizes like a banana. On an unlucky morning he could be heard mumbling to himself on the way back to his room, "I'll win next week." 

He never used Bingo chips and when he did win he let everyone know, hollering at the top of his lungs "Bingo right here!" to the disgust  of nearby residents.

"Oh my, " Liz would growl. "Teddy, why do you have to yell so loud every single time?"

That was his signature call of victory, his catchphrase, even in the community. "Bingo right here!" meant that everyone in the hall knew Teddy had Bingo.

Teddy was a bit of a flirt too, but never inappropriate. Sometimes good-hearted aides would bring him in candy and cookies, and pretty soon his room looked like a grocery store. The Dietitian noticed he was getting a bit of a belly, and would half- seriously chastise him for eating too much junk, but what else did the guy have in his life? It got so that he was giving away chocolate chip cookies in return  to anyone who asked.

One night a nurse, on her night off, took Teddy back to the Bingo  hall he used to attend every week. That pleased him to no end, seeing old friends again, the center of attention."'They all thought I was dead,' he laughed."I'm not dead. "I'm here!"

He won $60 that night and insisted the nurse take half. 

He loved playing the lottery, always buying exactly one ticket each week. He played the same numbers every week. "They gotta come up sooner or later," he surmised. 'And it only takes one ticket to win."

Winning the lottery was part of his plan to move to Florida, hire a private duty nurse to take care of him, and sit out in the sun all day, working on his tan ( which he often did in the patio in the summer, much to the nurses' dismay). Hitting the lottery would just speed up the process someday. He was still determined to see Florida , lottery or not.

Teddy was the "Welcome Wagon" of the facility. Learning there was a new admission in the building he would show up outside their room, Playing them a welcome tune on the harmonica was always on the agenda. The harmonica was his great love. Christmas carols ( not always in season) and Gospel hymns were his specialties. Sitting in his room, or out in the hall, he would play his harmonica for hours.

He saw many roommates come and go over the years. He would spend thirteen years at the Manor. That's a lot of roommates. He got along with most,  ringing his call bell for those who couldn't or  in an emergency. As he said "Taking them under my wing."

 He sometimes annoyed roommates went he cranked up the volume on his TV ( he was heard of hearing but refused hearing aides, claiming it was "all in our imagination") or wouldn't stop playing his harmonica in bed at 2:00 a. m. But never any reason to transfer rooms.

I grew close to Teddy by feeding him  lunch for years. Sometimes it would be breakfast too, if I was there early enough and the staff needed help. He was easy. The same menu every day: fried chicken and chocolate ice cream. If chicken wasn't available ( sometimes he would wheel himself downstairs to the kitchen  to raise hell) then it would be macaroni and cheese or a simple baloney sandwich ( hold the mustard).

We talked during lunch and in-between bites. He would tell me about his past, his dreams of going to Florida someday, of hitting the lottery, of the Phillies, or how he won the night before at Bingo. The conversations varied and didn't really matter. He was happy to have someone- anyone- to talk to, especially someone willing to listen.

I could identify with Teddy. We were far apart in age yet had similarities. We both loved Baseball. We both had bad breaks in life. My parents could've easily did what his folks did- send the problem away. I was lucky to have such loving parents. And   he knew about being "different' and prejudice. He wanted nothing more than to be like everyone else. Hollering "Bingo" for the entire building to hear was a simple joy I could relate to.

 So, we were friends as well as Social Worker/resident.

If it wasn't for guys like Teddy I would never be a Social Worker. 

PHILLY SPORTS CORNER- PHILLIES

I was there yesterday when the Phillies lost to the Cardinals 7-5. True, the Phils won 2 of 3 in the series and are still 10 games over.500. but they missed out on the chance to sweep St. Louis for the first time in 13 years.

Cesar Hernandez, so hot recently, blew three chances to put the Phils on top. He was up with the bases loaded twice and the best he could do was get an RBI by beating out a double play grounder.

With first and second and no out in the 8th inning , and the Phillies down two, Kapler had Hernandez hit away rather than sacrifice bunt. Cesar popped out to third and the runners were stranded. Analytics said to hit away but old-school baseball said to move the runners along, where a single could tie the game, or a wold pitch could score a run.

Blame both Kapler and Hernandez for the failure.

Kapler has bee refreshingly honest in his post-game comments this season but after the game yesterday he slid back to protecting his players, stating that Hernandez did a "good job" in his at-bats, and that Jarad Eichoff, who gave up three Cardinal home runs, pitched better than he really did.

Once again Eichoff came up small. The organization and the media seem to like him better than I do. They called Eichoff a "workhorse" but to me, since the team traded for him from Texas, he has been mediocre at best.

Bryce Harper lashed three more hits . including a pair of doubles. He has gotten hot as the weather heats up. I never had much concern for Harper. He has been playing hard, playing great defensively, and even at the plate he effects the entire line-up with his presence alone.

Catcher Andrew Knapp played instead of J.T. Realmuto and it proved to be costly. Twice the Cards intentionally walked Rhys Hoskins to get to Hernandez. Knapp is a total waste offensively while being average at best defensively. I get it that Realmuto needs a day off once in a while, especially a day game after a night game. Why not look for a better back-up catcher if you're going to sit Realmuto once a week.

Nice crowd at a weekday game, over 31,000. Surprisingly, not many Cardinal fans in the crowd. No longer are opposing fans taking over Citizens Bank Park. It will be interesting when the Mets come in at the end of June.

Big series this weekend in Los Angeles. The two teams with the best record in the National League battle as the Phillies start a West Coast swing with a three-game weekend set with the two-time defending NL Champs, the mighty Dodgers.

This could be a preview of the playoffs. The Dodgers pitch Clayton Kershaw on Saturday. He's still a good pitcher but not great, as age and wear and tear have slowed down the big lefty. The Phils counter with Arrieta, Eflin and Pivetta

Taking two of three would be huge. The Phillies have shown the can play with the good clubs in the league. They split with the Cubs and recently took two of three from the Brewers in Milwaukee.

The team goes to San Diego next week, taking on the Manny Machado-led Padres.

The schedule finally gets easier later in  June, with games against the Reds and Marlins.

The Minnesota Twins have turned out to be a really good team in the American League. They are leading the Indians by close to 10 games in AL Central. Everyone knew the Twins had some good, young stars on the horizon, but they have come together quicker than expected.

The Phillies played them early in April in Philadelphia and beat the Twins two of three. With the Astros, Yankees and Red Sox in the American League, it will be a challenge or Minnesota to get in to the World Series but anything is possible and it would be a refreshing change to see the Twins go far in the playoffs.

PHILLY SPORTS CORNER-PHILLIES, NBA,NHL

Nice team win by the Phillies last night, beating St. Louis 11-4. They are 4-1 against the Cardinals this season, with a chance to sweep the three-game series this afternoon. Jarad Eichoff pitches.

Harper, Kingery, McCuthen and Franco all homered Tuesday night. The night was muggy, good hitting weather, and may be a sign of things to come this summer.

Nola pitched seven effective innings and went to 6-0 on the year. He's slowly beginning to look like the Aaron Nola  of old.

Bryce Harper had three hits, including his tenth home run, a laser to left field. He hustled one single into a double and continues to play hard.

Amazing that the Phils are 33-22, 3 1/2 games ahead of Atlanta in NL East, and guys like Harper haven't even gotten hot yet.

McCuthen continues to shine, drawing more walks, bashing a homer and getting on base.

The Odubel Herrera case is still being investigated. Meanwhile Herrera has been suspended with pay. I believe he has played his last game with the Phillies. Even if he does his time and is suspended by Major League Baseball, how can the Phillies bring him back? The fans will boo the hell out of him.

Herrera isn't worth the hassle. he only has one homer this season and is batting a paltry .222.

*********************************************************************

The NBA Finals starts tonight in Toronto  as the upstart Raptors take on the defending champion Golden State Warriors. I like the Warriors in six.

****************************************************************

The St.. Louis Blues tied the Stanley Cup Finals last night in Boston. The overtime win even the series at 1-1 as the teams head to St. Louis. I'm rooting for the blues. Another championship in Boston would be too much.

Let's break down the Philadelphia- Boston sports scene right now:

Baseball; Phillies and Red Sox.

The Phillies have the better team right now but expect the Red Sox to make a run at the Yankees in AL East before the season is over. Boston won the World Series last year. The Sox always seem to have a good farm system loaded with young talent. They have plenty of money to buy future free agents.

Meanwhile the Phils will spare no expense to win, especially after signing Bryce Harper to a record contract.

Football: Patriots and Eagles.

The defending Super Bowl champion Pats have to be given the edge but it's close. Carson Wentz and the Birds should be contenders for years to come, while Tom Brady is reaching the twilight of his career.

Basketball: Sixers vs Celtics.

Another close one. The Sixers are better and they have the better player in Joel Embiid. The Celts generally drat wisely and make smart trades, so this heated rivalry should stay hot for years to come.

Hockey: Bruins vs Flyers.

The bruins are way better right now. The Bruins are vying for a Stanley Cup in the NHL Finals while the Flyers didn't even make the playoffs. 

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-50

They were wonderful years at the Manor and they flew by quickly. I met hundreds of residents and families over time. Some stood out in my memory more than others. All made their mark in my mind and in  my heart.

There was Liz, who lived in the nursing home for thirty years. The wife of a late army officer, she was affectionately known as "The Mayor of the Manor' because she had been there so long. She had a Southern drawl and a raspy voice. Everyone knew Liz. She was a fixture.

 One of her daily duties was delivering the mail to her fellow residents. It kept her busy ,  allowed her to visit everyone., and most importantly to Liz, she knew who was getting what in the mail. So-and-so got a postcard today from Europe..Mr. Whatshisname had a birthday package delivered..or the lady with the blue hair on second got a notice that she won the sweepstakes.

Liz also did the daily morning announcements . What activites were linedup for today..what was on the menu for lunch..important stuff to those who resided at the Manor everyday. It didn't matter that many couldn't understand her drawl. The morning announcements with Liz were an institution.

Liz had the same room near the window for years. She was at every activity or party. She often made the local newspaper when they ran a story about the nursing home. And when she died it effected everyone very deeply because she was the Manor.

I remember Jim, a really sweet guy who had cancer.. He was at the Manor several years. He never complained and always had a smile on his face. He loved the Phillies. We talked baseball on my visits and he told me about old players he had seen such as Jimmie Foxx and Babe Ruth. He vividly recalled the games, the stadiums and the atmosphere, and it was fascinating to hear.

The modern day player he most admired was an outfielder on the Phils  named  Jim Eisenreich. He was a good hitter and a hustler, a gritty, determined player who never gave up, despite battling Tourrettes Syndrome. Jim took a liking to him on TV and noted he was also named Jim.  Eisenreich was an "old school player" like Foxx and Ruth and those greats he grew up watching in person.

Sports was so cool to talk about with the residents. It was a common link between the past and present. Endless stories and endless debates about the greatest players. Like listening to a game on a transistor radio on a summer evening, it was always a part of our life, from generation to generation. I found sports to be a great equalizer when it came to forming a  bond with my residents.

On a whim, I decided to write to Jim Eisenreich , with a brief note about our Jim, his situation and it would be  a nice  surprise if  Eisnreich could send him an autographed photo to hang in his room. The memories of how happy I  was when baseball teams started sending me autographed items out of the blue one summer when I was a kid cheered me up so much. Maybe I could return the favor.

To my delight, the outfielder did send Jim a personalized  color photo. Jim would stare at it with pride, I sent it to his daughter after Jim died. I never told her how Jim got  the photo, only that it was special to him and he treasured it.

Little things like that, which only took a little effort, made a world of difference. It was going that extra mile for the residents that meant so much.

Then there was Mary, a  blind lady I visited often. She was in her late 60s and her overall health was failing, so   she resided with us. She had a wicked  sense of humor and would've been great doing stand-up for a living. We swapped jokes daily ( a few naughty ones too) and she constantly asked me what her fellow residents and staff looked like. She was a  big music and movie buff, and we chatted about  the old and new stars. I teased her when she informed me that she was in love with Billy Dee Williams.

"I happen to look exactly like Billy Dee Williams," I said. I looked nothing like him at all except for the fact we were both males.

"Aw, Greg!" she would laugh, her face lighting up. "You're too much. Looking so good and working here?"

Speaking of infatuation, Mary tried to fix me up one time. I had numerous crushes on different cute nurses and aides over the years. There happened to be a really pretty aide named Rochelle working there at the time, and she happened  to work on second shift. I would see her before I left for the day. She  would be assigned to Mary at night, especially to help her to bed. Mary knew I liked Rochelle by the way  I always asked about her. "Rochelle said to tell you hi," she would say, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

I was  surprised when Rochelle told Mary she thought I was "cute" and we exchanged phone numbers. We dated a few times until I found out she not only was married but had kids.  I'm glad Mrs. Alfgren  never found out and Mary was a good sport to keep it quiet.

 It was stupid to risk my job like that, as it was forbidden for employees to date, especialy with a resident playing matchmaker, but I was young and dumb back then, still getting over Jill.

I could go and on about the residents I met over the  years and the impact they had on my life. I would be remiss not to mention one special resident who effected me and still remains in my memory.

His name was Teddy. He was in his 80's. He constantly smiled. His face was impish-like, a wide grin with only a few teeth left, pointy ears and small blue eyes. He refused to have his hair cut for reasons only known to him. That was his right so he wore his gray hair in a short ponytail.

Teddy had been diagnosed  with "mental retardation" back then ( an outdated term now), but after spending time with him and learning about his past I seriously questioned that diagnosis and thought that maybe he had been misdiagnosed all his life.

He spent the first thirty-five years of his life in a local mental institution. Back in the early twentieth century when Teddy was growing up he was shut away as an infant , not uncommon for someone deemed "different" to be put away and never heard from again.  Because of a physical disability ( Cerebral Palsy and a seizure disorder), which caused his limbs to be twisted and distorted , his body shaking violently at times, he looked and acted different.  Through no fault of his own Teddy was "different' so his parents sent him away.

Teddy could only learn from what he saw and heard. He was a  product of his environment. He never received any formal education, more or less a slave in the institution, one of the "brighter boys" who helped take care of the needier patients.

He did menial jobs in the facility, such as a janitor and cook. To me he was just "slow" because what he lacked in social skills and education he made up for in amazing abilities he developed in time.

He played the harmonica flawlessly, able to take requests and beautifully play almost any tune. He loved Bingo and even before coming to the nursing home he would attend Bingo almost every night. My Mom knew Teddy from Bingo.  His memory was so sharp he never used Bingo chips to cover his numbers. He instantly memorized the many different cards he played.

During the late 60's and into the 1970's, Pennsylvania began to assimilate more mental health patients into the community. So Teddy finally left the hospital that was his childhood  home and lived in a group home with several other gentlemen from the area. He worked in the Laundry Department at  the hospital for years, earning a paycheck instead of  collecting disability. He walked to work every day, a good  hike of a mile,  through rain and snow, often working twelve-hour  shifts.

He didn't have an easy life. Bingo was his enjoyment. He never won much, just enough to keep him going. Otherwise he watched the Phillies.

A few years before I became the Andrea's assistant,  Teddy came to the Manor. A car hit him while he was attempting to  cross the street on his way to another Bingo game in town. The result was a broken hip, which, compounded with his other physical challenges, left him in a wheelchair for good.

It was his dream to walk again and move to Florida with his "pen-pal" Gail, a lady he met as a youth at the institution. She was a  nurse  and stayed friends with Ted over the years. She was happily married and retired to Florida. She wrote letters and sent goodies in the mail, like cookies and toiletry items, which thrilled him to no end.. Whether she ever actually promised to take him to Florida someday to live was debatable. It was a hope that kept him going, a dream of something to look forward to.

Realistic or not, that was Teddy's goal- to walk well enough someday to relocate to Florida and live close to his friend and her husband.

"You can pick an orange right from your backyard," he told me with a smile and a wishful gleam in his eye.

During  the summer Gail and her hubby would travel north for a few weeks. One annual item on their agenda was taking Teddy out for the day, usually to the mall and to his favorite restaurant for his favorite meal: fried chicken and a chocolate milk shake. Always the same thing every year.He counted the days on his calendar, literally, until he went out.

Indeed, Gail  did tell Ted  if he could learn to walk well enough she would consider taking him to Florida, where visiting nurses could handle his needs at home. So he insisted  the physical and occupational therapists work with him, even though their assessments were that additional therapy would not be beneficial and insurance would not pay for it. Still he insisted and the therapists would buy  him time for exercises, and often he would be seen huffing and puffing up and down the second floor hall or in the therapy room, using a special walker.

Teddy was  not giving up.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-49

I had no clue that Andrea was thinking about leaving the Manor. So when she told me one morning that she had given her two-week notice I was surprised. She was taking another position closer to her home, which was about 30 minutes away. She also  wanted to spend more time with her now three-year old son.

I grew  so much in the years we worked together. I admit that I depended on her in situations I still was unsure how to handle. I thanked her for supporting me  as I know she was on my side when the corporation approved of an assistant. I was also afraid I might not get another supervisor as cool as Andrea  was down the road.

At first Mrs. Alfgren  looked for a new Director of Social Services. Until she found someone, after an exhaustive search and countless interviews, I was back to handling the 144 residents alone, as I did during Andrea's maternity leave. Three people accepted the position in six months. One turned out not to have the nursing home experience she claimed to have once she started. Another simply left after only a week. once she got a taste of all the work involved. Then I met Caroline.

She was younger than I was with a few years of experience in the field.  Petite with long brown hair  flowing  all the way down her back ,she  was a real free-spirit, like Lori was from college, She  ate organic foods, believed in yoga and meditation, lived with her boyfriend and generally was a cool person. She was refreshingly honest, laughed a lot, often  wore long granny dresses and old-fashioned clothes ,  and had a good perspective on the job. "Whatever:" was kind of her motto, and she didn't let stress get to her If she could walk down the halls in her bare feet she would've. . The residents liked her because she was different, down-to-earth and friendly.

I could've worked with Caroline forever. But, like a brilliant shooting star lightening up the sky then fading into space, she left after a year. She wanted to get more into private counseling and decided  that she needed to "find herself.' elsewhere.

So back to square one.

Mrs. Alfgren consulted me on the resumes and I sat in with a few of the interviews. But we just couldn't seem to find the right person for the job. Then Mrs. Alfgren looked at me after another disappointing interview and said,'What about you, Greg? You've done the work. Why not?"

Believe it or not at first I was reluctant to accept. I was perfectly happy doing what I was doing. I was OK with being the assistant. I knew the Director got the grief whenever the state stopped by and there was a problem in the department. The Director attends more meetings and I was happy being out on the units where the action is. The extra money would be nice but I wasn't complaining. I was making peanuts back then, yet still it was more than being on disability. Probably the main reason for my hesitation was my own self-confidence. Even after all the experience I had  I wasn't totally confident I could do the job. I was still learning something new every day.

Then I thought, why not? Mrs. Alfgren has the faith in me to make the offer. I may not get this chance  ever again. The challenge would keep me on my toes. I need to grow out of the box.

So I accepted.

For the following six years I was Director of Social Services at the facility where I started as a volunteer. It was my dream job, and I remembered how hard I worked for this in school, how unhappy I was at Aging, and couldn't forget the dark days on unemployment and disability.

The actual work wasn't much different than when I was assistant. I still did the mountains of paperwork, the counseling and whatever I needed to do. I worked closer with the Psychiatrist  and the Psychologist who came into the building once a week. I began to appreciate Andrea and Caroline even more. Trying to fill their shoes wasn't easy. I could only do the best I could do.

I worked with Mrs. Alfgren  more closely too. She was more demanding with her department heads then with her assistants, and rightfully so. I was one of the top dogs now, and along with the title came added responsibility.

I had numerous assistants over the years, some good and some not so good. Most stayed for a while, got a taste of nursing home life and either loved the fast-paced work or hated it. There was no in-between.

Changing assistants was frustrating. It would take a few months to train someone. It took time to learn how to formulate a care plan or complete an assessment on a resident. Often, just when they got the hang of it they would quit and I had to start over again. A few cracked  under the  intense pressure when the inspectors were lurking. It wasn't easy.

I also had two interns, both from my old alma mater, West Chester U., who joined me for their practicums. It was great giving back to my old school by helping new, soon-to-be Social Workers learn the ropes. I wanted them to get excited about their duties. I wanted them to make a difference and feel good about themselves. I wasn't so far away from my own internships and I could relate to what they must be feeling.

I hated to give bad evaluations. I knew how important the internships were to graduating and getting a good job in the field. Yet it was my responsibility to teach, and if they failed I failed too as a supervisor.

There could not have been two students more opposite than my interns. The first , named Jody, was very shy and quiet. I was too when I first started out. Afraid to say the wrong thing or make mistakes. I forced myself to open up more. She wasn't going to cut it being so passive.

My advice worked because within weeks she was giving me advice as to how to run the department better and how I could be a more effective supervisor. This was all new to me, suddenly being the boss. Even after a month or so I was still babying her. Instead of letting Jody  make her own mistakes-  I shadowed her everywhere (( instead of the other way around). I didn't need to be with her every hour of her internship so I began to let go. We ended up with a terrific practicum.

 Years later I would bump into Jody at a seminar and she was doing well in the field, working for an agency that helps homeless veterans.

My second student named Emily  was very emotional. I admired her spunk, being a single mom of two small kids, fresh out of a divorce, trying to make it in school in her early 30's. Every morning was frantic, dropping her kids at daycare, coming to her internship crying and stressed out from school and her personal life. We would take the first hour of each day just to talk. and let her cry.

How could Emily  help the residents when she was constantly in tears? She bummed me out, so I can only imagine how the residents would feel. I felt bad her  but  she had to get herself together. 

She was still finding her way, a familiar scenario indeed, so a combination of tough love and kid gloves worked.

By the end of her nine-month run Emily  was better. I still had concerns for her in the field but she seemed to have her life together by graduation, and I hoped her good heart and caring personality would carry her through.

I heard from Emily  after graduation. She didn't find a job in the Social Work field but she was working, happily so, at a local daycare. She thought it may be a waste of her degree but I disagreed. Maybe she would get back into the field someday. She was happy working with children.

Everyone finds their niche sooner or later.

I had found my niche too. I was making a difference at a job I loved, . I thought I would at the Manor  forever, or at least unit I retired. But like everything else in life, things don't always go as planned.

PHILLY SPORTS CPRNER- PHILLIES

-  Chances are Odubel Herrera has played his last game for the Philadelphia Phillies. He was arrested Monday night at the Golden Nugget casino in Atlantic city for alleged domestic abuse to his 20-year-old girlfriend .

Herrera needs to go. Right now the Atlantic City police and Major League Baseball is investigating . He is suspended for at least seven days. The girl has marks on her neck and arms. Unless self-inflicted, it's clear Odulbel did something.

I get it about "due process" and "innocent until proven guilty" so I'm willing to wait. If guilty , Herrera should be released or traded but he can't stay.

I'm sure some sucker would take Herrera. Not only does he ow have this legal matter hanging over his head, Odubel suck on the field to. He is hitting .222 this season with only one home run. he has been bad for over a year. I reality he has under-achieved since the Phillies gave him a new contract several years ago.

He would dog it even before he got more money. What did the Phils expect after he got paid? More episodes this season of laziness, not hustling and going brain-dead on the bases and out in center field.

Rightfully so, the Philly fans would boo the hell out of him if Phillies' management brought him back. It's time to move on from his lazy ass.

Regardless of who plays center field in the future (Andrew McCuthen played center last night) it can't be goofy Odubel. Management can't screw this up like they did the Brett Myers incident  in 2007.

Gabe Kapler has much invested in this situation. He and ex-wife  Lisa built shelters for abused women in Los Angeles. Kapler refuses to answer questions about an incident that occurred in 2015 when he was with the Angels. Supposedly, instead of reporting an allegation that an Angels prospect attacked a 17-year-old girl and Kapler tried to mediate a meeting between the player and the victim and not report the incident to police. .

This is even worse news for Herrera, and regardless of what the investigation finds, he could be made an example of by the Phillies.

Whatever, he has played his last game for the Phillies.

- The Phillies overcame a 3-0 deficit last night and beat the St. Louis Cardinals 4-3. The Phils return to 10 games over .500 and are now 2 1/2 games in 1st place in National League East.

Despite two more strikeouts by Bryce Harper, he hit a key double  in the team's comeback. Cesar Hernandez, who continues to hit and is making a run at an All-Star nod, crushed a two-run homer to right to give the Phillies a 4-3 lead. Hector Neris pitched a perfect ninth inning for the save.

Nick Pivetta, despite a shaky first inning, pitched five innings and got the win. Too soon to tell if he will get another start. My feeling is he will because who else can the club turn to? Plus the organization has invested too much in Pivetta then to send him back to Lehigh valley and give up on him.

Aaron Nola goes for Philadelphia tonight in game two with the Redbirds.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-48

My Mom was getting older, and she was going through a stage where a rash of her good friends  she rgrew up with or knew later in life were starting to pass away. That had to be hard, watching people you knew so well slowly disappear. It was the same deal in a nursing home. Residents often became good friends. It was a community within a community. Residents enjoyed each others company, did activities together and  had meals together. Hearing that someone close to you just died, the residents mourned and the unit was unusually quiet for a few days. The staff were more subdued.  Who would be next?

Part of my job was to provide support. It could grind you down after a while, the constant illness, death and dying aspect of the job. But then after a period of grief life went on. It was like the residents knew this was inevitable and they dealt with it in their own way.

Not knowing what to expect each day kept the job interesting. What would you see from a new admission: Alzheimers?  Stroke? A broken hip? Some families were there all the time to visit, others rarely at all. I felt for all, yet I suppose I had a special place in my heart for the younger residents, those in their 20s or 30s, placed because of an accident or a debilitating disease such as Huntington's or Cerebral Palsy. . I could only imagine what it would be like to be only 35, and for no fault of your own, needing to spend the rest of your life in a place where the general population was mostly in their 80s and 90s. Some of those residents were even younger then I was. That was especially devastating to the parents, unable to provide care at home, forced to seek placement, watching a child slowly waste away. Wasn't it so that children bury parents and not the other way around?

But for thr grace of God that couldv'e been me.

My typical day would be arriving at 8:00 each morning,  pushing the block from my house,  rain or shine. It was nice to have  such freedom and independence and not worry about transportation.

I usually did my charting and paperwork early, before the residents awoke and before the phones started ringing. There would normally be a morning meeting with Mrs. lfgren. and the other department heads at exactly 9:15, then depending on admissions, we would go about our daily duties  such as care plan meetings, visiting residents and even more paperwork, always being on alert for emergency situations when a Social Worker was needed.

Often these immediate situations occurred when a resident became violent, threatening suicide or became harmful to staff or other residents. Sometimes a mental health issue or a symptom of Dementia was the cause. I never got in the middle of a resident who was extremely violent- thank God for the nurses and aides, and when bargaining and gentle reassurance didn't work, in order to protect themselves and others, a trip to the hospital was in the cards. But often Andrea and I did help. We knew about body language, tone of voice and how to approach someone who was very confused and agitated.  It came with experience, trust and usimg common sense. We tried to teach those skills to the staff through seminars and on the spot training.

There were also less urgent yet important duties too:  breaking up roommate arguments, which was an almost daily happening. was big on the agenda.  Matching roommates was tough,  like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, knowing which personalities would jive together. When it didn't work someone had to move, and that was never easy. Sometimes a resident wanted out and a fresh start in another room  and sometimes they would stand their ground. "Why do I have to move? Let her move!"

Generally our rule of thumb was whoever started the ruckus needed to relocate. Often it would be issues such as one person wanting the heat turned up high and the other wanting it cold. Or one was blasting the TV and refused to wear head-phones. The goal was to make everyone happy, and with 144 people to please it was never easy.

We always had to remember this was always a new thing, sharing a room. Chances are many people never shared a room with anyone before, other than a spouse. Now, spending so much time in a room, it was important to share it with someone compatible  and not combatable.

Not every issue was stressful or menacing. There was joy and happiness, even in a nursing home. It was always a great day when a resident recovered enough to go home, maybe with services or in-home care. I recall a couple who met at our place, fell in love, married, got their own apartment and lived very well together for the rest of their lives.They were in their 80s when they met.

 There were holidays to celebrate and landmark birthdays, especially when a resident turned 100.Often the newspapers or even a Philadelphia television station would cover the big event. There was always a party and decorations, and usually a certificate from a politician was presented to the resident being honored.

Veteran's Day and Memorial Day were big, and we always made it a point to honor  out vets in-house and remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice. They were joyous occasions but also tearful at times, as our veterans would remember old war buddies and aspects of the service. Some liked to talk about their experiences and world travel; others preferred not to talk about it at all, as my Dad used to never mention World War II or his place in The Battle of the Bulge.

Anything could happen from day to day. This one particular morning  I arrived at work like any other day, and before I could take off my jacket the nurses on second floor called the office. They needed me to come down, right away, even before I had time to start my paperwork.

Thinking it was urgent  I wheeled down the hall at a brisk speed. Upon  arriving  at the nurse's station the gathering of nurses and aides were smiling and laughing. I thought they had all gone off the deep end or maybe were smoking pot. They liked to tease me anyway, since I was a guy ( they rarely saw men in my field),  and easy to blush .

It seemed there was a female resident down the hall, around 95 years old, who needed "help." I knew her well and wondered what the big deal was all about.

During breakfast, while the aides were feeding her at bedside, this lady kept mumbling "I  need..I need..I need..."

They couldn't figure out what she needed. They offered her everything they could think of; water, a bedpan, potable phone. What did she need?

Finally, as breakfast was ending and the aides were taking her tray away the lady blurted out "I need..sex!"

95! I guess certain  desires never go away, even with age. So naturally the nurses called me.

"Go take care of her," they teased.

"They never taught us that at Wets Chester!", I replied.

I wrote something vague in my notes, something like "Resident somewhat agitated this morning. Social worker offered support. Better now."

I generally got along great with the nursing staff. They knew I had their backs  too. I learned over the years what special people they truly were. Working in a nursing home can be very emotional, hard work, both physically and mentally draining. It was important to offer support, a friendly, listening ear, knowing what they went through day to day, A pat on the back, acknowledging they did a good job was so important. Often supervisors, caught up in their own work, forgot to offer praise for a job well done. Too many times state surveyors would point out the negatives in a nursing home, which I suppose is their job to do in order to improve care. I found that encouragement  also  helped to keep moral high as well as rewarding caregivers and pointing out the positives too.

Things like pizza parties or just a special mention during a general staff meeting meant so much. It meant a lot to me. It validated that the hard work you were doing  was worthwhile  and it kept me motivated to try even harder.

I admired the many doctors, nurses, dietary maintenance and office workers I met during my years working in  nursing homes. Unequaled dedication by far.  My favorite group of all had to be the aides.

The aides were always the real backbone of our facility. They did the dirty work- cleaning and showering residents, transferring and lifting folks, doing the basic, daily, mundane duties, yet rarely receiving a thank you, paid minimal wages yet their dedication unwavering.

It was always special when the aides got close to the residents they cared for. We weren't allowed to play favorites, but just like anything in life- classmates in school, siblings in a family, co-workers on tthe job- you always liked someone more than someone else. That was life.

It wasn't just a job to many aides. Many baked cookies for their residents they cared for, a few even went out to the movies or home to dinner on rare occasions. I noticed the aides tended to pay a little more attention to those residents who didn't have family, or ( maybe even worse) family who never came to visit.

Someone cared and that's important for anyone to know that someone cares.

The aides laid their hearts on the line each day. When a favorite died it was hard to accept. It was risky, getting emotionally involved with a  resident who more likely would pass away sooner than later. Some would vow "never again" when they talked to me for support, but more often than not the next resident who needed a little special TLC  was taken into their heart.

Not everyone could do it. It was no sin just to do your duty and not  get emotionally involved. I could understand avoiding  the heartbreak.   For the most  part, the aides I worked with over the years were compassionate people who just couldn't help doing that little extra for someone in need.

PHILLY SPORTS CORNER- PHILLIES, NBA

The Phillies were off on Memorial Day while most of major League Baseball played day games on the holiday. Seemed weird for the Phils to be idle, but I'm sure the players loved it, spending time with the families and finally having an off day in the midst of a long stretch of games.

The Phillies remain in 1st place atop National League East by 1 1/2 games over Atlanta. Philadelphia is at home tonight- weather permitting- against St. Louis while the surging  Braves host the fading Nationals.

J.D. Hammer, the newest Phillie rookie reliever, made his debut over the weekend and was impressive. Wearing thick, Coke-bottle glasses and long, shaggy, curly brown hair, Hammer ( what a great name for a reliever!) could catch on as quite a character on the team-if he is good.

I can see it now.."It's Hammer time! .."Time to put down the hammer!" ..while the P.A. system at Citizens Bank Park plays music by M.C. Hammer ("Can't Touch This!"). Let's hope he is eventually the closer the bullpen needs.

Vince Valasquez, after an impressive bullpen appearance on Saturday, came back Sunday and gave up four runs in only 2/3 of an inning. Valasquez all but said "I don't want to be a reliever." He's been an inconsistent starter, plus Nick Pivetta has grabbed the only opening in the rotation. If Valasquez doesn't adapt and accept coming out of the bullpen I can see management giving up on him and trading him during the off-season.

Speaking of Pivetta, he gets another shot tonight vs the Cardinals, after pitching well in Lehigh Valley. Let's hope he has learned to pitch to contact and throw strikes.

Another young hurler, Zach Eflin, got torched on Sunday at Milwaukee. Supposedly Eflin had a stomach bug yesterday which may excuse his performance. So why was he even on the mound if he was that sick?

Brandon Woodruff, the Brewers' ace, shut down the Phils, striking out 10 in 8 innings, surrendering one hit all afternoon, a solo shot by Andrew Knapp. The offense remains inconsistent but credit Woodruff in pitching a masterful game.

Bryce Harper continues to struggle. He's on a pace to strike out more than 200 times this season. He is stuck at 9 home runs and is hitting  around .230. Yet the team is in first place. The other additions: Segura, Mccuthen  and Realmuto, so far are carrying the load. Hopefully Harper heats up as the weather does.

After the quick three-game series with the Redbirds, the Phils fly to the West coast for games against the Dodgers and Padres. Their schedule lightens up a bit in June with more games against weaker foes like the Reds, Marlins and Nats.

The NBA Finals start on Thursday night in Oakland. The defending champion Golden State Warriors face the upstart Toronto Raptors in Game  1. even though Toronto's Kahwi Leonard had played brilliant basketball through-out the playoffs, he has little help, whereas the Warriors come at you with Steph Curry, Keven Durant and others.

Golden State knows what it takes to win. I think the Warriors win the series in five games.

BASEBALL TRIVIA

Name  the Dodger who committed three errors in one inning in the 1966 World series.

A. Tommy Davis
B. Willie Davis
C. Lou Johnson
D. Ron Fairly

Answer" B.

In a scoreless Game 2, with future Hall of Famers Jim Palmer and Sandy Koufax facing off, the Orioles posted three runs in the top of the fifth as Davis misplayed two fly balls hit by Paul Blair and Andy Etchebarren and then overthrew third base.

The Dodgers lost 6-0 and were swept by an underdog Baltimore team.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-47

It was the Friday between Christmas and New Year's Day. I was ready to head home to enjoy the weekend and the holiday. It was my last day at the Manor. Andrea was expected back next week from her maternity leave.  It was a  tearful farewell, as  residents, families and staff all wished me well. Some held out hopes I would be retained but I didn't think there was a chance. If they didn't tell me by now, Friday afternoon, it's not happening, iIreasoned.

Mrs. Alfgren . asked to see me fifteen minutes before the end of the day. She met me in the Social Services office, and thanked me for all I did since Andrea was out. No problem, I said, expecting nothing more.

"Greg, you've done such a wonderful  job that I want to offer you the position of Social Service Assistant. Andrea needs help. Sorry it took so long to let you know but I had to wait for  the final answer from my bosses. What do you think?"

Of course I accepted, thanking her for everything.

So, for the next three years I worked with Andrea. I did   basically what I had been doing while she  was out. Only now I had the second or third floor- roughly 100 residents- ( we would rotate floors every six months so we both were familiar with the residents on every unit)  and we split the first floor, which was the Medicare floor- another twenty or so people.

 The first floor was where we got most of our admissions. More often than not they would stay long-term and be transferred to second or third, the long-term care units. But if someone needed rehabilitation in order to return home they would stay on first until they were ready to leave.  So, most of our discharges occurred on first.

It turned out to be an excellent system and we worked well together. My documentation was especially strong, as I always remembered "if you don't write it down, you never did it." In fact, one of the usually stone-faced state inspectors  commented after an exit interview that my notes were some of the best he had read in the state.

In all of our years together our department never got "gigged"- received a citation. It spoke volumes for our work, how we cared and what we accomplished.

I was there when the nursing home won the coveted E award ( for "excellence") from the company after another tremendous survey, The corporation threw us a big banquet at a local hall, along with bonuses for all.

I was also there for the not-so good times, when inevitably the surveys showed deficiencies in other departments that needed attention. We worked hard in the allotted time frame given by inspectors to clean up any penalties. But I can say, in my many years as a Social Worker, there was never an abuse charge by staff to a resident. Andrea and I stressed Residents Rights, and any kind of abuse- physical, verbal, mental-  would not be tolerated. We had a tight staff, even among the aides, so it wasn't a problem back then.

There was pressure like in any job. Keeping the beds filled, especially on the Medicare floor,  was a priority and a challende.  The nursing home was a business and an empty bed meant no money coming in. When referrals dried up, usually from the hospital across the street, we would joke about needing to go out and "recruit" for residents ("If you're planning on taking a fall in the near future, I've  got just the nursing home for you...").

Andrea and  I were not only the Social Services department, we were Admissions too. So if we had a new case being transferred in that day, even without much notice, we were expected to drop everything else and focus on the admission. That meant getting papers signed by families or Power of Attorneys. Again, it was all about keeping those beds filled.

Nursing home Social Work was fast-paced, unexpected and challenging. You had to be good to cut it. The Manor wasn't the old, stereotypical hellhole of the past, a place where old folks were mistreated, neglected and abused. Our place was clean, odor-free, bright and cheerful. It was a place where people came to live. Those who stayed long-term were treated with respect and dignity. More and more people needed rehab to go back home and live with a visiting nurse stopping by or home health aides. It was part of my duties to arrange the help, as Discharge Planner.

If Andrea and I saw that things weren't up to snuff- not one is perfect- maybe an environmental problem or a call-bell not working, or breakfast was cold that morning- it was our duty to alert Mrs. Alfgren  and make sure she followed up to resolve the issue.

I was proud of our facility while I was there with Andrea.

Families were as different as their loved ones who came to live at the Manor. Many were experiencing grief, guilt, feelings of being overwhelmed or extreme sadness. Family members cried at my desk, and I was there to comfort them, to show compassion and listen. I didn't always know what to say and sometimes it wasn't expected to say anything. Letting the families know I cared and understood their concerns and their feelings many times was enough.

Some families were angry, deflecting their anger to staff, even to Andrea and myself. Some could be very demanding with the nurses and aides, as they felt guilty of being unable to care for their loved one.

I remember one daughter calling me to locate her mother's bras- all fifteen of them lost in the laundry. Who wears fifteen bras? Espcially when you are 95? I did find some, working with the Laundry department, but as it turned out, the daughter was secretly taking bras home, then claiming they were lost in order for the nursing home to pay for brand new ones.

I usually let Andrea handle future bra problems. She was much more qualified in that department, and she agreed, laughing.

Many families called for help with buying adaptive clothing, arranging for dental or eye  appointments or set up transportation to doctor's offices or visits home. Some merely called for guidance and support, especially new families unacquainted with nursing home life or having a loved one sick. Families helped families and I helped to put together a support group. We held regular Family Council meetings too, which we organized and conducted, another source of support.

The residents suffer the illneess and  some may not even be aware of what's going on. Many had Dementia or Alzheimer's, some more confused than others. Some could recall events that happened years and years ago, as far back as when they were kids, yet could not tell me what the had for dinner last night. Or sometimes even  their own name.

But it was the families who knew exactly what was going on. The families were the ones who struggled every day with visiting, watching loved ones decline in their care needs and memory.   And it was the families who often heard the line 'I took care of you when you were a child- why can't you take me home?" It had to be a helpless feeling, wanting to take your loved one home, yet knowing that  going home wasn't the right thing to do.

The residents needed the same comfort and support. Who wants to be in a nursing home?  After years of working hard, raising families, family vacations, celebrating holidays together, all the good times and bad, who would ever imagine it would all end in a nursing home? Many vowed, making family members promise, never to place a loved one in such an "institution." Often residents suffered from depression or  anxiety  the aftermath of admission. Some were accepting of placement- others fought it, attempting to elope, or were combative to staff.

 Those were the challenges we faced everyday. It wasn't easy for anyone- resident, family or staff.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-46

Things looked pretty bleak after I left my job with Aging, and I dreaded the thought of going back on unemployment or disability until I found something else. Then I caught a break.

I had  worked at the Manor  for long that the staff, especially Mrs. Alfgren, the Administrator,  knew me very well. I was like family there for a long time.

I was still out  work when I attended the annual Volunteer Luncheon in the apring of  1990. Mrs Alfgren,  a petite lady with short curly gray hair and a friendly smile, came over to me before the luncheon began, asking how I was doing. She was always kind to me, and we actually started working at the Manor together in 1977.

She squinted her eyes and crinkled her nose in that funny way she did when she was thinking. She asked to see me after the luncheon.

The current Social Worker, Andrea, was going to have a baby. They needed someone to fill in for six months until she came back. It wouldn't be a permanent position, as they could only afford to pay one full-time Social Worker, but it would be great experience and a job for half-a year. I would never forget Mrs. Alfgren because she gave me a chance, when I started working part-time and volunteering.

She trusted me like no one had before. Here she was, offering me yet another chance.She knew whatever I lacked in experience I made up fpr in life experience.

I accepted the job on the spot. I would start immediately, orienting with Andrea until she left for maternity leave on July 1.

I was thrilled. Returning to where it all started. Only a block form home. No transportation issues. No worries of sending out resumes or going to job interviews. I didn't think about what would happen six months down the road. I was just thankful that God led me back home where I belonged.

The weeks of orientation went quickly. Andrea was so easy to work with, young ( maybe a little older than I was), pretty, smart. She had been in the field a while and knew her stuff. I learned something new everyday.  Down the road, as a seasoned social worker, I would continue to learn something new every single day.

The job was interesting and fun We never knew who we would meet or what kind of case we would encounter next. In that way it was lot like my Aging gig, but this was focused on the nursing home, its residents and families.

Our office was small and we shared it with Medical Records, but we made do. The residents were glad I was on board and filling in for Andrea soon. Of course they would miss her, and I suspected some families eyed me with concern. Andrea was top-notch and families trusted her. If they went to her with a problem it would be quickly  resolved . She was honest with families and residents, yet friendly and reassuring. I had my work cut out for me to win their trust as well.

I think my O.I. both helped and hindered me. It helped because the residents knew I could  to relate to  dependendence on others, the loneliness, the pain. I knew what it was like  to be bed-bound and not able to even get a drink of water on my own. It was frustrating when your independence isn't yours anymore.

My disability  hurt because families had to think can this guy do the job? Is he physically up to it? Is he mentally up to it? That old fallacy of you must be intellectually disabled because you can't walk. still existed. They went hand-in-hand, didn't they?

Andrea did a fantastic job extolling my virtues to the families. It was up to me to prove that she was right.

After July 1st I was on my own. The staff threw Andrea a little party. She was really loved at the Manor.  Everyone would miss her. I would miss her too, knowing I was alone now. My caseload was 144 residents, if all the beds were filled.

I was a bit apprehensive,  but like  my college days, I didn't think about the massive caseload. I just did it. There were meetings to attend every day, care plans and notes to write, documentation and forms to complete on a timely basis. If you don't write it down you didn't do it, and I soon learned that documenting everything was key.

There were residents to talk to and families to counsel, which was always my favorite part of the job,  The paperwork was a necessity. It had to be done timely and neatly. I was always conscious of falling behind and the daunting task of catching up. But I was always on time with my notes, which impressed Mrs. Alfgren and the state when they came around to do their inspections.

I especially loved the residents, and even though I was tremendously busy from 8:15 to 4;00, Monday to Friday, I always tried to find time  for them.

Two things were important to me: No matter how busy I was, unless it was impossible to do and I couldn't get away from meetings or new admissions, I always tried to see each resident daily. Even if it was a quick hello and a smile it was important to build trust and let them know someone cared and that I had not forgotten them. Every single day, without fail, I would touch base with all 144 residents.

The second important item to me was  continuing  to feed those residents in need of assistance when I could. Even on  those days when  I was so swamped I didn't have time to have lunch myself. It was important because it brought me closer to the residents. We weren't talking about their mood or family things or problems they were having. I fed them and we would talk about fun things or the weather or" how about those Phillies?" I never thought of feeding as demeaning or not as important as my regular duties. I pitched in and helped the nurses and aides when I could, and it was always a great experience.

"Ok, Mrs. Gray, here we go," I announced as the aides brought her lunch tray bedside. After bibs were in place and secured we would go over the menu for today; "Chicken at 6 o'clock, mashed potatoes at 3 o'clock, broccoli at nine o'clock and dessert..it looks like chocolate pudding, is way up at 11 o'clock on your tray. Ready?"

Nine times out of ten she would ask to start with dessert. I suppose I would to.

My time went fast and I did the best I could do. I dressed nicely every day, was  on time, and   often was there   on Saturdays to get paperwork ready for Monday morning. The State surveyors did make their annual inspection while I held down the fort. They knew I was a fill-in, so but I couldn't count on them to  cut me any  slack. I'm sure Mrs. Alfgren had faith in me but she had to worry about the inspection. Would I drop the ball? She would soon find out.

We had zero deficiencies . at least in the Social Service department. I  let out a big sigh of relief during the exit interview at the end of the week. We all could relax, all the department heads, all the staff. I had faith in my own abilities  but I didn't want to be the lone eye-sore on a state inspection .  I wasn't.

 The staff, though always kind and helpful, seemed even more encouraging after they  knew that I was  doing a decent job decent enough to pass the rigorous state inspection.  I could never be Andrea, but I was holding my own , and the inspection verified that.

Andrea had a boy in late August. She  called  me from time to time to find out "how are things?" I suppose she was worried too, what would she come back to find? It was only natural. I knew Mrs. AAlfgren , with Andrea's blessing, hired me because of the circumstances, but now I was proving I could handle the work.

Andrea stopped by with the baby in the fall. She went around to see all the staff and residents, and they were so happy to see her and meet the baby.   Animals and babies were always popular with the residents. Afterwards, she stopped by the office and seemed pleased, and maybe pleasantly surprised, that things were in good shape. She met briefly with Mrs. Alfgren and apparently got the same good word form her.

I didn't want to let anyone down so I was gratified that everything was good .

At the end of 1990,it was planned that Andrea would return to work after the new year. I hated to leave but reality said to start sending out those dreaded resumes again. After more than six months alone I had become even more of a fixture at the Manor. I felt more respected by the staff and more confident in myself. I worked well with the residents and families and soon I was actually hearing  nice comments like "It's a shame.Do you think they will keep you?"Even though Andrea was well-liked so was I.  I could see that residents, families and staff were torn.

Andrea said she would talk to Mrs. Alfgren   about "needing an assistant," but she couldn't promise anything. She asked for help before and the corporation always said no.  The workload could be handled by one  but  two could share and have more   one-on-one time with the residents. There was justification for adding an assistant to the Social Service department but it always came down to money, like usual with big corporations.

I know that several families put in a good word with Mrs. lfgren.  Even a few residents who could make it down to her office on the first floor, either by wheelchair, walker or cane, took the time and effort to see her and put in a good word for me. For that I was eternally grateful.

Mrs. Alfgren  put in the request but it was out of her hands.  Even if they all agreed that Andrea  needed an assistant how would I know I was the guy they would hire full-time?

MOVIE REVIEW- A DOG'S JOURNEY

** 1/2 out of four stars

If you like the movie "A Dog's Purpose" a few years ago chances are you'll love "A Dog's Journey" , which picks up right where the first movie left off. From the best selling  novels by W. Bruce Cameron, the stories are about a dog named Bailey who comes back to life each time it dies as another puppy, and always for a reason. I won't give away anything in case you want to see this new film or wait for it to appear on cable ( which, judging form the people I saw it with on Sunday morning, won't be too long.

I saw with Holly yesterday morning in King of Prussia, and it looked like it may be a private screening until a family walked in, parents and two small children. It seemed like most movie-goers were seeing either Aladdin or The Avengers.

"A Dog's Journey" goes a little over ninety minutes. It's a lot like a Hallmark Channel flick. Often it's a feel-good movie, kind of sappy and overly-sentimental, other times dark and depressing. Of course anytime you have a movie series that centers around death it's not going to be laughs and chuckles all the time.

I liked the intent of "A Dog's Journey" as I did "A Dog's Purpose," but I can see how the death thing may effect smaller kids. Plus everything seems to work out just right  and there are too many coincidences to make it real.

Dennis Quaid stars again as Ethen, the original owner of Bailey, and he does a good job. The main character seems to be C.J., Ethen's granddaughter, whom Ethen tells Bailey to "take care" of her. Bailey goes through at least three difference dog lives that I counted in C.J.'s life. It's always highly ironic how they find each other but they do.

I won't give away the satisfying, yet sad ending suffice to say there probably won't be a third film in the series. That's OK as the cuteness factor has kind of run its course. But I liked both movies and enjoyed the human ( and animal ) factor in the summer, amongst all the superhero movies out there.

The movies may be too sugary and at times stupid but they have heart.

This franchise spawned more animal-talking movies and even a short-lived TV series. but they proved not to have the same power as this series starring Bailey.

I'm a big dog lover too and that helps. I didn't cry as I admittedly did during the first film, probably because I knew the dog's would come back to life and everything would turn out just fine. However the sentimental ending did get to me a bit. You would have to own a heart of stone for the conclusion not to touch your soul.

The kids in the theater were asking questions through out the movie. Maybe they had a pet who passed on, and the movie can be a good teaching tool however the premise that dogs come back to Earth as other new dogs is ridiculous- but who knows? Anyway, they never really mention if this reincarnation thing just happens to Bailey or do other canine come back too?

All in all I give "A Dog's Journey" two and a half stars. It wasn't as original as "A Dog's Purpose" and the formula was predictable, but  most of the characters were relatable and likable, and the dogs were cute. I won't say you'll exactly have "fun"seeing this film, as it's not a popcorn, action summer movie, but if you need a good cry and are looking for a wholesome family movie to watch together this fits the bill.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-45

She claimed it was the hardest letter she ever wrote.She still didn't have a phone in her apartment. And Norway wasn't exactly close enough to drop by and tell me face-to-face. So our relationship would end as it began- in a letter.

Yes, she loved her new job and really didn't want to leave it. She was making friends and loved her new apartment in the bustle of the city. She was making good money while paying off her student loans. How could she give that all up for a job she knew nothing about across the ocean?

 Jill was right. I also  sensed her family encouraged her to stay there. I couldn't blame them. I would be concerned to see my daughter or sister move so far away.   Most of all, and maybe the toughest fact to swallow, was that time and distance had faded her love for me. There was no one new, or so she claimed. She just couldn't go through with our plans. Plain and simple. No" let's take time and think about it."It was no.

If someone new was in the picture I don't think Jill would've told me. She knew how much that would hurt. Her letter was painful enough.

I had been great to her over the years (she writes). That "little voice" inside told her it wasn't right after spending so little time together. Our time was like a fairy tale. It wasn't real.  To me it felt real.

She "needed time to find myself." All she could offer  was friendship. She wanted to remain friends. I was her best friend ever, helping her to live and love again. However she understood if I said no and never wrote back. She knew I would feel guilty, angry, cheated and hurt. But as I read on, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I felt shock, the only emotion I could feel.

She closed by writing 'I'm so sorry." And that was that.

I was devastated. In time maybe i would understand, and I did. She was right. Instead of anger or bitterness I felt foolish. Never again.The whole thing was a joke. Who was I to think I could ever have a real relationship in my world?  I was the joke.

I felt empty inside. I stared at the letter, my hands shaking. All the dreams and plans had stopped. Where do I go from here?

This was Jill saying goodbye, not  just any girl . But it turned out that she was just any girl. . This girl was supposedly  different and special. I shared so much with her- my life, my secrets, my feelings. She was my best friend too. How could I ever trust anyone again?

How could I ever listen to another Manilow song again without crying? Everything that happened last spring. 'When is the wedding?"  "Let me know when the wedding is,"  It was never going to happen.

Why now, after seven year?/ The pressure of the visa, of leaving her new job, her family, her country, her life. What could I offer her to outweigh all of that?

Welcome to the real world. Brittle bones or not your heart can break just as easily as your bones can.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, so magical. Jill was the one who kept encouraging, " Don't worry! It will all work out..."

I believed her.

I wheeled into the kitchen where Mom was making dinner. She turned away form the stove and knew  something was wrong.  I still had the letter in my hand. "Jill," I said softly."Jill is gone. She is saying goodbye."

Like any caring, loving mother, she didn't lecture or say "See? I warned you."  "You're kidding? Oh my God.." and came over to hug me. We were never really huggers or big on feelings, but she knew this time I needed a hug.

I couldn't eat, literally. I just didn't feel like it. I couldn't sleep and when I did I was always dreaming of Jill. One vivid, recurring nightmare had me travelling to Norway, like a knight in shining armor, frantically searching the streets of Oslo in vain, always waking up in a cold sweat, my heart racing.

It wasn't a dream. I really had lost her.

Get over it. Life goes on. You'll find someone else. It wasn't meant to be. I heard all the usual cliches. I did try to forget her. But she was everywhere. A Norwegian won the New York City Marathon. The Winter Olympics were being planned for Lillehammer, Norway. Miss Norway became Miss Universe. Norwegian language stickers were all over the house. The sweater she knitted fme hung in my closet.

 Life wouldn't let me forget her.

I saw her everywhere:.   Our favorite restaurant, the mall, the movies. .Vicki  and Chris  did the best they could to cheer me up. They knew that Jill was everything to me. She was all I talked about when we went out. They loved her too.

As time went by it didn't get any easier. My feelings changed from sadness to bitterness. How could she throw everything away? Did she just use me? Did she ever really love me?

It was stupid to feel that way. I know she loved me at one time. I had to let go. Why cry over her? I'm sure she wasn't sitting in her apartment, alone, crying like I was.

Plus she was right.

I wasn't exactly a popular guy on the dating scene, so most weekends I was home again, watching television, back to where I was before. It seemed like nothing had changed after all those years.

I called a few female friends from back in college. They weren't interested.  They had moved on  too. Until I close one door how could I open another?

No, I needed time to heal. I still cared about Jill.  Every few nights I had the same dream of  traveling to Norway, but this time I found  her. Braving the ice and cold, the long distance flying to Oslo, waiting outside her apartment in my chair, freezing. waiting in the falling snow with fresh flowers in my hand. She would see me and run to me, hugging me warmly, her heart melting, and, just like old times, we would be together again, this time for good, just like in the movies.

The truth was that I couldn't accept the truth. i just couldn't face the fact that she had moved on. Maybe I should trash all her letters and gifts? But why? The memories would still remain.

Months passed without Jill in my life. I missed her. Yet I couldn't write to her.

If you are a Barry Manilow fan his music is perfect for a heartbreak. That's practically all of his damn music. Songs like "I Made It Through The Rain" made me cry, but that was good

 In time  I started to smile more , remembering the good times. I loved Jill for loving me. It wasn't easy but she overlooked my disability and saw me for who I really am. She gave me a chance. A broken heart is a tough price to pay, but her love was worth it in the end.

I thought of her every day, wondering if she was thinking of me too.

Then, in a total surprise, I got a card the following spring. No birthday or Christmas card. But an unexpected card.

A fellow fan had gotten Jill a copy of our 'Three Wishes" video. The memories remained. Always. She thanked me again.Maybe she missed me to?. She wasn't changing her mind. She was offering an olive branch.

My foolish pride kept me from answering. Maybe I needed time away. We would go years before connecting again. Much would happen until then. I kept busy, kept to myself, worked hard and never forgot Jill.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-44

Manilow was coming back to the area in August, this time to the beautiful outdoor amphitheater called the  Mann Music Center outside Philadelphia. I couldn't wait to get tickets, knowing Jill would return late in the summer.

There was one hitch this time: a  local radio station bought out all of the tickets- about 10,000 for a promotional stunt. The tickets would be given away in the next several weeks and all summer leading up to the show. I had to first qualify by sending in a contest coupon. Every hour the station would announce several names  and if your name was called you had a short amount of time to call back and claim the free tickets.

So, if I wanted to see Manilow this time I would need to get lucky.

I listened to the radio every free waking moment. Some people never returned the call back. Some listeners really weren't fans, at least not die-hards like me and Vicki . Many  called because they were free. It was a frustrating stunt because here I was, dying to get a pair of tickets, with no luck so far, and people who weren't fans at all had tickets.

Weeks went by and still no luck. Quite a few "Smiths" were announced, just not the right one. Then when all seemed lost, around 2 a.m. one  quiet night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I vaguely heard my name. Was I dreaming?

I grabbed the phone, still bleary-eyed, and dialed. The line was busy but I finally got through, giving them my name and code number.

I won! Two tickets were winging their way to my mailbox!

I had a pair of tickets and I was happy, able to finally sleep again. Then someone at work, who also won ticket(, but not a fan) knew I was a fan from the "Three Wishes" special. She gave me her tickets. Now I had four.

Then, in a last-minute stunt, the radio station started giving away tickets at local shopping malls. I went to one of the giveaways to soak in the fun. Hundreds of fans lined the mall . I saw many familiar faces and was nearly caught in a stampede when the location of the actual giveaway was switched to across the mall. I picked up two more tickets and now I had six.

I gave the extras to Vicki and Chris, who got shut-out. . By hook or by crook, Manilow fans got their tickets . Some traveled from mall to mall. Some stayed up with the radio  night after night, listening together in shifts. Some traded or bartered for tickets . Others took out ads in newspapers.

Jill did come over but this time for only two weeks. Since she was new at work she didn't have much time off and was lucky to get what she could. We shared another great show together on a warm, starry summer evening. We didn't meet Barry this time but it didn't matter.

At times Jill seemed strangely distant, very unlike her. I'm sure she had a lot on her mind.  But she continued to say not  to worry so I didn't.

While she was in the States we worked on her "Fiancee Petition,' a special visa that would allow her to work and live in the States--only if she married an American. It was a long process so applying was the first step. There were forms to complete along with gathering birth certificates and identification photos.

For the first time Jill saw our "Three Wishes" video That's when she wasn't  hiding her face with a pillow, peering up at times. She concluded that it was "nice."

We talked more seriously about the future in those two weeks. We decided to live with my Mom and go back to Norway frequently. I was making contacts about a job for her. Children were another matter. I knew Jill wanted kids someday. We spent a lot of time in baby departments while we were shopping together and I could imagine Jill would make a  caring mother.

But I had to be honest. There was a 50% chance any child of mine would have O.I. We couldn't live in fear, but since O.I. is a genetic disorder it was possible to be passed along. I wouldn't want anyone, let alone my kid, having to go through what I went through.

"I'll see you," is what she said when we parted again, hopefully for the last time ever.

Jill didn't have a phone in her new apartment yet- another strange thing- so I couldn't call her as often as I had,. I felt out of touch at times. I know she liked her new life as a budding attorney, living in the exciting city of Oslo and working for a well-respected law firm. That's all she talked about on her last visit. Our letters continued as did our plans. Her visa was due any day now.

Then it happened. First my job. I couldn't blame the county for stopping my taxi rides. I was surprised they had picked up the bill this long, but Ed always reassured me by saying "Don't worry about it." Maybe the county Commissioners got on his case. I was well-liked and did good work but one day in the fall I was called into my supervisors' office. It's never a good sign when they shut the door.

 Poor Ed couldn't tell me himself. I didn't blame him. He was good to me. Either I had to find another way to get to work- by bus, car, whatever- that was now my problem- or resign or be terminated. I had a week to make the arrangements.

Not learning how to drive bit me in the butt again. Mom offered to take me back and forth until I found another way but as luck would have it, her car was in the garage just then. It was old, a used car to begin with, and it was on it's last legs.  I asked for more time, until the car was repaired but I had a week, period.

I couldn't afford to pay the expensive cab ride each way, but that's exactly what I did for several weeks as I fought to save my first job. What was the use of working when practically all of my salary was being spent on transportation alone?

The bus route was not accessible. This was still the pre- Americans with Disabilities world I was  living  in. Paratransit was in it's infancy and wouldn't cross county lines. I couldn't find anyone to car-pool with. There was no angel like Lori in my life now. I was doomed.

I didn't want to quit. I didn't want to go back to life on and off unemployment and disability benefits. I worked so hard to get off those government programs. Because of transportation I may be forced to take a step back...again.

Vocational Rehabilitation couldn't help anymore. I regretted not accepting the hospital gig, even temporary, and when I contacted them about a possible opening I was told no openings.

I really liked my work now. I was helping others and making a difference, real Social Work. I felt like such a failure now. It was my fault. I gave up looking for other ways to get to work  after a while. .I hit so many brick walls that I didn't want to rock the boat with Ed. I knew I was on borowed time all along, so I rode out the county's generosity as long as it lasted.

Reluctantly, I resigned, giving them two-weeks notice. My co-workers sympathized with my plight but there wasn't  much they could do. All they could  do was wish me luck and offer encouragement that things always happen for a reason.

Cleaning out my desk was terrible. I was on borrowed time, and no matter how much sympathy and encouragement I received I was treated  like a guy on the way out. I started sending out resumes again, but the same problems were still there. Transportation would haunt me wherever I went.

I sent Jill flowers that week, for no reason, other than to say "I love you." I didn't tell her about work. I felt something good was going to happen any day. As it turned out, I didn't need to tell her.

Usually I couldn't wait to open Jill's letters. This time I hesitated when I found the envelope on my bed after work. I changed into casual  clothes first, glancing at her mail. It had taken an unusual length of time for her to write back

The letter began as always. Well, almost. Instead of "Dearest" Greg it began "Dear" Greg. That is where any connection to the literally hundreds of letters and  notes in the last seven years  ended. I couldn't believe what I was reading.

Jill was saying goodbye. She was ending our relationship for good.

PHILLY SPORTS CORNER- PHILLIES

Maybe it's a good thing that reliever Pat Neshek went on the Injured List. He said he felt a pop in his right shoulder while playing catch recently. This after Neshek surrendered a pair of homers to the cubs this week, after claiming he couldn't pitch earlier in the week.

The team should cut his ass when he gets of the injury list. He is a prima dona and a diva. He pitches when he wants to, not when the club needs him. He gives up a pair of long home runs to the cubs then suddenly  needs to take a break because he felt a twinge.

I know the bullpen is an issue, even though it looks like Hector Neris has reclaimed his role as closer. The Phillies still need to pursue Criag Kimbrel after June 1st.

Vince Valasquez pitched well out of the pen last night in the Phils' 7-5 victory in Milwaukee over the brewers. Valasquez can be a Brett Myers-type guy, who comes into a game, throws fastballs, and gets key strikeouts.

Hopefully David Robertson comes back form injury. I really don't care about Tommy Hunter, who wasn't good even before he got hurt.

But Pat Neshek needs to go. He's in the same class as Odubel Herrera- the sooner the GM gets rid of these problem whiners, the better.

It was truly a team effort against the brew Crew, as the Phils seek revenge this weekend against Milwaukee. Hoskins hit his first homer since early May. McCuthen had a big night with a pair of ringing doubles. Segura extended his hitting streak to 15 games. Hernandez keeps hitting as he laced a double inside the left field fair line. Harper nearly hit a home run, settling for a double deep off the right field wall. Kingery had two hits.

Jerad Eichoff pitched just OK. He needs to step it up again. He goes this Thursday afternoon vs the Cardinals and I'll be at the ballgame.

The Phillies  are now a season high nine games over .500 at 30-21. They remain 1 1/2 games ahead of the braves in NL East, Atlanta winning last night in St. Louis. Jake Arrieta goes this afternoon in Milwaukee.

BASEBALL TRIVIA

World Series

Which of the following teams didn't come back from a 3-1 game deficit to win the World Series?

A. Pirates ( 1925)
B. Yankees ( 1958)
C. Tigers ( 1968)
D. Twins (1987)
E. Cubs ( 2016)

Answer: D.

Minnesota won their first two home games in 1987 before dropping three straight in st. Louis. But the Twins won the last two to give Minnesota their first world championship.

Baseball Birthdays

Brad Penny
Bartolo Colon

Saturday birthdays

John Montefusco

Sunday Birthdays

Jason Bere
Darrell Evans

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-43

Two events happened in the following weeks: Mike returned the pictures and there we were, with Mnailow. It really did happen! I sent copies to Jill. I wondered what the reaction would be in Norway? Her mother wasn't very interested, referring to Barry as "some singer" in Norwegian.

With only a days' notice Mike gave me a heads-up about the TV report. I was happy we met Manilow, really happy for Jill, but still a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, and even more reluctant to see myself on TV. Still, I set my VCR and so did family members in case I screwed-up.

As the news began they ran the promo we had filmed on the boardwalk. There I was, looking cold, as the anchorman said "And tonight on 'Three Wishes,' Mike brings you the story about a boy from Phoenixville and a girl from Norway, and their dream come true..."

Mom sat quietly, maybe as nervous as I was. About midway through the news, the three-minute segment began.

"This is more than just two pen pals meeting," Mike said on the tape. "It's a love story."

I cringed, afraid to look at the screen. Mom smiled and said 'Uh-huh."

There  I was, wishing  my wish from the backseat of the limo, a close-up shot of yours truly, dissolving into Manilow singing his first song.

They showed everything,  brief little snippets: the huge white limo, me looking like Trump gazing out the window, even the "I love you" in Norwegian.

Actually Mike had done a fine job of putting it all together. If only it could've been about someone else maybe I could've enjoyed it more.

The memories returned as I watched us near Kennedy Airport as Manilow sang "Brooklyn Blues" in the background. There was Jill hugging me out  of customs. And there was  a bit of her interview back in the limo, especially the part when she answered she had traveled so far to see me..then Barry.

Finally we were back on the boardwalk, freezing as Mike closed with "And we will tell you all about the meeting with Barry Manilow tomorrow night.."

Same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Immediately the phone started ringing . How many people around the area  watched it?

I was hearing from old friends who had been out of touch. Fellow fans couldn't wait until the next night, mainly to see Manilow, not me.

The second part began by recapping the previous night. Then we were at the show, smiling while Manilow made his entrance, dancing with fans. The big moment was about to happen.

For all those viewers who thought they were going to see the actual meeting they had to feel disappointed. Mike got around it by saying, "Barry wouldn't allow television cameras backstage because he considered it a "personal moment.'

Whether Manilow actually felt that way didn't matter.There was  no mention of the hassles Just a positive fairy tale- like ending, the famous photo of all three of us as Manilows' song"'Looks like We Made It" played over the fading scene.

It was well-done and magical. I suddenly didn't feel embarrassed anymore- I  felt lucky and grateful for  everything. Mike and Jill were very special people in my life.

Strangers would come up to me on the sidewalk or in elevators at work and say ' "Aren't you the guy who was on the news?" I heard from fan clubs from as far away as Louisiana, asking me to join. The videotape was floating around the country, now part of Manilow memorabilia.

Soon  it was back to "Greg who?" which I was happy about. I offered to send Jill a copy of the videotape. She said no, she would watch it this summer when she came back. Maybe their videotapes and machines in Europe weren't compatible to ours in the States?  I thought nothing  of it and looked forward to seeing her again in a few months.

MY LIFE WITH BRITTLE BONES-42

We followed Susan through a dark corridor to a gray, narrow hallway. There we waited against a concrete wall with several other people nearby.Some were holding copies of Barry's book while others had album covers to sign.  They may have been family because they were dressed very well, not in Manilow t-shirts. Brooklyn wasn't that far.

It was close to midnight. I looked at Jill, who by now had been up twenty-seven straight hours. She looked tired from the trip and the excitement but she was wide awake. We were speechless, either remembering everything that brought us this far or just anxious for what was about to happen.

Marc came over to greet us. He was dressed in a gray suit and tie. I introduced him to Jill and he was amazed at her endurance.As we were talking I looked over his shoulder  and there was Barry Manilow himself. He wore a really nice royal blue sweater and dark slacks. He held a half-full champagne glass as he signed  books  and albums with a black marker.

Barry  noticed us and walked over, asking Marc to remove the rope railing that separated us. "Hey, hi!" he smiled. There we were- face-to-face-to face. Our wish come true.

Just like the bookstore I went blank and forgot everything I wanted to say. I asked if he remembered me from the book signing.

"Sure," he said "How could I forge?/"

Jill mentioned Oslo and Barry told her  the lovely Sculpture Park in the middle of the city was a highlight of his brief visit.

We chatted small talk, telling him how much we loved his music. I showed him the original letter form the fan club that I brought along. Marc read it aloud after Barry held it up  to the light, squinting without his reading glasses.

"So, when is  the wedding?" he asked.

We both looked at each other and blushed. Finally he asked if there was anything we wanted him to do..an autograph?

Jill saved the day. I completely forgot about our cameras. "We would loved to take a picture with you!" she asked sweetly.

'Sure," he replied, moving closer. Whatever happened to the no-camera policy?

So, with Barry on the right, smiling brightly, Jill in the middle, very ecstatic, and yours truly on the left, grinning sheepishly, Marc snapped the shot.

"Let's take one more to make sure we got it," Marc suggested.

So we did. A moment that would last forever.

I was glad the TV cameras weren't there. It was a very personal and intimate moment.

We shook hands again and said our farewell., Barry wished  us good luck, wishing Jill a safe trip home and departing with 'See you again sometime."

It happened so fast and it was over. It wouldn't sink in until later that night how truly special it was.

When we emerged into the theater once more  we were met with bright lights, Mike and a rolling camera.

So what were our reactions? "Great!" Jill exclaimed. She felt "shaky' but it was definitely worth it.

What did Manilow say? It was hard to recall, even though it was only moments before. We were still in a fog.

Off-camera Mike was happy we got two pictures. Jill was a bit hesitant about giving up her film, even though Mike promised to develop all the pictures on her roll and return them as soon as possible. I couldn't blame her for worrying. This was our proof., worth their weight  in gold ( at least to us).

We met my family outside the theater and said goodbye to Mike and crew. Jill surprised him with a little crystal knick-knack she bought in Oslo. We thanked him for everything once again.

I was sorry he would disappear from our lives as quickly as he appeared. He said he would be in touch soon with an exact air date of the report.

As we waved to the crew Mike looked back and yelled, "Let me know the wedding date. Maybe we ca do a future story!"

We got home that night around 3:00 in the morning. We were all ready to crash but Jill and I took a moment to be alone and hug. Jill thought Manilow looked shorter in person. I imagined him to be taller at the bookstore. She said she held back from giving him a hug, not wanting to be the hysterical fan. But she did vow never to wash the sweater she wore again, especially where he touched it..

Soon it was Monday and she was headed home. A reporter from the local newspaper caught wind of the story and stopped by to do an interview and take pictures. More publicity. In Norway Jill was still unknown. In America she would soon have her fifteen minutes of fame. In that way she was glad to be going home.

I would see her later in the upcoming summer. Then maybe forever? That was the plan.