Escaping Danger by Dorothy Dubel: "God's Word, My Voice" written by Monsignor Patrick Caverly debuts at 50th anniversary fete

Friday, May 27, 2011

"God's Word, My Voice" written by Monsignor Patrick Caverly debuts at 50th anniversary fete

Monsignor Patrick Caverly and parishioner - author Dorothy Dubel share a literary moment together at Annunciation Church in Altamonte Springs, FL on Sunday, May 15, 2011.

The occasion marked the Pastor's 50th anniversary as a priest and the debut of his newly published book "God's Word, My Voice".

More than one thousand parishioners, guests and friends attended the luncheon buffet and celebration which was held at Annunciation Catholic Church in the Family Life Center after the 12 o'clock Mass.

Ms. Dubel is the author of "Escaping Danger" based upon her ancestor's Catholic-based life story which has won a five-star rating world wide.

Chapter 58 “There’s No Place Like New York City”

‘One night, dead tired from pounding the streets looking for jobs and food, Steve and Celia decided to spend 25¢ for a single cot in a flophouse on the lower East Side. The vibration of the subway trains seemed to rock the cot and drown out all the other sounds of coughing and snoring around them. There were rows and rows of occupied cots. For safety’s sake, they slept with their clothes and shoes on. They put their one cardboard suitcase under the thin mattress to use as a pillow under their heads – and to keep it from being stolen. Cuddled together on the narrow cot, they fell into a deep sleep.

In the early morning, well rested, Steve stretched, feeling refreshed. Being able to wiggle his toes without having them constricted in his shoes was a relief. Then he realized he did not take his shoes off when he went to sleep! He looked down at his feet. They were bare! While he and Celia slept, someone had cut his shoe laces and removed both shoes during the night. The thief took the money given them as a wedding gift out from under the inside sole lining where Steve had hidden it for safekeeping. Steve never felt a thing! Luckily, the thief was kind enough to leave the shoes under the cot.

Celia still had the few dollars they had left. Untouched, it was pinned inside her brassiere.

Like the rest of the people aimlessly roaming the streets of New York, they were now truly homeless and almost penniless.

Steve was first to get employed. It was a job that paid a couple dollars a week and he gratefully accepted the offer as a valet parking attendant. He parked cars in a private two-story concrete block garage in the city. Speedy service was expected without hope of a tip. Steve ran up and down and all around the garage as the men he dealt with using the exclusive garage were always in a big rush.

“Hurry up! Get the lead out!” he heard often as he ran up the second floor ramp. He never walked. He always ran.

Steve soon realized the building, cars parked there and men who frequented the garage were all Mafia-related. Regardless, a job was a job during Depression, and he was happy to have one but being available 24 hours a day was pretty exhausting. The less he knew about what was going on with their odd comings and goings the better off he was – period. He did not ask any questions

“Wash down this car” he heard as a driver brought his vehicle to a squealing halt beside him.

“Yes sir, right away!” replied Steve grabbing his wash bucket and brushes.

It didn’t matter what time of day or night - no one ever asked. He was told what to do and he did so without questions. Steve learned to wash down and clean cars fast. It was expected. Using good brushes and clean rags he removed bloodstains on the upholstered seating or in the trunk. He hosed away any tell-tale traces of mud from every tread of each tire. Sometimes his fingers were so cold he could hardly bend them.

The winds howled through the drafty open sides of the garage and the leaky open roof top provided little protection from the freezing snow in the winter and rain in the summer. Running through puddles on the open second story, his shoes and socks were constantly wet. His feet were always wet and cold encouraging a chronic foot fungus condition. Unable to afford a pair of boots or another pair of shoes, Steve’s feet suffered more than other bodily aches due to his hard work.

Steve knew he had to find some other kind of work soon but never had any time off to seek it – and the pay was getting better every month. He was now making more money than he could ever imagine and the couple was actually saving money during the Depression.

A perk of the job was that he and Celia were allowed to occupy the tiny windowed valet’s room next to the driveway entrance. If you stood in the middle of it, you could touch both walls, but it was roomy enough for the two newly-weds to occupy at the same time – besides, it had its own bathroom. The gloomy dark garage was a cold and spooky place lit by only a few ceiling light bulbs. In contrast, the crowded valet’s room with its overhead light, tiny wooden table and chair, electric heater, hot plate and cot seemed almost cheerful! Compared with being homeless and in danger of being mugged, living in these close quarters was heavenly.

Another perk was an abandoned late model four-door sedan. Parked near the valet station, it had a rust-free body, good tires and current plates – the only drawback was that it did not run. Tinkering under the hood, Steve worked on it as often as he could, and in the mean time, the couple used it to sleep more comfortably in. No one ever mentioned or asked about its ‘missing’ owner, one of the ‘boys’.

Friday, May 27, 2011

"God's Word, My Voice" written by Monsignor Patrick Caverly debuts at 50th anniversary fete

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unshakable

unshakable
Definition:	Marked by firm determination or resolution; not shakable.
Synonyms:	firm, steadfast, unbendable, unfaltering, unwavering, steady, stiff