Lora is the daughter of Edith Gold and Melvin Gold, sister of Richard Gold, wife of Thomas W. Reed and mother of Michael George Reed, and Judith Roseann Reed and Susan Ellen Reed. Born on March 14, 1933 in Cleveland Ohio, Baby Girl Goldstein (her parents had not decided on a name when she was discharged from the hospital so that was the name on the birth certificate and they later changed their names from Goldstein to Gold). Lora was a very bright child, learning to play the piano and the violin, competing in spelling bees, swimming for recreation, exploring on foot and via the bus, with her friends. Her father worked long, long hours in his pharmacy so Lora would sometimes bring lunch or dinner to her father at work. She loved the books in her father’s lending library and hanging out in his store.

At a ladies luncheon someone asked me what part of Cleveland I came from. WhenI replied, “The poor part”, the ladies chuckled, but I was serious. I grew up on the West Side – not the nice Bay Village part, or the acceptable Lakewood area. No, this was the not-so-far from the “flats” part, where the Italian section bordered up against the Polish section, and just a few blocks from “The Store”. Incidentally, not too far either from the Cuyahoga River, the only river ever to catch fire (from the oil pumped into it from the bordering factories}.
    The store was my father’s drug store, a little corner store where my father worked seven days a week from 9am until 10pm for many long years. Shortly after the war ended he bought a car – a big burgundy Hudson, and closed the store on Wednesday afternoons. Those afternoons were usually spent looking at potential homes in the Heights followed by a deli supper.
    My dad, Melvin Harold Gold (Goldstein) , bought the store when my parents married in 1929, I suspect with dowery money. Across the street was a grocery store that was bombed by The Black Hand, a precursor to the Mafia. Since Dad’s store wasn’t hit, I suppose he paid protection, although I never thought to ask. He was held up only once and it was noted in the newspaper because he told the thief that he needed the only more than the thief did. The store was at the corner of Clark Ave. and Fulton Rd., a short streetcar ride from the Cleveland Zoo where I swam, played tennis, and discovered my fear of heights when I climbed to the top of a high cliff. Somehow I remember the blue EX-LAX sign across one window. As you entered the store, on the right was a long marble counter, and the cash register behind it. The gum and cigarettes were behind that. A little further down was the soda counter with the ice cream station and a big red coke machine. Across from the register was the magazine rack – my favorite area and where I read the first Seventeen published and well as every comic book available. There were a few tables and wrought iron chairs and of course cabinets filled with the usual drug store items and a big candy display case.In the back were two phone booths. I think a call cost five cents. In the large back room was a wall filled with little drawers- each with its special ingredient, bottles of various colored liquids filled another shelve and of course his mortar and pestle. In those days, pharmacists actually mixed medicines rather than counting out pills. I remember his telling us one day that he caught a serious mistake in a prescription and had to call the doctor to rectify it. Above the store was a doctor’s office that was important because all his prescriptions came to Dad. I remember his coming to the house to take care of me when I fell down the steps. Unfortunately he was drafted and killed in the war. Next door was an optometrist who was arrested because, so I was told, he took boys to his farm. I didn’t understand but somehow the adults tone and strange looks made me uneasy.
    For many years Mom would go to the store while Dad came home to eat dinner with us. Later Richard and I would take turns carrying dinner to Dad on a plate carefully balanced horizontally in a brown paper bag. It was a hard life for my parents, both mentally and physically.
    Mom came from an orthodox family in Weirton, West Virginia. Her parents came from Russia, Her father and oldest brother first and, then after Grandpa saved enough for passage, the rest of the family immigrated. Grandpa came to America to escape being drafted into the Czar’s army – a particular hardship for Jews. I have also heard that Grandpa ran, or at least, worked , in a coal mining company store in Pennsylvania. A relative introduced him to someone who convinced him to take on a store in Weirton along with a partner and pay for it from the profits. Eventually he bought out his partner and by the time I was born, he owned two large connecting stores- one a furniture store and the other a hardware store. A true only in America story. Grandpa was a tall, distinguished looking man with a Van Dyke beard. He always dressed formally although I do remember passing by an open bedroom door when he was visiting us and seeing the strangest thng. Over his shoulders was a sort of fringed scarf, and of all things, he was putting his shirt on over it. I remember him as cold and aloof, although his son said he wasn’t always that way, only after Grandmother died from colon cancer. I don’t remember my grandmother, but I do remember Mother scrubbing every inch of our home in anticipation of their visits. Special tea glasses, which you will find in the dining room breakfront, were kept for them, and they drank tea through sugar cubes kept clenched between their front teeth. Mom once took grandfather to Mill’s Restaurant in downtown Cleveland, but the only thing he found kosher enough to eat was a piece of watermelon. No doubt he disapproved of our religious standards which he probably thought nonexistent.
    As child, I didn’t truly realize that their life was so hard. It was just the way it was. We were much better off than our neighbors or the other children in my school. I was uncomfortable when all the other children in my Sunday School went home eastward while I stood alone waiting for the streetcar west. Or when I had to take the streetcar west from dancing school while all the other kids were picked up by their fathers in cars and headed in he opposite direction. I think my parents decided to finally make the move to the Heights when boys discovered me and vice versa.

From Lora Reed:

What advice would you give your great grandchildren?

My first thought was, this is a really difficult question. After all, almost a century separates us – how can my advice be appropriate in a world that I can’t even imagine. But then I realized that, while the material world may be completely foreign to my era, some values are everlasting. Thus, I think my advice to you, my precious greatgrandchildren, can be expressed in one short sentence.

BE A Mensch!

Such a silly word – mensch- to encompass so much. Literally it means to be a Man. A man in the sense of a human being (male or female) who stands for right, a man of integrity and honor, a man of responsibility and compassion, a man of innate decency. In other words, a mensch. No-one can achieve perfection, but if you strive to meet these goals, you will truly be a beacon of light to our world.

What Was My Best Trip?

Just thinking about my first trip overseas brings a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. It was in1972 when travel was a luxurious adventure. We were off on our own for three weeks in Austria, Germany, and Switzerland . And what a grand adventure it was!

Because Greatgrandfather Tom had so many Frequent Flyer Points we were able to fly first class. You wouldn’t believe how special that was back then. People dressed nicely, the seats were spacious, the food delectable. Were presented with huge menus written in calligraphy with wondrous choices to be served on white tablecloths and even fingerbowls for dipping our smudged fingertips. We could have been the Royal Family. My only faux-pas was at my German style breakfast when I mistook a minisize cup of mustard for coffee cream. Not a tasty treat.

After landing in Vienna we picked up our rental car and quickly got on the road. I was assigned the role of navigator and given a map.

After half an hour we were in downtown Vienna instead of the Vienna woods. Through gritted teeth, with each word enunciated very distinctly Tom asked,”Sweetheart, what is the street you are looking for?” In my very best non-existent German I attempted to tell him. After a few seconds of concentration the black cloud left his face and he began laughing and laughing. Turns out the street signs I had been following said Bus Stop.

An hour later we found our beautiful Schloss. It was so picturesque – surrounded by a moat complete with swans. In the bar hung a real Rembrandt. A far cry from The Holiday Inn. We visited most of the famous sites including the Dancing Lipizzander Horses with their gold trimmed stalls, the Reisenrad which is a giant Ferris Wheel with cars the size of a room, and the pastry shops where everything is mit schlag (whipped cream}. One evening we drove up the mountain to a town celebrating the new wine. People were strolling arm in arm down the middle of the street singing and drinking . We had to join the fun. I told Tom they must lock up the town sober.Afterwards we somehow made it safely down the mountain.

On to Salzburg where we stayed at another schloss, this one built into the side of a mountain. We toured a medieval fortress featuring a torture chamber more frightening than my dentist’s office.

The next stop was Munich, Germany where Tom had lived for a few years before coming to America. We drove past his old apartment and past his father’s former office where he was editor of a Hungarian newspaper. We visited the museum and the beer hall. We drove to Feldolfing, the Displaced Person’s Camp, where he and his father lived for several years after liberation. It had been a Hitler Youth Camp and I have a picture of Tom at about 13 wearing a Hitler Youth shirt given to him by American soldiers because he had no other wearable clothing.

From there we drove through several small towns which I really enjoyed. In one town we stayed in a spooky old place overlooking a cemetery. It boasted a basement bar well-attended by the local gentry. Everyone downing steins of beer and happily trying to make their voices louder than their neighbor’s in that echoing chamber. At least until we walked in. Dead silence as every head swiveled to stare at us. I guess Americans were as rare as Martians. It was a bit tense, but Tom was not to be denied his beer so we braved through it.

Our biggest adventure in Germany was going to the top of the Jungfrau in a cable car. We stayed the night in the only hotel up there and after the skiers went home we shared the hotel with only one other couple. It was absolutely silent and the outside world black as pitch.

Then on to Switzerland where we enjoyed a boat trip in Geneva and of course we couldn’t leave without buying a watch. Once again we headed up a mountain, the Zugspitz by train , higher and higher with the air getting thinner and thinner. At the top, besides the magnificent view, we found whole rooms carved out of ice – beds, chairs, tables etc. Needless to say, I was cold, dizzy and a bit nauseous, but glad I went up and even more glad to be down again. Back in our hotel we found a package sent by our friends who thought we might be a little homesick. They sent a box of matzah and a jar of peanut butter. There was also a letter from Judy telling us they were fine although she had stepped on a rusty nail while crawling around some new construction. It was time to go home!

P.S. My very best trip was marrying Tom. That was some 64 year TRIP1

Lora Reed, May 18, 2021

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Lora Reed, September 25, 2021

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Good Deeds
    On Yom Kippur we pray for forgiveness for deed we have done and also for deed we have not done, but should have. I’m afraid I have more to forgive on the undone side…
    I do have a few good deeds that are like feathers on the scale of altruistic deeds.
    When we were first married, I worked as librarian at the biology department at Western Reserve University. It was not much os a library, and not a lot of clients. One graduate student, an African American, came frequently enough that I got to know him a bit as did Tom. He worked nights at a steel mill where his “bros” gave him a hard time about going to college. We invited him to go with us on a hay ride with some group or other. Hardly worth mentioning you’d think, but remember this was in 1955 – a different world and a daring invitation.
    Then when Mike was about 8 years old, I found out the only Black child in the whole school was in his room. I suggested to Mike that he invite the boy over for a sleepover. He did and it went well. Again, it doesn’t sound like much, but in the early days of civil rights I can assure you he was the first African-American youth to enter our community. At least I took a small step in the right direction.
    Oops, almost forgot – a big altruistic moment that incidentally, probably saved my life. Mike came home from school and made a life changing announcement. “If you give up smoking, I promise never to start.” Reports of ill effects from smoking had begun to surface about a year before so how I could not agree. It was cold turkey and I spent a lot of time chewing gum and gnawing my teeth but we both kept to our agreement. Mike never smoked, and I gave up my beloved Pall Malls.

Lora Reed, June 03, 2021

My Best April Fool’s Day Joke

This is an easy one, but first you must appreciate Greatgrandpa Tom’s sense of humor. There was nothing he enjoyed more than a prank, and if it involved a pretty young girl, all the better.

He returned from his semi-annual teeth cleaning appointment with a grin and a twinkle in his eye. It seems there was a new dental hygienist and she, noticing his interesting accent, asked him where came from. How could he resist the opportunity? He said he had come from a mid-eastern country and he liked life in America, except he had not been allowed to bring all his wives with him. The only one he could bring was the eldest (me). However, he had managed to replace three and figured he could soon replace spots 5 and 6. Perhaps she had some suggestions? The hygienist ran to our dentist to ask if was true. He assured her it was.

Tom was tickled pink over the episode, but I saw my chance to one-up him. With April 1st coming up, I called the dentist and asked him to send a bill to Tom for each wife’s dental treatment – cavity, crown, etc. He went along with it. Tom got his bill and I got a mark on my revenge score.

Lora Reed, June 02, 2021

Back Row from L-R: Lora Gold Reed, cousin Ella, Sandy (died at age 40), cousin Lillian Kanter, cousin Maxine Teplitz, Teddy Raab, Phyliss Raab and Ellis Raab Front Row: Barbara Kanter, Jerry (adopted child of Teddy or Ellis -thanks to Herb), lives in NYC) and Roseanne). Picture taken in Dora’s dining room

What Was My Best Birthday?

My 60th birthday was truly awesome. I had no idea of the scheming going on behind the scene over the previous days. As far as I knew, it would be dinner out with Tom and phone calls from the family. But Judy had other plans for me.

When I set out for school that day, little did I know that the red flag went up and the plans began to unfurl. Shortly after I left, Tom set out to the hotel where Judy and family were staying after flying in from Wisconsin the night before.

It was a Friday so only a half day at my school, but as usual it was packed with activities . Shortly before the dismissal bell I had a call that I was needed in the office – please come up. I was uneasy because I had to give an asthma treatment to a child before he went home, so I ran as fast as my size 10 feet could carry me up two flights of stairs where the vice principal waited in her office. Her odd behavior puzzled me as she hemmed and hawed her way through some silly paperwork and finally let me go. I flew back to my room where I was surprised to see one of my best behaved students standing outside my door. It was completely out of character for him to have done anything bad enough to warrant such punishment, but I had no time to deal with it. The crucial treatment was needed first and both my student and I breathed easier after that was accomplished.

When I opened the door to question my “teacher’s pet”,a strange sight greeted me…a group of people were standing there. What now? I slowly processed the realization that I knew these people. The red hair of one sparked a few brain cells into realizing I was looking at my family, There stood Tom, Judy, Stuart, Susie, and Josh.After the tears subsided they made me look back into my room and there was Saree seated at the good boy gone bad boy’s desk. Well the tears began again, but after a few hugs and kisses the tears turned into smiles and laughter.

Judy had sent invitations to the faculty and staff to join in for cake and whatever in the meeting room and that was the icing on the cake. Let the festivities begin!

What a wonderful day and wonderful family I am blessed with.

It’s hard not to at least mention two other birthday events. One was my 80th when the whole family gathered for dinner at a Turkish restaurant where Tom tried to dance with the belly dancer. The other was last year. Tom passed away on March 10, 2020 so it was hard to think of celebrating my birthday that year so the kids decided to celebrate on other days that month. Susie served me forbidden foods for each meal- doughnuts for breakfast, an enormous corn beef sandwich and fried onions rings for lunch, and pizza for dinner. It was worth every calorie. A few days later I was visiting Mike and Barb in S. Carolina and when the doorbell rang, I was asked to take care of it. When I opened the door there was Josh and Annie! Another beautiful surprise. Out came the cake, hugs and kisses. It all helped me over what would have been a difficult time.

Family is the blessing of life.

Lora Reed, June 08, 2021

How Did I Feel When My First Child Was Born?

Was it really 65 years ago? What is that familiar mantra – it feels like yesterday…

In those days, gas was the usual medication during delivery so I didn’t see Mike as soon as he was delivered. Actually, I woke up in a bed in the corridor not even knowing if I had had a boy or girl. I decided to take a walk to the nursery and find out. No-one stopped me. But as I gazed at all those babies, I didn’t recognize Tom’s lips nor my eyes. I went back to my bed none the wiser.

At last a nurse told me ,”A Boy”. Oh wow, I really had a baby! Thank goodness it was a boy. Tom had told me he wanted a boy first, and if it wasn’t, he’d “push it back in until it was finished”.

Then HE was brought to me. Incredible! This beautiful baby was mine – my Mike – forever more – to love and care for…care for – Oh God – what a responsibility! And with that realization my life changed. I was a mother and my life no longer centered on me. I had a life in my hands and I couldn’t allow any harm to come to my son. On the contrary, I must do the absolute best I could for my baby, and he would grow up to be healthy, kind, and intelligent. A mensch!

As I stared at his tiny features, memorizing every inch, it occured to me that his mind was a blank slate and I was responsible for writing on that slate – filling his mind with the wonders of the world as well as forming his concept of right and wrong. Looking at him today, I am proud to say I must have done a pretty good job.

Lora Reed, June 13, 2021

This is a story that all my children and grandchildren have heard over and over again, but I think it is a part of our family history that even the great grandchildren will enjoy.

When I was a senior in high school I dated a freshman from Case Institute of Technology (now Case-Western) in Cleveland, Ohio. One day he asked if I’d like to double with a pledge brother of his in Sigma Alpha Mu (Sammys) named Tom Reed. I said ,”Sure” and that’s how it all started. Well, by the end of our date, I told my friend that I never wanted to double with that guy again. All he did was spend the whole night necking with his date in the back seat, and when he did come up for air and say something, I couldn’t make out a word because of his heavy accent. So be it…

Two years went by and I had broken up with my friend and Tom was almost finished with his stint in the army. One evening over the High Holy Days, I wandered into Hillel, a Jewish college hang-out. By then I was a student at Western Reserve University (the other half of the now Case-Western) and who was there but Tom Reed, home on leave for the holidays. He did look mighty handsome in his uniform and after a tentative hello, we began to chat. Lo and behold, I could understand him – he had learned English during his time in Army Intelligence.

Well, all I can say is, ,it was much more interesting when WE were necking…and it stayed interesting for the next 64 years.

Lora Reed, June 22, 2021

This is a story that all my children and grandchildren have heard over and over again, but I think it is a part of our family history that even the great grandchildren will enjoy.

When I was a senior in highschool I dated a freshman from Case Institute of Technology (now Case-Western) in Cleveland, Ohio. One day he asked if I’d like to double with a pledge brother of his in Sigma Alpha Mu (Sammys) named Tom Reed. I said ,”Sure” and that’s how it all started. Well, by the end of our date, I told my friend that I never wanted to double with that guy again. All he did was spend the whole night necking with his date in the back seat, and when he did come up for air and say something, I couldn’t make out a word because of his heavy accent. So be it…

Well, all I can say is, ,it was much more interesting when WE were necking…and it stayed interesting for the next 64 years.

Lora Reed, June 22, 2021

This is a story that all my children and grandchildren have heard over and over again, but I think it is a part of our family history that even the great grandchildren will enjoy.

When I was a senior in highschool I dated a freshman from Case Institute of Technology (now Case-Western) in Cleveland, Ohio. One day he asked if I’d like to double with a pledge brother of his in Sigma Alpha Mu (Sammys) named Tom Reed. I said ,”Sure” and that’s how it all started. Well, by the end of our date, I told my friend that I never wanted to double with that guy again. All he did was spend the whole night necking with his date in the back seat, and when he did come up for air and say something, I couldn’t make out a word because of his heavy accent. So be it…

Well, all I can say is, ,it was much more interesting when WE were necking…and it stayed interesting for the next 64 years.

Lora Reed, June 22, 2021

Certainly not my best, but probably my most infamous, was cholent. What? You never heard of it? Well, neither had I until shortly after Tom and I were married and he thoughtfully said,” Lora, if only you could learn to make cholent, I’d be the happiest man in the world.” If that was all it took to make my wonderful husband the happiest man in the world I was all for it.
After some research I found that this mysterious dish was basically a bean dish with some barley, smoked meat, matzoh ball, onion and paprika, all baked in a low oven for 24 hours. It was the children’s job in Hungary to take the pot to the baker’s oven just before Sabbath and then after Sabbath pick it up for dinner. The recipe developed because religious law forbid work on the Sabbath.
I gathered up all the ingredients for this wondrous dish except the smoked meat. That stumped me, so I went to the local butcher shop where he solved that problem. Out came my biggest pot, my bag of beans, bag of barley, matzoh meal, egg, and smoked meat. I threw it all in the pot, set the oven for 225 and went to bed.
Sure enough, the next morning our apartment was filled with the delicious aroma of this wondrous dish. Tom could hardly wait for dinner, but at last the proper hour came and I carried the steaming platter to the table. Tom took his first bite and a look of complete contentment filled his face. “Ah, perfect” he declared. “How did you get that great smoked flavor?” “Ham hocks”, I smugly replied. A strange moment of silence followed. Then Tom pounded his fist on the table and proclaimed,”Five Thousand Years of Jewish Cookery Shot to Hell!
And that’s the way I cooked it for every Father’s Day and birthday for the next 64 years…
P.S. Don’t be inspired to try it. It’s awful stuff!

Lora Reed, July 14, 2021

Brave Deed

Judy and Saree had come to visit us in Atlanta and it was a beautiful summer day. Perfect for a day at the water park, so off we went. What could be better – water umbrellas, water guns, slides, calm trips down the Ole River, and best of all, The Wave Pool.

We entered the wave pool via a few shallow steps which led into the gradually deeper area – never deeper than an adult’s shoulder. No. problem, Judy was a super swimmer of swim team fame and a lifeguard to boot. Saree was around four and had been swimming since she was thirteen months, and I even had a Junior Life Saving badge dated thirty years ago. Then the waves started. I was holding Saree in my arms as the first few waves broke over us. Gleeful fun!

But the waves got bigger, and bigger ,and finally swamped us. I had to keep Saree up above the waves. I couldn’t allow her head to be below the waves. What if she choked on the water? Oh my God! I had to save my daughter’s beautiful baby!

The only way my panicked mind could think of to save her was for me to go below the water and by stretching my arms up high, hold Saree up above the breaking waves. I held my breath as long as I could and then a little longer,but finally I had to go up for a breath of air. Just as I gasped for air, the waves decreased and the water calmed.

As I came up, there was Judy who quietly, but distinctly asked,”Mom, What Are You Doing ?” Saree was laughing and probably thinking,”That was fun, let’s do it again.” I didn’t get any recognition for bravery, but I felt like a Superhero .

Lora Reed, July 18, 2021

Memories of My Mother

My earliest memory of my mother was when I was in bed and she was sitting in a pink rocking chair rocking back and forth as she read to me. She enjoyed reading books from the shelves of my father’s lending library tucked away in a corner of his drug store. Perhaps that’s where I got my love of books. As I got older, Mom and I liked to hop on a streetcar and head downtown. Nothing like meandering through the big department stores. We’d start out at The Public Square- the heart of downtown Cleveland, Ohio and see what was new at Higbee’s and then past the Soldiers. and Sailors Monument to The May Company. I loved that store because Mom would drop me off at the store’s playground located on one of the upper floors. It featured a high slide and a sandbox. Can you imagine just dropping off a child while you shopped for a couple hours? And not even a contract absolving the store of blame in case of a broken arm! Sometimes we would head up Euclid to the better stores like Halle’s or even Peck and Peck, or the store with green velvet seats lining the elevators.

Best of all were the Christmas display windows. Each store had fantastic animated characters playing with wondrous toys while happy music played and twinkling snow fell. As night fell and we began the trip home, we’d often stop at The Peanut Shop. I can still smell the delicious aroma and feel the steam coming from the white, grease stained bag of nuts. Or we might stop at the bakery – the name escapes me, but not the memory of the pecan rolls. Still hot yeasty rolls dripping butter, sugar, cinnamon and pecans. SoYummy! The only time I remember Mom being upset with me was on a visit to her allergist who had just returned from a vacation. He asked if his replacement had been satisfactory. I happily replied,” Oh yes. My mother said she didn’t care if you never came back!” I can’t blame her for the smack on my bottom when we left the office.

Lora Reed, July 24, 2021

My parents were married in 1929, just a month before The Great Depression began, and that’s when he opened his corner drugstore. It was in an Italian neighborhood at the corner of Clark Ave. and Fulton Rd, on Cleveland’s west side.
    It was a typical store for that bygone era. Somehow he managed the whole store himself, from the wall of magazines in front to the pharmacy in back. The pharmacy fascinated me. There was a wall of small drawers filled with mysterious powders that I somehow knew never to open, rows of large jars of colorful liquids, and the counter for compounding , complete with mortar and pestle. And that is where he spent his days, from 9 to 9, seven days a week until I was about 14 and he began to close the store Wednesday afternoon. His customers were fond of him. Many of the regulars called him “Doc” and summer afternoons, there were often a few men sitting at the soda fountain listening to the baseball game with him.
    He was a bit chubby with black hair, a little mustache, and lovely dark eyes. His name was Melvin. He couldn’t spend much time with us, but I knew he loved me as I did him.
    One of my earliest memories is a game we played every morning for awhile. Each morning, when he first got up and was in the bathroom, I’d run to my parents bedroom and hide under the blankets. When he sat down to put on his socks, I’d jump out to surprise him and, to my great joy, every morning he’d be dramatically surprised with hands outstretched and mouth wide open.
    While my brother and I were still little, Mom would walk to the store to relieve him for an hour while he came home for supper with us.I suppose he didn’t know exactly how to talk to us at dinner, so he would bring home a comic book to read to us as we ate. There were lots of “Pop, Bang and Crash” along with the veal chops.
    Another favorite memory is when we walked together to the store one winter’s evening. He had a hole in his knitted glove which he said I had caused by sneezing in his glove.He teased me for two blocks and I giggled the whole way proclaiming my innocence.
    I liked going to the store. Sometimes I dusted the shelves or swept the floor. Other times I might rearrange things. On rare occasions I waited on trade, but only is it was a very simple purchase. He liked having me there and I felt very important.
    A few years after the war ended, the chain stores came along. He decided it was time for a change. He was going to sell the store and become a pharmacist at a chain with normal work hours. It was time for my parents to enjoy life.
    Unfortunately, shortly after that he was diagnosed with incurable cancer. He lived only four more months before passing at the age of 48. It was a true tragedy , but he lives on in my memory and I know he would have been proud of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They would have loved him as I did.

Lora Reed, August 03, 2021

My Greatest Achievement

Of course my greatest achievement was my wonderful family. I wasn’t at all sure that I’d be any good at creating babies. I had been fairly good in biology at college, but organic chemistry was a bust as soon as I saw the first H on the blackboard. You wonder what one had to do with the other, but my strangely wired brain works in weird ways. Luckily my body seems to do its own thing without interference from my brain. My three children, and my super husband all turned out great – each one unique but each one has a kind and good heart, and that continues to this day. I am very proud of each of them.

Another achievement, not to be compared with my “greatest” but taking as long as raising a child, was completing my education. I started out in nursing school after working the summer before in the hospital record’s office and being offered a full scholarship. It seemed a good way to savor life on my own, but after a few weeks I realized it wasn’t for me. I wanted the college life that I had seen in the movies, so after the first semester, I dropped out and headed to Ohio State where once again I was granted a scholarship (only a partial this time. Sadly, at the start of the second quarter, a long-distance phone call from Mom gave me the sad news that Dad was seriously ill and I was needed at home.

After Dad passed in April, I had a job at Paramount Films Distribution Co. and while there I inched toward my degree with a night course. By that time I had three schools on my record and perhaps a year’s worth of credits. I enrolled at Flora Stone Mather (the girl’s division of Western Reserve University) No scholarship this time, but I did get a Grant in Aid which required a few hours of office work each week. I actually finished two years of college. Good progress until I remet a good looking army boy named Thomas Reed who swept me off my feet and as the saying goes, earned my Mrs. degree. College was once again put on hold until Tom earned his degree.

As soon as Tom graduated we headed to Columbus, Ohio, for his first job and my return to O.S.U.. Of course I was very pregnant by then, but I had it all figured out. My baby would cooperate and come two weeks late and I’d be able to finish summer quarter. What’s that saying.”People plan and God laughs”? Well, one August night, just after I finished typing my paper in our unairconditioned apartment, Mike announced he was on the way- one week early.

Many months later I finally got my B.A. in history. “And what can you do with that?”, asked my very practical husband. So it was back to school ,pregnant of course, for my B.S. in education. But that wan’t enough. After the kids were through high school, I got the urge again, so just short of fifty, I headed back to O.S.U. for my Master’s in Education. At that point,I declared, “That’s it!” “Fini!” I had achieved, if not my greatest, at least a great goal in my life.

Lora Reed, August 15, 2021

Such Fun Days

Looking back on it, I can hardly believe that I actually took the kids out of school for a week to go to Disney World. Their teachers were probably a bit annoyed, but at least they didn’t report me to child welfare.

It must have been around 1972 and I suppose Disney had been open for a while, but it was our first big family vacation and I loved it. We stayed at The Polynesian Hotel. I knew it would be terrific as soon as the staff jumped to our service dressed in sparkling white uniforms and tall white hats. We had easy access to the futuristic tube-like train to the entrance to Disney World. In those days, visitors bought handfuls of tickets, so many for each ride. It wasn’t long before Susie lost some of hers , but Mike and Judy, saints that they were, without complaint, shared theirs. Not to be outdone, Tom and I had to go along with their good example and throw ours into the pot with equally good grace.

We started off at The Crystal Palace for breakfast and from that moment I was a Disney captive as well as a Disney Princess.The day just got better and better. My heart sang along with the animated characters in Small, Small World. I screamed all the way down the water slide and wanted to do it again, oohed and ahhed at the 3D shows, and happily swung around and around in The Teacup Ride. Best of all was The Haunted House starting right away with the gravestones with their funny engravings that kept us laughing while we waited to go inside. It culminated with the never to be forgotten ghosts dancing under the elaborate chandelier in the beautifully spooky dining room.

Another day we ventured into the war canoes race. It was a pitch black night when the two canoes filled up with perhaps twenty people in each. We were given instructions such as not hitting the opponents over the head with your paddle. The tension was palpable as we silently felt the adrenaline flowing through our bodies. The absolute silence was suddenly broken when my favorite son announced, “I have to go to the bathroom!” Everyone howled!

Another day we went to the hotel “lake” where the kids had a water skiing lesson. They had a great time although Mike was the only one to get all the way up. Judy was almost there and given one more try would have been up. My water baby, Susie, was too young for that adventure but she loved every pool at every hotel we stayed at along the trip. In fact, she fell asleep during the last few miles home only to awaken as we passed the bright lights of a big hotel. She looked out and began crying. Her mean parents wouldn’t stop so she could go to that hotel pool.

I suppose today everyone takes it for granted, but then it was so brilliantly creative. I felt like a child again and loved our days in that wonderful world where we could smile and laugh and love our neighbors for at least those few days. I hope my children remember it as fondly as I do.

Lora Reed, August 22, 2021

Have You Ever Been the Recipient of a Random Act of Kindness?

Just today, on a typical hot and humid August day in Atlanta, as I finished loading my car trunk with a groaning load of groceries, a pretty young girl came up to me and asked,”Would you like me to return your cart for you?” At 92F I accepted gratefully. Then I told her about my book and that my Question of the Week was about random acts of kindness, and now I’d put her in my book. She was so delighted that I thought if this was a movie, there would be a burst of dancing music to complete the scene.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve been the recipient of many acts of kindness, but I’d like to tell you about one that happened about four years ago. Tom and I had gone to an event one evening at The Sandy Springs Event Center (I’ve forgotten the exact name). We had never been there before, but we easily found our way in the gathering dusk. But where was the promised parking lot? I felt like Moses wandering in the desert , only this desert was packed with cars going every which way.. I finally noticed a line of cars disappearing into what looked like a big, black hole in the ground. Sure enough, a tunnel led to an underground parking lot. Then It was a matter of driving one aisle after another looking in vain for a spot.

As it got later and later, we drove up and down level after level but at last we found the coveted spot. We hopped out and headed for the nearest entrance. We enjoyed an interesting lecture and at the end of that long evening we headed to our car. Uh-Oh…Where did we park? Tom thought to the right, I thought to the left. Neither of us was right. Where to go? What to do? God must have heard us, because two young couples came up to us with those glorious words, “Can we help you?” “Oh Yes “I gushed…. They asked for any hints that might limit the area to be searched. Like detectives they garnered a few clues, all useless, so they broke up into two groups to search for my little red Sonata. I went with one group ,key fob in hand, frantically waiting to hear my missing car honk its horn. Just as I was about to ask these good samaritans if they’d drop us off at a hotel, we heard my car tooting away. There it was! I threw my arms around the young man . When we all gathered together, I told them to be sure and tell their parents what wonderful children they had raised. I’m sure I saw halos around their heads as we bid them good-night.

Lora Reed, August 26, 2021

A Few Moments With Mike

by Lora Reed on September 08, 2021

Mike, being my first, was my trial and error baby, but as I look at the results, he survived admirably. The pages of my Dr. Spock Baby Book were well frayed by the end of Mike’s first year, but I exceeded even the good doctor’s instructions. I’m sure he never instructed new mothers to spread clean diapers over the table before folding the freshly washed diapers on the table in order to provide a semi-sterile surface. It just wouldn’t do to have germs get on that cute little bottom. Nor did he suggest bathing my baby at 1 AM so that Mike would be awake enough to take a bottle. After all, he needed some nourishment to get through the night. Luckily I did finally decide to take a chance on it, and let both of us get a full night’s sleep.

So much to remember about my first,, but I’ll tell only a few moments. For example, when he was in kindergarten and had the role of Santa Claus in the Christmas play. I wanted to give some helpful support, so I suggested that he say his lines loudly and clearly. He looked very puzzled and told me his teacher told him to be very quiet. I said he must have misunderstood. He must be sure every one can hear his words. “But Mom, I don’t have any words, I’m asleep the whole time.”

His kindergarten teacher told me that he was a genius, so imagine my surprise when he failed his reading readiness test.! Could his flame of genius have burned out so quickly? Well, I’d just see about that… I marched to the school to talk to his teacher. She opened her eyes wide and said “Oh, he didn’t miss anything. He just didn’t finish anything either.” Needless to say, he raced through the ranks from Minnow to Shark or whatever the levels were called back then.

A few years went by but I’ll never forget when, one Sunday night, a little after bedtime, Mike came down to the family room and looking upset, sadly handed me a note from his teacher.

He had gotten a failing grade on his book report. He was in the sixth grade and had read Exodus, a very powerful adult book. How could he have gotten an F? And then the silly story came out. His teacher decided that instead of the traditional written report, the kids were to stitch a scene from their book on a piece of burlap. Not me, declared my macho son. “That’s girl’s work!” I convinced him to do a few stitches, and that simple bit of work was hung on the wall of the Department of Education. Not a word about the complexities of the book, which seemed like a strange vaue system, but I was very proud of him and that pride has never faltered.

A really special moment with Mike was when he saved his sisters from potentially serious injuries and saved our home from becoming ashes. Mike was downstairs recuperating from knee surgery and the girls were upstairs in their bedroom. Suddenly Judy’s terrified scream shattered the peace. Mke hurried upstairs as fast as possible on his crutches to find a blanket stored in the closet right next to a bulb that had been left on for who knows how long, had caught fire! Using his crutch, he managed to pull down the burning blanket and the three children stomped out the fire. Thinking about what could have happened without Mike’s quick action still makes my heart flutter and icy terror fill my mind.

If only I could have looked into a crystal ball and seen how he would grow into an Eagle Scout, the star of every high school play, the lead trumpet in the school dance band and then into college where he met his future wife. She parted his bushy beard enough to recognize the kind and loving heart in that young man, and they were married just before his last year of law school

Lora Reed, September 08, 2021

A Few Moments With Judy

Judy was the only one of my children whom I saw at the moment of birth. When the nurse laid my baby girl on my stomach, I said “Oh, what a beautiful baby!” She was, and still is. Maybe it was being a middle child that made her such a social butterfly. Even as a little girl she was always ready to turn down my offer of a game of Chutes and Ladders so that she could run outside and find a playmate. That extrovert gene must have come from Tom, but from me she inherited the sensitive gene.

I remember one evening as I was putting her in her crib, she put on the clown hat that went with her pjs. She looked so funny that I began laughing . She didn’t like that at all-

she cried and cried. It took a lot of hugs and kisses to soothe those ruffled feathers.

One Halloween night she and I went trick or treating in the backyard of our apartment complex. I must have turned my head for a second because suddenly she wasn’t there! I called her name, frantically running from one apartment to another but to no avail. All the worst scenarios played through my mind as I ran home to call the police. And there was Judy, looking very upset with me. “Why did you get lost Mommy?” she demanded!

One summer’s day we all went for a ride into the country to picnic and swim in a river. Once again I took my eyes off her for just a second, and when I turned back, there was my precious Judy floating face down in the water. I grabbed her, put her over my shoulder. and began pounding her on the back. It may not have been the Red Cross approved procedure, but it worked. She was soon coughing and sputtering. Who would have thought from that ominous beginning years of swimming laps would evolve.

She was soon setting records at the nearby pool and went on to join an AAU team. Not only did it mean three nights a week and occasional before school practices, but weekend matches in a tristate area. And what was I doing during those hours of practice? Sitting in the stands hour after hour mulling over the world’s problems. Oh My!

As a teenager her mantra became, “I’m going to get Mommy in trouble, I’m going to get Mommy in trouble”, often sung outside of my open kitchen window so I could start worrying. The episode I remember best was when she told Tom that I had agreed to her staying overnight at her boyfriend’s house because he had to babysit. I heard a not too tender “LORA” shouted from Tom’s mouth as he came into the kitchen.

Judy grew to be a determined, imaginative and creative woman and, like her brother and sister, she had a heart of gold. She earned a Ph.D in education and specialized in working with at risk high school students, even having her own school for many years. So many students gave their heart-felt thanks for turning their lives around and saving them from despair and failure.

I will end with a song written by Susie and usually accompanied by her guitar.

Lock Down (Short Version)

It was a quiet Saturday 10 years ago when my mom was in the hospital, and we were gathered in her room as she was being wheeled out for a test. My sister, Judy ,went with her where she was told that when the doctor completed the test he would come talk to her. Judy decided that Dad should be with her to meet with the doctor. So she hurried back to the room and that’s when the s—- hit the fan! Dad took them down a different elevator…

Chorus: When you go with my sister somewhere you haven’t been before, I suggest that you use the restroom first and have comfy clothes on- you have no idea how long you will be locked up.

Judy looked and looked for the room she was told to wait in, but she was all mixed up and all the doors looked the same! She finally found what she thought was the right door. but the doctor never showed up. They decided to find the doctor, but the door they had used was locked! They weren’t worried, there were other doors. They went to the second door, but it wouldn’t open either – oh no! The third door opened, and as they walked into the hallway they heard a loud click. The door locked behind them. Doesn’t sound like a problem? But to the left of them, the hall was boarded up, to the right the door was locked. And that’s when they realized they were locked in the basement of a hospital on a Saturday. Dad tried to use his own keys and then his credit card. No, neither one worked, but thank God, her cell did. They were rescued after Judy bribed the nurse with chocolate and the maintenance men with a nice note to their boss. When we got back to the room and told Mom, she thought it was very funny – the truth was she was high on painkillers, so we told and retold the story and she laughed each time. Dad didn’t think it was funny at all.

Lora Reed, September 21, 2021

EDIT

Lora Reed, September 29, 2021

Tom was definitely our family prankster. Maybe that’s why I called him Terrible Tom more than once.
    When the grandkids were young he loved to tell stories about the awful things he did as a child in Hungary, especially during the summer he spent at his aunt’s when she enrolled him in Hebrew School… definately not his choice of activities.
    One of his favorite tales was when the melamed ( Hebrew teacher) fell asleep at his desk. It was the dreaded melamed who had frequently hit the back of Tom’s hands with a ruler for incorrect recitals. Now his long white beard lay spread out on the desk as he slept. Bad boy Tom took a candle and melted wax to glue down the melamed’s beard. It was very funny until the teacher woke up. Tom took off through the open window and off he ran through the fields. Eventually he got his well deserved punishment.
    For his next prank, before the teacher arrived, he convinced the other boys to hide in the wine cellar for a game of hide -and- seek. Once they were all in the cellar, he closed the door and locked them in! I hate to think what punishment he got for that, but he probably thought it was worth it to get expelled from Hebrew School.
    After the war, when one of his cousins lived with Tom and his father in their Munich apartment, he had to rescue her from an unwelcome admirer. He showed his first interest in his future profession as an electrical engineer by managing to rig up the doorbell so that when the poor suitor came to call, he rang the doorbell and literally got the shock of his life. That really discouraged that romance. The fact that soon afterwards they left for America probably wasn’t connected to that incident…
    Years went by while the prankster side lay dormant, but finally as the chaotic life of study, work, and family became routine, that side of Tom reemerged although at a less destructive level. His best friend in Columbus was John Meade. Tom, John, and his wife, Cathy, routinely spent Saturday afternoons having a drink at John’s house and chatting away the hours. Late one Friday night, Tom managed to plant an evergreen tree in their backyard along with sprouting green onions in Cathy’s garden. The next afternoon, Tom suggested they enjoy the good weather on the balcony, and so they sat down and began to chat as usual. Despite steering the conversation to lawn care, bushes, trees, and finally in desperation, pine trees, John refused to notice the new tree planted right below his nose. I think John got the better of Tom on that one.
    The grandkids made good subjects for his pranks….Like when he taught them how to play Statues right on an empty stand in the shopping mall. Or when he picked them up at the airport wearing an Arab head dress.
    Who knew what Tom would do next. He kept us all on our toes, and an “Oh Tom “on our lips.

Lora Reed, December 07, 2021

Until my late teens, I am sure it was my Mother’s influence that I felt most strongly. She and I spent the days pretty much together – Dad being at the store and few children in the neighborhood. My brother and I spent hours each day together, but I don’t think he influenced me one way or the other, except for a fear of chess.
    Mom introduced me to the joys of reading. I have an early memory of her sitting in a pink rocking chair while reading a bedtime story. She introduced me to the beautiful, stately public library for which I am eternally grateful. I started reading around four and have devoured whole forests of trees to feed my addiction to books. I remember the pride I felt when allowed to leave the children’s section and pick a book from the young adult’s section. It may have been “The Secret Garden”, which was always a treasure to me, but I also recall seeing “Mein Kampf” on a shelf. I felt both angry and terrified. How could that book be allowed to defile my beloved library?
    She taught me a few housewifely skills, but I felt her heart wasn’t in it. I learned to iron pillowcases and graduated to sheets and cooking by letting me scramble eggs as long as I would eat them. But I felt that she considered these things of little importance and I should be spending my time on more worthy pursuits. She tried so hard to find my well-hidden talents – from violin and piano to horseback riding and ice-skating, but nothing turned me into shining star. She told me I could be another Shirley Temple if only I could learn to cry spontaneously, but try as hard as I could, I couldn’t produce a single tear. Certainly she influenced me to have a Puritanical view of using my time wisely. To this day I feel a bit guilty when I settle down on the couch for an evening of Netflix instead of doing something worthy.
    My best friend, Naomi Perez, whom I wrote about already was really a positive influence. She was the only child in our neighborhood who really had plans for her future and the intellect to back up her dream of becoming a child psychologist. We shared our lives from the sixth grade until the second year of my marriage – our secrets, our fears, our hopes for the future, and all the drama of our growing up.
    The biggest influence on my character was not a who, but rather a what. I believe the movies had a powerful influence on me ( and perhaps have a horrendous effect on the children of today). In those days, the Good Guy always won at the end, whether cowboy, soldier, or college coed. The wholesome girl next door always ended up with the football captain. The movies sent the message that good triumphs over evil and that belief has stayed with me for a lifetime.

Lora Reed, December 17, 2021

How is Life Different Today Compared to When I Was a Child?

Ye Gads, how life is the same would be a brief half page, but how it is different is like comparing Dickens to Danielle Steele or low fat sherbet to Ben and Jerry’s. It is a different world- better in some ways, worse in others. Where to start?
    My father would be aghast at the role of today’s fathers – a partner in childrearing? Cooking and/or cleanup in the kitchen? Sharing household tasks – what is the world coming to? Parents were not buddies, they were loving caretakers and disciplinarians. They didn’t expect to bribe their children, nor to be a playmate nor a home teacher.
Children listened to their authoritarian parents. Of course there were exceptions, but not in my family. Right or wrong, theirs was the voice of law.
    If my mother could see me today – an elder senior citizen still running around in jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, she would think I had lost my mind. Grown women didn’t wear slacks – well maybe movie stars could, but they didn’t count. Even during housework she wore a dress complete with stockings and short heeled real shoes. She must have used a scrub board until she bought her first clothes washer when I was about seven. She still used a mangle to squeeze out the water before hanging up the clothes in the basement. At some point I was allowed to iron the sheets and pillow cases as well as dust the ornate carved furniture.
    Playdates hadn’t been invented yet. We just left the house in the morning, stopped by mid=morning for our daily dose of caster oil, and then off until lunch. We just played with whomever was around. When we did stay home I played with my fancy dolls, an ice skater, a skier, a debutante, and my most loved, a box of paper dolls, my favorite named Susan. My brother, Richard, was busy building airplane models or adding to his stamp collection.
    Imagine a world before fast food. Before McDonalds, before frozen food, until my teens when we found frozen peas, or carrots, or mixed peas and carrots. Yuch! Not even a microwave! We ate well, but Mom did all the prepping and cooking. We ate a lot of veal and lamb, but pork never crossed our lips.
    Communication was another area of drastic change. We didn’t even have a rabbit-eared television until I was about sixteen. Radios and newspapers provided the latest news, and incidentally, we had morning and afternoon papers delivered to our door and mail also delivered thru a slot in the door for three cents postage. We were better equipped to stay up-to-date with neighborhood gossip by listening in on our party-line phone which we shared with a neighbor. Long distance calls caused a bit of alarm. They meant either an engagement, the birth of a baby in the family, or someone died. Even as a young woman, really Long Distance calls were unusual in my world Perhaps that’s why I became a little unhinged one day when ,as I arrived home, Mike casually told me Judy had called. “What , from Israel? Is she sick, kidnapped, hurt! ” “Nah, just wanted to say hello.” Unheard of!
    Enough of material things…more important perhaps were behavior and attitude. Teachers and doctors were next to God I was told, and therefore always right. Had I gotten into any school trouble, there was no such excuse like “The teacher doesn’t like me.” The fault was 100% mine. The worst sins conceived of in my school years were passing a note or chewing gum. A far cry from drugs, guns, and even rape in today’s schools. Crime wasn’t rampant, at least not in my lower middle class neighborhood. The neighbors sat outside on their front porches and probably deterred a lot of mischief as they watched each other’s lives unfold. Although I did resent their close supervision when , after my first real date, a neighbor teased me about having a boyfriend.
    You may think life is more efficient with our computers, cell phones, ear plugs and whatnot, but we talked to real people who provided real help efficiently without being put on hold for several hours only to be told to fill out the forms on the computer. Yes, . life was slower, but more peaceful with less anxiety and depression. Of course there are areas in which I see and admire the wonderful progress. Medicine is one. No doubt in todays world my father wouldn’t have died of cancer at 48, nor would I probably still be alive at 87 in my childhood era, to enjoy checking my e-mails and greatgrandbabies pictures first thing in the morning along with my microwave heated coffee and frozen waffle
Another area, still evolving, is racial equality, something I didn’t even think of when I was a child living in an all white neighborhood. But then again, I didn’t think about humanity destroying the earth either.

Lora Reed, January 10, 2022

So how did it happen- how did the college boy whom I wouldn’t even double with become my beloved one and only for 64 (plus a year of dating) years?
    It was on September 26, 1954, the day before Rosh Hashanah, at Hillel, that it all started. I walked in with my brother, Richard. Tom was leaning against the wall opposite the stairs. He saw me, said hello, and gave me a big smile. He started talking. Not only could I understand him, but now he had an intriguing continental accent. The rest of the night was spent taking about everything, submarine sandwiches included. As Hillel was about to close, Richard invited him to drop over tomorrow after services. We ended up going out doubling with Richard and his date. That evening I decided that Tom was really special. Perhaps it was because he kissed me at every red light and drove about 10 miles per hour. I thought it was just to prolong out time together. Much later I found out it was because he hadn’t much experience driving and he had never driven his father’s car before.
    The next afternoon we went for a short ride that ended up at 8:00. Time just flew by and on the way home, Tom asked me out for New Year’s Eve. I felt wonderful – until I got home. What a reception I got!
    Tom left for camp the next morning and I didn’t expect to see him until December. A few days later I got a phone call from Fort Meade – Tom had wrangled another three pass.
    I waited for Tom at Hayden Hall on campus the next morning. He walked in smiling like a little boy. He took my arm and led me to the car. There he had a dozen roses and his army pin. A few days later we were going steady. Tom didn’t get home again until December, but he was home for a whole month. Part of it was ruined because I came down with tonsillitis (a common occurrence every time an organic chemistry test was coming up), but the rest was wonderful.
    February was the last time I met Tom at the train station in Cleveland. We vowed never to be separated again. That was one vow no better kept than the traditional Jan.1st vow to lose ten pounds. Tom started back to school and we began our daily lunch meetings.
    Shortly after that we went shopping for my engagement ring and celebrated with the last of Tom’s discharge pay with a drugstore soda. I should tell you about the first unofficial ring he gave me. We had gone to a friends wedding, and when the groom slipped the ring on the bride’s finger, Tom took my hand and put a cigar band on my ring finger. That was probably one of my most romantic moments.

Lora Reed, January 17, 2022

I must have been about 15 when Mom and Dad decided to buy a used car for Richard. Actually, Mom probably decided and Dad went along with it. Richard must have been close to eighteen and about to set off for Ohio State. Since he couldn’t take that cool car to OSU there it sat, in the garage, loved from afar by me. Richard did name it before he left it behind. It must have been wishful thinking that led him to name it Caesar, or Seize Her, depending on who sat in the car.
    We were living in our lovely home on Bendemeer ( I thought that sounded so much better than our previous West 30th) in the Heights by then and like most suburbs, you pretty much needed a car to get around, even to the grocery sore. With Dad not available, you can see we desperately needed a second driver in the family. Only one solution declared my mother, I must become a driver! Dad found time to teach me on his huge Mercury that sat four across on the back seat. And I was set to go.
    I managed to take Mom on her errands and my friends to the drive-in where the kids hung out and car-hops would come out to serve us, sometimes on roller-skates. The only time I got in trouble was when I went to pick up a friend, Adrienne Ballonoff, and her mother, with a puzzled expression, asked,”Lora, aren’t you fifteen?” The jig was up. No way would she allow her daughter to go with an underage driver- practically a criminal! Looking back, she was absolutely right.
    I already wrote about how I got my license, The years went by, and my father passed away at an early age. Richard went on to grad school in Texas. Caeser and I were on our own, but I fed her regularly with gas and repeatedly fixed her flat tires with patched up used ones. As they say, ignorance is bliss. At least until the day I was driving down a road, thank God it wasn’t downtown, and the car suddenly started making the most blood curdling sounds…I thought the whole engine had fallen onto the street. Well, how was I to know about nasty things like oil and grease and clogged this and that. What a painful growing up experience that was.

Lora Reed, January 24, 2022

Sadie, Sadie, Real Estate Lady

How did my years in real estate come to be a part of my checkered past? It all started when my friend, Ann and I decided we were getting a bit bored with housework and needed something more . Besides, with the kids into their teens, we decided it was time for us to strike out. Ann suggest we try real estate, and before we could chicken out, we signed up for a course. Luckily, when we took the big test, we got identical scores. With our egos intact, we set off.
    I had a broker friend named Larry so we gave him first chance at our future earnings, and he was kind enough to take us on. Larry gave me my “first deal”, which was representing his father for the closing on a little plot of land.l. I earned $75 on that deal, maybe less, but it was enough to take Tom out to dinner. Once again, Larry helped me get started with a call-in client wanting to see a house Larry had listed. I showed it, and he bought it, and I was hooked! But the hand-holding was over and I was on my own.
    One day Ann approached me and in a reflective voice, suggest that , rather than fight each other over for listings, we should work together as a team. Truth, not modesty, leads me to say, that I think she got the better part of that deal. But it was more fun to share the ups and downs of the business. At any rate we did fairly well in our area and surrounding subdivisions. After awhile we left Larry and went to work for Knolls Reality, a more active company. I remember one sale that came early on and was easy as could be. A gentleman came into an open house I was holding. I showed him the artifact (a shell) embedded in the stone fireplace and he bought the house, without his out-of-town wife even seeing it! That is real faith in one’s spouse. It was a pleasure until the closing when we discovered Ann had messed up the paperwork. After several long minutes of panic and sinister thoughts, the bank was able to clear up the mess.
    I had two deals that were just a bit unusual. One was the sale of a church to two of my friends, Jane and John, who were on the committee to find a home for their Unitarian group in Columbus. More interesting perhaps was the sale of an old sort of mansion just outside of the center of town. It was a big old place with five fireplaces, and wa bought by two gay men. At the closing, they were accompanied by their wives. I’ve forgotten the legal reason, but they had to sign off their rights although they were in the process of divorce. I was reminded of them when I streamed the show, Frankie and Grace.
    That adventure had its ups and downs. Like the afternoon I had to run out for a showing just as guests were arriving to a surprise birthday party Tom had planned for me. Or the late afternoon when I arrived home only to fine one of Tom’s old Case professors and his wife sitting on the couch. They had dropped by and Tom, ever gracious, had invited then for dinner and to spend the night. Bad enough I thought until the wife announced she was a vegetarian. Well, I can be flexible…I gathered up fruits and vegetables from our garden out back and quickly peeled my gatherings. Just as quickly the sink clogged up! No sink, no dinner, no sale, but no tears.
    I never made a fortune, but did earn enough to pay my mother’s rent and besides, it gave us the courage to get into the buy, fix up, and rent homes business that kept us busy for the next many years. But that’s another story story for another time.
    Incidentally, the title comes from a jingle that Judy made up andsang on the buses. She even gave out my phone number

During the last year and a half of the covid pandemic I’ve done a lot of sitting at home, mostly in the family room, surrounded by mementos from my family, my travels, my life. These items may seem just a bunch of dust collectors, or even tchotchkes , but to me, each one is a reminder of something special and worthy of a few moments of contemplation.
    My wandering eyes land on the three Lladros bought in Switzerland around 1968, long before Lladros became so popular in America. Each one represented one of our children. Mike is the yawning young boy, just like Mike getting up in the morning. Judy is the young girl admiring her new shoes and probably wondering what to wear to school today, while Susie , always helpful, carries a candle for her big brother and sister.
    From there it’s a jump across the room to gaze at the two lovely Lladros given to us by Judy. One is a teacher lecturing her students, represented by a cluster of well-behaved Saworski figurines given to us by Saree over the years. The other is a very forceful Moses presenting the Ten Commandments to his people.
    A guest might wonder why I have a small gorilla reading a newspaper with a young gorilla at his feet placed on a book shelf. I’d have to explain why Josh thought Grandpa Tom was really a gorilla as evidenced by his hairy chest. Next to that is a Verona golden glass mezuzah backed by blue velvet collected on our wondrous trip to Italy .From there it’s a hop down to the black stone menorah with strong men holding up their hands ready to receive the holiday candles. We found it in Cleveland while searching for a gift for Apuka, but as soon as I saw it, I overcame all my guilt and bought it for my selfish self. A sin to be remembered next Yom Kippur. To show you we were never snobs, on the next shelf is one of Tom’s fantastic buys, the Royal Dalton Balloon Lady which he proudly bought at his favorite shop, The Good Will Store, for a few dollars.
    On across the room and my sentimental eyes stop at the lovely sculpture of a seated ballerina which Barb and Mike gave fo us in Budapest during our visit to Hungary. Happily, Alex was with us on that trip, and was the same age as Tom was when he was deported. I wonder if Alex remembers Tom telling him that the girls wore short skirts because they couldn’t afford more material. A few steps further on Alex pointed out a girl in an extremely short skirt, and with a gleam in his eyes, told me that that girl must be really poor! Or the night we went to a really awful musical recital. Alex and I started rating the performers on a scale of 1 to 10, but we were soon into the minus scale.
    There are just too many memories to mention them all, but the mythical creature from Athens and my beloved happy elephant from Washington D.C. have to be mentioned and their stories told at another time.
    No, not just “stuff”, to me they are treasures.

Lora Reed, October 19, 2021

Re: Lora Feet of Clay

Feet of Clay

    Did you ever wonder why I spent a quarter in nursing training only to quickly head in another direction? Well, here it is, the story of a rebellious teenager.
    I had been dating a boy we’ll call Dick, for a year or so while I was a senior in high-school and he a freshman at Case studying mechanical engineering. Yes, the very same boy who introduced me to Tom. My mother didn’t approve of Dick. In her mind a mechanical engineer was just a fancy name for a mechanic. Despite that, we were going steady. That’s an old fashioned term I suppose, but it meant we didn’t date anyone else. He was really kind, considerate, and devoted, but he wasn’t a future doctor. Not even a dentist, and therefore an undesirable suitor .
    We didn’t see it that way. Now I know you will be shocked at my behavior, my subterfuge, my scandalous scheming. Looking back, even I am shocked.
    I began “dating” his friends. I don’t know if Mom wondered how I met so many Case students. They would pick me up and then , for heavens sake, there was Dick “doubling” with us.
    The summer after graduation I worked in the records room at Mt. Sinai Hospital and I heard that their nursing school offered a scholarship and lo and behold, the students lived in a dormitory next to he hospital. What a perfect solution! I applied, got the scholarship, and packed my bags. Even Mom was happy – all those single interns!
    Before long we were making plans for the future, and then the future began to be chipped away. It started with his telling me not to worry if he was drafted. He had everything planned. I would live in a building his grandfather owned on East 105th St. What? That had no place in my dream world. East 105th was practically a slum, definitely crime ridden, and there I’d be, all alone and easy pickings. No way I thought to myself. The doubts become really heavy and black when, after driving past his shul he told me that someday I’d be serving him dinner there. Who Me? Sure, It’s tradition, Orthodox tradition. Orthodox? No way… maybe this was a mistake after all. And I have to admit that the nursing school didn’t match my dreams of college life.
    After long and careful thought, I decided this wasn’t good for either of us. We gave back our tokens of affection, I packed my bags and headed home. I did leave my mark on the nursing school though. They added a clause to their scholarship letter, that if the recipient didn’t complete their training, the portion of the scholarship used must be repaid.
    I feel Dick and I just helped fate along, because if I hadn’t dated him, I’d never have met Tom and spent my lifetime with the love of my life.i

BACK TO LIFE

I always knew that with a family history riddled with cancer, it was unlikely that I would completely escape the disease, but with my healthy lifestyle, regular mammograms, pap tests, and colonoscopies, the diagnosis was still a shock. Even then, with a level three diagnosis, I naively thought a simple hysterectomy would take care of the problem. It was the doctor’s calm statement that I would soon start on seventeen months of chemotherapy that completely unnerved me

I wasn’t a brave, stoic patient. Quite the opposite. Complications after the surgery put me back into the hospital for another few days, so perhaps I was weaker than the usual patient, but I spent much of the next few weeks lying on the sofa watching the bare tree limbs begin to bud and leaf. It was a long time before I got thru a day without crying, although I was virtually pain-free and never nauseous. It was the awful weakness that so devastated me. Raising a spoon to my mouth took too much effort, going for a car ride was exhausting, walking around the house was an Olympian event, but eventually, a pattern developed and slowly the weeks went by. I could not have made it without my husband’s support. He literally and figuratively held me up with his arms around me lending me his strength.. He sat with me during the long hours of chemo and drove me for the endless shots and doctor appointments. When I lost my hair he declared my bald head his “Kissing Post”, and unfailingly, dropped kisses on my head whenever he passed by. He was beside me throughout the ordeal, and I could never have survived without him.

The seventeen months became only seven, and the chemo was finally over. Four weeks following the last treatment I actually took a trip to Greece, planned well before the diagnosis, and I climbed up and down the hills and mountains with the rest of the group. When I look back to where I was a year ago, it seems unbelievable that I am back with my tennis group, perhaps not as vigorously as before, but not too bad for a seventy-three-year-old cancer survivor. For me, the hardest part of chemo was believing that my life could ever return to normal, that there really would be a time when I would wake up and look forward to a day filled with activities other than doctor appointments, and that I could watch my grandchildren achieve their dreams.

Every three months I again face my mortality as I await the results of my latest cat scan. I try to be realistic and pragmatic about the possibilities. After all, I’ve had my fair share of years, and my life has been good. After fifty years my husband still flirts with me, my three children are good, kind, and accomplished, and my grandchildren are the best in the world. Yet I’m not ready to call it quits. There is always another event to attend, another book to read, another steak to enjoy. There are too many things to see, do, and feel. My hold on the future may be tenuous, but I will hang on for the ride.