Obscured Faiththe story of Ben and Bessie Glass

This fictional story is based upon Benjamin and Bessie Glass, former tuberculosis patients at the Jewish Consumptives Relief Society in Spivak, Colorado.

This book is dedicated to those who have suffered from tuberculosis and had the strength to keep their faith alive.

Obscured Faiththe story of Ben and Bessie Glass

Written by Carissa Samaras

The Jewish Consumptives Relief Society opened in 1904 in Spivak, Colorado. Early in the 20th century, Tuberculosis became a widespread issue in the United States. Due to the closed working conditions in the factories of the east coast, many of the workers became infected by active tuberculosis. Colorado was advertised as the “prime” state to be treated for the disease. The “300 days of sunshine” became the perfect reason to be in Denver, Colorado for tuberculosis.

Tuberculosis was a very contagious. Some patients suffered from the symptoms, such as shortness of breath, fatigue, night sweats, and coughing up sputum. Tuberculosis not only effects the lungs. It can also effect a person’s kidneys, or other organs since it can travel through the bloodstream. The disease is spread through the air from a simple cough or sneeze.

Tuberculosis can be in an active state or latent state within a person’s body. When latent, the disease is dormant, therefore harmless. However, tuberculosis can become active at any moment.

Background

Jewish Consumptives Relief Society

1

1

The contents of this hospital made my stomach drop. I knew I had to see him. What if today was a good day? Or what if it was bad? I never knew until I saw him with my own eyes. The nurses knew me very well and were always close at hand if they needed to help me to my car. I was always exhausted from visiting Ben. I was exhausted from keeping a smile on my face, trying act as if everything was right in the world, but reality was far from perfect. I grabbed the photo album. Last week we looked through our wedding photographs. He was not the least bit interested in them. This time, I had brought the photographs of our first son, Ronald Glass. I prevented the mention of JCRS at all costs. His life had to be brought to him through the pages of the albums. I did not exist in the life he remembers every day, but I pray for the day he remembers me.

The rain began to pour. Shutting off the motor, I could hear the rain pounding into my car. Quickly, I opened my car door. I was soaked before I had put up my umbrella. The album was protectively tucked away under my coat. Even running from my car to the entrance couldn’t save me from the drenching cold. The hospital entrance was quiet, a kind of quiet where it could be peaceful or it could be chilling to the bone.

“Good Morning Mrs. Glass,” the secretary always greeted me, probably to try to help ease the visit the moment I step into the hospital, but it never works “Mr. Glass is in his room receiving a check up.”

04/26/1963 9:30 a.m.

Saint Joseph’s Hospital

This place had its own disturbing aura.

2

It was always the same when I came in, almost routine: the checkups, the warm smiles with sadness from all the nurses on the third floor, my own cheerful voice to keep an image of a strong woman only to crumble within the day. Ronald came to visit his father whenever I could not, and today he had to be at work to complete the deadline of publishing a book. I was proud of him, following his father’s footstep in the printing business, if only Ben could be here to acknowledge it.

turn left

turn right

There he was, lying in bed. He was talking to Dr. Samuels. I was thankful for him. He has been with us since the beginning of this three years ago when we first learned about Ben’s condition. He looked cheerful while he talked to Dr. Samuels. So far so good. Dr. Samuels looked up to notice me standing in the doorway. He excused himself from Ben’s side to come to talk to me. Almost at once I could tell what day I had ahead of me. It was that look on his face: pity.

room 326:

three flights

of stairs

3

“Good morning Mrs. Glass. Right on time I see. Ben is doing well, but is not lucid today. Today, he thinks that he is in the recovery room after his surgery. If you get frightened or if his anger rises, let Nurse Grossman know and she can help him calm down.”

Oh no. Ben was rather irritated when he thought that he was bedridden at JCRS.

“Goodbye Dr. Spivak. I’ll talk to you later,” Ben called out to Dr. Samuels as he left the room.

Almost immediately did Ben have a glossed-over look in his eyes. He did not look at me, but seemed rather distracted by the flowers in the wall. And so the day began...

I took a deep breath and took a step forward.

“Jesus Christ! Who the hell are you?!” Ben was apparently beyond irritated and irrational.

“Ben, it’s me, Bessie. I’m your wife.”

“Who? I don’t know any Bessie, and I sure as hell know that I am not married.”

“That’s because you don’t remember. Tuesday I showed you pictures of our wedding day. Aunt Sophie, Uncle Hyman, all of them were there.”

“That’s nonsense. On Tuesday I had my chest collapsed and now I’m stuck here in bed until I get better.”

This was going to be another long and bad day.

Ben, it’s me, Bessie. I’m your wife.

4

I kept my smile and took the chair beside his bed to sit next to him. He looked confused. I put the album in my lap trying to see any recognition in his face. None. To keep from breaking into tears, I had to keep pushing onward. The suggestion of bringing a photo album was Dr. Samuel’s suggestion. Before, the visits were quite short because he would either become irate or completely forget that I was beside him and I would fall apart.

“I brought some photographs of your son, Ronald. He couldn’t be here since he has to finish -- he had to be at work. But these photographs are of him growing up. You two were so close, I could hardly keep you two away from one another during the weekends while you two worked together.”

“Who? Who is this Ronald? You are making accusations that I am married to you and have a son. Is this some crazy scheme to get some poor guy to take care of you two because I just want to be left alone. Its hard enough being sick, and I don’t want any more of this nonsense. So please miss, let me rest so I can recover faster to get back into the printing press.”

This happened quite often. It was always difficult to talk to someone who did not remember you or care for what you had to say. The thought that he does not remember me is painful. After a while, this interaction in the beginning became repetitive, almost expected. So over time I became accustomed to his tempers and reactions. Ben rolled over onto his side to face the window.

“It’s such a beautiful day. I wish I could lay outside in the sunshine. Spivak told me that it would be two weeks before I could walk around on my own. I hate to be tended on like a child.”

I had to get Ben back to reality. If only the sun was really shining instead of raining. Apparently the weather was beautiful the days following his surgery. I could use the sunshine. I opened the cover of the album. The sound brought his attention back to me. It was Ron’s baby hand print on the first page. The sight of it brought a tear to streak down my cheek along with the flooded memories of him growing up. Ben looked at me with curiosity and confusion. I moved my chair closer to his bedside and positioned the book so he could look at the pictures along with me. The next page was Ron’s pictures bundled up in a blanket after he left the hospital.

“Who is that?”

“That is your son, Ronald.”

I have no son!

I only worked

at a print shop in

New York and came

here. There

was never a woman!

5

1

7

It hurt to hear him say those things to me. After a while, I had to understand that he would never say that to me if he was lucid. The nurse came in to see the commotion. I told her everything was fine; everything was far from fine when Ben was not here.

I turned the page again. This time it was Ron as a toddler on a rocking horse with Ben holding him up. I looked at Ben to see if he had any reaction. None at all. Just emotionless. As I continued to explain the photographs to him, he just looked at the photographs with a blank face and would sometimes ask who a person was. I tried so hard to believe that something would click in his mind about Ron’s childhood that he would be lucid. My hope vanished when he turned to face the window being battered with rain and paid no mind to me at all. I continued best I could but the tears began to well up at a family portrait: Ben at my side with Ron sitting in the grass playing with the twigs of a nearby tree. I could not do anything. I could not think, nor move. I just sat there until visiting hours ended.

8

The summer months were coming to a close and moving into the fall. The drought has been rough on everyone, especially the landscaping. Everything was turning brown. I kept to the blue skies to bring some light into my soul. I had brought a book to read to Ben this time. After going through all of our albums, the memories became more like shadows. I thought that he would enjoy a book of poetry; I was starting to feel sick by seeing him fight me with everything I told him.

The routines were unchangeable at Saint Joseph. The receptionist, the various nurses and doctors

three flights of stairs, left, right, 326

At times I forget completely how I get there.

As I was about to enter his room, I hear voices coming from inside.

09/02/1963 10:17 a.m.

Saint Joseph’s Hospital

Neustetar Printing Room

The sun was shining this time.

Well, Mr. Glass, this looks like quite a fine piece of machinery and you certainly know what you are doing with the platen press.

9

10

I have been printing for the past ten years. I only printed in New York for two years before I came here. And with the surgeries I was not able to touch one of these babies for weeks. It is like a riding a bicycle,

It was Ron. Ron was in the printing business following his father in the industry. Luckily, he had some knowledge of printing when he printed with his father when Ron visited Ben at JCRS. He would get a tour of the printers when we were allowed to visit with the other visitors. However, Ron knew that I was not too keen when Ron played along with Ben when he was not lucid. I turned into the doorway and caught Ron’s eye.

Pardon me Mr. Glass, It looks like I have a lady friend here to talk to me.

“I thought you had to work today. Did Mr. Robertson give you the day off or something?”

“Mom, it’s Labor Day. The print shop is closed today.”

I have been wrapped up in taking care of Ben and thinking of the day he will be able to recognize me that I have not a sense of time, except for noticing the changes in the weather. I wonder what else I have neglected.

He believes he is back at JCRS again. Ron looked away from my eyes.

11

12

“He is working on the issue of the Sanatorium for October. And today, I am an apprentice of the shop and am studying under Mr. Glass. Now don’t look at me like that. It’s the only thing I can connect with him. His eyes light up just talking about the subject. You know that.”

I knew that he was right, but I kept thinking that he is not connecting with his father, but rather the man I did not know. These were the days that were second to recognition for Ron. I felt pity on both men. It was a game to Ron to play along, to be with his father, but to Ben,

it was reality.

13

I entered the room with Ron and took a chair in the corner to watch the two men in deep conversation about the printing days...

1

15

Wow a Chandler & Price platen press! And she is in perfect condition! What model is she?

“Well, son, that platen press is a 1914 Franklin New Series 8” by 12” platen press. Yep, the redesign from the ‘s’ shape

spokes to straight ones. There were some models that had automatic feeders, but I believe that it was easier and

quicker for the paper to be fed by me. What was your name again? My mind goes crazy and I can’t keep my ideas

straight. And you can call me Ben. Since we will be working together, there’s no need for formality.”

I never got my hopes up when he referred Ron as “son.” He did not really mean his actual son, but rather a casual

reference to some imaginary young man who happens to look like Ron.

“Yes Mr. Glass, I mean Ben. It happens out of habit. My name is Ronald. So what do I get to do first today? I am

really excited to get started.”

“You are excited, Ronald. I can tell. You remind me of myself when I was young and started in the printing room.

Today, you will need to learn the dirty work before you get to operate one of these printers. First, I will show you how

to grease up the printers. A machine only works as good as it is maintained. If the gears grind up on one another

when working, the metal erodes and the print quality will be affected over time. So grab that canister over there of

grease and follow me to the printer on the far end.”

I was not apparent of the goings-on in the room as I

turned my

attention more to the book of poetry that I had originally brought for Ben,

but when I saw Ben actually getting up out of bed was of great concern. A

few times, th

e nurses have notified me of Ben’s attempts to “escape” but I

understood them as his in

tense memories coming before him so strongly

that his motor sk

ills become effected by it.

Ron reacted faster than I d

id and quickly moved at his side to help Ben

up. We never really stru

ggled to get Ben back into his bed, but to get Ben

up and walking around was good for him -- as long as th

ere was someone

with him to guide him around the hospital and back into his bed.

His legs were becoming weak from being bed-rid

den and wheelchair-

ridden for quite some time. M

ost of the tim

e, if a nurse trie

d to make Ben

walk, he would be too much of a fuss to convince him that he needed to

get out of bed to walk. Ben responded quite often that he had already

spent the day walking outside in the nice, su

mmer weather and was tired.

16

“So Ronald, when you grease up these gears, its best to get down and dirty. This job is not clean and tidy, well, not with what you will be doing. Ink always find some sort of clean fabric ad will be determined to dirty it up. Try to get all of the gears and pivots greased up good. Try not to get the platen, the ink disc, and the ink fountain greased up. Ink and grease do not do well together. Plus, once we get started to print, we can tell if any grease gets on the platen. A nice big grease spot will not go well with any of us. It ruins paper, ink, and time. Also, be careful of the foot treadle. You do not want your hand caught in there when it starts up. That should keep you busy for a while. There are a lot of presses in this room that could use some maintenance. Any questions?”

What are those things over there?

18

We turned a corner, past some patients with

confused expressions. I ignored them and

turned to watch my boys talk to one another.

“The drawers? Ah, those are the drawers where we keep the letters. Each drawer contains a specific typeface and size,” Ben put his arms out in front of him and seemed to have pulled open an invisible drawer in front of him, “the letters are carved backwards in lead so that when printed, the letters face the correct way for reading. Now it is important how the letters are placed in the drawers. You see, when typesetting letters, the printer really does not look at where he is getting their letters from. Look here, the top drawer contains capital letters, whereas the lower drawer contains smaller letters. That’s how we refer to letters nowadays. The capitals are in the uppercase and the smaller letters are in the lowercase. I’m sure your professor never told you that when you learned how to write the alphabet.”

“No Ben she did not.”

19

20

09/02/1963 1:53 p.m.

Saint Joseph’s Hospital

Having Ron with me at these visits did make them a little less painless.

I felt that Ben has had enough walking for today, especially since he is all worked up about “being in the print room again.” The nurses were surprised to see Ben walking around as much as we were with his progress. Ron and I were almost at the door to put him back in bed.

I felt a jerk from my left arm.

Cough! Cough!

I have not heard that kind of cough in years. The cough is deep, and painful. Another jerk with the same awful noise.

1

I was praying that the tuberculosis was not resurfacing again. He has been clean of tuberculosis since the late 20s. My heart had sped up so quickly it hurt. Panic. I looked at Ron to see how he was reacting to this. He looked shocked and helpless. Ben was continuing to cough. His knees weakened underneath him and Ron helped him to the ground. The nurses were rushing around us. The world seemed to crash around me. Suddenly, the floor in front of Ben was blood. Oh God, please don’t do this to me. Not today. My stomach felt like it dropped six stories. I felt arms wrapping around my torso, pulling me away from Ben’s side. Ron was yelling for Dr. Samuels and Ben was still on the floor.

My world turned black with Ben’s voice shouting for Dr. Spivak.22

The room was dark.

My mind was fuzzy from the last events, and slowly the chaos returned. I could still hear the shouting in the hallway. The room I was in came into focus as my eyes adjusted. The nurses had put me into a recovery room. Ron was by my side. He looked gaunt and noticed my stirs. Like an overprotective mother, he was checking every feature of my face with worried eyes. He told me that I was moved to a room above Ben’s room. My heart was starting to panic again. I could feel the heartbeats throughout my body.

I had thought that this chapter of my life would never have to resurface and that it would stay in the past. Spinning, always spinning. The flowers on the wall seemed to dance around me when I tried to get up, but Ron’s big hands kept me from moving too far up.

The coughing. The blood. The screaming. The darkness ensuing.

23

1

25

“What did the doctor say about Ben?”

“Dr. Samuels said that Ben is stable right now, but they are doing a tuberculin test to make sure if the tuberculosis is

having a relapse. Right now dad is sleeping to reduce any other coughing that could bring up more blood.”

A shiver went down my spine. Too many memories of my own sickness and treatments went through my mind. Lost of

hope and drowning in fear was all too familiar. It was JCRS all over again. Ron looked at me with concern. He never

truly understood the disease and what it did to people. When Ron visited Ben at the print room, he was so young, but

mainly remembers the print room. I made sure that he never saw the horrors of the disease. Just thinking of the days

back in JCRS made me wish that I could be at Ben’s side to help him, but Ben would be put under quarantine until

the results came in. Ron gave me a glass of water and some aspirin. It helped, some, but not completely. All I could do

was sit here and wait for the results. I hate to wait. Time seemed to move ever so slowly and I was always in the rush to

know things. Ron told me it would be best to sleep until we get the results, but try to sleep when your husband is sick

and can’t do anything to help him.

“I will get the nurse to give you some sleeping pills to help you. I will wake you up the moment Dr. Samuels comes with

the results.”

Sleep. I hope it will be a dreamless sleep.

I had to be with my husband. I needed to be with Ben. I do not care if I get tuberculosis again. It did not matter to me.

As long as the time past by quicker to the result, I did not care.

Slowly, the world began to go out of focus and my body relaxed.

My thoughts slowed, and then...darkness.

26

I did not want to be woken up; too comfortable to be disturbed, but the shaking would not stop. I heard something. It was faint, but not quite defined.

“Mom.” Who is that? What do you want?

“Mom! Dr. Samuels is here with the results. You need to wake up!”

The results!

I forced my world to come back, still dizzy and fuzzy though. I sat up and no hand kept me down this time. Dr. Samuels was sitting at my bedside and Ron was standing to the left of me with his hand on my shoulder. “Now Mrs. Glass, we currently have Ben under quarantine, so you cannot see Ben until the results come in, but I thought that it would be best to review the results with you since you are familiar with tuberculosis and you understand that if Ben has tuberculosis, the measures that we will need to do to help Ben. So -- ”

A nurse walked in almost on queue with the results in hand. I hun-grily stared at that package of papers in the standard envelop. He opened the manilla envelop. It seemed like forever for Dr. Samuels to open the flap and pull out the paper with Ben’s result of the skin test. My shoulder felt a harder pressure from Ron.

“The good news is that Ben does not have tuberculosis. Unfortunately, his condition has come to the point where his body is believing that he does have tuberculosis and is showing the symptoms of tuberculosis. I understand that he was moving around yesterday thinking that he was in the print room again. I do not know if this will happen again, but we will have to keep Ben sedated for a while for his body to recover and his mind returns to a time of peace. According to his records, Ben had several relapses of tuberculosis while he was at JCRS and worked at the rehabilitation building. We could only assume that he had a relapse when he was at the print room and his memory of that attack was effecting his physical well being.”

Well, thankfully, Ben did not have tuberculosis. That was my worst fear, but now Ben believes that he does have tuberculosis. It seems just as bad as having the real thing, but Dr. Samuels will be monitoring Ben far more closely. All I wanted to do was to run to Ben’s side once the quarantine was lifted.

The room was dim and Ben looked peaceful sleeping in the bed. A nurse was checking on his vitals and left when she saw me. Ron was helping me walk to Ben’s side. His hands were cold when I held them. His chest was rising and lowering slowly. I was lost and helpless. Ron never left my side. His hands never seemed to have collected any heat from my hands the whole time I held them, rather my hands became as cold as his. The memories of JCRS came back to me, along with the fear of never knowing if my future will exist beyond the hospital. Lost in remembering the memories with Ben, I did not notice that the light was fading. I think that the nurses would not dare to make me leave after what had happened.

I have some good news and bad news.

1

In fact I did not know what day it was. Was it Thursday still? I did not know.

28

“Mom.”

I jumped at his voice.

“Its getting late and you should get some rest. We can return tomorrow if you would like, but you need to come home.”

I could not move my arms no matter how hard I tried. His hands had to stay in mine. I could not let go of him. Ron had put his hands on mine and pried them apart. As heartbreaking as it was to leave Ben in the state he was in without me, I could not shed tears. Inside, I was breaking. The tears could not measure up to the pain I was feeling emotionally.

Dead on the inside and I would need Ben’s light to guide me out of the darkness. Lost in a whirlwind of emotions then it stopped. Everything stopped. I don’t know want to do, to think, to feel. I felt so cold. I felt so robotic, like those popular toys I find all the little children playing with. All I could do was see, and the sound around me was a buzz. Just a loud buzz. I could see Ron’s mouth moving, probably to help with the silence, but why talk? Why did it matter? How would that help Ben?

I felt dead.

29

Ron reached for the radio.

Vietnam. War. Death. Americans killed.

The war overseas has been escalating more and more and has taken over all media. I try to avoid the radio and fall into my favorite bands on LP records at home. Ron changed the station to also escape the war. This time it was Tammy Wynetter’s song “Stand By Your Man.” Ben! Why was I still in this car. I should have been still with Ben. Finally, I felt the emotions starting to swell.

The pressure of holding it all inside was beginning to take its toll. My body felt limp and my lung could not take in my weeps. Sorrow, pain, regret, hopelessness, exhaustion, pity, and love came at me at once. I wailed above the sound of the radio. Ron quickly turned off the radio and looked at me with apologetic eyes. I felt the car come to a stop and arms were wrapped around me. I felt claustrophobic.

30

How could this happen to me?

31

I felt the arms around me tighten, yet tender. We sat there for the

longest time, it seemed. The sun was gone and surrounded in

darkness. Finally, the outer world reflected how I felt. The car began

to rumble as Ron began to start driving. I did not realize I was home

so quickly. Ron was at my side with the door open. I felt empty. I could

not cry anymore. I could not see the light in anything. Empty.

1

33

He peeked in to see if I was up. I just looked at him. I could not feel his warmth, even when he smiled at me. I could see the pain he was in when he saw me in this state. My lack of care for anything was not helping him deal with Ben’s condition. What kind of mother was I to do this to my own child? Well, what kind of world give and takes hope from people many times over to the point of losing the thought of hope for the rest of their life?

“Good morning Mom. I thought that after you eat your breakfast that we could visit Dad to see how he is. Would you like that?”

The words went through me. I could not grasp onto a single word he said to me. He looked away from me as I stared across the room into the mirror across the bed. I was alone. I could not be in a world without Ben.

morning

3394 West Nevada Place

Saint Joseph’s Hospital

The sunlight leaked through the curtains on my bedroom window. Ron knocked on my door gently.

What was I to do?

34

Ron walked into my room again. When did he leave and get changed into a suit? What time was it now? Were we going to see Ben? I hope so.

The world came by quickly outside of the car. I did not even notice the car stop and Ron was with a nurse holding a wheelchair to take me to Ben. The wheelchair. I had not sat in a wheelchair since the time of JCRS. This place reminded me of that institution.

I could not control anything.

I heard footsteps now. The heels of the nurse’s shoes on the floor of the reception area. This time, the receptionist did not say anything to me, I think. I did not recall her voice when we reached the elevator.

Ding

We were on the third floor, and now just seconds away from Ben’s room. His room was bright. Probably from the window shades being open. He looked almost lifeless. Only his chest was moving. I was set at his side. All I could do was look at his face. Not even moving to hold his hand again. I was afraid that he would feel like a corpse. From the neck up, he did look like a corpse. What was I suppose to do without Ben? What if the last happiness I witnessed from Ben was when he was “reliving” the print room? Should I be happy that he was happy without me in his life of the past?

Dr. Samuels came into the room and took Ron from my side. I was with Ben so I could not care. My emotions were dry. The events of yesterday destroyed my world and I could not piece everything back together as much as I tried.

1

36

Ben had to be put into a slumber to control his health. He was almost a vegetable. Almost. My hope for him was at its lowest, but I also felt guilty for feeling that way. Ron had returned to my side, but did not say anything. He just squeezed my shoulder and moved to the other side of Ben and kissed his forehead.

I do not know if I said it or someone behind me, but Ron looked at me with sadness and left. I looked up away from Ben to the window to see the clear sky. Just a few clouds passed by in the window frame. If I were to pray for Ben, what would I pray for? For him to wake up? To say my name? To get up and act as if this never happened? I wish I could be able to make this all go away and go back to living in a happy life with the nightmares behind us.

When he did that, I felt violated.How could someone interrupt Ben? What if something happened after that kiss and Ben was gone?

Only I should be the one to be so near to Ben. He was helpless and only I and the right to touch him. I furrowed my

brow, and Ron was moving his lips, but all there was was a buzz. I could not move my eyes from where Ron kissed

Ben’s forehead.

Go.

The clock on the wall was ticking. It seemed loud in my ears as I stared out the window. The murmurs outside of the door from nurses and doctors were getting louder and louder. Ben’s heart monitor was the loudest of it all. It could have been in my ear with a blow horn for how loud it was. There was no peace in this room. My heart sped up once again and my eyes darted back and forth. Why could I not be able to stop the noise? I just wanted peace and quiet. My heartbeat began to become involved in the orchestra of noise. I felt that I could not breathe anymore. My one lung tried as much as it could but I felt as if I was drown-ing. I felt weak and my world spin-ning again. I felt the cold floor hit my left side and heard Ron yell for nurse.

Be quiet! There’s so much noise!

Why can’t it be quiet?

38

I woke up to a steady beep. I could not move. My body was heavy and my head hurt. The

room was dark with a faint orange light coming into the room. It had to be night, but there was a

sillouette next to me. Could this be a dream? Was that Ben sitting next to my bed? Whoever he was,

his hands were softly holding mine.

“Mom, are you ok? Dr. Samuels tells me you had an anxiety attack. You were fine when I left you alone.

Do you need to talk?”

No, it was not Ben. It was only Ron. The two looked so similar to one another. Now I had to be away

from Ben and must stay in bed until I got better. I had to get out of this bed to be with Ben, but I

couldn’t leave. There were tubes connected in my arms and I was connected to a heart monitor. A

prisoner to a bed and I could not escape. This world returned to me and I could not stand being

paralyzed. I hated it.

Ron could not leave me, he refused to leave me and look after Ben. He told me that I would need him

more than Ben would need him. I did not care if someone watched me, but I did care if someone

could be with Ben. The “what ifs” went through my mind and I could not escape the feeling of

security. As quickly as I had woken up, I was blanketed in darkness.

39

It was raining outside and Ron was not at my side. I wonder if he was at Ben’s side. That would be nice. He could

use the company more. I saw a little tray of scrambled eggs, toast, and juice on my nightstand. My stomach let me

know that it needed the food. I could not protest to the request and looked for the button to call for a nurse. She

came in with a warm smile and noticed my stomach growling with desire for the food. The nurse walked over and

helped give me small bites of the eggs. They were a little cold, but I could not care. I needed the food too much.

Where is Ron? Can I see Ben?

My voice was dry and scratchy. When I asked the nurse, Ron came into my room at the same time with a smile. He

was relieved that I was awake and talking. It was obvious that he could not be happier to see me talking.

“Would you like to see dad? He is doing well.”

He took a wheelchair and helped me into the contraption. It was a struggle . My legs felt weak and I could not really

move them. How long was I at this hospital? From how my legs were acting, it seemed like weeks. I was wheeled into

Ben’s room. It looked as if he did not move since my attack. I could not help but notice how peaceful he was. Ron did

not mention to me if Ben was still under sedation or if he was sleeping. If he was really sedated, then there must have

been some sort of complication while I was recovering that he had to be sedated again. I don’t know, and quite frankly,

I did not want to know. If there was something that went wrong, at least Ron kept it from me to protect me and I was

thankful for that.

How long was I in this hospital?

Where is Ron? Can I see Ben?

40

I was brought to Ben’s bedside and Ron had taken his place on Ben’s left side. He held onto Ben’s hand, but did not kiss his forehead. That was nice. It helped separate memory from reality. I could not help but feel a tear come down my cheek. It was the first tear in a long time I had cried for Ben. I felt his cheek. Warm. My heart relaxed. This was a good sign since the last time I touched him, he was cold. I felt the edges of my mouth curving up. A smile. I thought that I would forget how to smile. Ron could not help but feel the warmth of my smile when he saw me. I could see his smile in the corner of my eye. His hand moved to meet with mine and we held hands. Ron could also feel some sense of hope that I had felt. At night I would pray for the chance of seeing the light once more in my life and it seemed like the time would come soon. I tried to keep my faith. It has waivered several times from thin to hope, but I tried to keep some faith in my heart.

The attack has brought me back into the world in a different kind of way. I had realized that I started to neglect my son and if anything should hap-pen to Ben, I pray to God it does not happen, I am all Ron has left in this world. I needed to be strong for him and I had failed.

There was silence in the room. The clock was not too loud and I could hear the cars outside the window without care.

It was almost as a exact as the last time I had seen Ben lying in bed.

The world seemed a little less dark.

41

Ron picked up his hand to hold my hands with the both of his. I noticed Ron put his right hand on Ben’s head to straighten his hair. That does not make sense. Why do I have two hands holding mine? Ben’s hand was on top of mine. Wait...what is going on? I looked around the room as if I needed something, but I was not sure what. If this was a dream, then I needed to wake up because this dream would not be what I want. I needed a dream of actual happiness. Not what was close to reality that I would wake up with false hope. I shut my eyes hoping that I would wake up lying in bed with my stomach growling at me.

This had to be a dream. It could only be a dream. My hand was being squeezed by the hand on top of mine.

1

1

Bessie?

Colophon

Title: Obscured Faith: The Story of Ben and Bessie Glass

Designer: ©2009 Carissa Samaras

Credits

Benjamin Glass#6772, #7718, #7888

Bessie Glass#8513, #10397

Documents and Photography Courtesy of:JCRS Collection, Beck ArchivesSpecial Collections,Penrose Library andCenter for Judaic Studies,University of Denver, 2008

Bibliography

Campbell, R. “Chandler & Price Platen Press.” Five-Foot Shelf Press. 18 Febraury 2009. < http://www.garloo.com/chandler_and_price.htm>

Carter, Sebastian. Twentieth Century Type Designers. New York: Tapling Publishig Company, 1987.

Ferguson, Lorraine and Douglass Scott. “A Timeline of American Typography.” The Evolution of American Typography Design Quarterly 148 (1990): 24, 25, 40-43.

“Jewish Consumptives’ Relief Society Collection.” Penrose Library. 2002. University of Denver. 24 January 2009. <http://www.penlib.du.edu/About/collections/

SpecialCollections/JCRS/index.cfm>

Meggs, Philip B. A History of Graphic Design. 3rd ed. New York: John Wiley & Sos Inc, 1998.

“The Chandler & Price New Series.” Press Gallery. 20 February 2009. < http://letterpressprinting.com.au/page31.htm>

“Printing Press.” The Great Item Finder. 20 February 2009.<http://www.ideafinder.com/history/inventions/printpress.htm>

“Tuberculosis (TB).” WebMD. 16 May 2007. 15 January 2009 <http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/tuberculosis-tb-topic-overview>

White, Jan V. Graphic Design for the Electronic Age: The Manual for Traditional and Desktop Publishing. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, 1988.

Images:

“Chandler & Price Platen” 2007. Online image. Penrith Museum of Printing. 1 April 2009. http://www.printingmuseum.org.au/Equipment.htm

El Caganer. “1960 Nash Metropolitan Dash with Tube Radio”. April 7, 2009. http://www.flickr.com/photos/seat850/2644801465/

Frans16611. “Sunlight through the Curtain”. April 13, 2009. http://www.flickr.com/photos/frans1611/3110946015

Laylo-b. “Old Hands”. April 7, 2009. http://www.flickr.com/photos/laylophoto/2568778926

LJ. “Blessed”. April 11, 2009. http://www.flickr.com/photos/16536699@N07/2612005869/in/set-72157605531985956/

LoveSick. “Elevator Button”. April 2, 2009. http://www.flickr.com/photos/tenstudios/304260706

Ramaty. “TB”. April 6, 2009. http://www.flickr.com/photos/ramaty/2936369346/

Typefaces:Baskerville familyITC Franklin Gothic STD

Paper:

Lynx Digital 60lbs. White Smooth Long grain

Binding:

Bound Courtesy of Denver Bookbinding

Printed at FedEx Kinkos