Letters

August 14, 2017

Elder Abuse Reform Now Project

124 W 79th St.

Apt 16C

New York, New York 10024-6491

Hello and good afternoon!

I had submitted an application for a full time journalist on indeed.com for the Silver Standard Newsletter and was nicely turned down.

However I feel they did not give me a real chance to show my talents and passion in the direction of Elder Abuse.

After reading their ad, I know that my skills can help me become a member of your team. Writing and righting truth is my breath. 

I have been writing since I could hold a pencil, starting life in poetry, which I still enjoy.   My personality has always encouraged positive connections between myself and people of all natures.

I am a visionary and have always lived with the hope of writing as a profession.   As a dreamer, I know that if I only had pen and paper on a desert island, stranded by myself, I would survive. 

It is my hope to discuss my fit with your company and look forward to hearing your favorable reply.  Please check out my website www.nanecdotes.com which contains only one third of my work but helps to express my many varied writings and art works. 

I swallow all input, the light comes and I spit out the words.  The only competitor I ever cared to follow is Papa Hemingway. Baby shoes for sale never worn. Six words told the story.   I try hard to follow this line of thought but have to be reined in many times.

Every day, all day my mind creates pictures, some in color others in black and white.   The black and whites usually become stories, the colors artworks.

No artist loves criticism but my willingness to learn is always there.  I hide the hurt and absorb the knowledge.   When a teacher told me to pretend commas were salt and to use them sparingly, I listened and tried harder.

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Tight deadlines help the insanity that inspires me to create. I have a “Never Give Up” attitude and secure that from my hero’s, Stephen King and JK Rowlings.

I appreciate your time to read my material and hope to hear a favorable reply from you or the Silver Standard Newsletter.

Thank you and have a great week.

Best always,

Nan

18636 Shauna Manor Drive

Boca Raton, Florida 33496

Phone: 561-372-1872

Fax: 561-372-2279

Cell: 954-816-0461

nan@nanecdotes.com

www.nanecdotes.com

Have Hope-Give Hope-Live For Hope!

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And How’s Your Aunt Rose?

Elder abuse takes on many forms, pay attention!

When our parents were alive Aunt Rose stayed in their home every other weekend. Playing Bingo with Mom was her most enjoyable pleasure since her husband, our Uncle Max passed away.  They had no children; we compensated as best we could. 

Bi-weekly, Bruce and I traveled from Boca Raton, Florida to Miami. Two hours to get there after work, an hour to return home. This became our ritual after our parents passed away making sure the last of our Aunts, nearing 90, was okay.

We enjoyed her company, although she hated dogs, cats and toddlers.  Her famous snarled growl “get of here”, made us stifle giggles as we pushed those varmints away when she visited. Both her and her friend Frances joined us every holiday.  

After several years, she took Bruce into her confidence, showing him personal documents, IRA funds, taxes, bill payments and surprisingly her will.  It amazed us to see our name and her hair dresser, bequeathed one million dollars.  We knew she had money but never realized it was that large a sum.  

Everything else was left to her nephew Arthur, in Philadelphia, who had her Power Of Attorney but never visited her but once in sixty years. Feeling troubled she asked Bruce’s advice as her benefits began to dwindle. 

She showed him how she kept her check book updated. A dot of fuchsia nail polish dabbled its way next to each payment. He believed she conducted herself well with her $25,000 a month income from annuities. Her home was a one bedroom condo top floor facing the Intracoastal and the ocean.  Beautiful and decorated to the hilt, she and Uncle Max, my father’s brother, earned this luxury, working six days a week together in their dress shop in Philadelphia.

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Examining years of documents, we felt something wasn’t right.  Frances brought to my attention that Arthur deducted $200.00 weekly from her accounts. 

 She questioned Aunt Rose about it; the answer senseless.  Was Arthur charging for paying bills she didn’t pay?  I pressed her, she said don’t worry, everything was okay.

Her home health care policy coverage was twelve hours a day at minimal cost. One day she fell, broke her hip and evoked the policy.  After numerous aides we found one that connected with Aunt Rose. For years she had a wonderful arrangement with Alourde.  

I spoke with Alourde, changing her hours, gave full protection and coverage for my Aunt, who slept until noon.   Alourde came in at 11:00 A.M, cleaned and prepared breakfast before she awoke.  When Alourde left at 11P.M. she had taken care of my Aunt’s bedtime routine. Aunt Rose knew if she needed help there was someone 24/7 downstairs. 

During my Aunt’s recovery, while traveling for business, her niece Cece came to visit on the pretense of helping care for her, staying on several months.  She stole over $40,000; Miami Police issued a warrant for her arrest.  Once confronted, she fled returning to Philadelphia. 

Now a serious down turn, the insurance company wanted Aunt Rose off for six months while she continued to pay policy installments, then returning with a doctor’s note. We discussed this endlessly, writing the expense she would incur if she didn’t continue to pay the premium.  She was over ninety at the time. Alourde’s salary was $750.00 for five days, her cousin’s $150.00 for weekends. 

She refused our advice after proving her $6.000.00 a year policy would cost her $47,000.00.  Once dropped, they would never renew.  Bruce and I had a heated argument with Arthur to no avail. He hypnotized Aunt Rose to his ridiculous thinking; she dropped the policy. 

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We believed, he believed she didn’t have much more time to live so why waste the money.   Surprise, surprise Aunt Rose lived to be a hundred and outlived Arthur but it cost her retirement funds, her home and almost her sanity.

Nine A.M. sharp, calls came from a collection agency. She co-signed a $7,000 loan for her nephew Craig, he defaulted.  She called crying; she never lived like this and couldn’t take the threatening morning phone calls. On Father’s Day, I called Craig.  “Man up,” I said, “its Father’s Day, you’re a father;” “Uncle Max would die all over again knowing you did this, make arrangements, pay installments”. His answer, “Arthur told me not to worry.” I spoke with them reminding them my Aunt was ninety when she co-signed convincing them to go after Craig, who had a home and was employed. They did.

Now the worst, Aunt Rose called hysterically, her financial advisors over forty years sent a letter; they could no longer handle her accounts and closed them. 

We were stunned, Aunt Rose, frozen with fear was talking suicide. They explained to Bruce over several years they cautioned Arthur to change her accounts.  Hers were for younger people not low risk funds.  Angry that they didn’t let her know sooner, I found out she received letters and unfortunately, sent them to Arthur.

Next phone call was Arthur.  “You have to convince Aunt Rose to reverse mortgage her home or she can’t live there anymore.”  I cannot and will not repeat this unbearable conversation.

Looking into reverse mortgage, informed us of a $40,000 note on the condo paid for 60 years ago, another blow from Arthur. Aunt Rose was systematically being financially raped.  Her monthly bills were too high; it was decided that she would live with us.  Paying out of pocket, for home health care and the loss of her annuities left her almost penniless.

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We sold the condo; it wasn’t the best time, especially with the mortgage on it.  Alourde helped me; we sadly packed as much as my home could handle.  I found out Alourde convinced my Aunt to give her perfect mint condition, low mileage, Cadillac Sedan Deville Classic or else she wouldn’t be able to take care of her.  How many times can you have your heart and trust broken is a question with no answer.

When my Aunt came, my furniture went upstairs, dressing hers in our living room.  Hoping to give her comfort seeing her things when she awoke and it did but not right away.  She screeched for several months, during the night.  Our intercom alerted me; I sat with her until she fell back asleep. Leaving her home of sixty years and the security of her finances took months to come to terms with. Finally, she believed in us and our commitment to make the end of her life comfortable. 

She sold her house in Philadelphia, giving that money to Arthur to buy a condo, promising a room for her to stay, when she could no longer care for herself. She begged Bruce to confront Arthur for the money; $70,000.00 was gone, intentions to care for her completely forgotten. No longer answering his phone, we were content to never hear his voice again. Her lawyer sadly alleged no paper trail, no proof, no suit.

Next blow, First Pennsylvania Bank in Philadelphia, looking for money she owed for her safe deposit box.  She paid in advance 10 years, now thirteen years later they found her.  The bills went to Arthur who didn’t pay them.  I spoke with the bank, besides the money owed for three years there was a charge of $500.00 to open the box if you didn’t have the key.

They volunteered the last one to enter the box was Arthur. I mailed my cousin Marilyn many keys. No luck. While looking, I found a notebook with scribbles; safe deposit box; Max’s diamond ring, an unusual ring with a five carat diamond.  

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Our son called Arthur. The conversation was short. “Arthur you know and we know the harm you’ve done to Aunt Rose”.  “Is there any reason for us to pay to open the safe deposit box?” “We don’t have the key; you were the last one to enter”. “Is anything left?” The answer was stunted, “nothings in there” Arthur replied hanging up. We let it go.

Speaking with my cousin Louie, I mentioned the safe deposit box story.  He was silent only a moment.  A barrage of curses towards Arthur spewed from his mouth with a promise to beat him up. 

Louie was looking for a ring. He saw one in a jewelers’ window that looked exactly like Uncle Max’s and went inside.  Trying it on he asked where the ring came from. He was told a man sold it several years ago, said it was from an estate sale.  Louie now knew it was Uncle Max’s ring he was wearing and he cried.

Aunt Rose lived with us for eight years. When she first came, I immediately made arrangements paying for her funeral with what little money she had left. She was to be buried in Philadelphia next to her husband.  

In the years living in Florida, her nieces and nephews from her own side of her family never visited her, except for one. They made no effort to see their Aunt who loved them, cared for them and gave them everything she had even her last dime.

At her funeral, her nieces’ looked into her coffin, and then up at me, asking with a callous look, “Aunt Rose picked out this coffin, emphasis on the word THIS?”  I wanted to say many things to them that day, mean things, hurtful things but then again, I had been given another gift.

Raised by wonderful parents, that died in their home surrounded by their loved ones, was a gift God gave me; a chance to learn the importance of life.  Bruce and I did the same for Aunt Rose.  

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To care for someone with little time left in their lives, to protect and care for them is a gift. Keep your eyes open and your ear to the door, elder abuse isn’t always physical it rears its ugly head in many forms.

 ©

View here - Letter To Ms Spillar

Lindt Unsung Heroes Of Autism Contest

I nominate Sandra Feldman, mother of Samuel Feldman, for this honorable award.  When we found out that our Sam was Autistic, we cried and passed around the tissues in the hopes of catching tears falling in disbelief.

I said to my friend and daughter-in-law that night, if our Sam was to have Autism, I felt safe and assured knowing she was his mother.  I knew then, as I know every day, that after the tears, came the relentless dedication and fierce study that was needed to move Sam in an upward direction and through the difficult path that would come.

Every day with no thought for herself she read and explored each different solution to the puzzle, making sure she stuck with it and didn’t give up at the first signs of resistance from Sam.  Although his resistance was constant, she sacrificed herself, in so many ways to explain, calm and reassure him, so Sam would prosper and grow.

She is involved in Sam’s classroom and helps explain to parents how she and Howard work together standing strong and how it helps bring Sam to and through each new plateau.  The school has used Sandra, Howard, and Sam on film to express how they work with him and their accomplished style of homing his special needs.

Therapy didn’t end in the classroom, it continued in her home 24/7 with each day bringing Sam closer to being considered typical.  The process of peek cards with repetition of pattern constantly worked and re-worked itself throughout their home and into the homes of family and friends.

Sandra started Making Autistic Strides, a newly formed foundation to share triumphs and knowledge with those who needed a shoulder to get them by.  Although newly formed, this foundation has supplied schools with dolls, puzzles, books, and laminate machines.  They hope this foundation will continue to bring awareness and knowledge to parents whose children are Autistic.

When Sandra asked her pediatrician to read Jenny McCarthy’s first book about her son and autism, he said he didn’t have time.  I was appalled and wanted her to leave him.  She hung in there hoping to make him aware and 6 months later he was rocked back on his heels by Sam’s progress.  

Today he has 20 Autistic patients, Sam was his first.  His knowledge of this illness is tenfold more than it was and recently we discussed Sam’s last visit to the doctor.  Sandra said to me that’s one more on our side, we need more doctors to be aware.

The simplest things that others take for granted Sandra holds dear and embraces.  I saved a pack of tissues she gave me the night we found out Sam was Autistic.  I only used a few and saved the rest for I knew in my heart that her inner strength and determination would give us many moments to rejoice in Sam’s abilities and progress with tears of happiness.  

She is my nominee and truly an unsung hero to her family, her son and to Autism. Help Spread the Word and Keep Autistic Awareness Alive.  

Sandra Feldman is the mother warrior to Sam.

Best always,

Nan

Sam’s Bubbie

954-816-0461

2/4/2012

Thought for Today

Dear Bruce:

Remember always to listen carefully to the words, no matter if they are in the music or not.

When people put pen to paper, they do it, and honey it has meaning.  Don’t be afraid to stop, look and listen, like you’re supposed to at all railroad crossings.

If you don’t stop at R/R crossing the lights just might be broken and the train will run, you over.

I love you always,

Nan 

Dear Bruce:

There is a difference between angry and hurt.  Learn to think of others when you are most weary, it will help you grow!

And since we don’t lie or exaggerate I am 5’8” tall and you are 5’10” tall, and together my honey,  that makes us together  11’ 7” tall and honey someone 11’ 7” tall can do anything they want.

I love you always,

Nan

My Dear Bruce:

In a time when people are so stingy with their time, that they cannot look one another in the eye and offer a kind word, you had the good fortune to have friends around you, who not only looked you in the eye and offered kind words, they reached into their hearts and gave you a piece of their souls.

Enjoy the sunshine, put it in your heart..

I love you always,

Nan

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FROM BUBBIE’S HEART

Up the Steps To Bubbie’s Room 

I Love This Bed And A Day Of First

Wow, what a wonderful day we had, everyone came over.  All the family together, spending the day just enjoying each other.  Bruce and I were getting ready for a business trip and planned to be away for several weeks.  It was good to have the kids over.

It was Sam’s first time in our pool, and I was very nervous that the chlorine would bother him.  Sandra and Howard changed their pool to salt water after Sam became ill from swimming in water that was not treated properly.

We learned to be careful around other people’s pools and since realized a cloudy pool, even a slightly clouded pool is not Autism friendly.  Chlorine is okay in moderation but a shower right after swimming is a must!

Pop Pop, was the one that helped Sammy to swim and believe me he’s now part fish.  He’s four and half and can swim without floaties.

One thing that amazed us was how chatty he was in the water-even in the tub. It seemed the water relaxed him and he sang and used his words and looked as if he had a sense of freedom and abandonment.   He is happy in the water.  I suggest that people try swimming as a way to have their children relax and open up.  It just might work for you.

Since Sam was a toddler Bruce and I always kept the baby gates up around the steps leading to the second floor.  It was a real safety net for us-not worrying about the “upstairs”.  Everyone else in the family lives in a one-story house but us.

Today Howard said “take the gate down Mom, let him learn to go up and down the steps”,  My teeth were in my heart but I removed them.  Of course, I followed him upstairs counting with him every step and begging him to hold on to the railing. 

First door on the right and he ran right in with me trudging up the last two steps behind him.  He jumped on my bed and said” I love this bed”!  Sandra’s and Howard’s bed is high, and he gets up there, but it takes a bit of effort.  Bubbie’s bed is a low modern platform and great for jumping into when you’re four!

I lay down beside him as he squished the pillows under his head and watched as he surveyed the room.  Besides changing his diaper, when he was too young to remember, today was really his first day in Bubbie’s room.

First was the windmill and he asked about it and I spun it round and round and put the light on under it.  He jumped from the bed, wanting  his turn to spin it and we gave it a really big spin and ran back to the bed to watch it as it went around and around, it’s silver arms creating the beauty of art in motion.

Next, the 200 mirrors on the wall above the bed, we peeked in he was fascinated.  So many Sammy’s so many Bubbie’s.  I hugged him and let the picture of us together 200 times find its place in my memory, locked there forever to keep alive.

Then the TV, so high up it almost touches the ceiling and so old, it’s a really big screen TV, just not like the new ones, whatever the call them.  “Wow” he said, as I tried to turn it on, at once having the problem that beseeches so many of us, I can’t work the remote Bubbie’s, when I was saved, someone called from downstairs, “dinner’s ready”!

As we negotiated the right way to master the steps going down, I asked him to hold my hand and he did until we got to the first landing.  Then by magic he walked down the rest of the way himself and of course not holding on.

And just as it did on the way up, my teeth were in my heart but this time only the top set, because today was a great day.  A day of love and a day of firsts. Help us to Make autistic Strides By Spreading Awareness!

Love always, Bubbie

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View here - Letter From Brian

View here - Letter to ICU Nurse

View here - Letter To CU Nurse II

View here - Reply From Nurse Diane

View here - Reference From Dollar Tree.

View here - Bill & Joyce’s Letter To Corp.

View here - Karen’s Letter to Corp.

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View here - Letter from Jeff and Donna 

View here - Letter to Dr. Bellotte

View here - Letter To Dolly Parton

View here - Happy Mother’s Day Abbie

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View here -  The Accident Subpena Letter

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