A divorce meant I was without a car. Mine had never been replaced. One day indelible
in my memory, the girls required a prescription and the only way to get to the pharmacy
was to haul them with me in their Radio Flyer red wagon.
I placed a bed pillow between them, propped them up back-to-back against it in the
wagon bed, and pulled them slowly to the Rexall drugstore on Pico Boulevard while
thinking wistfully of the gorgeous Lancia Aurelia I had driven while living in Rome.
Those days were gone, but I wouldn’t exchange my darlings for a dozen Aurelia’s.
At the time, I was grateful to have the wagon, but on the way home, I determined to
change our future lifestyle. It was too risky to think about returning to my art career, or
lack of one. Any job I took had to bring in more money than I had to spend on salary for
a mother-replacement.
The very next week, I read about a job possibility in the ‘employment wanted’ section
of the newspaper. Marcia Lehr, who had become well-known in Hollywood circles as the
premier wedding and party planner/designer, was looking for someone to help her with
the hand-addressing of hundreds of invitation envelopes. The location of her shop
immediately caught my attention. It was on Robertson Boulevard within biking distance
from my house.
I felt the first rush of adrenaline since giving birth to the twins and picked up the
phone. “Mother, another potential miracle just dropped into my lap. I saw a job
description in the want-ads of today’s paper and know it was written specifically for me.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.