I REMEMBER EVERY FACE BUT NOT ALL THE NAMES

There I am, seated in the center. My friend sent me this old photo she came across while preparing her house for sale. As she intends to downsize, her two children were at their childhood home and threw out multiple large garbage bags of clutter. Among the items for review was a classic photo of me at work with my working unit.

That place and those people in the picture from 1987 were an integral part of my life during the nine years to the day when I worked in downtown Newark, New Jersey. Where are they now? Many, sad to say, are six feet under. Of the living, which of them recognizes my face? Who remembers my name? Do they recall all the fun we had at the Division of Disability Determinations (DDD) while deciding which claimants were entitled to Social Security Disability benefits?

Bob Evans, bearing the name of a fast-food chain, died while brushing his teeth. For years after I left DDD, his Claims Adjudicator badge number stayed fresh in my mind since we called him by that number rather than using his “restaurant” name. 

Silly things like that come to mind when I look at the old photo. Those were my co-workers from 1979-1988, nine years to the day working at DDD in Newark, New Jersey, when I left on maternity leave, never to return.

Winnie admitted to being petrified of lightning. While I’m no fan of it, she told me she would hide in her closet at home whenever there was a storm. As a child, I can picture myself jumping into my father’s lap during a thunderstorm and him playing kissela misela with me, a Yiddish game of cat and mouse. I probably discussed that with Winnie in between reviewing cases.

Bill, another co-worker in the unit, was diagnosed with narcolepsy and would fall asleep at his desk. Fred suffered from seizures. Bessie, my clerical, at my right in the photo, and my right-hand gal, died of breast cancer. She was so proud of her daughter. On occasion, I think about her and wonder what her daughter Dana is up to these days.

Ruth, a trailblazer, taught me so much. For more about Ruth, see my blog post at sharonmarkcohen.com, WHEN YOUR FINGER HURTS, YOUR FINGER HURTS, dated January 24, 2023. She was a minimalist in the days before that word was invented and told me if she could let go of her deceased mother, she could get rid of a serving bowl.

Barbara predicted that I would be friends with Marita (Marita’s not in the picture since she snapped it) before Marita came back to work after maternity leave. Somehow, Barbara knew my type. A few years ago, I heard that Barbara passed away. She was very private; no one in the office knew about her family life. 

John, standing way behind me, against the wall, was the supervisor of the staff appearing in the group photo. After purchasing a house in Belmar at the Jersey Shore, he invited his unit of workers to a party at his new home. Later, I heard that he moved to North Carolina.  

Howard is stooping next to me in the picture. Now, there was a character. He would start the day by coming in and bouncing his belly, singing, “It must be jam, jelly don’t shake like this.” That would get Ernestine, standing in front of John in the picture, a clerical whose son became a surgeon, giggling. Honestly, there should be more Howards in the workplace for comic relief. 

Wait, workplace? What’s that? Another thing of the past…gone with the COVID-19 pandemic.

We had some good times. Thanks for the memories.

Ruth standing second row on left, Barbara standing in back on right with Bill next to her. Fred is standing next to Bill and Winnie next to Fred. Bill has his hands resting on Bob Evans.