STORY FIVE

RIVERDALE, CHEVERLY AND LANHAM, OR THE MARYLAND SIDE OF THE CAPITAL

We arrived in Washington D. C. (District of Columbia) near the end of the summer of 1961 and after looking around, found a pleasing apartment in a fairly new four story building in Riverdale, Maryland. It was conveniently situated, having an elementary school almost directly across the street and a wide expanse of park-land behind the building. A small stream feeding into the Anacostia River flowed through the park. A few streets away, was the Riverdale train crossing for the Baltimore-Washington commuter train, which also stopped at the crossing and was an easy way to get to Union Station in Washington. This was the era before the subway, known as the Metro, was built to serve the city and its suburbs. As soon as we had settled in and registered our son in school we started by touring the Capital.

We visited most of the major art galleries such as, The National Gallery of Art, the Corcoran Gallery of Art, the National Portrait Gallery, which subsequently had a new gallery built and some smaller art exhibits. Other sights of mention were a tour of the Capitol (where Congress meets), a tour of the White House, and numerous trips to the Smithsonian Institute. We also took in Arlington National Cemetery, the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, the Library of Congress, the National Archives, Ford's Theater and many other similar landmarks and sights including the National Monument. We thought Washington to be a beautiful city at the time since this was prior to eventual race riots and before rampant drug problems.

Although I started out with a position as a researcher for special and technical libraries with the Department of Education, it was just a little over a year later that the then librarian of the Department of Interior asked me to join his staff as librarian in charge of Technical Processing at the main Interior Department Library. That sounded very challenging and I did so. It was fascinating working for an old line agency with numerous Bureaus and Branches. The main building itself had a special museum, an art gallery and a gift shop that was used as an outlet for Indian and Eskimo crafts and jewelry. I usually purchased a gift on select occasions for Molly at the shop, and though the items were somewhat expensive for me, they were of course genuine Native American craft. While there, I became very active in many local and national library and book associations and often hosted large annual conferences and technical meetings on the subject of libraries, librarianship and the newest technologies that were then in the forefront pertaining to the processing and communicating of information. Through these activities I became well known in the field and also met many peers both of national and international stature.

Meanwhile Molly was tired of staying at home, and having worked in libraries previously, applied at the NASA headquarters library for a position. She was duly hired and began to work a short time later. The agency being somewhat new at the time, was very busy and Molly was often asked to stay over in the evenings and also work on Saturdays. She liked the extra remuneration, but did not like all the pressure that was typical of an upcoming, new and fast moving agency. She was rapidly approaching "burn-out," and after a year with NASA applied for a position with the Prince George's County Public Library.

Molly was hired a few months later, and assigned to the "old" Hyattsville branch library. She really enjoyed working with the public and since she averaged some twenty books a week that she read at home, was very well versed in the literary world. Molly made a great Reader's Advisor and had numerous patrons that she counseled on both fiction and non-fiction titles, at all reading levels; additionally she had the ability to remember what she had read including many of the settings and characters. I once asked her very specific questions about a book that she had read some six months earlier, and that I had just completed reading. She was able to recall almost everything. She also often remarked about books that she had read, sometimes as long as ten or fifteen years ago, indicating some of the titles that would have made good screen stories for motion pictures. To my surprise, quite a few of her choices were produced as movies over the years. Several years later, Molly received a promotion and was transferred to the Bladensburg branch of the system. We looked around and found a house to rent in the Cheverly area of Maryland, right down the road from Bladensburg. The local bus ran a street away and Molly had a short hop to her job.

It was about that time that our old Saab was giving out, so we traded it in for a Volvo station wagon since, at the time, we were impressed with the reputation of Swedish cars; (Toyotas had not made the scene yet). The Volvos were in the country for a few years but their cars still used what some called, a tractor engine, when we bought ours. It had a stick shift and when Molly learned to drive it, we had to replace the clutch about three times in four years. She was rather rough on cars and once "hung up" the Volvo on top of a fire hydrant. She was much better, when after some years, we switched to an automatic shift. The old Volvo was pretty good however, and eventually our son would drive it to Wisconsin where he attended college after high school and a short time in the service. Meanwhile I bought a used Ford Fairlane as a second car for myself, joined a local car pool, and drove to work once every four days when it was my turn to drive. That car lasted some four years, and was replaced with a new Plymouth Fury III which we used for almost ten years.

Molly took some evening courses at the University of Maryland, where she met a young married lady from Nigeria, who worked at the Nigerian Embassy. They became acquaintances and we were extended several invitations to attend different Embassy functions. It was a part of the diplomatic scene of the Capital that always amazed us. The costumes of various attendees, many of which were dignitaries from other countries, the formal introductions, the usual embassy circuit guests and the semi professional free loaders, made these functions all the more interesting. After having attended four or five times over a period of two years, our names somehow got into the cycle and we were invited to a number of other embassies for their functions as well. For a while it kept us socially tied up, but we decided that was not really our game and selectively started to drop out of the loop. Well, it was fun while it lasted and one cannot easily forget the fancy foods and drinks as well as some of the conversations that were encountered.

We started to pay more attention to our small family, since there were times when we hardly saw each other because of the many meetings and extra curricular activities that we both undertook. Molly was thinking family, and participated in some fertility studies at the National Institute of Health (NIH) as a volunteer. The physicians informed her that she could not bear any more children due to an endocrine imbalance. She was fortunate to have joined the program at NIH however, because they discovered an early form of cancer in her ovaries. Molly was quickly scheduled for surgery, at which time her ovaries were promptly removed via a hysterectomy. The operation assuredly prolonged her life.

Upon recovery, Molly noticed an advertisement, which incidentally is still being used, asking people who care, to support an overseas child through correspondence and a small monthly payment. She mentioned the ad to me and said she was interested. My response to her was, that if you are going to do anything, don't do it half-way. In other words, my suggestion was why not adopt a child directly. We discussed the idea at length and the more we thought of it, the better Molly liked it.

As we pursued the topic, we rapidly came to learn of stone walls and red tape when it came to any thought of local adoptions. Each agency we queried had numerous reasons for a long waiting list or outright denial. Undaunted, we discovered the existence of an agency that specialized in foreign adoptions with more success. We applied to the agency, located in Pennsylvania, and after some six months of filling out paperwork and having a visit by a social worker, we were put on the waiting list. It looked promising because we were interested in an older child, a girl preferably, since we had a son, and one of elementary school age. We felt we needed a third bedroom to accommodate our future new arrival and found a large apartment in a new complex very close to where we lived. The apartment was on the third floor and it was a spacious one.

A few more months had passed when we received word from the social agency that our turn had come. We drove up to Doylestown, Pennsylvania, the next day and met with the agency director and our assigned social worker. We were given a brief list of available candidates and shown their photographs as well. Together with the social worker we selected the most mischievous young girl we could find that was about ready to enter school. She was of American-Korean ancestry and was located in a Korean orphanage. The Korean connection alluded to earlier in STORY THREE, had come through. There was much more paperwork and another nine months of waiting, but finally we drove up to Kennedy International Airport (New York), in June to escort our new daughter from the plane. It was a memorable experience holding on to the hand of that little girl who with determined step and firm grip entered our home and our hearts.

She did not speak any English, except Coca-Cola and driving back from New York to Maryland made us quick learners of charade, and of body and sign language, especially when it was time to use the rest room. Everything seemed new to her including sleeping on a bed since she was used to sleeping on the floor, a common Korean custom. At first she did not want to shed her clothes and rubber shoes that I think were particularly donned on her for the trip to America. She relented after a few days and we outfitted her in normal jeans and tops. When she came, she had some problems with her hair and after consulting with the family physician she was duly debugged.

It was summer vacation time, and there were lots of children around the apartment complex and the swimming pool that was also a part of the grounds. Her playmates plus television and our family conversation made her a quick learner of English. We tried to have her practice her native language by finding a very understanding Korean family who worked for the U.S. Information Agency at the time, preparing Korean language radio programs. We would invite them over for dinner and they would reciprocate and invite us over for some Korean dishes. They talked to our new daughter in Korean, and although she was very polite to them, she never answered them back. She was determined to forget all about her native country. There was only one dish that she periodically would crave, and that was the native dish of Kim Chee, usually eaten with rice, fish and other side dishes. As the summer wore on, her English kept improving and although there were many words that she could not comprehend, her spoken English was good enough to let her express her wishes, sometimes in very positive ways. She was an unusual child and a very loving one, but with a strong mind of her own and a definite streak of self reliance, much to the chagrin of our son, who saw himself in the role of the older brother, knowing what is good and right for his younger sister, who unfortunately, did not want to have or hear any words of brotherly advice.

It was late evening, almost midnight, near the end of the summer when I awoke to the crackling, smoke, and sputtering of flames. I shot out of bed, quickly looked out the bedroom windows and saw the whole roof in flames, with fire shooting out the windows of the apartment below ours. Quick as a flash, I aroused everyone and in the dark, and herded them to the front door. I pulled the door open only to see thick, black smoke pour into the apartment and sparks flying up the stairs. The kids hesitated to go down the three flights of metal stairs, specially since they wore only slippers and were in their pajamas, but I nudged them in a positive way and down they went. Molly followed the kids and here is where another well-planned action went completely awry in the excitement of the moment. That is, I had always instructed my wife that in the event of an emergency, we should take the briefcase from our bedroom containing our family insurance policies and other worthy documents. As it turned out however, we completely forgot all about that in the emergency and instead of the briefcase, I picked up our poodle, lest she burn her paws and proceeded to carry her down the hot stairs. We assembled outside the building and watched in horror as two persons stood by their windows with flames starting to shoot around their apartment. Luckily just then the fire trucks arrived and the men quickly rescued the trapped people, so that only one of them received some minor burns. The quick action of the other firemen prevented the fire from spreading and they doused the flames in rapid succession. When it was all over the next day, we were briefly admitted back to the apartment which luckily for us had only sustained severe smoke damage. Our insurance agent arranged motel accommodations for us, paid to have all smoke damaged items cleaned or replaced, and helped us relocate to a new rental townhouse development in Lanham, Maryland.

Brae Brooke Drive was a nice quiet location at the time, with a stand of woods separating the town houses from the closest residences and the local highway. I was used to taking Dora, our poodle for a walk at night and had just done so when I went out to get something from the car that I had inadvertently left inside. The parking lot was just a bit away from the townhouse that we now lived in, and as I turned from the car, I thought I heard footsteps in the woods. I stopped and listened, but I only heard silence. When I started again, there was a rustling sound together with what seemed to be footsteps. I was more curious than frightened and I moved closer to the beginning of the tree line. After I paused a few more seconds, I heard footsteps again and I could make out a large shape of some sort in the dark. Slowly the shape inched closer. Then it became clear to me. It was a huge dog, disheveled, unkempt and somewhat wild looking. I stood my ground sensing no danger, and the dog slowly made its way towards me. It stopped short of me some five feet away and we eyed each other in the dark. Then I stretched out my hand, and the dog slowly came right up to me. I could see it was a big Saint Bernard and it must have been lost or someone had left it in the woods. I gently took the dog, who had no collar, by the neck and walked ever so slowly home with it. When I knocked on the door, Molly opened it and I said, "Honey, I have a surprise guest for tonight," and with that I entered the house with our new friend; there was quite a commotion and a lot of activity. We fed him, washed him, and made him welcome. He was very gracious and never growled or bothered us in any way. We advertised, got in touch with the Humane Society, called local radio shows but to no avail. After spending a month with us, my sister came to visit and she decided that her family could use Brandy, the name we had given our latest addition, so off he went to a new home and family.

Meanwhile I had gotten several promotions on my job and was now the Assistant Director, of the Department of the Interior Library, while Molly who also received a promotion, was applying for a vacancy at the College Park branch library, which was fairly close to the area we presently lived in. She eventually was selected and transferred to the College Park branch, which was not far from the University of Maryland, and where she would after a number of years, eventually retire from the library system. Our son meanwhile had almost finished high school and was feeling his oats, when I suggested that he might think of enlisting in the Service, since he had apparently outgrown the family. He took up the option and after completing the semester enlisted. We had lived on Brae Brooke Drive for a number of years and were interested in buying a home of our own. We looked around the area, wanting to stay in Maryland and fairly close to, or within easy driving distance of College Park. Finally we found a new development that looked promising and yet, by Washington standards, was not completely outrageous in price; (our latest utility car cost more than the home we bought). We contracted for one of the larger models that was being built and after some five months relocated to our new home.

Well, you see dear reader how very easy it was for me to assist you to achieve your sleeping mode. I am almost certain that you did not go beyond the first two pages before you were sound asleep and perhaps deep in dreams. So you see you must finish this STORY first, which once more, the next time you require it, will again let you fall asleep very quickly and efficiently; eventually though you may wish to turn to STORY SIX to continue your therapy. Thank you.

©1990 Herbert Holzbauer

published @1997 edition S.p.N.LAUB

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