Is God Too Busy? Or Just On Vacation?

This post was intended to be a Netflix movie review, but the movie I picked was THE ICEMAN, a movie based on the real life of a notorious killer, Richard Kuklinski, who between 1964-1986 killed around 100 people, both for the mob and for personal pleasure.
The character was exceptionally played by Michael Shannon.

The movie is a jewel and I, as many before me, awarded it a five- stars rating.

There was a scene in this movie, which has been echoing in my mind, already slightly, or…let’s admit, totally depressed. The scene in The Iceman went as follows:

He was send to kill someone. A routine Mob hit.
When the victim understood he was about to die, he begged and pleaded in the name of God. The Iceman stopped for a moment, and says:

“Do you think if you pray to your God, He will stop me from killing you? Okay, then I have time… pray. You have five minutes to pray.”

The victim prays so hard, for a moment, I thought somehow a miracle will happen and God will show its merciful hand and save him…
but none of it happened, and the Iceman, said: e up.

“Your five minutes are I guess God is busy!”

He shot the victim, took off the murderous gloves and peaceful went home where his loving, unsuspected wife and adorable daughters were waiting for him. The most trusting, loving father and husband.

So… God was busy.

Why did I even pick such a depressing movie, which now, threw me in an even deeper depression as I examined my own life.

It wasn’t even necessary to think of the important on going problems, but just the small annoying ones, which, let’s face it, do make the big issues. Each big issue is not big from the beginning, but consists of many unpleasant events piled on top of one another until their multitude suffocates you.

Let’s take just the month of August. How was my August, a traditional month for vacations.
Not for me.

It started by my noticing my beloved 18-year old dog, Sophie was chewing at her front paw. On further examination, I noticed, the groomer at Petsmart missed the dew claws on both her front paws which as a result curled into her flesh causing excruciating pain. What followed? Hours of calls and trips to Petsmart, which after agreeing with the undeniable reality of their negligence, gave me a phone number to call Corporate. Aother endless conversations! Then looking for a vet, because she requires surgery. Our vet died so, the next appointmment with a new vet was on September 4. Another week of pain for Sophie and my trying to control an infection!

Okay, things happen, but the Patsmart incident wasn’t enough, then, I got sick eating turkey bacon purchased at Sam’s Club.
As I was still recovering from tow days of Hell, I heard on the news about the recall of the turkey bacon which almost killed me!!! Thank you Sam’s Club!

But that didn’t end. Recovering from food poisoning wasn’t the end.

Trying to help a friend with research, I discovered my book, The Gypsy Saw Two Lives,” for which I am being told by the publisher hasn’t even earned in roylties the minimum of $25 to send me a check, is listed for a reading option as part of a membership of $9.99 with a company, Playsters???? Who makes the royalties? Am I being robbed? Who is robbing me? Another unpleasant, convoluted problem to solve!

Oh… but that’s not all. Bank of America decided to sell certain branches, among them the Lancaster branch were I bank. I switches my accounts to Citizen Bank, which is closer, but in the process, in ways I am still try to figure out, I was notified from Bank of America that a $12.00 check bounced. Fine, I had overdraft protection. But then, not doing my math right, I ordered ” Making Sense of the Scripture,” from Amazon, for $12 which somehow was also paid from my old account. This saga, of the total of $20 dollars triggered $80.00 IN FEES from Bank of America with which I banked for over 15 years. Shame on you Bank of America! Way to pay loyalty when you no longer need a client because you sell a branch!!!

But, God must have been on vacation in August, because the chain of misfortunes didn’t end.

Protect of America, a home securities company whose service I terminated in May, decided they wanted my business back. After several emails offering me incentives for going back, they changes into bad guys. First, aggressive calls, asking me to pay an EXTRA month of service which was NEVER provided. The service was DISCONNECTED and what I used paid for. This might make the topic of an entire post, as recently I received an actual paper bill for this never rendered service.

To top it all, on my street we noticed an invention of rats and mice! Not any rats, but what I call, alien rats. Neighbors who had python snakes as pets and fed them rats, left one behind and he or she bred with the indigenous rats. On top, we have the hogs and the skunks running around and spreading their scent all over the fresh air.

To make the matter more alarming, I found the mutated white and black rat in my shed, dead and to make it more traumatic, a hog was dead laid in the middle of the alley! No need to detail the uselessness of calling the borough for help. So… another unresolved problem.

I tried to see the beauty in my life. To stay positive, damn it!
Took pictures of the sunflowers, cut a fragrant red rose and some fresh levander and placed them in a vase and stared at them mindlessness, but this serene moment was interrupted by my baby dog, Lola, having seizures whose cause, after $440 in vet fees, could not be determine…

Tomorrow is August 31. I I still try to see the beauty of my life, as the news reminds me of the 10 year anniversary of Katrina, in which I lost my best friend…plan to take the train to Philadelphia to meet the head Hand surgeon at Rothman Institute in hopes he could advice what to do with the pain in the wrist of my right hand which came overnight, ten years ago, and never left me!

Yes, August was definitely a vacation month ….even for God! Not for me!

I am eagerly awaiting for God to come back from where he took time off and perhaps see the small things which turned into big ones which are overwhelming in an irrelevant person’s lifetmp_21394-image-332458593.

Hope and Faith

140079310758320140811_095345Outside of time…
I need to exist outside of time
To make sense of death and Eternity!

I wish my senses were mingled and sharper,
I could smell colors and
See scents,
Sage could cleanse my tainted soul.

The whole of me hurts.
Evil is not satisfied with the taste of flesh.
It wants more…
Its goal is endless pain
of souls it devastates.

I lean into the essence of me,
I examine it closely.
I am too close.
I only see particles of nothingness,
Colored in confusion…

I step back, to gain perspective
I hope if I stare long enough
I understand,
It might turn meaningful,
but it doesn’t!

Truth strikes me, at last:

It’s not about how long or how close
I stare.
It is about wearing the correct lenses
To transform
Ugliness into beauty,
Meaninglessness into meaning,
Hate into love.

The key is to have Hope and Faith…
Mine are lost! 20140811_0953451400793107583

Advantages and Disadvantages of Dating a Younger Man (Part 2)

Advantages and Disadvantages of Dating a Younger Man is the entertaining story of a personal encounter. A true experience. The story, first published on The Nude Truth, became a chapter of my memoir, The Gypsy Saw Two Lives (

Since it was published, the post on dating younger men was read hundreds of times and often I wondered if the readers expected more or a different story. I asked myself if the content provided them with needed information.

I don’t have the answer, but I do know the story continues to be popular.

With mixed emotions of guilt on one hand, because the first post didn’t offer what the readers expected, but on the other hand, with the thought that probably it provide useful information, since it continues to be read by hundreds, I decided to write PART 2 and address the general topic of dating younger men. Precisely one scenario.

To avoid potential disappointment, I clarify that this post does not address the simplistic scenario of the so called “cougars” and their “toy -boys.” If someone has a lot of money and wishes to entertain herself with a younger man, this post doesn’t address cougars and toy-boys. In today’s world, if it’s acceptable for a man to date or simply have sexual encounters with much younger women, the women may do the same, and it’s equally acceptable… or not? Cougars and their younger toys do not make the topic of this post.

The goal of this article is to raise and attempt to answer a few questions regarding more complex relationships between older women and younger men.

What is the definition of a real relationship? Given that everything is a personal perception, my definition is a more complex involvement on several levels, both emotional and sexual. What is your definition of a relationship? Is it different than mine? Similar?

Let’s take a scenario:

For many ” chronological age” is only in “our minds,” it is a matter of attitude.

If you and your partner are truly in this category, read no further! You are safe:) and more importantly, happy!

If, however, there are any doubts or curiosity, you might wish to read on.

What is your definition of “younger?”

For many, 8-10 years is not defined as younger, and as a result is not a concern.

For the sake of the argument, let’s say 15 years is an age difference which might be a concern.

Why and when?

Yes, WHEN???

Let’s say, a 40- year woman, who ages well, starts dating a 25-year old hunk!

For the sake of having a vivid picture which includes, but is NOT limited to physical attraction only, let’s say the woman is a college professor and the 25-year old man just finished a graduate degree. It is irrelevant whether they had any sexual attraction while she was teaching him. They didn’t act on it. However, after his graduation, their relationship blossomed… First as a friendship, as they had much in common and conversation was never boring. Slowly, they both became aware that there was more than friendship.
What does that mean? How does one discover that a friendship is more? Perhaps during a conversation about poetry, about the eternal topic of love, that impossible to define, which could only be felt: desire? What we call chemistry? They thought about each other more and more often and had a need to share the littlest of things.

If the scenario were reverse, and a 40-year old professor, whose hair was grey, giving him an appearance of “distinguished,” fell in love with a 25-year old woman, no one would think twice, but the situation is reversed, so we pay more attention to it. This is not politically correct, but it is the reality.

Let’s say that the 40-year old college professor, the woman who ages well, and the 25-year old graduate fall in love so deeply, they get married. They have so much in common. They read the same books, like to experiment with foods and even take cooking lessons together. He likes to hike and so does she! Not to mention their intimate encounters, as she brings 15-years of experience into their love life! The relationship is Heavenly!

Come to think of it, statistically, women live longer than men…In fact, it would be logical for younger men to marry older women!
Why isn’t this the standard?
Hmm… on the other hand…

I forgot to mention, the 40-year old professor is divorced. She has two teenage children at a difficult age. They dislike the younger boyfriend, or later husband. Their friends make fun of them. “Mom you’re crazy!” one of them dares say.

She, the older woman is DONE with children! He, the younger man, blinded by love, didn’t think of it for the first few years…
When he turns 40, and looks around, he sees all his friends married and pushing strollers. Hmm… his beautiful wife… well now she is 55 and menopause hit her, with all the hormonal changes and the loss of estrogen and progesterone and as a result the change in libido. Oh! Let’s stop looking in that mirror to see the fine lines around the mouth. No, not the expression ones, because she smiled too much!

This is when WHEN becomes a stepping stone: When she is 55 years-old and he is 40!

Time is an interesting concept. A couple seemed perfect when he was 25 and she was 40, but the same people at 40 and 55 are in two different life stages, each with their specific requirements and needs.

Would such a couple continue to be happy and what would it take?

Please share your thoughts.
We welcome your comments.


Do We Know All Members On Our Healthcare Team? Is It Important To Have A Personalized Healthcare Plan? Are Online Medical History Portals Useful?

Is it safe to use vague language, in medical reports? Assuming a patient reads such reports, should the patient be worried and follow up or leave the decision up to the doctors? Should a patient be a passive observer of her own healthcare process, or active participant?

For example, if an x-ray report states “assumed benign,” what does such language mean? Should such a report have a follow-up? The word “assumed” brings to mind uncertainty…Only a biopsy of the “assumed” benign part could give a 100% accurate result.
What if the dilemma continues, and the biopsy report states the results are “inconclusive.”

Does that mean the patient could rest assured everything is fine? Are such vague terms used in radiology or pathology reports ethical?
“Assumed benign” or “inconclusive?” Should those conditions be disregarded and considered safe? Should those individuals whose x-ray states ” assumed benign,” or whose biopsy using the term “inconclusive,” not be followed up and could the patient have the peace of mind she is fine?

How many people read their x-ray, MRI or pathology reports? What if the decisions of how to proceed further are solely taken by others on the healthcare team? In all truth, how many people know how to interpret these reports? Should we educate ourselves and have a saying in how our healthcare plan is handled or leave it to the members of OUR healthcare team enterely?

This is a very important personal choice!


I hope this post reminds us all of how important it is to be active in the process of our own healthcare. How vital it is to be educated about our specific medical conditions and view ourselves as unique and find a healthcare team to also considered and treat us as such.

My personal opinion is that we are part of our healthcare team and not passive components. We need to pay attention and understand the messages our bodies give us, so that we could describe them accurately and be part of the process, not just observers.

We are created unique and need to view ourselves and be viewed by others as such.

Keeping in mind the principle of “uniqueness,” experience taught me to question terms such as “generally or typically.” Reality turned out conditions were not “typical.” Unfortunately, in my case, nothing was “typical or general.”

Had I not insisted on the review of certain “typical results,” I wouldn’t be here to write this post. I wish I could say, “generally I win the lottery,” instead of “generally” certain health diagnosis didn’t applied to me. A history of “atypical conditions” caused me to become my own advocate, be extra careful and learn about all the participants of one’s healthcare team and how each plays a vital role in our correct diagnosis and treatment.

In my opinion, there is no “one size fits all” formula in medical care. We are unique and need to be treated as such. The field of medicine is called “a practice,” not a science or art. It is BOTH and more, unique in its complexity because it addresses the uniqueness of human beings!


Our physicians are the visible team members, and so are we, the patients!

The “invisible team!”

The radiologists who read your studies: MRIs, cat scans, x-rays. For instance, if an x-ray report states

The pathologists who interpret biopsies and nature of tumors after surgery. If a pathology report states: INCONCLUSIVE, should a patient send the tissue for a 2nd opinion, or have the peace of mind that inconclusive means it is fine?

Other invisible members of your healthcare team:

The technicians collecting and analyzing your blood.
How about transportation? Many blood and urine samples must be transported in a timely fashion and refrigerated if the results are to be accurate. Is that performed as required?

Of course, it is impossible to know the details of every action performed by each member of a complex healthcare team. However, there is HELP and if we, as patients, have the desire to understand and participate in our own healthcare, we could!

Modern technology makes it easier for each patient to have an immediate and accurate report of their medical history.

AN ONLINE PORTAL gives a patient immediate and confidential access to all the medical studies performed. The information provided in the portal is in addition to being provided a printed summary of your doctor’s visit upon checking out. In my opinion, it cannot get any easier to be an active participant on your health care team.

In conclusion, what is our choice? Should we be active participants or passive observers of our own lives?

Forbidden Love For The Animal Kingdom

Just as some people were born with incredible gifts to sing, dance or paint, I lacked all these talents, but I had a limitless love for animals. Yes, this is like comparing apples with oranges, but I had to point our some sort of positive!

It didn’t really matter what kind of animals or if they were wild or domesticated:
Feathered friends, bunnies, cats, deer. Dogs were at the top of my wish list.

There was one small problem: My mother didn’t allow pets!

For that reason, my first pet was a naked neck chicken which I convinced my aunt to purchase for me at the Farmer’s Market, while I spent my summer vacation with her and my grandmother, away from my mother and the city.

I trained her… and assumed it was female, since I couldn’t come up with an appropriate male name.
I even baptized her, using the large rain-collection bucket in my grandmother’s garden. The chicken’s name of Zanica (Fairy) and I am still convinced she turned her head and twisted her naked neck looking at me when I called her name. I still don’t understand why no one believed me! She was too shy to do it when other were present, but she performed other tricks.

Fairy was a capable chicken! She went on my shoulder, then on top of my head and flew back at my feet following my commands. Sometimes she got anxious and as a result pooped unexpectedly, as I was unable to potty train her… I always had a napkin handy to clean such “accidents.” It was understandable, even humans suffer from irritable bowl caused by stress!

We had fun all summer, but when September came, I had to say good bye to Fairy and went back to the city in my parents’ one bedroom apartment where no pets were allowed.

Another summer, we went to the mountains and I saw deer. I tried to convince my mother we could get Bamby. It would have been ideal! It didn’t have to live in the apartment. I came up with a very realistic plan! We were to drill a hole and place a pole in the pavement of the walk leading to the apartment building. My baby deer, which magically wasn’t supposed to grow up, would patiently wait for me tied up to the pole. The plan was to walk her before and after school and feed her hey. The biggest problem was that I could not find a source to buy hey in the city… so the entire plan was a fiasco!

Every year, as I grew up I came up with incredibly good ideas but my mother simply refused to listen!

When I turned eighteen, for a little while the focus shifted from pets to being in love, getting secretly married and bearing the consequences of our foolish act. I must admit, there was a “severe storm,” in both families I could perhaps qualify the entire experience and our parents’ reaction as a “tornado,” but after a couple of months they accepted our legal union. We moved by ourselves and my mother gave me money to but a bed.

As my husband and I walked to the furniture store, at the corner of the street we saw a drunk man holding a small black dog.

“Dog for sale, dog for sale,” the man yelled holding the dog up over his head.

We stopped. The dog’s eyes were bulging out with fear and the tongue was hanging out.

“What a beautiful dog, ” I said, and touched its soft, black fur. “What’s its name?”
“Pearl,” the man replied. “She’s my ex’s damn bitch! “She’s too small to have a litter! I’m selling her! You want it?”
My husband and I, both at the very wise age of 18, looked at each other and made an instant decision: We really NEEDED a dog!

“How much?” I asked the drunk.

“How much do you have,” he asked back.

Hmm now, that I re-think the situation, perhaps he wasn’t as drunk as he seemed!

“I have 500 lei to buy a bed,” I answered, and took the cash out of my purse to prove I didn’t lie.

The man plopped Pearl in my arms and quickly grabbed the money:

“You’re lucky,” he said, “That’s exactly how much Pearl costs!”

He put the money in his pocket and disappeared inside the corner bodega. We walked passed the furniture store…

When my mother heard what happened she was furious. We might as well have told her we were robbed…

For the first year, the three of us slept on the floor until we saved enough money to buy a bed..

This is how love of dogs triumphed the first time, and continued throughout my lifetime!


Personal Thoughts On Abortion and The Spirit

I need to state from the beginning that this post is the result of a very personal situation and it does not approve or disapprove this very controversial issue. It is not for me to judge other people’s decisions but this thought, which I will share, has been on my mind for a long time.
Yesterday I decided to share it, as crazy as it might seem, for the only reason that I hope it might help someone out there in the world because I know these posts are read in over 124 countries.

This “situation,” has to do with my birth. Those of you who know me personally, or read The Gypsy Saw two Lives, or the first 100 posts of The Nude Truth, know that my life was NEVER EASY. Crisis after crisis, to the point that I wondered if I lived in a soap opera.
Positive thinking? I believe that without a good attitude I would not exist today.

I kept asking myself: WHY? WHY things that come so easy to most people don’t come to me? Why do I have to climb mountains and as I think I reached the peak fall all the way down at the bottom and start climbing again. My life reminded me of the Greek legend of Sisyphus.

In all these life trials, no matter how difficult and unexpected, somehow, I was helped and supported by friends, which I call Angels, and manage to continue this journey called life. I felt that no matter how hard, a Divine hand always pulled me out of hopeful situations. That didn’t mean I didn’t do my part of struggles to stay afloat. As the saying goes, “God helps those who help themselves.” I knew I had to give it all and I did and continue to do.


I have been thinking of this a lot and some of you might think I am crazy, but to find an explanation for life’s hardships, my mind went back to the way I came into this WORLD.

Here is the story:

My mother, a medical doctor in communist Romania, where people barely could afford one child, had several abortions. The year before I was born, she was pregnant with a boy who was supposed to come into this world. However, my Mom, an ophtalmologist, while she was pregnant with the boy, had a patient who came to see her with her baby, born with NO EYES. Two holes. I was never told the details of what happened, but after that consult my mom decided to abort the boy.

A year later I was allowed to manifest into this world! The first disappointment was that I was a girl!

I am using the word “manifest” for a reason…
What do I mean?
Here is my belief. Please don’t hate or love me for it and don’t think I am crazy because sanity is only a perception.

My theory requires a belief in the existence of the SPIRIT. Of the fact that we are more than an organized body of flesh and bones which dies when our “packaging,” our bodies become dust or ashes.

With that believe in mind, I concluded that it was difficult from the beginning to “manifest” into this world, as planned by a Higher Power. I don’t know, but what if there is a spirit which is meant to be birthed into this world? What if the same spirit, embodied in me, is the same which tried to manifest each time mom had an abortion?

I feel it was hard even before I was born and that “spirit,” who was sent back so many times, yet managed to manifest in me, at last, must be here for a reason…

This very personal theory makes me try to lead a meaningful life. It has been so hard, it must be for a good reason.

I am still trying to understand it, so I may do what I am meant to do.

Because the way I was born, I never considered abortion as a personal option. However I believe in birth control and counseling of both people who are thinking to bringing a life into this world and mothers who feel they could not take care of a babies.

In conclusion, I believe the essence who lives in me, “the same spirit” tried to manifest on Earth several times and was sent back… where? I don’t know, but this process resulted in hardships once this spirit was finally allowed on Earth.

The positive side is that from the very beginning to be here required perseverance and this is the gift God gave me in this life and I am using it to the best of my abilities as I continue to get up and climb again up the mountain of life.

Please share your thoughts on this topic. I would really appreciate to learn how you feel.

The Evictions- Is It Right Or Wrong?

It is a beautiful August morning and I enjoy my coffee while speaking with a friend on the phone. I feel at peace, a rare feeling for me.

Suddenly, my dogs bark and crowd in front of the window for a better look at something unusual happening in the street.
I shush them and look outside. What is happening? What’s the big fuss? My peace of mind goes out the window!

Outside, there is a sheriff and the landlord of a house across the street. The door to the house is wide open and one by one the tenants leave the house…

The family in the house in question had been living there for two years. Renting out.
Two years ago, they moved in with a few plastic bags. Often I wondered if they had beds to sleep on, tables? chairs? There was a family of two adults in their early 40’s and at least three kids.

I nodded hello and smiled a few times and tried to welcome this family, but my smiles were not returned. .
In short, I didn’t know them.

However, today, when I witnessed the eviction, my heart was thorn between the logic that they didn’t pay their rent and the eviction was the right consequence, and my gut reaction of fear! Watching each of the family members’ walking to their car in silence, holding small plastic bags made my heart pound with anxiety and hard to describe mixed emotions. The teenage girl, holding her cat is an image I cannot get out of my head!

The teenage girl left holding her cat…going… where? What was going to happen to them? I felt dizzy and popped in my mouth a high blood pressure pill. Breathe, breathe deeply, I told myself. Stay calm I kept telling myself but my heart wouldn’t listen!

This is why I decided to write this post, for a selfish reason, because my heart is thorn between the question: Is it right or is it wrong to evict people when a landlord has sound, legal reasons to do so?
The legal answer is yes, but how about our hearts!

Here’s my dilemma:
I could imagine myself in the shoes of the evicted, holding my dogs in my arms, going to nowhere in my old car, but I also could imagine being the landlord, needing to pay taxes and a mortgage on the rented property and being unable because my tenants pay no rent.

I wrote this post not because I have an answer to what’s right or wrong, but because I question…and it helps to share.

As I write, I conclude there is NO right and wrong but only a matter of perspective, and in whose shoes one walks…Perhaps it’s simply another reality of the world we live in, we built and bear the consequences. Sad consequences of our own actions.

Please comment and share your thoughts on evictions. Is it right, wrong? Why do you think?

The Party, The Guests and The Host!

We were in Bucharest, Romania, when Eastern Europe was communist.

We had just turned eighteen, my high school boyfriend and I and with the wisdom typical of that age group, we eloped and got married!

Shortly after, still enveloped in our “daze of independence” we were hopping from party to party, especially on weekends.

One Saturday evening, we were invited to a party in an apartment complex where several of our friends lived. On the outside, the complex was grey, gloomy. The main entrances and windows looked desolate but there was a lot of life and happiness once the doors to the apartments’ opened…

We rang the bell to our friend’s apartment, where the party was about to start. It was a little early, so when another guest, a mutual friend of ours and the host’s, opened his door, we were relieved she had arrived at the party before us!

She smiled a little surprised. She probably didn’t know we were invited at this party. That was okay… I smiled back, reassuringly.The three of us sat on a sofa and chatted, as we waited for the Host who was probably finishing up in the kitchen.

I launched into telling a story to avoid the silence. My throat was dry. Where are the drinks? I wondered. Where was the Host? How rude, to have a guest open the door to his apartment and have guests entertain one another! He really shouldn’t have a party if he is such a poor Host!!!

The friend who opened the door for us fidgeted increasingly.
No wonder, I thought, she is nervous! Doesn’t know how to handle this embarrassing situation. To try and entertain us, when she, herself is a guest! She and the Host, barely knew each other. I fact, we barely knew him. The Host had some nerve to be unprepared and let guests entertain themselves…

I glanced at my watch. It was getting late. Where were the other guests?

My husband and I “exchanged meaningful looks.”

The conversation continued to dragged. Our friend barely answered my questions about the weather any more… She didn’t seem to care my forecast was rain!

After about half an hour, in desperation, I flattered her:

“How nice of you to open the door for us!”

“Oh you’re welcome, but now I have to leave.” she said and stood up.


“I don’t mean to be rude,” she continued,” but wasn’t expecting you… at my apartment. I was going out when you rang the bell. Going to “X” party, on the 3rd floor.”

… and you know what followed:)

Oh… well thank God we were all invited. Over the years this became a treasured memory of how foolish we were and yet survived!

Happily Ever After:
The three of us took the elevator to the third floor, rang the door bell and the right Host opened the right door to the right apartment. After all, there was a party and the door opened at last! There were drinks too!

Many thanks to Karen Salmansohn’s post “If it does not open, it’s not your door (xo which was posted on my Home Feed, on Facebook and triggered my memory and desire to share this true story from my youth.