Emotional Recovery

It took twelve years of marriage, seven years of night classes, and a change in careers to establish a comfortable lifestyle for myself and my family. However, it took one selfish wife, two greedy lawyers, and a obstinent court to strip it all away.

After the separation, I rented a one-bedroom apartment in Lindenwold, NJ, but I had no furniture. I wanted to collect some of my belongings from the house and to be safe I notified the police of my plan. They were at the house when I arrived with a rental truck.

Arlene was not at home, and one of the boys let me in. I took my electronics, dartboard, and a few lithographs, and I was in the midst of taking the guest bedroom furniture when Arlene came home. She locked all the doors and ran to the neighbor's house for help.

The house had deadbolt locks so the police were assisting me in getting the mattress out of a window when I noticed the neighbors unloading my truck and placing my items on their property. The police put a stop to that caper, but not before the nightstands and lamps had been taken from the truck.

At that point, the police advised me to leave with what I had. I did but it would take more than a vindictive wife to ruin everything I had worked for. I bought a water-damaged mattress to complete the bed and a small dropleaf table with two chairs for the kitchen at a JCPenney clearance sale.

My next stop was K-Mart, where I purchased the most affordable dishes, silverware, pots, pans, and cooking utensils available. I also acquired towels, sheets, an iron, an ironing board, a toaster oven, and a coffee maker.

I started looking through the classified ads in the newspaper for used furniture when an advertisement for a pool table grabbed my attention. At that moment, I reasoned that I actually didn't require a living room especially since I spent more time at work than at home. Incorporating a pool table, my dart board, and stereo equipment would turn the space into a fantastic game room.

I bought the pool table. The seller delivered it, helped with the assembly, and ensured it was properly leveled. To finish the room, I put a roll-up shade at the sliding glass doors, decorated the wall with antique-car wallpaper, replaced the ceiling light with a globe lamp to adequately illuminate the pool table, showcased my antique car artwork, and displayed my large New Yorker print.

In the meantime, the boys had disappeared with their mother. I later found out that they had moved to Massena, NY, but I had no way of contacting them. It seemed they were not allowed to reach out to me. On one occasion, when they called me at work, Arlene punished them by making them cover the cost of the long-distance call with the little money they earned delivering newspapers in the freezing cold of Massena.

Having lost my family and everything I cherished, I decided it was time to seek out new friends. There was a popular nightclub in Marlton that featured live bands and dancing. When Arlene and I first met, I was a dance champion at Brody's nightclub in Plattsburgh, NY and I longed to dance again.

I chose to give the Mrlton nightclub a try. While sipping a scotch at the bar, I noticed a woman who danced exceptionally well. She was attractive with a Dorothy Hamill hairstyle that bounced with every step she took. I invited her to dance, and we seemed to "click" right away.

Her name was Barbara, and she lived nearby at Bromley Estates. I can’t quite recall when or how it happened, but I asked her for a date. She accepted, and we had a wonderful evening, dancing throughout the night.

Coming home that night, we accidentally woke her daughter, who worked as a school teacher and got up early for work each day. On our second date, I brought two roses; one for Barbara and the other for her daughter. They were delighted and impressed.

Since Barbara and I both shared a passion for dancing, we went to see Saturday Night Fever. It inspired us to start disco dancing. Barbara Matthews was an exceptional dancer. She could spin, dip, and perform lifts with ease. We developed some fantastic disco moves and before long, we were a popular couple at the night clubs.

Eventually, our relationship grew beyond dancing. Barbara was from Vermont and an avid skier. She took me to Ski Mountain in Pine Hill, where I learned to ski. Once I got the hang of it, we spent a weekend skiing, and for the first time in three years, life felt normal and enjoyable again. That year, we joined the South Jersey Ski Club and skied in Vermont, New Hampshire, New York, and New Jersey.

Although Barbara lived in Pine Hill, she had raised her son and daughter in Marlton and still had friends there. She introduced me to Sherry, who was divorced from Judge Hackermann and whose daughter was Miss New Jersey. I also met Dick and Betty Goodwin, who owned the Marlton Golf and Country Club (Dick's father built Marlton), and Dick and Jennie Shultz, who had been Barbara's neighbors in Marlton for many years.

Sherry was Barbara's closest friend and began to join us when we went dancing. She was charming, sophisticated, and flirtatious, often moving from one boyfriend to another. Lenora, another friend of Barbara's from Bromley, also started to accompany us on our dance outings. There were always admirers pursuing Sherry and Lenora, but my trio of ladies affectionately earned the nickname Charlie's Angels.

The Goodwins and Schultzs were part of Barbara's Bridge Club. Eventually, I began to participate as a substitute but soon became a regular player. I was skilled at Pinochle, which made learning bridge easy, and her friends were patient and supportive. When it was my turn to host bridge, it took place at Barbara's house. When the Goodwins hosted, it was sometimes at the Marlton Country Club.

During the week, Barbara prepared dinner. We would set up her card table in the living room and watch the Eagles, the Phillies, the Flyers, or play Backgammon. We always started dinner with a gin martini and enjoyed experimenting with various garnishes, from pickled tomatoes to squid. After dinner, I began staying overnight with Barbara and driving back to Lindenwold in the morning to get ready for work.

On Friday nights, we would go to happy hour at Cenneli's. Cenneli's was a lovely nightclub and gourmet Italian restaurant featuring a large bar, spacious dance floor, and a seven-piece band. However, our preferred Italian restaurant was Momma Ventura's. Momma's dance floor was smaller and more intimate, and at Momma's, Barbara and I became well-known among the regulars as Fred and Ginger.

Even though Barbara was 13 years older than me, her petite build and youthful appearance concealed her age. She was actually "carded" twice during our time together; once when entering a nightclub where we were unknown and again on a ski trip going into the bar at the lodge.

One winter, the ski club planned a trip to ski Whiteface Mountain at Lake Placid, NY. Since Massena was not far from Lake Placid, I reached out to the boys to see if they wanted to join me for a weekend of skiing. They seemed thrilled and agreed to the trip.

Because the ski club would arrive late on Friday night, I arranged for the boys to stay at a family-run hotel. The owners assured me that my 15 and 16-year-old sons would be accommodated and safe. Arlene was furious that they had to miss school on Friday while traveling to Lake Placid and be alone until I arrived Friday night.

When I met Bob and Joe Friday evening, they had ALL of their belongings with them. Their mother insisted that they must return to New Jersey with me. The ski club's bus was full, however, so I had to ensure the boys could safely return to Massena. Arlene attempted to turn what was a wonderful weekend of skiing, dining, and spending quality time with my two great sons into a disaster.

Arlene was nasty, not only to me but also to her sons and her brother. One evening, while I was working late at my office, I received a phone call from a woman who identified herself as "Bob's parole officer!" I was taken aback with her story.

She explained that Bob returned home late after delivering newspapers one night and argued with his mother. He left the house. She callled the police saying he had run away. When she discovered that Bob was at her brother's place, she claimed her brother had "kidnapped" Bob and requested his arrest.

The caller's explanation was unclear regarding the reason for Bob's parole, so I decided to drive to Massena to find out what was happening. Barbara accompanied me for company and support, although I didn't inform anyone that she would be with me.

Arlene insisted that I meet the boys in town. It was the middle of winter, so our meeting was brief. The boys appeared to be fine but were reluctant to discuss home life. My very casual mention of the police incident didn't get any response so I dropped it.

I also arranged to meet with Keith while I was in Messena. His account was that Bob had argued with his mother, had been with him, and that Arlene had attempted to have him arrested. I asked if he knew anything about the eight rooms of furniture that disappeared from the house. He claimed he was told I had taken all the furnishings.

Bob recently shared that the entire parole officer story was fabricated. He recalled that Arlene wanted Keith arrested after he slammed a beer bottle down on the server during an argument, leaving an imprint of the bottle in the soft pine top. That sounded like Arlene and I came to understand that Keith had deceived me regarding all the furniture from the house.

Bob recalled that the incident had sparked significant trouble between Arlene and her brother, leading us to believe that Keith's wife may have originated the call trying to involve me in the turmoil Arlene was causing in Massena.

Although it shouldn't have caught me off guard, shortly after the divorce papers were finalized, Bob called me early one morning from the Massena Greyhound bus station to let me know that he and Joe were leaving Massena for New York City and heading to New Jersey to live with me.

Their grandfather had provided them with some money, but it wasn't sufficient for food, and they had no directions for getting to New Jersey. I instructed them to take the evening commuter bus from New York City to Mt. Laurel, New Jersey, where I would meet them at the bus terminal.

Barbara and I found then at the bus station and treated them to dinner. Their destination now was my small apartment with a game room and a bedroom. It may not have been the ideal arrangement, but the only option was for them to take the bedroom and I would stay at Barbara's.

I had rebuilt my life over the three years that she dragged out the divorce and had transformed a destitute situation back into one of comfort and prosperity. I was determined she was not going to destroy what I had accomplised again.

I may never find out if Bob and Joe understood that she used them in order to ruin me. Like her mother, she was a manipulator, a liar and a thief. She had stollen our wealth, our savings, our house, and their youth. She locked them up in Messena, and then released them without guidance and without a future.

  Barbara worked as a Real Estate agent and was the sales manager at Bromley Estates in Pine Hill, NJ, where she lived. She was aware of a two-bedroom condominium available for rent that would suit me and my two sons perfectly.

After spending a few months in my small apartment in Lindenwold, we relocated to this lovely house in Bromley Estates. The condo featured an eat-in kitchen, which allowed me to place the pool table in the dining room. I purchased twin beds for the boys who shared one of the bedrooms.

Bromley was an excellent environment for the boys. It had an Olympic-sized swimming pool and two tennis courts. They made friends and developed relationships with other teenagers in Bromley. Although I wasn't particularly pleased about Bob's late-night Dungeons and Dragons sessions, the pool table was a hit, and many of their friends spent a lot of time at our house.

Pine Hill mainly consists of small houses that once served as summer retreats for wealthy Philadelphians looking for a cooler escape from the city during the summer months. Today, Pine Hill is famous for its prestigious Pine Valley Golf Club, which frequently ranks as the top course in Golf Magazine's 100 Top Courses in the U.S. and the World. It operates as a private club, and non-members can only play if accompanied by a member. The wait for membership can seem endless.

Pine Hill was once known for Ski Mountain, where I learned to ski. Although Ski Mountain was more of a "hill" than a true mountain, it was a great place for learning to ski or practicing. Currently, Ski Mountain has been transformed into the Trump National Golf Course of Philadelphia. Pine Hill is next to Clemonton, NJ, which used to be home to Clementon Lake Amusement Park, where the boys and their friends spent many summer days. Today, Clemonton Lake has become a splash park.

For me, Pine Hill held a different story. While living in Bromley, I lost my career, my self respect, my two sons, and eventually I lost Barbara.

Just before Thanksgiving in 1982, JCPenney informed me that on April 1, 1983 they would be closing all product service centers. They would stop selling major appliances, televisions, and gas engine products. GE would take over appliance repairs, RCA would manage home electronic repairs, and independent contractors would provide service for tractors and lawnmowers.

To avoid ruining the holidays, I was instructed to wait until January to inform my employees about the closure. Christmas passed, and the announcement in January was heartbreaking. Over the next three months I was responsible for helping my 60 employees in Camden, NJ and Wilmington, DE write resumes and find new jobs.

I did a commendable job. By the end of March, my technical supervisors had secured jobs with RCA and GE. My technicians and staff found positions with GE and American Appliances. I was tasked with liquidating all the assets of the Camden and Delaware product service centers and given six month's severance pay.

I had received an offer for a service management role from Montgomery Ward in South Carolina. However, Bob was a senior in high school and wanted to graduate with his friends. I assured him that we would not relocate to South Carolina. However, my chance of finding local employment in management proved to be exhausting and unsuccessful.

I applied for a service manager position at a major fuel oil company, but the owner thought I needed to know how to repair boilers to manage his service business. I applied for the service manager role at a large office machine retailer, but the owner considered me over-qualified. I also applied for a manager position at an ITT Technical Institute but came in second because my background did not include any formal classroom teaching.

Now that I had no job, I stopped paying child support. However, that’s not how court orders work, and I was legally classified as "a deadbeat dad." Although the boys were living with me, I discovered that I needed to have the court order "reversed" before I could stop the payments. On June 15, 1983 I went to court. I didn’t hire my lawyer Paul Meletz because I expected Judge Ferrelli, who was familiar with the case, to simply terminate the child support.

However, Judge Ferrelli was on vacation in Italy, and Judge Gaddos took over the case. I explained that my sons now lived with me and that I wanted the child support order reversed. He banged his gavel and spoke about the responsibilities of, his words, "bringing babies into this world." Once again, I attempted to clarify that my sons were in high school, not babies, and that they lived with me. He refused to listen and held me in contempt of court!

When I related the story to a friend of mine, he mentioned that he and his lawyer often played golf with Judge Gaddos and suggested I hire his lawyer. I did hire the lawyer and paid his $500 retainer ($1,600 today). We appeared before Judge Gaddos , and Gaddos and my "lawyer" proceeded to put on an award-winning performance of lawyer versus judge.

Judge Gaddos decided that I must continue paying child support because "I looked prosperous." When I asked my lawyer what I was getting for my $500, he replied that the child support would be placed in an escrow account and that I was leaving the courthouse with him instead of the sheriff. I was livid!

To this day, I remain unaware of what happened to the "escrow money," but have hoped it had helped with Joe's community college tuition. I know this much: by the time I finished paying the court order, Joe was already 30 years old.

Meanwhile, I was reluctant to change my lifestyle to accommodate Bob and Joe who remained loyal to their mother. I had provided them with wonderful homes, the best education, sports, and taught them responsibility, only to have my love rejected. Their mother had stripped them of their childhood and their future. She had thrown them out of her home in Massena—not once, but twice.

Barbara enjoyed cooking dinner for the four of us, but the boys resisted our relationship. However, I had spent the previous three years rebuilding my life and making new friends. I continued to spend nights with Barbara and to go dancing on weekends. They were not too young to understand; at 17, I was helping my mother run a business.

Meanwhile, my former employees encouraged me to become the service manager at American Appliances. I had previously avoided this opportunity due to American Appliances' poor customer service reputation. However, the need for a stable income ultimately influenced my decision. I accepted the job with American Appliances.

Bob graduated high school and apparently his mother had moved back to New Jersey. She attended his graduation. After Bob's graduation, I offered him a job at American Appliance transporting merchandise between their stores and product service.

I had carefully laid out a one-year reorganization plan for American Appliance. My changes may not have been popular but they were so successful that, in less than a year, I was fired. The technical supervisor, who was a long-time friend of the owner, decided he could now handle managing the service business.

After this setback, I finally took Barbara's advice and enrolled in Real Estate school. I completed my training at Fox & Lazo school in June 1984 and was offered a position as an agent at their Haddonfield, NJ office. I soon realised that many of my friends were also in Real Estate, and I lacked a "center of influence," earning only $8,000 in my first year.

I continued to see Barbara, although the changes in my life had put a strain on our relationship. Bob and Joe remained loyal to their mother, which I found puzzling. Although I was aware she had returned to New Jersey, her whereabouts remained a secret. The next year Joe graduated high school and celebrated with his mother. Not me.

As I continued to struggle to afford Bromley, Bob moved in with his 16-year-old girlfriend and her parents. Joe moved in with his mother so he could continue his education at community college. The house was sold at auction for $92,000. I received $1,700 and gave it to the boys. Bob bought a vintage car, and Joe purchased a red motorcycle.

With real estate barely covering my expenses, I transitioned to selling mortgages. I thought I could persuade all my real estate friends to use Crestmont Federal Savings & Loan for their clients' mortgages. However, Crestmont was not well-liked among them, and I quickly discovered that Crestmont rejected too many of the agents' clients for me to succeed.

  My successful days in management unexpectedly came to a close, and at the age of 44, I found myself starting a new career. With no prospects of returning to management, I obtained a Real Estate license and secured a position at the Haddonfield office of Fox & Lazo Realty on Tanner St in downtown Haddonfield.

While working at the Fox & Lazo office, a woman entered seeking to purchase a home in Haddonfield. Joyce Grey was recently divorced. She had grown up in Haddonfield along with her ex-husband, and their parents still resided here and could help care for her daughters, aged 8 and 10, while she worked.

Haddonfield is an expensive place, and we spent a couple of weeks exploring properties in and around the town, but nothing fit her budget. However, I did find a charming two-bedroom apartment for rent above a local restaurant, conveniently located on Tanner St and close to her workplace. She adored the apartment and signed the lease.

Once Joyce was settled into her new apartment, she began visiting me at the office, often bringing lunch or baked treats. Being petite and attractive, Joyce drew a lot of attention from my colleagues due to her attention towards me. To show my appreciation, I started taking her out for lunch. Before long, we began inviting her daughters along when they were not in school.

Eventually, Joyce and I began dating regularly. We enjoyed dining out and dancing together, and her daughters took a liking to me, making us feel like a family when we were together. One evening, Joyce invited me over for dinner, and after the meal, her daughters asked if I could stay the night. I felt a bit shy, but to my surprise and delight, Joyce said it would be nice if I stayed.

That night marked the start of a wonderful and joyful relationship. Joyce started celebrating every Friday the 13th as an "anniversary" because it was Friday the 13th when she found the apartment on Tanner Street and I had taken her to T.G.I. Friday for happy hour to celebrate.

Joyce's parents liked me, and we celebrated holidays at their home like a family. After about three years of dating, Joyce and I began discussing marriage, though we didn't make any formal announcements. Then, when a great twin house went on sale on Ellis Street in Haddonfield, we bought the house. This was the first time since my divorce that I had even considered marriage and living with someone.

Joyce and her ex-husband had an unusually amicable divorce. They divided everything equally and managed to divorce without incurring significant legal fees. He would come to our house every other Saturday from his home in Poughkeepsie, NY, to spend the weekend with their daughters. He always brought Joyce a check during his visits, and he and I would have friendly conversations over coffee while Joyce helped the girls prepare for their weekend.

Occasionally, Joyce and I would drive the girls to Poughkeepsie for the weekend instead of him coming to Haddonfield. This allowed her to catch up with old friends and gave us a chance for a weekend getaway. Sometimes, we even went on double dates on Saturday nights with her ex-husband and his girlfriend.

Life was really great but Real Estate wasn't financially fruitful for me, so I transitioned to selling mortgages. I still needed to supplement my modest income and began writing PC software. I managed to sell a mortgage program to Fox & Lazo Mortgage Company and wrote another for the law firm where Joyce worked. I was actively looking for a job as a programmer, but before I could secure one, tragedy and heartbreak struck.

On the Ides of March 1988, I was watching the girls while Joyce worked overtime. I started noticing that Joyce was working overtime often, and I discovered that the "overtime" was actually a wealthy local businessman who was pursuing her. When I learned about her affair, I found out from neighbors that it had become the "talk of the town" for awhile.

I was devastated and completely blindsided. Joyce noticed my heartbreak and tried to explain that she had to consider her future and that of her daughters. Her new suitor was married, but he owned a bakery & luncheonette in town, one of those grand Victorian Haddonfield houses, and even flew his own airplane. In contrast, I was struggling financially and drove a 1979 Chrysler LeBaron with 143,000 miles on it.

Never before had I felt such despair. I had to move out of the house. Joyce reimbursed me for my half of the house, but I missed her and the girls immensely. Those two girls had become like daughters to me. To cope with my frustration, I began writing a daily journal. The only thing that prevented me from hitting rock bottom was a new job offer as a computer programmer.

  After my split from Joyce in April 1988, I moved into a furnished apartment on the second floor of a home on Drexel Street in Blackwood, NJ. There was a private entrance, off-street parking and it was conveniently close to my new job at Business Operating Systems & Software (BOSS).

The apartment itself +was quite enjoyable for a two-room efficiency. The bedroom had stylish decor, featuring a cherry poster bed and a coordinating dresser. In the living room, there was a compact sofa, a plush chair, end tables, and lamps. I added to the decor with furniture I had brought from Haddonfield.

The kitchen and living room created a spacious area, with the sink and stove cleverly hidden in a closet behind folding doors. An unobtrusive kitchen was a nice feature for an efficiency. In the kitchen section, a small table was placed next to a window that looked out onto a charming backyard filled with several large trees. Occasionally, squirrels would sit on the sill outside the window.

I felt a deep longing for Joyce and the children, but my new position as a computer programmer eased my feelings of sadness. I found comfort in discussing my experiences with a colleague, Sandy Marmon. Sandy and I started working at BOSS on the same day and were assigned to the same project. Additionally, Sandy had recently experienced a divorce, with Judge Gaddos overseeing her case.

Sandy graduated Cum Laude with a degree in computer science. Disappointed in the direction of her career, she left BOSS to join Cobalt programming at Cigna while I remained at BOSS. We continued to remain friends and appreciated spending time together. We would dine out, see a movie, or play pool. Sandy was twelve years my junior and we never formed a romantic relationship.

Occasionally, I would go to her house on Saturdays. She would make breakfast and I would help her sons mowing and trimming her expansive lawn. Her daughter also resided at home, but she was older and self-sufficient. On an occasion or two we took the boys fishing.

In June 1988, I met Marcia at a nightclub, and we began dating. Even though Marcia was 13 years my junior, we developed a close and romantic relationship. She lived in a double-wide mobile home near Marlton and had two elderly small dogs. After we had to part with her little pets, she adopted a beautiful greyhound from a rescue organization. This elegant and gentle dog is the only large breed I would ever think about having.

Marcia was Jewish, and although I had previously worked with Jewish engineers and bosses at American Electronic Labs and for a Jewish family at S & S Associates, I experienced my first Passover dinner with her family. During my time with Marcia, I managed to complete my Christmas shopping before the holiday for the first time ever. While searching for Hanukkah gifts, I also purchased my Christmas presents.

After spending four years at BOSS, I still had not received a salary increase yet I had developed two highly advanced inventory programs and new General Ledger software that became part of BOSS's proprietary offerings. Additionally, I secured four new clients and took over two clients from departing employees.

When BOSS rejected my request for a salary increase and hired a new employee to manage my latest client, I began seeking fairer compensation. I found a new position at Larmon Photo in Abington, PA.

  My time in Haddonfield now felt like a distant memory. I had spent four years working as a computer programmer at BOSS, but they had not compensated me fairly for my skill level. However, in search of new opportunities, I found myself moving through three different businesses in just 18 months.

The first opportunity presented itself at Larmon Photo in Abington, PA. Interestingly, the president of Larmon Photo had created Computyme® software, which provided point-of-sale, inventory management, receivables, payroll, and more for the photography sector.

Computyme® software was developed in PICK®, but the Abington Township Police Department also depended on the computers from Larmon Photo. This software was written in PRIME®, but my work was exclusively with the Computyme® software.

Abington, PA was a one-hour commute from Blackwood, NJ. After commuting for several months, I decided to relocate to Pennsylvania. I discovered an appealing apartment complex made of brick buildings nestled in a wooded area, almost within walking distance of Larmon Photo.

Known as Jericho Manor, the apartments were older yet had a certain charm. I rented an apartment and moved to Jericho on June 29, 1992. Since my apartment in Blackwood was furnished, I needed to buy new furniture for Jericho. I acquired a new sofa and two chairs for the living room. The bedroom set I selected was cherry wood, similar to what I had in Blackwood. Lacking a closet in the bedroom, I bought an armoire that I assembled, along with a second-hand chest of drawers. I also obtained a used dining room set from a neighbor in Jericho and reupholstered the chairs.

Marcia helped me choose Jericho Manor, but then she became quite stubborn for reasons I couldn't comprehend. Several times, when I tried to set up a date, she suggested that since I now lived in Pennsylvania, I should find someone to date there. I was confused by the change in our relationship. Shortly after I moved to Jericho Manor, she abruptly ended our relationship.

Looking back, Marcia and I had been dating for four years, and perhaps she expected me to mention marriage. It was never a subject we discussed, and Marcia was very independent, not the type to bring it up. The thought had simply not occurred to me. More likely, though, she was upset that I had taken a job so far from where we lived. But I never spoke to Marcia again.

Despite this, my position at Larmon Photo quickly became uncertain. The photography industry was changing due to the advent of digital technology. Additionally, the payroll program I had developed for them might have been all they required from me. When I began to hear the term "layoff," I realized I needed to seek another job.

An opportunity came up with Lightship Corporation in the heart of Philadelphia. Lightship was utilizing PRIME® software and focused on purchasing overdue receivables at a fraction of their worth and then collecting the full amount owed. I had a bright office on the 16th floor of a building on Chestnut Street in downtown Philadelphia.

It had been four years since Sandy and I worked together at BOSS, and now we both found ourselves employed in downtown Philadelphia. Sandy had been transferred to Cigna's offices at Liberty Place on Chestnut Street. We quickly revived our friendship by having lunch together almost every day for the next 15 years.

Sandy was sttill residing in her home in Berlin, New Jersey, and dating was no longer an option for us two old friends. With no romantic prospects, I found a friendly little bar in the nearby town of Jenkintown and began visiting to play pool. I made a lot of friends, and that Christmas, I celebrated by giving presents to all the regulars I was acquainted with. I had never felt so appreciated.

In April 1993, I met Betty Stein. I had learned about a nightclub in Blue Bell, PA called the Blue Bell Inn, which hosted "singles night" every Tuesday with live music and dancing. I found the Blue Bell Inn, and on my first Tuesday there, I struck up a conversation with a woman sitting next to me at the bar. I asked her to dance, but she declined, saying her friend Betty was a good dancer and proceeded to introduce me to her.

Betty and I connected immediately. She was an amazing dancer, and before long, we began dating regularly. Nearly every Friday and Saturday night, we would go out for dinner and often concluded our evenings dancing at the Blue Bell Inn. Everyone there recognized us, and we were a well-liked dance couple.

Betty had a lovely home in Lafayette Hills and a beautiful cat named Muffy. It was through Betty that I adopted my cherished cat Brandy. It was in October 1994 when someone Betty knew discovered a tiny kitten by the side of the road. I took in the cute little kitten and named her Brandy. She loved to sit on my windowsill, observing the birds in the trees.

Betty's daughter, granddaughter, and son-in-law resided only a short distance away, which meant we frequently visited them and celebrated holidays at their place. I began staying at Betty's on Friday and Saturday nights, often dedicating Saturdays to working in her yard. On Sundays, either Betty would prepare a meal or I would barbecue, and we would dine outside on her beautiful backyard deck.

In October 1994, Betty learned that a small kitten had been discovered on the roadside. My neighbor at Jericho Manor, Bernice Hamburg, expressed interest in having a cat, so I went to retrieve the little kitten for her. However, when I caught sight of that adorable face peeking out from the carrier, I instantly decided that this kitten would be mine, and I named her Brandy.

Brandy enjoyed sitting in my living room window, observing the birds in the trees. As it turned out, Brandy would live with me for the next 20 years. Bernice was elderly and became a close friend, whom I assisted with groceries and cleaning. Bernice and I remained friends for many years. She had moved once but was back at Jericho Manor at that time of her passing.

At Lightship, I did not find the security I had hoped for. By September 1993, I began to hear rumours that Lightship might go out of business. Just in time, an advertisement appeared in the newspaper. The Philadelphia Housing Authority was seeking a PICK® programmer.

By this point, I had enough experience in PICK® and PRIME® that I could write software to accomplish just about anything, including payroll, general ledger, inventory, receivables, or payables. I applied to the Housing Authority and got the job.

I started work at PHA on September 17, 1993. It was my 53rd birthday. But working for the city of Philadelphia required me to live in the city. I managed to avoid moving for nearly two years before they mandated that I either relocate or lose my job. I chose to move to Chestnut Hill, which was within the city and just five miles from Abington.

  If you were employed by the city of Philadelphia, residing within the city limits was a requirement. I chose Chestnut Hill, an afluent neighborhood of Philadelphia recognized for its high real estate values, distinctive boutiques, welcoming restaurants, historic residences, and the Woodmere Art Museum.

There I discovered Chestnut Hill Village and a charming one-bedroom apartment. On June 30, 1995, I relocated to my new apartment. It offered much more space than my place in Abington. The living and dining room windows provided a pleasant view of a grassy courtyard, and the living room was spacious enough to accommodate a small, efficient office.

I adorned the dining room with a cradenza of bookcases, artwork, memorabilia, and a pewter chandelier that held real candles. The kitchen featured a tidy "pass-through" to the dining room. There was a sizable walk-in storage closet in the hallway and a built-in dressing table with a mirror outside the bathroom.

Chestnut Hill is adjacent to Wissahicken Park, and if you know the way, you can drive through Wissahicken Park to Fairmount Park and into downtown Philadelphia. The landscapes in the park and along Wissahickon Creek are popular among artists and photographers.

Another well-known feature in the park is the historic Valley Green Inn. The historic inn, constructed in 1850, is the last remaining example of the numerous roadhouses and taverns that catered to the carriage trade along the Wissahickon in the 19th century. The Valley Green Inn is situated on Valley Green Road, a gravel path that runs alongside the bubbling creek.

In Abington, I used to travel to work in the city from the Abington SEPTA train station. However, my apartment in Chestnut Hill was just a short walk away from the Chestnut Hill train station. During my train rides into Philadelphia, I always enjoyed reading the Philadelphia Inquirer and often took notes on global events or wrote the occasional Letter-to-the-Editor, one of which got published.

For a while, my son Joe stayed with me at CHV. He had changed jobs and was working for the EPA in Philadelphia, which made his commute from Brigantine, New Jersey, quite lengthy. He moved in with me until he could find his own place.

These were delightful times for me. We commuted to Philadelphia together, and having Joe as a roommate was a lot of fun. He particularly liked my coffee, Maxwell House Original. Unfortunately for me, Joe found a nice apartment too quickly and moved out but he followed my example by buying Maxwell House Original and told his friends that his coffee was from "an old family recipe."

While living in CHV, I bought my third new Mitsubishi Galant. One morning, as I was heading to the train station, I discovered my car sitting on cement blocks. Someone had stolen all four of its shinny chrome wheels. I was heartbroken, but aside from that incident, Brandy and I lived very comfortably at CHV.

Meanwhile, Betty and I had been together for five years. During that time, she always sent me home on Sunday evenings and I had no contact with her until the following Friday night. I wanted a deeper relationship; to spend time together during the week watching TV, going to the movies, dancing at the Blue Bell on a Tuesday night, or at least sharing a phone call. But she always refused.

On a lonely Tuesday night in January 1998, I went to the Blue Bell Inn by myself. Betty and I had been going there less frequently, but the bartenders and regulars knew me. When asked, I mentioned that Betty simply preferred not to go out during the week.

That night, while chatting with friends at the bar, I noticed an attractive lady on the dance floor, and it felt like there was a connection. As the crowd began to thin out, she came up to me at the bar and asked why I hadn’t invited her to dance "after our eyes met." I explained that I was in a relationship but agreed to share the last dance of the night with her.

Shanez was a fantastic dancer, and as the Blue Bell was about to close, I offered to walk her to her car. She accepted and invited me into her car, where she revealed that she was married; she explained that her husband played poker on Tuesday nights, and allowed her the opportunity to go out dancing.

She suggested that if I was interested, we could meet the following Tuesday, but she made it clear that our relationship would be limited to dancing. I agreed to meet her the next week, and we continued to dance together regularly on Tuesday nights for several months.

Shanez had a great sense of style and a charm that attracted everyone around her. She was so captivating that I invited my son Joe to come and watch us dance. When he arrived at the Blue Bell, Shanez was particularly impressed by his gentlemanly demeanor. As it turned out, she played a role introducing Joe to Patricia. They were married October 1999.

Shanez and I became very close friends and took our dancing to various venues where we gained quite a bit of popularity. When she renovated her penthouse in Valley Forge, I helped her with wallpapering and painting. My son Bob and I also installed a hardwood floor over the terracotta tile in her living room.

Her husband was a doctor, and one of her daughters was a pharmacist. As her daughters married and her family expanded, we danced less frequently. Over time, Shanez transitioned from being a hairdresser to focusing on holistic health and fitness. Eventually, we stopped dancing, but we remained friends until I retired in Arizona.

  Now that I had secured a stable job and a reasonable income, I set my sights on owning my own home but struggled to choose a location. Shanez suggested I consider the "Art Museum Area" of Philadelphia. This desirable location is officially known as Fairmount, a historic neighbourhood named after the hill where the Art Museum is located. Most of the homes in this area are row houses built in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

The neighbourhood is well-known for its proximity to museums, trendy restaurants, and outdoor cafés. It is adjacent to Fairmount Park, where the Schuylkill River flows past the Art Museum, the Fairmount Waterworks, and Boathouse Row.

I took her advice, and while searching for a place, the realtor piqued my interest in investing in a triplex. In October 1998, I purchased a lovely triplex situated at the corner of 27th and Brown Streets in Fairmount.

Being a corner property, all the apartments were bright and cheerful, with windows on three sides. Each apartment had an eat-in kitchen fitted with dishwashers, garbage disposals, and attractive glass-front wooden cabinets. The bedrooms and living rooms were equipped with ceiling fans, and I installed air conditioning units. The basement included a washer and dryer, storage closets, and an outside entrance on 27th Street.

I opted for the first-floor apartment for myself, as it was a one-bedroom unit that needed substantial renovations. The living room had a 12-foot ceiling that was stained, so I repainted it with popcorn paint. The windows and frames were in poor condition, so I resurfaced the frames and repaired the windows.

The foyer featured a built-in bookcase, and I added a floor-to-ceiling framed mirror. The original bathroom was in terrible condition, but my son Robert retiled it, replaced the floor, tub, sink, toilet, and fixtures. The renovated bathroom turned out beautifully.

The bedroom was small, and the only closet was in the hallway off the foyer. However, I managed to fit my furniture into the room. Later, I installed two mirrored closets along the south wall with storage cabinets above them, allowing me to remove the armoire and chest of drawers. It was a significant effort, but I ended up with a lovely apartment.

The highlight of the first-floor apartment was its spacious eat-in kitchen and large, partially covered patio that faced the alley behind the houses with an exit to 27th Street. I hung a stunning leaded glass chandelier, and there was plenty of room for my dining room table and a small drop-leaf kitchen table.

Later, I painted the kitchen in two shades of green and bought a glass and wrought iron table set. I placed the drop-leaf table in the basement and set my antique cedar trunk under the window.

The second-floor apartment was a one-bedroom with a den that could serve as a second bedroom. It had a charming little balcony off the living room.

The third-floor apartment was the most attractive and spacious. The entrance was directly across the hall from the second-floor entrance, with the steps located inside the apartment. It featured two separate bedrooms, and the living room offered a fantastic view of the city from a large window at the back of the building.

However, there was a downside to having a corner building: snow shoveling. I had to clear not only the front walk but also the sidewalk that ran the length of the building along 27th Street. I had the best tenants imaginable. During the 17 years I owned the building, only two tenants occupied the third floor, three tenants lived on the second floor, and one tenant moved into the first-floor unit when I relocated to Arizona.

After moving to the city, my relationship with Betty changed. As I approached 60, I was serious about wanting a closer relationship, which she consistently rejected, saying she was waiting to be reunited with her late husband, Bud. So I purchased my own property, and managing the rentals took up the time I used to spend with her on weekends.

Shanez and I maintained our friendship and continued dancing. She was thrilled about my new venture, and on two occasions we traveled together to London and Acapulco. We even won a Salsa dance contest in Acapulco, but our trips were not romantic outings; just two friends enjoying a vacation together.

In the absence of a relationship, I decided to try online dating. In May 2001, I met three wonderful women, all of whom were "teachers." One delightful woman held a PhD. She was elegant, charming, and well-educated, although she had a stutter. Another interesting lady owned a condo along the Philadelphia waterfront, but I found myself particularly attracted to the woman from Doylestown.

Anita had a lovely home and a Dachshund named "Schnapps." We began dating and enjoyed dining out and occasional trips to New York City for theater and even some dancing, although Anita seemed a bit shy about my enthusiasm for dance. When I spent weekends at her place, I always had golf on the television on Sundays. Anita wondered why I never played and suggested that her son would be happy to teach me. I accepted his offer.

Anita's house was located very close to New Hope in Bucks County, PA. New Hope is a charming little town by the Delaware River. With a rich history spanning 200 years, it features unique shopping, delightful riverside dining, renowned accommodations, and numerous cultural and artistic attractions, making it a beloved weekend destination.

In January 2002, I bought my second triplex on Brown Street. The price was reasonable, but the property needed a new roof, chimney repairs, and new windows in every room. However, it was conveniently located just one door down, making it an ideal purchase.

All the middle rowhouses feature a narrow alley between them that isn't visible from the street, allowing for windows in each room. The apartments in this building were more spacious with large kitchens but the stoves were apartment-size and there were no dishwashers.

This building also had hot water oil heating, so the tenants' rent included heat, while they were responsible for gas and electric. However, the basements in the middle buildings were not very useful; with only two small windows at the front, they were dark and often damp. I allowed the tenants in this building to use the laundry facilities in my building, which they accessed through the outside entrance on 27th Street.

The first-floor apartment had one bedroom but featured a layout quite different from mine. The living room was at the front, with the bedroom in the middle. The kitchen was located behind the bedroom, and the bathroom was situated behind the kitchen, accessible through a small hallway that led outside to a brick patio in the backyard.

The second and third-floor apartments were both two-bedroom units with lovely hardwood floors. The second floor had a spacious eat-in kitchen at the back, complete with a full-size refrigerator. However, the stairway to the third floor was narrow, allowing only an apartment-sized refrigerator to fit up the stairs. Nevertheless, the third floor boasted two large bedrooms—one at the back and one at the front—making it perfect for roommates.

Philadelphia had become "my city." I lived there, worked there, and played there. The value of my buildings reached well over $1.75 million. By 2005, the city experienced a shift in leadership and began to change dramatically. Democrat John Street was elected as Mayor, and his acceptance speech began with "The brothers are finally running the city." In the years following his election, the "brothers" had run the city; right into the ground.

Anita had friends from high school. One couple owned Tomara Farm, a historic farm where one can experience the culture and ways of colonial America. The main house was a museum of antiques and history. Every Christmas season, the house was opened for a tour, with guides dressed in the fashion of colonial times.

In 2004, we took a Baltic Sea cruise with a large group of Anita's friends on the ship Ms. Noordam. This was my second trip to the Baltic, but this cruise included a flight to Moscow, Russia, and I especially wanted to visit Red Square and the Kremlin. And I did.

Anticipating my retirement, Anita and I purchased a charming house in Mesa, Arizona. It was 05/05/05, and I felt that date of Cinco De Mayo was a fortunate sign. However, in 2007, the housing market crashed. I lost 45% of the value of my properties in Philadelphia. The house in Mesa also plummeted in value, becoming "underwater," a real estate term meaning the mortgage was higher than the value of the property.

President George W. Bush was blamed for the housing market crash, but he was merely a small part of a larger disaster, a bitter tart that was blended, baked, and served by Bill Clinton.

I sold 2642 Brown St. in 2009, and by the time I sold the corner property in 2015, the city had deteriorated so much that it was hardly recognizable. Many of the city's renowned and exceptional restaurants had shut down. The once beautiful parks in the city were filled with litter and overrun by homeless individuals.