CSUMC: A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

Subject: A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

This is a story about the Friends Fall 2002 Book Sale, A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS. Oh! The title is taken? Then I will call it THE SUM ALSO RISES.

The date of the that auspicious sale that fall coincided with Abington Heights High School Homecoming. That conflict normally wouldn't matter, except I had a daughter who was a varsity cheerleader, and one of the star performers. I was also Book Sale co-chair. My daughter, Julia, begged me to attend the bonfire to videotape her squad's new dance routine, choreographed by her brother no less, at 7PM. What's a mother to do? "Go!" said my co-chair, Karen Brier, also a mother. "No big deal. We'll be under control here by 7PM."

Together Karen and I composed a letter for all the Friends members about the upcoming sale, requesting they contact us if they were going to help. We noted they should be at my house no later
than 5PM that Friday to move donated books from temporary storage in my basement to the Methodist church where the sale would be conducted that Saturday.

About two days after the letters went out to the membership and everything was 'set in concrete,' one of our members noticed an ad that the American Red Cross was having a Blood Drive that same day, at
the church. No sweat! We wisely had a volunteer list we could work of off. We figured we'd just call everyone who volunteered to help and start at 5:30PM instead of 5, putting us at the church closer to 6PM. The Blood Drive would certainly be over by then!

Meanwhile, the church staff never realized the error in scheduling until the day of setup! They called us to casually mention the Blood Drive and said, "Oh, there is also a Blood Drive today, but you
can simply bring your books in through the back door and put them on the stage until the Drive is over and the Red Cross has cleared out about 6PM." Sounded reasonable, and anyhow, we were already prepared for a slight delay.

Well, remember the people who volunteered to help? A few either didn't get the message or chose to disregard it because they showed up at my home at 5PM anyhow. We went ahead and loaded their cars. It was now only 5:20 but we decide to drive up to the Church - maybe we could get in early and at the least could bring the books in and put them on the stage as the church staff mentioned. A few more Friends, who never responded that they would be helping, were also there, chomping at the bit to get it, wondering where all the books were.

We discovered the Red Cross van was nestled snuggly up against the back door, running quietly to keep the donated blood chilled, so going in the back door was not going to be an option. The
large all-purpose room was filled with gurneys, anonymous blood donors lying zombie-like on them,
Red Cross workers running back and forth tending to their needs. We decided to unload the cars and put the books in the church kitchen until the all-purpose room,where the book sale would also be conducted, was cleared.

In the meantime, my basement still held thousands of books. I returned home for another carload and waited for additional helpers as promised. By 5:40PM a woman showed up who was there NOT to help lug the  dozens of 40 lb. boxes of books, but to supervise her confirmation class, scheduled
to be at my house at 5PM to do the heavy lifting. Well, that was a relief. I wouldn't have to do it by myself! Exactly one child appeared about five minutes later. At least he was a strong boy.

Things did get better. A Girl Scout Leader showed up with four girls: three were strong but one couldn't carry an empty box if her life depended on it. Progress began. One of our Friends board members appeared with her elderly mother. Another Board member appeared with a little, but empty,
car for us to fill. Now we were a crew of three middle-aged wimps (one whose self-appointed job was to keep her car running in my driveway), one strong boy, three strong girls, one absolute weakling,
and two elderly women (one who took vitamins and could at least do steps but couldn't carry boxes). That is the crew who basically moved a mountain of books in boxes out of my basement into five vehicles for transport to the church. It took us three trips!

By 6:15PM we had my basement clear. Karen was holding the anxious Friends volunteers back, in the church kitchen, stuffed with a mountain of donated books. Thankfully the books were presorted and the boxes labeled - a first for us as generally the books were brought in co-mingled by genre and type as donated. They were fine-tuned into types, even including areas for Religion, Cookbooks, and Young Adult. Unpacking would be a snap!

However, the Red Cross, still out for blood, still had donors on gurneys, and their van was still huffing away in the back entrance. They finally threw a few book sale tables up near the kitchen entrance to create a 'hall' going back to the all-purpose room stage,, and were were able to at least move boxes of children's books through the hallway created to the stage, where the children's books are typically displayed. However, they wouldn't let any of our younger helpers in the room while the blood drive was going on. A few adults took the challenge and began unpacking books on the stage.

About 6:30PM the last blood drive donor was finished and a floodgate opened with Friends volunteers, cooped up since 5PM in the kitchen and anxious to unpack the mountain of books, eagerly putting up tables and dragging the boxes into the all-purpose room. Meanwhile the Red Cross gamely tried to pack up and get out of our way, their sterile environment blatantly invaded.

Things were finely progressing nicely.  Signs were put on the tables so people knew where to unpack items by type.  The kids' section on the stage was looking great. We couldn't make coffee, as the coffee pot and supplies I brought over were MIA.

A friend of mine, Jay, was coming up to make express and cappuccino. He's about 6' tall with a beard and mustache. He looks like the tree-hugger he is.  He volunteered to provide this service to involve our newly formed Library Teen Literature Committee, allowing them to keep the proceeds as a fundraiser for their own future needs at the Library. When Jay arrived I introduced him by saying, "Kids! This is Jay, he's going to help you all tomorrow morning by making the coffee early." Jay, chagrinned, spoke up, "Well…. actually I can't be here first thing, Leah." Not a major setback, just another one. I'd come early myself and get the coffee on!

Just then, a fire alarm began to blare and strobe lights pulsed! Karen and I looked at each other with eyes wide as saucers and said, "Oh my, what next?!" There was no obvious smoke. No obvious fire. We waited a few minutes to see what would happen and no one seemed to be responding. Another responsible adult suggested perhaps we should call the fire department or 911. I offered to do it, although it was now approaching 6:50PM and I promised Julia I'd be at the bonfire (remember that?) by 7PM.

I told the 911 operator I was pretty sure this was a false alarm, that we were in a church, and had no idea why the alarm was going off. She queried, "Don't we have the number of someone on staff to call?" "Isn't anyone there from the church now?" She grilled me like it was
my fault this was happening or that perhaps we were intruders. She suggested I have everyone leave the premises unit it was checked out (yea, right, as if the Friends were going to stop unpacking books, looking for treasure, to step outside!). There was really no imminent threat of danger in the all-purpose room - no smoke, fumes, flames, but we didn't know about the rest of the building so it was wise to call the fire company. Besides, we couldn't very well do what we had to do, much less think or talk, with that annoying, blaring sound and strobe lights flashing! The hardworking Friends didn't appreciate the confusion either, but it sure didn't phase them.

I told Karen the fire department would be there momentarily to check the premises but I really had to run to the high school or I'd miss Julia's dance…. I felt like a heel leaving her but she wasn't phased
and her husband, Danny, who is a lawyer, was there.  At a time like that a lawyer was much more handy than a spazzed out co-chair.  I left before the fire department arrived and rushed over to the nearby high school.

The weather had warmed up from a frigid 41 during the pom-pom football game (I forgot to mention I had already spent the afternoon over there filming highlights from that in the cold) to about 51 with a threat of rain. It was the first time in years, or perhaps even ever, the school's PA system worked. The rally moved along quickly and the football cheerleaders finally got to perform their dance routine about 7:45PM. In the rain. Thankfully no one got dropped with the slippery conditions. I videotaped the entire performance and Julia was forever grateful I was there. Unfortunately, I rushed off and missed the boy 'cheerleaders,' football players dressed as girls, and their routine, one of whom was my son...

The first person I saw then I got back to the church was Frank. Whoops… FRANK was the friend who agreed to do the espresso with the kids…. not Jay! My bad. Frank, who also knows Jay, said when he arrived Jay told him about the coffee and the kids and they realized my mistake. It was really funny. They do resemble one another, Frank noted, except he (Frank), wears a turban all the time, a minor point.

Karen said the fire department didn't give her any grief about what happened, and her daughter, a seventh grader, had a good theory. Remember the Red Cross van snuggled up against the back entrance, running, for all that time to keep the blood cold? The fumes from the van could have set off a smoke detector in the church! Either that or someone from the Red Cross bumped an alarm going out a door. We knew the Friends had nothing to do with it.

Meanwhile, the Friends remained at their posts, madly unpacking the sorted books through all the
commotion and never missed a beat. Things were very well organized by the time I got back around 8PM and people were now gleefully shopping. Incidentally, our bulk-buying dealer Friends were the only ones unhappy over the delay. They left at 6:30PM without buying anything, in a snit, Karen was sorry to report.

People shopped until 9PM. At 8:45 our treasurer announced we had sold over $800 in items so far and that was without our usual 'donation' of $100 from the irate bulk-buying dealer. I was the last one out at 9PM, but not before allowing one more donor in with six more boxes of unsorted books. I was glad I was still there as she had made the trip in the cold and rain to drop them off for the sale and left, willing to deal with those 6 boxes first thing in the morning.

The next morning I was the first one back, arriving at 8:30AM for the 9AM start. I really wanted to see who would be opening the building for the church and to quiz them about the fire alarm. However, Mr.
Dempsey, the man in charge, was there even earlier as he had gotten a call from the gas company about a problem! It had been discovered a gas stove had been left on! I explained about the false alarm the night before and asked, "What do you think happened then? Do you have smoke sensors in the all-purpose room? "Yes," he said. "And fume sensors." Well, I guess that answers that! Our crisis WAS caused by that van. He also mentioned the system was new and they had had many false alarms. You don't say?! He was most concerned we had to call the fire department to get a response - he assumed they were connected directly, which must have not been the case. Something to look into…

Patrons began arriving at 8:40AM and I let them gather in the church foyer as it was cold out. It wasn't raining anymore, but the grey morning was chilly and very damp. Other workers began to arrive, including Girl Scouts, who set up a play area for children to stay in while their parents shopped. Our Library Teens arrived and got their bake sale and coffee shop (with Frank's help) set up and the other Friends began to arrive to man the checkout counters, watch the crowd, and keep things neat.

At noon I treated the volunteers to pizza. At 1PM we asked everyone to pay for their purchase in-hand at full price then we'd start a bag sale - $1/bag. Patrons were delighted and made their way to the
checkout like herded cattle, paid, put their purchases in their cars, then came back for more. I think we sold more than half the books that day, a good thing...

Karen had contacted someone from the University of Scranton to take away all of our leftovers. At least, that was Karen's understanding of the conversation.  What really happened was exactly one person showed up with one small car and began to cherry-pick what she wanted, took about two boxes of items, and said, "Thanks, see ya!" then left, leaving us with a few thousand unsold books! Karen just about slugged her when asked, "And where are your classics?"

What to do with thousands of leftover books that had to be removed from the church that day? I took all the Bibles for the local prison. Staff came over from the Library and chose boxes of books to recycle
outright.  The rest were put into boxes we dragged back out of the trash, put into cars and a truck, and put back into storage at the local school maintenance building to be kept for our Spring Sale.

Yes, we have storage space with the school district. Our room in the maintenance building is a cozy, warm room close to the street with convenient partaking. Thankfully we also had Eric, the maintenance
director's cell phone, which we'd need because it was, after all, Homecoming, remember? And the building where our storage space is located is very close to the stadium where the football game was being played, and that area was packed with cars.

I called Eric's cell at 2pm when the first car was loaded and ready to go to storage. NO ANSWER. Egads. Panicked, I told the car driver to follow me; I'd just drive over and find SOMEONE to unlock the front door even if I had to interrupt the football game and get on the PA system. We couldn't keep these books in our mutual cars all weekend and they had to be out of the church. We drove over, I marched up to the door, and it was UNLOCKED. Thank you, God. We entered the building and there was a sign with an arrow pointing stage left that said BOOKS. Thank God again… and Eric.

I left the first driver there to unpack their car and rushed back to the church to begin loading other cars with a vengeance. The University person was still cherry-picking, pulling items out of boxes as we rushed by to load the next car. Two truckloads and several cars later the hall was clear of books.

We still had discards that we absolutely didn't want to save. Several volunteers loaded those up and took them to the Library for temporary storage. My son helped the church janitor, Harold, set the hall back up for fellowship hour for the next day. The sale was officially a wrap at 3:30PM. I made one more trip back to th administration building to tell Karen, who was overseeing the storage process, to let her know things were wrapped up at the church.

I pulled up, parking my car 1/2 on the sidewalk outside the storage building. Everyone else was gone except Karen, who was waiting for me. We were chatting at the curb and thanking each other profusely
for a job well done, reviewing all the unfortunate events, when a local police car drove by, saw my car, and indicated with his finger, "Wait right there. I'll be back!" He made a u-turn and came back to us. We thought, oh no, I'm going to get a ticket for parking illegally during the game! Or worse, for an apparent break-in of school property! As soon as he pulled in Karen rushed over to his door and began, "Officer, we've only been here a few minutes. We're with the Library and we just finished this exhausting book sale and we have permission to use this building!" Baffled, he just looked at us and said, "I'm only here to investigate an accident report. So it's not you?" Oh, is that all?! My car had
been in an accident the previous weekend and with a damaged front grill it was a case of mistaken identity. Another 'thank God.'

When it was all said and done, Karen and I were extremely happy with how the sale turned out. Bottom line, the Teens made over $100 on their bake sale / cafe, with Frank's help. The Girl Scouts and their leader were a huge help and the service appreciated. And the Friends were delighted with the bottom sum - over $3,000 in sales for the weekend.

And not one person complained about anything, except the bulk-buying dealer, who refused to stay past 6:30PM that Friday night.

Good-bye to a century ... and my father

1999 was the year to say 'good-bye' to not only a century, but a millennium. All the hype, angst, and fear of the unknown was promptly put into its place, for me, in October of that year. My son Michael, a violin student, was involved in a local youth orchestra. My parents, who lived on the other side of the state, enjoyed seeing their grandson perform that fall. Coming in for an October weekend visit was a greatly anticipated family celebration.

My parents arrived on a Thursday; the concert was held on Saturday evening and they prepared to go home Sunday, after we all attended church together. That brisk, fall afternoon found us gathering in the driveway, the autumn sun beginning its descent, as they prepared to leave. However, outside in the fall sun and crips air, we said our farewells, I noticed my father's color looked a little 'off.' Although he had never complained, he definitely looked yellow! I made a mental note of this, and not wanting to alarm my mother, simply kissed my parents, and said, "Good bye."

As soon as they left I asked my husband, a physician, if he had

noticed dad's faint waxy yellow color. He admitted he did and that he felt my father should make an appointment as soon as possible with his own physician. It was possible he either had hepatitis from shellfish or something more dire... As this was the days before cell phones, we anxiously waited the six hours for them to arrive home before calling them to break the news of our observations, with a suggestion to see a physician in Pittsburgh. It's odd, but if you see someone every day, you are less likely to notice subtle changes in their appearance, which is why neither my mom nor sister viewed Dad any differently. My husband made the difficult phone call, and my dad promised to follow through the next day. We said good-bye again and waited.

Dad got an appointment for early November, and the results were not good. Apparently the treatment for my father's lymphoma had triggered acute mylogenous leukemia! He made an appointment with a specialist and they proceeded to map out an aggressive treatment plan. My husband concurred that under the circumstances we should all travel to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. With school-age children, travel can be hard, but it was important that we all be together to support my parents through this time of uncertainty.

My sister hosted a lovely, traditional Thanksgiving dinner at her home in Pittsburgh and we had a wonderful time! However, there was additional trauma, because when it came time to leave, my sister, trying to multi-task, tossed wet bath towels into her dryer, turned it on, and several minutes later came back to see what the thumping noise was. It was her daughter's cat; time to say, "Good-bye" to the cat that died in her arms.

Within weeks dad began to show signs of shortness of breath and was put on portable oxygen. We all remained hopeful that the chemotherapy treatment he would begin in December would cure him. The elder daughter, I dutifully came back mid-December to help get him settled in a Pittsburgh hospital for treatment, and after staying a few days, it was time to say, "Good-bye" and get back home to prepare for Christmas.

However, a few days before Christmas I got a call that dad had was not doing well and that I should come home. The children and I grabbed a variety of clothing, shoes, and coats. Last minute, I grabbed their Christmas stockings and some bags of stocking stuffers just in case, and the four of us rushed to Pittsburgh where dad was in the hospital. He seemed to do so much better with his family nearby, although he was still on oxygen and very week.

Christmas Day my children awoke to no gifts from Santa, but were happy to find stuffed stockings hanging on their Aunt's fireplace mantle! Mom and I spent the day in the hospital with dad, figuring we'd grab a bite to eat in the hospital cafeteria, only to learn there was no cafeteria service on Christmas Day, and no restaurants open anywhere within a 15-mile radius of the hospital! I finally found an open Squirrel Hill Chinese restaurant. Mom, who hates Chinese, settled for a box of plain, white rice.

The day after Christmas we all went back to see dad, who was now in the ICU. Apparently the chemotherapy treatment was too aggressive for him, and it was obvious his system was shutting down. We stayed as long as we dared that night as roads were getting icy. We said, "Good-bye" and headed back to mom's home some thirty miles away, to hope for the best. There was angel on my shoulder that night as we slid on Coxcomb Hill at one point, but got home safely.

December 27th I was awoken early with the phone call we were all dreading. Dad had taken a turn for the worse. Again, we all rushed back to the hospital and gathered round his bed. He had been moved to a private room as there was nothing further they could do for him in ICU. The day droned on and you could see his breathing becoming more and more labored. He was not in pain, but it was apparent he needed to be 'set free'.  I leaned over and told him I loved him, and it was okay to let go. It was the hardest thing I ever did or said, but I felt he needed to hear it, because it was apparent he was never going to get better. Within an hour he breathed his last we each said, one by one,

with tears in our eyes, our final, "Good-bye."

It is hard enough to plan a funeral around a Holiday, but the

millennium? We were so fortunate that the country club where my parents golfed, while basically closed for the season, was amenable to having a funeral luncheon after church services that Thursday, December 30, giving us three days to contact all of our loved ones and make necessary arrangements. My sister vacillated from extreme sadness to downright laughable expressions, once asking me in all serious, "When is the will read?" All mom could do was walk around, dazed, while polishing her black Hitchcock kitchen table as if her life depended on it. My husband was in Clarks Summit working until the day of the funeral and I have no recollection who took care of my children while I made the necessary arrangements.

Over 100 people made the trip from all over Pennsylvania, New York, and even Florida to New Kensington for the funeral and services. The outpouring of love, sympathy, and respect for my father was amazing. One distant cousin spent the afternoon capturing images on his camera of the families who came to pay their respects; while that may seem morbid, it is a comfort today to see them. It was a blur but we all held up very well. Again, more good-byes to those loved ones and a final good-bye to dad at the cemetery... but not the gravesite. Weather didn't permit that final journey together.

By New Year's Eve everyone but us had gone their separate ways, most likely to celebrate the greatest New Year's Eve in recent memory. By Friday morning, television reports from Sydney, Australia showed there were no major glitches with electronics or terrorist activity. The time zones ticked off, one-by-one, with no disruptions, making their way across the planet with undue harm. By noon it was apparent it was time to head home safely, where my carefully stored bottled water, macaroni, and beef jerky seemed insignificant and unnecessary.

Mom, still in a daze, could not be convinced to come back to Clarks Summit with us. We had to leave as the children needed to back to school. Mom preferred to stay in her cocoon, in the home where we were raised, where she felt dad's presence most strongly. It was time to say, "Good-bye" to her.

With two cars, Ken, who had been away from the kids for the better part of a week, piled the three children in his car, and I followed behind in my own. I drove the entire way home with my dad's WWII hat on my head, tears streaming down my face. It was the start of a new millennium, and the realization that I'd have to face it without my dad's love, affection, and advice, was devastating.

However, because of my faith, I know those good-byes were not final. I know I will indeed be reunited with him one day. Instead of "Good-bye" with our faith and hope of life everlasting with the Lord, it is more "I love you Dad! See you later!"