Mary Kay - Mother

'59-Early 1960

2012-02-05T14:28:00.005-07:00

Shortly afterward MaryAnn's visit Monsignor Cloos asked if I would teach 3rd Grade at St. John’s. Wow! Close by. Would this be a possibility? Tempting enough to try. I lasted 2 months. A neighbor close by, a grandmother, and her twin teenage daughters, Rita and Anita, helped with child care- lovely folks. At the end of the month Cloos expected me to return most of my paycheck to the church. You have to be kidding! The community was beginning to think that the work the teachers did and their recompense was the business of the school nuns and not the monsignors business. This man truly believed he was totally in charge, at the head of things. He was a nice man. It is just one of the cultural ways men believed they were superior to females. Msgr. Cloos hasn't a clue what family life is. I quit. Besides I was learning preparation for Grade teaching differed so from Secondary. I had been spending all together too much time learning and the class was my guinea pig. I’ll save my education for the future. Or wasn’t I using my education each and every day? Perhaps with some guilt involved when Christmas came Cloos gave each of our children a present to open. This is where Robbie received his Geraffy which he loved until its long neck sagged and all the nap was rubbed from that neck. Robbie was a beautiful child. The twins fell in love with him and continued to come over afternoons to take the children to the nearby park behind the public school. Gave me some free time and a little spending money for them.

Something else opened my eyes that year. The nuns who taught in the school wore the old black habits peculiar to their order. The garb seemed to be the something that stood them apart from the rest of us women. Kept them in that place we saw them when small girls. Bruce, however, treated any of them like one of his big sisters. He would greet one with a big hug. Unheard of. I’d never seen anyone in my family do so. He felt no mystique. Here is something I am gradually learning for myself. I had this idea in college. If every Catholic married a non-catholic the majority of people in the world would be Catholic. Quite a way to proselytize. And it's a fact that marrying a person outside one's faith was at very best discouraged. Like one couldn't be married inside the church; OK in the rectory or sacristy or like places. But in America in the 40s it was becoming next to impossible to have the couple stay in a Catholic ghetto neighborhood; even with church and schools and newspapers and books, all being Catholic. So marrying weakened hierarchy controls. The spouse came from another source. So the way I see it today Bruce was really a Methodist, Presbyterian Catholic. Truth is he couldn't chuck his prior formation . I had been attracted to who he was. Well, why would teaming up outside be discouraged? I see it now. I would find permissions to look into what I previously thought I could not. Actually, I would be far richer . Well, my spouse likewise. Those in the Catholic Church's holding the authority today want to pull all of us back inside a ghetto. Can't. I see now that no matter how loyal and consistent Bruce was/is to honoring his acquired persona the other parts were/are always present. There was much we would never learn as long as we were kept in our Catholic ghetto. We would continue to be treated like the little children we once were. So marrying outside one's faith was such a big deal. Or an Irisher marrying a Scot. Or a Presbyterian marrying a Catholic woman. We'd be getting, I can hear my folks say, 'smarter than what's good for you'. Wow! The year 2012 we realize we become adult Christians when we continue to learn what life has to teach us throughout all of our lives. This is the structure we need to live as Christ lived.

I had begun a little newsletter, issued periodically, which means when I could pull one together, for our CFM family groups. This was a tedious job as pages needed a cut stencil to be mimeographed . Besides that, looking at the copies I have, our typewriter keys were not hitting so well and/or it needed new ribbon. I saved a Sept. ‘59 and 3 ‘60 issues. I don’t recall whether we were officially the lead couple. We knew more about CFM than the other couples. Weekly meetings were held alternately in our homes. We’d need to get the kids bathed and off to bed early when hosting. There was a particular couple in our group, the Church’s, friendly and outgoing. We soon could see they were militantly anti-Communist and personally deeply invested. Their existence would re-enter our lives a few years into the future. I still have Fran’s recipe for Butterscotch Brownies. Bob and Florence Carlson, cousins, joined our groups driving over from Warrenville except evenings they were hosting.

I found this entry in ST JOHN THE BAPTIST CFM'ER January 1960

Our Choice of CFM

Maybe it was Pre-Cana. Or perhaps we admired model CFMers in our family truly living in a worthwhile way. Whichever or whatever, shortly after our lovely honeymoon we took the plunge into the Christian Family Movement. On our own, we were impressed with the challenge of trying together to develop spiritually through the apostolate. The marriage vows taken we would either draw closer to each other or farther apart. Any new activity shared meant a new opportunity for our love to grow. But like the festive menu-- what to choose? We know of no established group like CFM-- so easy to join, so promising to follow. There is a straightforward friendly Christian spirit alive in all the Catholic couples we have met. We feel this alone is unusual-- unlike any other social situation. Perhaps as in the days of Peter and Paul, their apostolic zeal still flows through the veins of willing Christians.

Bob and Florence Carlson

JoanMary and Kevin with Robbie

Bonnie 1 and JoanMary

Robbie

Michael, Patrick, Kevin, JoanMary, Baby Robbie

When putting Kevin to bed many evenings upstairs I would read from a book. He seemed to relish these quiet moments alone with me so that I was encouraged. Like I have my mother to myself for a little while.

On one of these evenings, following after this read, I walked to the next bedroom and lay down on the double bed with baby Robbie. If only he would close his eyes. He just refused at bedtime to do so. If I lay beside him I could encourage his settling in. “Close your eyes”. On this one particular night I felt an unusual experience. A thin veil of cloth or light or I know not what moved across the room. I felt a strangeness and at that very moment had this thought of my brother Bill, just momentarily and then it was gone. 12-08-59, the following morning when we awoke for breakfast the phone, which hung on the kitchen wall, rang. I answered. My father was saying that my brother Bill had died the night before, December 7, 1959. No. This can’t be. Bill has had enough to contend with. Not death. Wouldn’t be fair. These thoughts quickly passed through my mind. Dad shared the story of Bill returning home from a hard teacher’s day, including a school board meeting, and telling Mary he had a bad headache. [Complaints of headaches in my family were never a rare thing]. Mary wanted to go out this evening to do some Christmas shopping. Decisions were made for her to go ahead and Bill would take an aspirin and lie down on their bed for a while. Which he did. When Mary returned later in the evening Bill was dead.

Mary and Bill July 25, 1959

JoanMary was just a toddler. Even so she was still very tuned in to her mommy. She tells me I reacted at the phone. She felt my shock. She claims I cried. I remember none of this. I include her comment editing my story in this year 2012: The morning you found out about your brother Bill's death on the phone, you continuously wept out loud. I remember you picked up Robb, went into another room and closed the door behind you. The message was clear that you needed to be alone. Immediately, I recalled the strange experience in the bedroom just about the hour Bill died. Couldn’t help but wonder. Funeral arrangements were made. At his Wake many folks came; a large crowd. Many were parents of his students or people from the district. They shared how well liked he was and often alluded to, ‘this wasn’t fair’. ‘He was in Heaven because he lived out his whole life in so short a time.’ Elayne and I stood beside his casket. I recall Elayne stretching out her arm with her hand on his. She referred to his being the one in the family to die first and now she wouldn’t be so fearful of death. Like he opened a path for us. He was 30 years old. Mary was pregnant and expecting their baby in March. Their lives were shattered. He was buried following his funeral Mass at the St. Joseph’s Cemetery in Richmond, IL, mother and dad’s home parish.

I do not know the sequel of events which followed. Mary was a teacher so she would have income. Sheila was born to Bill and Mary on March 14, 1960. Because of the excellent insurance policy they had taken when buying their home, the property was now free and clear. Yes, I did say free and clear. She wouldn’t have monthly house payments. What a blessing!

Sheila was born March 14, 1960. My mother and father kept in very close contact with Mary and the children. Dad felt it was very important for the children to have some close male influence. I think he was right on. Mary did a terrific job balancing work and family needs, maintaining their home. Mary and the children frequently visited mother and dad at Tullybracky on her way to Harvard to visit her parents. My parents made space in their lives for frequent trips to Arlington Heights. Doing this fed into Elayne and my feelings of jealousy which we acknowledged only to one another. Bill got a grand share of attention all his growing up years and now even after death. On the other hand we did realize there is only so much time and energy parents have.

Timothy is my nephew born to Jim and Angie on February 3, 1960, in Evanston, IL. I am supposedly his godmother though I have seldom, if ever responded as one would. I believe I was ‘by proxy’. Is this like not being in the the delivery room when the baby is birthed, no bonding? Tim was a lovely auburn haired child. Jim confirmed that I am his Godparent.

Hebron Visit- Kevin, Priscilla, Aunt Charlotte, Polly, Wayne, Sue, Patrick, MK, Robb, JoanMary, Michael

Auntie Gladys, Mother, Aunties Florence and Alice

Elayne, Karen, Alice, Mary, Angie, Florence, Rosemary

Alice Hubbie, Douglas, Bob, Tom, Jim

These photos above are ones Auntie Alice took at another Family Reunion at Tullybracky about this time. My brother Bill is not with us. Neither are Bruce and I. It seems the best fit in my story and I do want these pictures included. Rosemary is cousin Jack Collins spouse.

Jim had been in the army for a period of time. He and Angie were an Army couple and for a time lived in Sante Fe New Mexico. Angie did not appreciate such a distance from the Gould family. Soon they returned to the Chicago area. I lack memory and information here. Their little family lived at Tullybracky for a time. I thought they might remain. They set up housekeeping in the apartment my folks made in their home. My father liked this deal especially as it was a nostalgic memory of his childhood when his grandparents divided their farmhouse and shared living quarters. Jim taught school for a while. Another job he had was selling Encyclopedia Britannica. Eventually, they made the decision to move to Merna near Angie’s downstate family. Angie’s father had died years ago. Her mother lived alone in the big brick home.

Mrs. Gould taught in the schools. They decided to share that home. There was property the other side of the rectory. Jim and Angie made plans to build a home on it. My Dad purchased a tiny travel trailer to provide for his and mother’s needs and spent many days visiting them in Merna, helping with the building project. There is story here for Jim and Angie to share. Years later a tornado swept through and St. Patrick’s Church went down. What a great loss this was!

JoanMary, Michael, Kevin, Robbie, Patrick, Johnny Sullivan and Bonnie Fall 1960

Johnny Sullivan Looking Happier in this Lower Photo and JoanMary

We knew the window of time when we could live in this old home in Winfield was limited. The owner would sell whenever the right buyer came his way. Before this could happen I found an ad in a paper for a home in Orland Park. Never heard of this place. It was South of Nalco and a bit West, about a 20 minute drive. Wouldn’t it be nice to own a home of our own. Other MMC Alumnae were no longer renting their homes. We’ll just take a look. We all rode down to do joust that. This was a small home set back on a rise with 3 Acres of property, one mile from the parochial school with St. Michael’s Church standing atop its little hill. Mr. and Mrs. Nail, the couple selling it were elderly. We could live at this property forever. Together, and also with Stewarts' help by cosigning, we worked out a deal. The home sight was great. We had nice road frontage with a rear yard which extended far back to a subdivision of homes behind. There were a number of these large properties on acreage similar to ours lined up in a row on West Street. Beyond our neighbor to the South was a cemetery as the road turned west. We could have our ‘3 Acres and Independence’. We made plans to move in. There were only two bedrooms in this home, a master bedroom and another. The crib could be in the 2nd bedroom and our little girl. The boys would set up living quarters in the basement. Actually, it would be private for them. Problem with the home was Mr. Nail, when building his home, had somehow delayed in spreading the fresh concrete basement floor when the cement was delivered. The floor was very wavy-- extremely odd. There was a sump pump, not unusual in Chicago area, in the SW corner which we could use to pump out the water from the basement when it rained very hard. We left our Winfield home.

I have received Jim's story in his own words: “Angie and I had been engaged since Thanksgiving of Nov. 1958, and therefore had arranged to have our wedding prior to my reporting to Fort Bliss. Weddings weren’t allowed during Lent in those days, so our wedding was set as Easter Monday, March 30, 1959, several days before our departure to Fort Bliss. Upon receiving my degree from DePaul University, Chicago, IL I had been commissioned a 2nd Lt. in the U.S. branch of Air Defense Artillery [Missiles], formerly known as AAA [Anti-aircraft Artillery during World War II]. We set out a week later knowing that we had to get there allowing for time to find a home , get settled with some household goods and groceries from the Post PX [Post Exchange and Commissary], to accommodate us at least thru the next 4 months, the duration of the Air Defense Officers Basic Course.

It happens that Ft. Biggs and Biggs Air Force Base are both directly adjacent to the east side of El Paso Texas. Housing [Billeting] for students at Ft. Bliss was not available on the Post, so we immediately scoured the El Paso newspapers for rentals, which the locals were only too glad to provide as an additional source of income. Since rentals were in continual demand by military personnel flowing into the area, we felt fortunate to find a duplex high on the side of a mountain, NW side of the city, overlooking sprawling residential and commercial areas across the valley below, toward the Mexican border city of Juarez, just across the Rio Grande River.

Angie found it somewhat strange to be such a distance from her closely knit Gould family, but adapted quite advantageously, by obtaining a ‘substitute’ teaching position, though in a noticeably different Mex-Tex environment. She drove me to the Post and then on to her assigned school, where I was able to hitch rides around the Post with a classmate from De Paul who was assigned with me.

My days were usually spent in air-conditioned classrooms. The Nike Missile System was quite technically involved, and hence required 4 months of mostly in classroom study, culminating in an actual missile attack on a radio controlled aerial target, RCAT, some 50 miles N of El Paso, at McGregor Missile Range, adjacent to White Sands Proving Grounds, where the atom bomb became operational thus ending WWII with the Japanese. Our class was divided into 2 teams. Each was to prep, fuel, arm and fir a Nike Ajas Missile at an RCAT launched on the Range. We as team members were assigned to Acquire [Acquisition Radar], Track [Target Tracking Radar], Launch [Missile Tracking radar] the Ajax Missile to shoot down the RCAT over the New Mexico desert. Luck and skill was to be ours that day, as my team succeeded, while the other team did not get a “Kill”. However there was no victory party back on the Post - a “Kill” was simply doing ones job.

On 4Aug59 [to use military date format] after completion and graduation, Angie and I were resolved to shut down housekeeping, pack up, close out bank account, and so on, and drive through the Texas/New Mexico desert that night, to escape the hot sun. We arrived in OK as the sun rose next day, and with it the most sweltering heat/humidity we have ever experienced - no A/C in ’53 Ford. Without sleep we succumbed to the droggy, groggy conditions like 2 wilting morning glories. We managed to move onward to the OK MO border town of Joplin, MO and the Mickey Mantle Motel, where we more or less collapsed. Next day we completed the trip to Merna, arriving at 6 or 7 PM for supper and night’s rest, before continuing on to the farm in Hebron, IL. I had chosen to take 10 days earned leave time, while we re-acclimated to the thought of the 2 year assignment at 45th Air Defense Artillery Brigade in Arlington Heights with the Chicago Gary Nike Air Defense. It was indeed great to be back in familiar places.

Late 1958-59 Winfield

2012-02-04T14:25:00.003-07:00

Patrick James Stewart

Patrick is attending Kindergarten this Fall. This is his school picture. Patrick is 5.

We watched the construction of a building as it was being erected on the vacant lot adjacent to our rental property. This would be Bowie’s Hardware. Once the store opened from time to time we’d find 4 year old Kevin missing. He would make frequent trips to the hardware. The owner and operator, Mr. Bowie, seemed to encourage this little fellow’s visits. Kevin would just freely drop over unannounced. Kevin seemed to like people and would want conversation and a closer relationship with them. Bruce built this very large sand box in the yard, near to the house for the kids. The sand was very deep and lush. They loved it. There were no fences anywhere on this property.

One afternoon, when the creek running through the adjacent property just to the south of us was swollen, Michael was found missing. Michael loved nature, the creek, the plants. I searched all about, could not find him. Water could truly frighten me. There was no fencing separating our property from the creek. Eventually, he did show up. I made him go to his room without any supper. Wasn’t this a discipline parents might use? The night seemed extra long for me. I felt he needed to learn and to set an example [always Michael’s job] for the others. I felt sooooooo mean. I felt awful. Did the punishment fit the crime? Would not talking and sharing have sufficed? How about the first time just a teaching/learning experience. “I was so frightened-------” I don’t recall we had any solid rules about the creek. There were railroad tracks running through town less than 2 blocks away beyond the grocer. We had rules about that.

BaldwinAcrosonic Piano Gift From my Parents

Mother and Dad gave us a piano as a gift. Seems that small spinet mother had in the Chicago winter apartment, they had now given to Elayne. Because all in our Irish family must be treated equal dad found a very nice spinet piano for me and had it delivered to our home, a fine Baldwin Acrosonic. We set it in the front room. I took time out every so often to play sheet music. Seemed to be restful and reinvigorating. My mother did the same with her Grand. The pattern was easy for me to imitate. Patrick reminds me that with our very own piano I decided to teach him some piano lessons. We gave Amy my piano in 1999. Since then she has taken lessons. Her sons Brendan and Caidan have also taken lessons.

Around this time my cousin, Florence Collins married Bob Carlson and wonder of wonders they moved to an almost adjacent town of Warrenville living in a rural country home, a Craftsman style. Florence loved the living in the country idea. I have a hunch the reality was something different. I saw her as I had seen my mother, a very displaced city gal.

Bruce and I were active in our new parish, St. John the Baptist. We were able to pick up our work with CFM once more which we had been absent from for a year. We had a chaplain available and very willing to be involved. Fr. Liko was a Hungarian refugee who had undergone extreme hunger and outright poverty. He told us he even was reduced to eating rats. He was so well liked within the parish. His sermons were great [in the 60's we'd call them homilies]. He shared with the families that at Baptism Hungarian children were given a group of Saints names as these saints were said to be guides for a child to help keep him/her on the path to Heaven. This is the root of the multiple names we gave babies born after Robbie. We had about 4 CFM groups in the parish. Back in these days it was customary to have a chaplain at meetings. Happens there was a Franciscan Seminary nearby in West Chicago, a village close by Winfield. These young Friars dearly loved to join with the young couples at our evening meetings. They needed to be home before the doors locked them out. Frequently they would overstay evenings and need to climb into their building through the windows. We cherished these young men and their participation.

Michael, Collie Puppy, Kevin, Robbie, Patrick, Joan, Bruce, MK-------------------------------------------------------

One of our Hebron visits we discovered Bruce cousin’s children had a Collie dog recently giving birth to a litter of puppies. We drove in their yard and asked if we might take one home. We chose our Bonnie. She came to live with us in our home. This was a first for me on how to house train a puppy. With persistence, support and advice from friends I succeeded within a month. This was one more job for mother to do which I had no need of. I love dogs. She was a joy and beautiful.

St. Patrick's Church Merna Illinois

1959 March 30 Jim and Angie married in Merna, IL. We drove down south to Merna, adjacent to Bloomington in Peoria Diocese, with all the family, for the marriage celebration. I recall so little for we were consumed with tending our family. Just to be present was an undertaking. The Gould family was a Merna establishment, actually. Angie’s parents’ home was beside St. Patrick’s Catholic Church, a lovely 2 story red brick home, with the rectory on the other side of the Church. Just down the road at a right angle was the Church Cemetery where many from Angie’s mother’s and father’s families had been laid to rest. Also, the community sported a Post Office, a tavern. This was a farming community. Farmers raised wheat and soybean crops which was a more leisurely occupation than the dairies up north. Farming was seasonal rather than day in and day out caring for cattle. There were at least as many relations here as Bruce had in the Hebron vicinity; extended family living all about the countryside.

Robbie at Play on a Favorite Perch

As I described our house sported of great screened in back porch. We frequently ate meals out there. Little Robbie seemed to particularly like to crawl up onto the table and play. Perhaps it was its proximity to the out of doors, the openness to the larger world, the fresh air. The older children were often out in the yard.

Patrick and Robbie

Robbie Steps Off

Johnny Sullivan I Year Old

Joan and Robbie Visiting

My extended family had a very sad experience when Tom and MaryAnn Kerwin’s 2nd son, Joseph Gregory, just over 1 month old, died a crib death on March 17, 1959. Some time after MaryAnn and Tom visited us in Winfield. I shared my condolences with her as she shared her story with us. Perhaps it was not so for her but for me it was an intimate morning, like we’d never had the opportunity previously and would never again. We had so much more in common now being young mothers and our backgrounds so similar. I had a thought I shared with her. I guessed that if blood in the breasts could become milk perhaps at the Consecration of the Bread it could become flesh and blood. Well, at least I was trying to figure out in my own mind the meaning of the teaching ‘transubstantiation’, trying to make sense out of our childhood teaching. Yet I was not considering the big difference one being a natural process and the other unnatural. We talked of family and went on to talk about how we might use our education.

1958 Robb Joins the Family

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Dr. Gregory White, GP, Comes to Our House

Dr. Gregory White was now our family doctor, GP. Greg was cousin Maryann Collins Kerwin's brother-in-law. He delivered their 1st born babe, Thomas More Kerwin at home. He has a reputation now. Women are requesting he deliver their babes in their homes. So Greg was known as the home birth doctor. He was on the staff at Loretta Hospital, too. We decided to asked Greg to come to our home for delivery. His office was in Franklin Park which was nearly 20 miles away and took more than 30 minutes to drive. Even so he generously consented. The afternoon, June 18, I began to have labor pains which were moving steadily along by 4 PM, dilating hard by 5:30. We called Dr. Greg who came promptly from Franklin Park to our house on Springfield Avenue. It happened conveniently to be a Sunday. I have notes: “Daddy bathed and fed the children stew, had them brush teeth and assemble in the living room totally absorbed in a Disney story." Dad, Dr. and I were intensely involved in birthing, in our bedroom just north of the living room. All the doctor requested was a pan of boiling water- no needles, no medications. Greg and Bruce were having such a nice visit. At one point in time Greg said to Bruce, “Would you like to catch”? Today Bruce gets so elated as he describes this moment. He saw this hairy scalp and in just one more instant this babe was in his hands, in his arms.He had experienced the miracle. By the time Disney had ended we had our lovely baby boy laying beside me on our double bed. Robert after Robert Stewart his paternal grandfather and William after his maternal grandfather. He was lovely and beautiful. Nobody rushed in and removed him from my side. They lay Robbie on clean diapers across my chest. After a bit of cleaning up Daddy, cradled Robbie in his arms, and carried baby Robbie out of the room to share so the children could have their first look at their new, baby brother, Robbie. Today he shared, “This was an ecstatic experience such as I had never experienced previously”. Upstairs neighbor, Mary Eckstein, was taking care of JoanMary, 17 months old, in her apartment. These are the notes I saved: “Daddy changed her, gave her a bottle in her crib, heard the boys say their prayers all in 11 minutes and was back to assist Greg. Baby looks like everyone in the family-- Kevin’s lower lip, Michael’s mouth, Pat’s dark hair and nose. He’s very bright eyed and alert from first moment’s entrance. Nicely filled out, chubby hands particularly. Put to breast immediately which he took to quickly and vigorously sitting in our rocking chair in the living room. Slept well the first night in bed with mother and daddy. Bruce and I had announced babes arrival over the phone to grandparents. Noisy airliner passed overhead just as Gran and Granpa were called causing us to raise our voices and Robbie sounded off for his grandparents. Mary Eckstein visited before Robbie was 1 hour old. Robbie slept well all day being wakeful and fretting from 2 to 3 in the afternoon. Grandmother Bergin and Uncle Jim visited for a couple of hours. Bruce did grocery shopping, washed clothing all day long, prepared meals, changed and cared for his 4th son, mailed insurance policy, cared for the other children. Mother brought chicken soup, asparagus, chiffon cake, and fresh strawberries. Children asked so many questions. Brought in visitors to see their new brother. Robb’s cord fell off in 3 days following an uncomfortable period as it became so dry and stiff as wire rubbing his tender skin when on his tummy.”

Robert William Stewart A Few Hours Old

How Big His Newborn Clothes Seem to Be on His Tiny Body

Our little Robbie suffered no trauma at all, neither did I nor his father. Would this ever be so again?
Here is a clip of Mary, Greg’s wife saying it like it was:
“We always said, back in those days, that the three main obstacles to successful breastfeeding were doctors,

hospitals, and social pressures. I think the desire to breastfeed was always there along with the conviction

that ‘breast is best.’ We were not promoting a product that people had to be convinced about. But very few

young mothers knew anything about the ‘how to.’ Women had forgotten the wisdom of previous generations.”

By the time LLL came along, new mothers did not have the support of family or friends, let alone

doctors, nurses, and hospitals. Mothers who tried to breastfeed on their own in the early 1950s were almost

destined to fail.”

We kept the bassinet tight to our bed where Robbie spent his nights sleeping and in our bed when breastfeeding. This was great! Gave me rest I could certainly use. Absolutely no problems at all. The secret of success all along had been in approaching all as natural physical phenomena. June 29 he was baptized at St. Brunos Catholic Church just 2 blocks from our house with Tom Sullivan and MaryAnn Kerwin, godparents.

Then a month later Johnny Sullivan was born July, 1958. I know Elayne would now breastfeed her baby though I do not know what guidance she used, perhaps it was with the League as well.

They were living in a small southern Illinois town, Worden.

One of the joys of nursing a baby is the freedom and mobility it provides. This same summer, having the nice Volkswagen Microbus, we decided, as a family, to accompany, Bruce on his annual Air Force Reserve 2-week Tour of Duty.

There had been talk of camping between the Kerwins and us. We had the excuse to just do it.
We purchased sleeping bags, found a nice gas camping stove, cast iron grill, lantern, water jug, ice box, tent, large canvas, and all the gear for family camping. Resurrected Bruce' Air Force nest of pans.

His tour would be at Dover Air Force Base, Dover, Delaware. Once there the Air Force would accommodate family in their barracks. This was a 2-day trip east. Quite an exciting, new experience traveling on the super highway and the Pennsylvania turnpike. First night out was a great initiation. We camped en route, set up tent, ate, bedded down for the night and then it poured down rain. Perhaps, if more seasoned campers we would have done things in anticipation of the forecasted probability of pounding rain and pools of water. As it was we suffered through this long night learning experience. Water was in the tent, around the tent, everywhere, soaked sleeping bags. We parents at any rate spent a miserable night. I was nursing my babe. I don’t suppose the water, the wet, mattered to him a bit. Joan Mary would be whining and the older kids trying their best to cope and handle this awful 1st night out experience.

On arrival at the Dover Air Base we jumped from the bus, free at last. The day was so hot and very humid. The air was filled with mosquitoes hungry for blood. We carried our stuff down a long barracks hallway to our given quarters, totally dejected. How would we survive as a family with the little children in such an atmosphere? Soon Bruce learned from a companion about a lake near the base, though not too close, which had Cypress trees, even growing in the water, which kept the lake and the beach free of those mosquitoes. We took advantage of the opportunity to camp there while Bruce commuted the distance, 50 miles, to and from the base. What seemed some kind of hell turned into a great follow up camp experience, much preferred to what the base could offer. The water was brown but Bruce learned quickly it provided a wonderfully refreshing swim following a hot, muggy drive. Not only were we free of mosquitoes there was a built in play ground for our kids and all this nice, warm water to play in. Another memory here at the lake was the barrels of water filled with live crabs cooking over campfires. The crabs were moving about in the boiling water, bouncing their shells against the metal barrels as they were being cooked live for folks’ dinners. This was our camping initiation to be followed by many in coming years.

Back home again on one of our family Sunday excursions out of Chicago into the western suburbs in our quite new VW Microbus we came to a small town, Winfield. On the hilltop stood this picturesque, red brick, St. John’s Catholic Church with a steeple, with bells. A creek ran through at the foot of the hill. The town was off the main drag. The site was like a drawing on a greeting card. Further along Church Street at the corner of Beecher Street, we spotted a For Sale/ For Rent sign on a 2 story, aged Victorian, frame, asbestos shingled covered, home. Upon inquiry the owner was agreeable to renting this home to a family as large as ours. He was anticipating in the near future when the property sold the dwelling would be destroyed and replaced. All of us were delighted. Not only a church and school in walking distance but a 2 story home, nice screened in porch for cold and rainy days, huge yard, green trees in a lovely, quiet town with the whistle sounds of a commuter train passing through at intervals. Made for this family. We immediately initiated a move to Winfield, IL. Our 1-year lease with Mr. Soprich on Springfiled Avenue was about to expire. We would not renew. Much of our life in this town would revolve around this Church.

This was Fall of ’58. Dad would take turns in carpool to Nalco with a couple of their very willing employees who lived westerly.

Late '57-1958

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Dressed in Sunday clothes at Nalco's Open House

In the Fall of ’57 we moved to 4505 Springfield Avenue far west within the city of Chicago. This was an easy commute to Nalco Chemical Company where Bruce was then employed.

Almost unheard of with this large family we were able to rent a brand new home, 2-flat, located within the landing patterns of the airplanes arriving and taking off from Midway International Airport. Was grand to be living in brand new space, suburban almost. We bought a tan naugahyde hide-a-bed and placed it in the bare living room. Soon we bought some Bates bedspreads which I cut and hemmed for the large picture window to close us off at night from passer-by view. Gran said, “Truly, you don’t need those drapery for it would be wonderful for folks passing to look in on such a nice family”. We found we needed some privacy. There were 3 bedrooms. Joan’s baby crib was set up in the middle room with the old army cot for Michael to bed down. The other two boys were set up in the back bedroom. The home, newly constructed, had a large yard without any grass or landscaping, though white picket fence between neighbors. I brought my iris rhizomes from the university and planted them beside the back door.

Patrick and Kevin with Trikes

Patrick and JoanMary at our Front Door

Baby JoanMary and Bruce After a Walk

JoanMary 1 Year Old and Walking

A young family mom, pop and two children lived in the upstairs flat. The oldest, a girl, was Michael’s age and attended same school. Mary Eckstein and I got along fine. This Mom showed me a picture of herself dating her husband. She was slim and gorgeous. Already she had gained weight and sort of dowdy. The dad was a Flight Controller at Midway Airport. Never did forget how she would wash every one of their bath towels daily as is done in motels. These homes were in a Polish neighborhood; all homes so neat and tidy. Michael attended first Grade now. Sunday Mass was said in Latin, of course. Some Masses had sermons in the Polish language.

Michael is in 1st Grade- Attends St. Bruno's School

This is the time I commenced planning meals ahead for the whole week. We initiated the birthday celebrations with pizza and cake to simplify those special days after a few more bustling and complicated ventures with chicken dinner. Our washer and dryer were in the basement as were the neighbor’s machines. One of Chicago’s spring rains flooded this new basement. Homemakers found clothing still required ironing. On one of these ironing deals my iron tipped off the board and hit the floor scarring the kitchen’s nice, new linoleum. I felt awful. If only it were pieces of tile. I used to put the three boys in the tub in the bathroom while I fixed our supper. I’d pour in some Ivory liquid which made so many bubbles. They never tired of these times. They'd spend an hour or more in the water having a super time while getting clean bodies. The result after many months was we discovered a problem with the plumbing leaking behind the tile and some pink tiles were coming loose. Don’t remember the room having a fan. A new house can have building flaws. Our landlord, Mr. Soprich, lived in an identical 2-flat next door.

Christmas Some of the Stewart Clan Watching TV at RW Stewart's

Patrick, JoanMary [I year almost] Michael, Kevin

No women drove vans. Station wagons were vogue for the boomers. With our micro-bus [van] I was able to attend a few of the monthly meetings with the 49ers, Mount Mary College Alumnae living on the south side of Chicago. I felt embarrassed driving the VW as it seemed like driving a truck. Women didn't drive trucks. We took a few Microbus trips to our old stomping grounds, the Science museum. There was little to interest us in the surrounding neighborhood. Children spent a lot of time in the backyard. Or out front on their trikes.

The next upcoming event in our Bergin family was Elayne’s wedding to Tom Sullivan.
Ready For Bed- Michael, Kevin, Patrick, JoanMary on Auntie's Lap
Tom’s mother and father invited all the family to a reception in their honor at a swanky Illinois Club in the Chicago loop. Mr. Sullivan, Sr. told me, “Anyone could tell you’re Irish. You have the map all over your face”. This is the first occasion I had too much alcohol to drink. Drinks were freely available. I always enjoyed drinking the foam from beer mugs, rarely tasted a wine other than Mogan David, a very sweet red wine. I enjoyed this evening and was faced with all kinds of fancy, hard liquor drinks. And they were free. I was woozy all the way home. And, oh, the headache all the next day when my services were required to carry through my busy spouse/mother routine. This was a learning experience, indeed. I hate headaches. Why would I ever again acquire one deliberately? Uh-uh. For me this was a good learning experience. From this moment on I would control alcoholic usage as my father patterned for us.

Mary and I kept an appointment at a dress shop to have our red, satin dresses fitted. We would be Elayne’s bride matrons.
Priscilla Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Sullivan Michael
Elayne and Tom were married at St. Joseph’s, in Richmond and had a lovely reception in Woodstock, IL. Once more we had most of our cousins with us, aunts and uncles.
Elayne Bergin Sullivan, MaryKay and Mary [dresses were red satin]
Following their wedding they took up residence in Alton IL. The senior Sullivans lived there as well. This city is just outside St. Louis, MO. I suppose the winter passed easily being milder IL winters down state. Come Spring and Summer Elayne began to complain about the heat and high humidity in the south. Perhaps she was lonesome for family as well. Was quite a trip to come home.

Jim stayed with us, for a short period of time while attending college. He was dating Angela Jeanne whom I said attended the same college my sister-in-law, Mary, attended, and Jim having met her through Mary. She had all the pre-requisites for satisfying my parents, Irish, Catholic, College. Jim writes- “Mother and dad relinquished the studio apartment on Wabash and Chicago Avenues upon Elayne's marriage in Oct, '57; and returned to the farm, leaving me to your hospitality, sleeping on couch in front room and studying in basement. Your kids listened to Captain Kangaroo mornings. I was with you until Spring semester ended in late May of '58. Then on to ROTC Summer Camp mid June to early August. Then worked for dad completely painting the barn including the highest portions that had never been more than oiled. I was compensated with Mother's diamond ring [this ring mother inherited from her Aunt Maime] which I had re-set at Wolfe's Jewelers in Woodstock as Angie's engagement ring presented over Thanksgiving as I recall.
I remember those many evenings when Jim joined Bruce and me lingering at the kitchen table. The children were in their beds. There were a trying few days when JoanMary, was having the usual growing up rejection to bedtime. She was in the room adjacent to the kitchen and would not settle down. She was training me to continually return to her and offer solace. Finally, with the guys fortifying one another and me, we decided to just let her ‘cry it out’. Eventually, she would settle in. So awful for me to just sit there, outside her door, and listen to her sobbing. At LONG last she stopped crying, in exhaustion, I think. We passed this hurdle.
JoanMary Loved to Rock
JoanMary loved to be rocked. I’d pick her up onto my lap, cuddle her, and we’d sing the songs from the fascinating nursery rhymes from our Luther record. Especially fitting was ‘Little Betty Blue lost her holiday shoe. Now what would little Betty do? Give her another one just like the other one, then she can walk in the two’.

One day Michael came home from St. Bruno’s school with red blotches forming on his skin throughout his whole body. He caught the 2-week measles. We put him to bed as he slowly recovered. The other children would catch the measles from him.

Michael Brought Our First Contagious Disease Home From School
JoanMary Gives Raggedy Ann a Tight Hug
Alas! I was allowing La Leche Womanly Art of Breastfeeding to deeply influence me. The founders of La Leche League were seven mothers from Illinois who had breast-fed their own children and were motivated to help mothers who, for a variety of different reasons (often related to social expectations and misinformation) had difficulties with and questions about breast-feeding. Sound familiar? Marian Tompson and her friend Mary White began with a conversation about the joys and difficulties of breast-feeding while at a local church picnic in August 1956. They each invited other friends to join the discussion; Mary Ann Cahill, Edwina Froehlich, Mary Ann Kerwin, Viola Lennon, and Betty Wagner. These women are considered the founders of La Leche League.
Dr. Herbert Ratner [director of public health in Oak Park, IL] and Dr. Gregory White were invited to meet with these women and advise the group about medical aspects of breast-feeding, leading them to access the small amount of medical literature about breast-feeding then available. By the end of World War II, most women bottle-fed their babies. At the time of La Leche League's founding, the breast-feeding initiation rate in the USA had dropped to 20% of babies. I’m wondering now what the successful rate was. Well, I’ve shared with you up until now a play by play account of one woman’s trial and error experiences. Mine. Case rests. LLL over the years since grew to be the world’s foremost authority on breastfeeding.

1957-8 Family of Six

2012-01-22T11:19:00.001-07:00

My Parents worked out a plan where they came into Chicago to spend each winter. Mother and dad rented this downtown studio apartment on Wabash and Chicago Avenues. Jim stayed with them as he attended De Paul University. We’d take an elevator to a floor high above the street whenever visiting.

I have this newspaper clipping, Nov. 1958, One of Seven Cited at De Paul Univ.‘Recently cited as one of De Paul University distinguished military students, James K. Bergin [left], Hebron, is congratulated by Lt. Col. John G. Lucas, Professor of military science and tactics for the university's army ROTC. Bergin and the others were honored for their excellent grades, leadership abilities, and participation in extracurricular activities’.

3 Brothers at the Beach

Times parents would be in Chicago in the summertime. One instance my father let me use his Ford to take the children to the beech. I had known how to drive a car since I was 16, hadn’t I? I put the children in the car ready for a swim at the very nearby beach on Lake Michigan. We weren’t required to use seat belts or kid car seats in 1957. Joan Mary would have been safe in the Boodle Buggy. Michael remembers this as we reminisced recently [2011] though he was 5 then. I drove away from home just fine BUT as I approached a first stop sign my foot reached to brake and the kids went flying forward, bumpety bump, hitting the windshield, hitting the front seat. Surprise! We were all shocked. Dad/Grandad hadn’t realized I drove only with stick shift. I had absolutely no experience driving an automatic. I practiced to and from our outing, often nearly repeating this hazard.
Baby Sister JoanMary Enjoying the Beach, Too
We had this yellow, one ring wading pool which we could put outside the front door in the grassy piece beyond the sidewalk. We’d fill it with water early morning to warm in the sunshine. The boys often drew onlookers from the neighborhood as the three played pretend alligators and such.
"If only there could be room for all"
3 alligators stir things up
They enjoyed their trikes, too. The sidewalks were safe to use, the street traffic fairly quiet.
Kevin Has Learned to Ride the Blue Trike
JoanMary is Right in There With All
Have I mentioned the crew cuts? The boys and dad had crew cuts using the clipper set we bought to master the job. Just a continuation of Air Force regulations far as Bruce was concerned.

We often pushed the carriage through the U of C campus, especially enjoying the park-like quadrangles with its bustling students. We were alone so much while our daddy was studying in his big books.

On another walk we’d frequent the park grounds, the flower gardens near the lakefront. Many, many times we’d walk to the Museum of Science and Industry. This building was set up for kids hands-on. They loved it. Dinosaurs, even. There was a visit into a coal mine exhibit. Take an elevator which seemed to go miles down into the earth. Then we’d see the miners, the coal cars, picks and shovels. Way before Disneyland. Another display was real fetus in jars of formaldehyde which showed the stages of a fetus maturing in the womb. Oh! And the library. How we enjoyed the library together. My close friend in college, a literature major, Phyllis, had gifted me with the book, Miss Hickory, because she knew I loved Children’s Lit. All the encouragement I needed. We found these great books in the library, brought home the best, with pictures and story, and read these over and over. Other families were reading Little Golden Books from the Supermarket. Our trips together were so exciting. Many of our selections had won Newberry [Johnny Truman, Rabbit Hill, Strawberry Girl, The Door in the Wall],and Caldecott [Many Moons, Make Way For Ducklings, Song of the Swallows, Time to Wonder, Madeline’s Rescue] awards. Remember A Hole is to Dig and Mike Mulligan and the Steamshovel, ‘Jumjills’? There were many books which didn’t win awards but wonderful books to read aloud over and over and over again. What treasure we were exposing ourselves to culturally. Satisfying now that there wasn’t a huge smorgasbord of children’s TV to have shrunk our reading time. I struggled learning about nurturing babies but I surely thrived on nurturing the minds of toddlers.

Above Michael and Patrick, JoanMary in Carriage, Kevin on Teeter-totter

Once as we were returning from an adventure down on 63rd street we came onto this man walking towards us. He inquired if the 4 were mine and when I said yes he spat at us. Michael and Patrick were beside me and Kevin sitting in the boodle buggy with baby Joan Mary. How could he know how much I loved my job. I never did describe this buggy. The boodle would lift off the carriage wheels which could be stored in the automobile’s trunk and the boodle set into a forward space in the rear seat, holding the baby. Once on a similar walk on Kenwood I met a mother with a child in her stroller whose body was whole but totally without a mind or physical control, vegetative. How sad. How unfair it seemed to me. She showed so much love for this child. I loved having our family and we loved our many excursions

together.

I enjoyed fixing the meals and baking the cookies and cakes and the little helpers beside me. There was generally a second wind for me in the late afternoon after nap time. I made most of their clothing, even the snow suits.

Our Unique University Transport
Another CFM Symbol
Without the Chevy Bruce found it expedient to resurrect his old scooter, from Air Force Cadet days, to get around the neighborhood. He riveted a metal basket on each of the 2 sides. These baskets had multiple usage. They carried the milk and groceries. The boys could stand up inside these side baskets when taking our trips.

Mary and Dick Davis took this picture of all six of us one Sunday as we arrived at their 3-story home in the old Hyde Park neighborhood for a visit.

We enjoyed our once a week get-together with CFM couples.

We enjoyed our once a week get-together with CFM couples.

Wonder of wonders, Mary had a dishwasher! Yes, a machine in her kitchen to wash dishes. Bruce took Michael to school everyday on this scooter when he was 5 soon to be six coming Christmas. All six of us attended Sunday Mass each week at St. Thomas More Parish adjacent to the University. Sometimes I attended Newman Club and certainly enjoyed their intelligent conversations and talk of YCS activity.

There were semester breaks, holidays when Bruce would drive his small scooter at 45 miles per hour all the way to Rockford, IL. where his university contact, Roy, also earned income at Pierce Chemical Co. He met Roy’s family who lived on a farm, like his ma and pa, enjoying their company and they his. He stayed overnights with a bachelor he met employed at Pierce, Jim Sullivan. Jim drove a mercedes, I recall. Bruce would return home driving 45 miles per hour, full throttle. He says he kept up that little engine in top notch condition.

Both Michael's, Patrick's and Kevin’s daddy and grandfather Bergin were as much at ease in the kitchen or anywhere else in the house doing what females do as they were in the yard or shop. Our boys had superb models. Was there anything females do which was forbidden them?
TinyTearsDoll @ Christmas

I almost forgot to share the story about the boys receiving a gift doll for Christmas before JoanMary's birth. My intention, they being boys, should know as much about nurturing as females and other than watching adults there were ways to learn. They now had this popularly marketed doll named 'Tiny Tears’. One could feed it water and it would wet it’s diaper. Joan Mary was a girl, our girl. She had these three brothers. She kept right up beside them. She would join in those times of robust play. She had little trouble keeping up. Sand play, climbing, cars and trucks, balls, rough house, frontier men, whatever she was right there among them, keeping up. She was handling her place in sibling order just fine, thank you. Her daddy was treating her much like he would treat the 3 boys. My problem-- but, but, but she’s a girl. She wasn’t following in my imagination footsteps. She wouldn’t even think of putting on a fake Raggedy Ann smile. She could scream, yell, keep up with any male child. Could she ‘sit on a tuffet’ and a spider frighten her away? Heavens, no. I thought we had a problem. Much later I learned it was my problem. What is a woman-- a real woman? She had so much to teach me. For myself there were mostly these conflicting feminine ideas in my head. I could also rough house with any brother or cousin or neighbor. My problem was mental, was idealistic, was cultural. Patterns. Even Blessed Mother Mary was presented lop sided. Would she shoot baskets? They even said her child wasn’t born like mine, like any animal giving birth. Was the ideal woman to be sexless? There was a lot my daughter and I were going to learn together about being authentic females and we’d make great strides before this century ended. I’d seen habited nuns who came out on the playground, bunching their skirts and rolling up their sleeves to join a ball game at recess. And they were good, too. Their dribbled balls were sent through hoops, too. Could females be more than nurses or teachers or mothers with many children?

University Chemistry Department was conducting student interviews as possible employers of graduates. Bruce participated in a few of these. One of the interviews was Boeing in Seattle. We discussed this prospect, moving to the northwest, leaving extended family behind. [Similar to my family’s move to N.Y. or to Boston before the farm was purchased]. My mother certainly was apposed when she found out we were entertaining this idea. Bruce would have been hired. Also, he was interviewed by Nalco Chemical Company located far west side of Chicago. They had a great package to offer their employees.

We each were finding living as family students was becoming mighty stressful. Though Bruce wouldn’t graduate this June.

When Nalco offered Bruce a position though he wouldn’t graduate this June he nevertheless decided to accept Nalco’s offer. They were satisfied he would continue to work on his degree and delay, for a time, his graduation from the University of Chicago.

We bought a ’57 Volkswagen Microbus, German manufacturer, a very innovative automobile for the times, sliding door, 3 seater, tiny engine, no heater for cold days. No one drove vans. Station wagons were vogue for the boomers.
Picture Stewarts took of their son and his new car at 'house on the hill'

It was unusual for any make auto to have air conditioning, but no heater! This seemed a perfect car for our family. The scooter had served us well. Now was the time to move on.

1957Baby JoanMary Joins the Family

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Bruce met a fellow student who was practicing photography. Because he knew Bruce had a family he asked to come to our student housing and take some pictures. These are some. There are more.

Kevin Paul 1 year old

Michael 4 Kevin Patrick 2 1/2

Daddy With His 3 Sons

Add Mother- The Whole Family

Bill and Mary, our teacher couple, planned on a June wedding in 1956. After their engagement I recall Mary and I talking together in Mother’s kitchen at Tullybrackey, as she was anticipating what it would be like to be married. We discussed many issues sitting on the stairway off the kitchen. This time I shared that the bedroom is the most important room in one’s home so keep it a nice, pleasant room. And always take baths before bed. Well, at least I was sharing the sexual relationship a tiny bit, wasn’t I, turning away from those Victorian days of yore. Movies continued to show married couples sleeping in twin beds and rarely do we see them bathing. Many the times things in my family were discussed on the same back stairway off the kitchen. What stories it might tell.

Mary Couglin had been employed in a classy dress shop in Harvard, her home town, for some time, perhaps from high school days and while attending Edgewood College in Madison, Wisconsin. She planned a nice, vogue wedding. July 21 [Our father’s birthday]. We took time out for the lovely wedding at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Harvard, IL followed by a reception at Lake Lawn in Delavan, WI, a neighboring community. After marriage Bill and Mary lived in a rental apartment. Perhaps I drove dad’s Ford for I clearly remember visiting Mary in their apartment in Arlington Heights.

Mary and Bill at Wedding Reception, Lake Lawn, Delavan WI July 21, 1956

Mary and Bill Honeymoon in Florida

I never knew the precise story of a time when my sister met Tom Sullivan. They were at Marquette. He was an only son and had like Elayne spent some time in a novitiate. My hunch is they were dating about this time.

Fr. Terrell, now friend and our chaplain for CFM, knew of a Specialist. Could have been a red light, a Catholic Doctor educated in Catholic Universities. Terrel had advised me to visit him for he would give me information on my female sexuality which I had questions about. He delivered all his patients at Mercy Hospital, near south side. This situation seemed right for me. I couldn’t see how I could manage the Quincannon/Harvard situation again while living afar. I had a small family to care for and no one was going to step in and rescue me. Then 4 or 5 months later I was delighted to be pregnant once again.

Mary planned on taking care of little Kevin for a few days to give his mom a bit of ease which was well received. Mary seemed to enjoy Kevin’s visit. As the early childhood teacher she set about teaching him little things. I recall her telling me how she had him place his small shoes together, side by side beneath his bed so they would be right there for him to find in the morning. My hunch is he had good care and didn’t miss his family too much.

La Leche League had been birthed and I had some contact with my cousin, MaryAnn, now married to Tom Kerwin. She was among the initial women founders of League.

LLL Founding Mothers Cousin, MaryAnn 3rd from left

I am older, 29. I’d already birthed 3 babes. I’m thinking I know much more about this than my younger cousin. [Dumb, dumb, dumb- this is the help I’d been wanting]. I think Thomas More Kerwin was already born. Yes, November 1955. In this League photo above Tommy is standing in front of MaryAnn and she is holding the next child on her lap. She tried to steer me toward the information they had learned thus far. I had almost reached my due date so I convinced myself I could manage this time quite well thank you. I totally dismissed the vital importance of contacting this sharing community of moms. I’d read Bundesen’s book again. I’ll pay attention to things I hadn’t previously. I had my small 4 ounce bottles with the special covers. I would use them only when the baby seemed unsatisfied. I would see no purpose in using anything but cow’s milk for supplement if I needed to, this being a dairyman’s child. I simply cannot recall ever having cans of Carnation or Pet milk around the kitchen. Our husband, wife pediatricians later wrote out a formula for us using Pet Milk. I found this in my baby notes. Day of delivery arrived. I was in a large room with many beds, dormitory style. When I advanced to proper dilation I was brought into delivery. City doctor knew no more than country doctor. These doctors were not inclined to share their methods with young moms either. We never talked of choice of delivery, of anesthetic. This was my specialist 5 years later using similar methods from which he hadn’t grown from. Unlike Quincannon, this specialist gave me an injection or something similar and I went out like a light. Most likely the same treatment I received from Dr. Forrest. I don’t recall much pre-labor pains. [Again like Michael Moore described]. Much later I awoke. I was told I had a lovely baby girl and all was well with her and with me. When would I see her? I planned on breast-feeding and my doctor knew this. Eventually, in the morning, they brought our baby, Joan Mary, for me to hold a bit. A girl. If the baby were a girl this was our chosen name. I should have been overjoyed. I was directed to put her to my breast for a short interval. After which once again the baby girl was whisked away to a nursery. Four hours later they brought her to me again. This was specialist care?? Even my duckling, Hunker, followed me the moment he hatched from the egg. Nature connects child to mother and mother to child from the moment the offspring draws its first breath. Was my baby saying, ‘Who’s my mother’? As they say in LaLeche doctors are not taught in medical school. This was crazy-making. Whatever medication I had to remove pains seemed to have an effect after birthing as well. It is truly hard to believe. I felt alone, sad, confused, awkward with my little girl and vice versa. Did she know me? In nature the young know their mother. We were separated. We know now both she and I did not ‘bond’ immediately.

She required that initial physical warmth perhaps to a greater degree than the previous babes since I would be dividing myself among the four children. This was a step backwards, not forwards. How could she know? I experienced none of that holy elation I’d experienced with Patrick and Kevin. Rather I teared up and cried. I never had previously done this. Is this what describes ‘the baby blues'? Oh, yes, America surely needed a La Leche League for mothers, for babies, for father’s, for families. Once again I missed out. What could have or should have transpired simply did not. And yet to this day our Catholic Church doesn’t get it. Few instances do I see the young family’s needs being tended to. My opinion is they haven’t a clue what is even needed. There is no dialog, no listening. Oh, yes protect in the womb and I certainly agree. Then what? This is where many of the answers could be found.

My breastfeeding situation dwindled in no time. Giving cow’s milk, which I ‘smartly’ used as a supplement when Joan was yet hungry, it turned out was easier, quicker for her to become satisfied. League calls this interval ‘supply and demand’. I was supplying her with cow’s milk not mother’s milk and in no time she was weaned. Joan Mary cried much more than the boys, it seemed to me. I had to shun the idea this was so because she was a girl. I believe now the straight, rich cow’s milk, with it’s higher proteins and fat, was difficult to digest and very often left her extremely uncomfortable as with Patrick. Besides she must share her mothering time with three big brothers.

Children in these barracks seemed to pass infections backward and forward, round and round, especially through the cold, damp winter months. The number of times strep infection surfaced was incredible. Kevin would have these atrocious head colds. I can see him sitting in the high chair in misery. Its a wonder they didn’t become penicillin immune. Another thing about Kevin is he would wake up in the night. Pat used to do this. I would go to awakened Patrick, pick him up from his crib, stand there and cuddle him, coo to him. Got so he liked this and required that I stand there in the darkened room, tending him until he tired. Each time I tried to lay him down he’d come wide awake. We had established a habit. So when Kev began his wakefulness I just kept the rooms totally dark. I’d take him from his crib. He’d wander around and often after quite a while, 1/2 hour, 1 hour, he’d eventually figure out nothing interesting was going on so he might as well return to his bunk. Far better habit. And he soon outgrew this phase.

Gran Stewart in Conversation with JoanMary

JoanMary and her Daddy during House on the Hill Visit

We celebrated every birthday with small clusters of the neighbor children living in this compound. I routinely made applesauce cupcakes piled high with butter cream frosting. We had candles, sang Happy Birthday, blew them out, played children games, and sang ditties from Romper Room all together.

Kevin with Friends Play in the Sand- Cheri, Greg, David

Patrick and His Friends Ride Their Trikes on Kenwood Avenue

Kevin, Michael, Patrick Seated on Park Bench on Midway

I called this trio ‘my ragamuffin boys’.

Things were getting tough for this family. Boys are very hard on their pants knees. I was constantly patching them and passing down patched pants. Crew cuts made things easier. And canvas shoes were preferable to the white leather they wore which needed to be polished Saturday nights for Sunday wear or even their scuffed blacks and browns. Suspenders solved the belt problem. Hippie clothing wouldn’t be vogue until they were in their teens. Holes in socks and clothing were no-ons, were shaming. These societal requirements contributed a great deal to our stress. I was so proud of our boys and struggled to have them look their best out among the populace. Sometimes, as above, getting outdoor and going places, doing things was priority. How I love our little boys! Gran would say, ‘Precious’. What’s not to love here seated on this public bench?

Dec. '54 Kevin Paul is born

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I was expecting our third baby in December following our move to Chicago. We had made plans that I spend the last week or two in Hebron so I might continue doctoring with our family Doctor Quincannon. I did this. December 10, 1954 with labor pains begun, I found myself again in that nice, small-town Harvard Hospital. I would be given something to dull the pain but remain awake when the baby was born. It was known popularly as ‘twilight sleep’. Same as for Patrick’s birth. It was always given as an injection after the birthing process was well advanced. Supposedly it saved a woman some fierce pain as the baby was birthed. I surely had been saying my rosary and kept it with me. What I recall so pleasantly about Kevin’s birth was being attended by nice people. At birth I saw my son immediately for I was wide awake and in those moments I never, ever felt closer to God. This was a holy, a spiritual experience. This child was holy. This I knew. Much, much later I would recall this same experience and know for myself, within my own conscience, that babies are not born with original sin on their souls. They rather are born into a sinful world and catch onto sin like the measles. Kevin’s birth experience taught me this. Being awake at this birth was precious. Of course, as Catholic children we had always been taught Mother Mary was born free from sin, the only one, ever. And Joachim and Anne were very fine parents, obviously. Kevin was lying there on the birthing table with his red hair, a pleasant surprise. In short order he, too, was whisked away as I describe for his brother, Patrick.

Might be due to Kevin being a No. 3 son perhaps. He had lots going on in the room at all times with his busy brothers. So much to watch and to listen to and to be shared with. I said, “He’s such a good baby.” He was so easy to care for and rarely cried unless with a need. We had simply a supply of Playschool toys to challenge, we had balls, blocks, things to stimulate imagination, books, a TV schedule. Teacher on Romper Room daily suggesting activities for tots. We had a pile of sand in the yard, trikes, wagon. They were an active and very busy group together, one constantly challenging the other. Real true, healthy companionship here.

Kevin Paul Stewart- December 10, 1954

Kevin, Patrick, Michael- Brothers 3

Kevin propped up in baby swing

We attended St. Thomas the Apostle Parish all together on Sundays. Here we met Mary and Dick Davis and quite a few other couples through CFM, so active in the city of Chicago. We met our 1st acquaintance with a mixed race couple, almost unheard of. Fr. Terrell was our moderator, a young, good-looking, vibrant diocesan priest. The Davis' met in service, World War II. They married. She never had a wedding ring. We joined with them in CFM.

The Davis’ had 2 adopted grade-school aged children. When they visited they would roughhouse with the our boys- too much. Actually, they could be rowdy. Bruce restored his green scooter from Air Force days. We used this vehicle now for our transportation.

Mickey Mouse Club began in 1955.

The program was a sensation with children.

Who's the leader of the club

That's made for you and me

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Hey! there, Hi! there, Ho! there

You're as welcome as can be

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse!

Forever let us hold our banner

High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song

And join the jamboree!

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse club

We'll have fun

We'll be new faces

High! High! High! High!

We'll do things and

We'll go places

All around the world

We'll go marching

Who's the leader of the club

That's made for you and me

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Hey! there, Hi! there, Ho! there

You're as welcome as can be

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse!

Forever let us hold our banner

High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song

And join the jamboree!

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Patrick with Ball and Michael with Shovel

Ballad of Davy Crockett Was a popular film which we watched as a family early Sunday evenings for it ran as a Walt Disney serial on black and white TV. Grandparents Bergin bought each of the 2 boys a coonskin cap made of genuine raccoon. My, those caps were a hit. And pioneer shirts to match. Show starts out-

Born on a mountain top in Tennessee

The greenest state in the land of the free

Raised in the woods so's he knew ev'ry tree

Kilt him a b'ar when he was only three

Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier Words and music: http://kids.niehs.nih.gov/lyrics/davy.htm

Put on your coonskin cap and sing- all together now.

USAF Captain's uniform similar to his

Bruce kept up his service in the Air Force Reserve National Guard. This was another source of a bit more income. My, how handsome daddy looked as he took off early on a Saturday once a month. The uniform was dashing. And our favorite color, blue.

Bruce tells the story of one time the hospital lost some some very potent isotope encapsulated in metal needles. A number of these were lost at Argonne which was a Cancer Research Hospital. The search was on immediately. The needles must be located before harm is done. They searched everywhere and eventually Bruce found them in a trash bin. The doctor who misplaced them was extremely grateful. He promised to deliver our next baby free. We did have our own childrens’ doctoring from a husband/wife team, pediatricians though, whose services a number of our student family neighbors used. They needed to keep up with their baby shots. The boys were often treated for strep throat. I was doing Jack La Lanne exercises from the TV show each morning. I had asked the Doctor if this was OK or advisable. He said ‘no problem’.

About 4 months into this pregnancy I began looking for signs of movement in my womb. The pregnancy had begun to ‘show’. Alas! I began to ‘spot’. Bruce didn’t know what was happening when I contacted my doctor and checked myself into Billings hospital. They put me into bed and examined me at intervals. At one point a nurse came into the room to examine all around my belly. She exerted a bit of pressure here and there and left the room. I asked that they let my husband know where I am. They did. He arrived. Said I looked fine. I shared with him that nobody was talking to me to let me know my progress. It was then he was informed I had miscarried. Nobody had said boo to me. I certainly was confused. Eventually, I returned home and remained in my bed a while. It is here that I had Fr. Terrell, from St. Thomas the Apostle, pay me a visit. I shared how I kept the guilt with me all these years of licking the jam off my fingers in 3rd grade while fixing my breakfast followed by receiving Communion, [after Vatican II we would say after receiving the Eucharist] because I feared my 3rd grade nun. He said this had been OK. I held on to this scruples for a long time!

I was scrupulous because I was a scared child. In retrospect we know as little children we were taught too much of a fearsome, punishing God, not a unconditionally loving God, of our human tendency to be bad, and surely in dire need of forgiveness. I wrote a long, mean letter to this Billing’s doctor putting a lot of blame onto him. I know he didn’t deserve this. Yet, I do feel I was entitled to explanations, to play by play description as to what happened in the hospital. I never received a bit of consultation from him or from the hospital personnel. What had they done with the fetus? How had they disposed of it? Had anyone baptized? In retrospect, as I hadn’t been feeling motion since sometime after the 4th month this tiny heart must have ceased beating. What puzzles me is how little education was around the entire human sexuality all my life. Nobody talks, instructs, shares. Yet it is what humans do.

A lovely, welcomed letter arrived in our mailbox from my godmother, Auntie Flo Collins, mother’s sister, in which she shared the feelings she had following a miscarriage. I didn’t feel so isolated and alone afterwards. She had empathy--been there and done that. She was there for me. I always thought I would meet my child I hadn't known in heaven. I think Auntie did, too. Now I don't truly believe this. I had a couple of other loss of fetus' which I believe most certainly didn't have souls. Would it be God's plan to have innocent souls pass from the body to a field of shit when flushed down a toilet? Uh-uh. The only cure I felt that was available to me following my disappointment and to put my feelings behind me was to get pregnant once again as soon as I could. Couples following World War II were having large families. Before marriage Bruce and I kept referring to a popular book, Cheaper By The Dozen, Often we’d say we’ll have a dozen. We were on our way. Society referred to this as ‘the baby boom’.

Cousins: Judy w/ baby Kevin, Gene, Priscilla, Michael, Polly, Patrick, Sue

Gran writes- 'I dressed Kevin in his father's hand sewn romper'

December 9, 1955 Granpa Stewart's Birthday w/ Lisa and Priscilla

Moment has arrived to speak of disciplining children. Time of baby Kevin’s birth we parents are 28 years old, 3rd child. Educational Psychology class in College had wised me up a tiny bit. From the beginning I leaned toward the Bruce method. I judged him as experienced having older nieces and nephews. There were times when I wanted a child to behave as I wished. Earlier I referred to my parental upbringing which only once included a slap from daddy. Other than that there was the ‘dusting’ routine, the cannot yet forgive you routine and the responsibility for health of my father. When Bruce used a quick slap on the behind I thought it quite effective in the moment. Seemed so clean-cut and then it was over with. I adapted to this as ‘head of the house’ pattern. So now this is what each over-used in so many ways, even like hurry up, get the show on the road. Overdone I believe. Then I recall those times at the University when I would take care of a problem I might have with Michael or Patrick or Kevin. I’d sometimes heard a women say, “You just wait until your father gets home.” I thought that a foolish attitude for a parent to want to scare the child who would wait all through the day in anticipation of father’s return bringing punishment. With the spanks I, mother, could take care of behavior problems as they came up throughout the day. There was a catchall to this which took me years and years to wake to this repetitiveness Bruce and I engaged in. Here’s how it went. I would take care of a problem. After my hubby was home a while, sharing the days escapades, I would invariably share a child’s misbehavior that day tale. Hearing this Bruce would get the child, scold, and spank. The child was twice punished. And a lingering thought from college was that a grownup looks like a giant to a child and when punishing can be fearsome. Here is another area in parenting which needed instruction. The other automatic, 'trigger' word used today, was to do as one’s parents did with you which probably wasn’t informed, not healthy, picked up from parents’ parents. Our intention, at least mine, was to do the job of parenting better in our generation. Another thing I abhorred was the shouting at children by their mothers. Being in the midst of families with small children one could hear mother’s rather constantly yelling out orders to the children. I promised myself uh-uh. I won’t do that. I am not a ‘fisher-woman’ as my mother used to label such.

"July '55 Michael climbs the leaning wealthy tree", says his Gran Stewart

Patrick wants up there, too, Gran

Michael and Baby Kevin at Tullybracky

Michael cooling off at Tullybrackey- Tub is sure familiar- Private yard

We invested in a hair clippers. Came in handy . Bruce cut boys hair and I his. These children are beautiful!

1954 University of Chicago

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A postcard shows the Midway running east/west between the University and our married student housing. The Meridian greenbelt had been the site of the 1934 World’s Fair. Now it is just a greenway or park area. Crossing the midway we'd cross a street onto the grounds to the beautiful quadrangles and Rockefeller Chapel.

We moved some of our belongings into University of Chicago Married Student Housing, a big name for the 2-story army barracks. Ours was on the corner of 61st Street and Kenwood Avenue. These were located across from the University, on the opposite side of the Midway. The barracks were wood, clapboard construction without insulated walls so they could be cold and drafty. Beside each front entry was a large mounted oil drum with a spigot. University kept it filled with oil for heating needs.

On my approach, I take a few steps in from the sidewalk up onto a small, wood, porch where the front door opened into an enclosed stairway to 4 apartments, 2 down and 2 up at the top of that stairway. Our living accommodations were on the 1st floor. As I opened the door on the left I stepped into what was to be our living room.

Opposite side of this room was a wall which divided that space for a children’s bedroom. The boys would bunk in here.
Here is a picture showing the two at the ages when we left the farm and began our new life chapter. Their bedroom furnishings included the military bunk beds. Patrick would continue using the crib for a while and eventually graduate to the bunk.

At the far end of the living room stood the oil heater which we were to pour oil into its rear tank from 5 gallon pails using a funnel, much like the one my family had when we moved to Tullybracky. To the right and beyond the living room was our kitchen and pantry. There was a gas stove for our cooking needs, space for a refrigerator beside the kitchen window, which we bought new. A kitchen table and chairs stood at its edge. We were able to put the Easy washing machine in the pantry space and eventually a clothes dryer, a new household convenience soon on the market. What a help this would be for me. Sharing that square footage to the left was our master bedroom and a bathroom, toilet bowl, sink and shower stall. Included were 2 matching mahogany dressers, very solid construction. We kept them with us after University life and at one point in time they were painted. Our daughter, Joan, kept the same dressers with her and painted them blue. You will find them in her home today. There were no closets. We purchased a clothes rack. I would keep the children’s clothes in a tall moving storage box, especially as the seasons changed. Also, the boys would continue to grow into and out of their clothes. Many would be hand-me-downs from cousins. We found a cheap, used, rather large, awkward, flip down couch to double for occasional sleeping and placed it, too, in the living room. The floor covering was red linoleum. How it did shine when freshly waxed.

The walls and floors were not very sound proof. Especially disturbing were June Oak’s heels cliquey-clacking on the non-carpeted floor above. She rarely retired early.

To dry our laundry I carried the baskets from the front door [no back doors] out onto the sidewalk, around and behind our building to the green area, set up with poles and lines for each family.

I soon found at times the soot was so bad that it dusted the clean laundry. Diapers were gray/black. I believe Chicago hasn't that severe a problem any longer. We had to deal with it. Drier not installed for years yet. This picture shows well the rear of the barracks with its escape back wooden stairway and our upstairs neighbor Diane Grinches. These were the terminating years of the ‘Baby Boomers generation’. There were many small children living here, only a few of school age.

We dried laundry on Clotheslines

The barracks were in a black neighborhood. Most housing, save a few University buildings this side of the Midway, were now black ghetto, even the adjacent apartment which overlooked our yard. If I would walk to 63rd Street, just a few blocks south I’d find a very busy shopping district with many people walking the streets, mostly black. We had a stripped down vehicle for the children to play in and out of, and a set of swings. Old truck can be seen in the swing set picture's background.

Michael Bruce on ladder

Eventually, we came onto an old TV set, our very first TV. We painted it black. We used it for controlled viewing. Children watched Romper Room and Captain Kangaroo and Miss Francis on Ding Dong School. I read recently Miss Francis was to one generation what Fred Rogers was to the next.
Dancing Bear, Captain, Moose, Mr. GreenJeans

Bruce had his old desk beside our bed. This was his desk from up in his farmhouse bedroom, softwood, 2-drawer file drawer, painted yellow when he was in high school. Joe had used it. Otto had used it. We kept it with us. He also kept his turntable we used to play records, especially Luther’s Nursery Rhymes. He’d be deep in study into early morning hours as I, in my night’s sleep, lay in the bed beside him, an arm’s reach away. We’d often have a problem in the daytime if dad wasn’t at school for he’d want to sleep. These quarters were tiny, and the boys were up, of course. It was tedious for us trying to keep the noise down. He’d complain sometimes about the ‘noise hurting his ears’. I discovered many, many years later this wasn’t just a complaint. After years driving tractor with so little engine muffling , his ears had been affected. He had Tinitus, or ringing in his youthful ears. Eventually, at one of our housing meetings it was arranged for the entire barracks to practice quiet hours from 1-3 each afternoon which helped.
Patrick gets a push from Patsy White

MK on swing w/ringers

Camera shot is looking north across the Midway. Through the trees one can make out the University campus. Not much greenery close in around me. Merely a play yard and laundry lines between 2 of the barracks.

Bruce had met a few friends in his Physics class who roomed together, one being Roy Oliver. We will meet up with him later in our lives. Bruce found some study time away from home with these young men. [Source of black-eyed pea soup recipe] He was able to get a nice part-time job at the Argonne Cancer Research Hospital, University of Chicago searching for radium leakage, which paycheck helped with our groceries. We did most our shopping at the CO-OP in the Hyde Park neighborhood.

Bruce and other students in a lab class

My brother, Jimmy, had always loved uniforms since the time he was four years old when he ‘marched around the breakfast table’. I told you of this early in my story. This inclination he had seemed to influence him eventually to leave Marquette University and enroll at Annapolis. To do so there were a string of requirements to meet. One needed to be accepted and referred politically. With all prerequisites met, in July, 1954 Jim left for Annapolis. Before we knew it he was home again. Reality proved nothing like his youthful dreams.

I drove to Hebron to visit Otto by myself. We drove all around the area as we visited together. He was about to return to Germany. I had to find out if he had been OK living with the Jacobsons. Some lingering guilt, no doubt about it. He seemed so happy and content. Shortly after that visit he did leave for his home in Germany. We kept corresponding by air mail.
North School Arlington Heights, IL

My brother, Bill, was teaching a while in Arlington Heights where he met Mary Theresa Coughlin in her second year of teaching, now teaching 1st Graders. First year Mary taught Kindergarten at Park School where Angela Gould was teaching her first year. This is how my brother, Jim, met Angie. In the near future brother Jim and Angie would marry. Mary and Angie would then be sisters-in-law.

Michael and Patrick in Stewart Yard

Sometimes we drove to Hebron to visit family.

Patrick and MK canning tomatoes
This picture has a memorable view looking away from the house, across the green lawn with the beautiful oak trees, and into the large orchard. I am pregnant for I am wearing baggy clothes. Cannot see what I am doing though Patrick appears interested. The black pot is on the picnic table along with empty Mason jars to preserve tomatoes via hot water bath method.

1953-54 Patrick Joins the Family

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Bruce had heard of a machine which could be installed in a silo to scoop up the silage and throw it down the shoot. Such a machine could be helpful. Following up with further study we took a drive to Madison, all five of us, one day to do research with the manufacturer. I remember the salesman coming to the farm with further explanations. Eventually, the decision was made to have the unloader installed. And so it was. Now began an interim of constant troubles, breakdowns and repairs, repeatedly, until one could say it was the bane of my husbands existence, distressing, extremely annoying in all our lives.
The senior Stewart’s had been active in Farm Bureau, Home Bureau, Rural Youth, 4-H Fair, County Fair. They were friends with the head honchos, Mr. and Mrs. Sweeney [guests at our wedding]. We kept a subscription to Successful Farming Magazine. These were some of the resources farm families used to keep abreast of the ever expanding dairy farm business.

Uncle Art's Tank Milk Truck about first of its kind

Once before I mentioned their herd was registered, purebred. They were members of the Holstein-Friesan Association. Found this description to share:

Holstein Association USA is the largest breed organization in the world, comprised of members who have a strong interest in breeding, raising and milking Holstein cattle.

The Association staff maintains the parentage, production and ownership records of Holstein animals. In extensive data files, we have maintained records and ancestry that trace back to the original 8,800 Holstein animals that were imported to the U.S. from the Netherlands during the period of 1852-1905.

The 284 dairymen who signed the founding charter of the organization wanted to preserve and disseminate useful information and facts about the Holstein pedigree. They strove to identify desirable qualities and distinguishing characteristics of the best of the Holstein breed, and to promote and communicate these to other dairymen to help increase their business success.

Holstein-Friesian cattle originated in Europe over 2,000 years ago and were the result of the mating of black animals of the Batavian tribe and white animals of the Friesian tribe.

Books were kept up to date on each animal’s extensive lineage and identification. As an animal came into heat Stewarts would send out a call to the artificial inseminator to pay a visit to Franelchar and do his thing. The sperm was kept frozen in a sperm bank. They were members of DHIA, Dairy Heard Improvement Association. Monthly a man would visit spending two days testing the herd at morning and evening milkings.

My Mother and Dad, the Bergins, had been doctoring in Harvard with a Dr. Francis J. Quincannon. After our experience with Forrest we decided to give Quincannon, GP, a Catholic doctor, member of St. Joseph's parish in Harvard, our business. He was great. A doctor anyone could love. I was visiting him periodically with Michael for baby shots and checkups. Almost nine months passed when I began making monthly doctor visits for I was pregnant once again.

On May 30, Memorial Day 1953, celebrating the holiday, we were spending the day visiting my mother, dad, and family at Tullybrachy. It was the hottest, most humid day I ever previously experienced. I could hardly breathe. In the afternoon I began having labor pains. Bruce drove me to the Harvard Hospital which was a white, wooden clapboard, 2-story structure, a home. Yes, this hospital looked like some family’s home. The people at the desk, other personnel, the nurses, all were friendly and welcoming. I felt I was in good hands. The pain intervals were inconsistent. Quincannon gave me a dose of castor oil and in no time my body was responding. Patrick was born on this Memorial Day holiday. I was awake at his birth. I saw his thick head of long black hair and blue eyes. I called him ‘my little Indian’. They whisked him away to the nursery and me to my recovery room.

I have a little blue card saved:

Name Baby Boy Stewart

Date of Birth May 30 1953

Time of Birth 10:24 PM CST

Weight 7 lbs. 10 0z Length 21

Doctor Quincannon

Special Data Room 29

Even this doctor we admired had given me only a little booklet for mother and newborn. There was a single paragraph on breastfeeding. Position for feeding the baby. When nursing the baby it is best to sit comfortably on a low chair or stool, leaning slightly forward. In order that he can breathe freely when nursing, the baby should be held in a semi-reclining position with his head well supported on the crook of your arm. After nursing, the baby should be held upright for a short period to permit the escape of air he may have swallowed. That is all!!!!!!!!

I was concerned that as I increased my intake of whole milk, more liquid which I thought I’d be drinking to help me succeed in nursing my babe, I might put on weight. So, I told the nurse to bring me tea. This is how I initially commenced drinking tea. I never before had tea even though I saw my mother brew her tea again and again day in and day out and search the tea leaves for a story. To this day I don’t drink coffee. We were a milk loving family. Probably in retrospect tea was a good idea as the milk from the Franelchar Farm was anywhere from 3.2 to 3.5 butter fat. And we drank it whole. They brought Patrick to me every 4 hours, because they knew I would breastfeed. Otherwise one might not see one’s newborn baby that often. We didn’t have a name immediately as we did for Michael. I believe two days passed when we made our decision to name him Patrick James. James, we thought sounded great with Patrick and besides it was my brother’s name. All in all, save for the heat, this was by far a better birth experience. Why aren’t parents taught?

One of these days, while Patrick and I were in the hospital R.W. fell down and broke his hip. After about five days Patrick and I returned to our home.

My plan to breastfeed Patrick soon fell away. Caring for Michael and my regular household chores overwhelmed me. Once again no one I knew was doing this to share information with, to find support. I still understood very little about a woman’s body responses after giving birth, not much further informed than for the 1st birth. I kept learning the hard way. It was haying time right now on the farm and I was expected to have meals ready for Bruce and Art Galt. Grandpa, who was usually a great helper, knowing all the ropes, was incapacitated and Gran in these early days of his affliction was totally occupied in recovery care. Bruce foolishly said to me, “There are women who drop their baby, and go right out in the fields to work”. I believe this statement showed his exasperation over the size of his dairy business commitment. And now I probably couldn’t be counted on handling my end of the business very well. I awoke one morning, and while Bruce was out in the barn I took the children with me in the Chevy, drove to a tiny grocery store in Greenwood, a few miles down the road. There I bought some cans of Pet Milk, brought them home and challenged myself with how to use this milk for baby Patrick. I had a dozen 4 ounce baby bottles and a clever new nipple just came on the market supposedly most resembling nursing. I planned on using them for orange juice and water. I didn’t know nothin’. I didn’t have anyone to tell me to wean Patrick gradually. I quit cold because I had a screwy idea that the breastmilk not taken would curdle or sour. My breasts became hard and sore as the dickens. I went around in pain for days, doing the meals, chores, caring for the babes. La Leche League was years in the future.

Baby Patrick James Rests Safely in His Playpen

Recovering, I got through the early weeks and life went forward. We bought a pasteurizer to use our dairy milk. Years later I realized that the rich milk we drank needed to be cut, diluted, for an infant. I never asked our Doctor and he assumed I was breastfeeding. Patrick was being fed whole milk. I believe he was often distressed but did survive. To this very day he enjoys his daily 4+ glasses of milk in spite of such a rich early introduction.

Michael Was a Big Brother in 1954

Josef received a lot of enjoyment reading novels written in English. He was steadfast to improve his English capabilities.. Found this challenging. His ’52-’53 year was ending. Bruce would miss this guy. They seemed to understand and respect each other.

Woodstock Train Depot

The scheduled day arrived when we took Josef to Woodstock where he boarded the Northwestern to Chicago to meet up with the others in his group. Arrangements had been made at least once early in his year with us when Joe’s extended group, spending their year in American homes, met together in Chicago and shared the experiences they encountered with their host families and in their various high schools. They’d meet once more now as they gathered for their return trip across the seas. We felt sad to be losing our son.

There’s an important memory I have from this stressful time. I recall holding Michael in my arms, the two of us standing in the kitchen doorway with Bruce, when something I said or did exasperated him. He spoke loudly to me. I looked him in the eye and said, “You speak often like this to your mother and to your sisters but you are never, ever to speak like this to me again”. Sounds emphatic, doesn’t it, like I am nipping something in the bud? It didn’t work.

We had asked, early in Springtime, while Joe was with us, for another student for the following year, ’53-’54. We were accepted once again as host parents.

Otto Schweins

Our next student is Otto Schweins, tall, lanky, brown hair, blue eyes. Not at all like Josef. We would expose him through this year to similar experiences. Otto wasn’t as willing a worker, much more the student and socialite. He made many, many friends in town and often had night’s out with buddies. I would say perhaps he and I had a better one on one relationship, he being more an extrovert. He had a sweetheart, Hedi, back home. We found out much later in the year that Hedi was pregnant and Otto was the baby’s father. I believe this was revealed the day he received the announcement in the mail that he had a son whom Hedi named, Michael. That day he was shaken to his very core and had a need to share his information with us. A year later the two married.

Bruce and Otto Engaged in Fieldwork

I received another letter from my sister, Elayne, in May shortly before Patrick’s birth. She was aware of the upcoming birth and had everyone in the convent praying that all went well. She sounded so secure and dedicated to her new life. And yet by Fall of ’53 she was living in a sorority house on Highland Avenue as House Mother and taking further classes at Marquette University.

Jim entered Marquette as Freshman in Mechanical Engineering. He shares that he would meet with Elayne once a week in what was then the new library for an afternoon of study together.

Michael Almost 2 Patrick 4 Months

This portrait was taken before Patrick could sit by himself My hands support him behind the blanket. Patrick received a Christmas gift from Germany, an infant size blue, knit, cotton, one piece, suit. It had no closures for diaper change so I only used it on special occasions.

Patrick, Robert Wright Stewart, Michael

Before New Year’s Eve 1954 the Woodstock Sentinel came to the Stewart ‘little house on the hill’ and snapped photos of Michael and his grandpa and of the two boys, Michael and Patrick , 6 months old, and Grandpa beneath the ‘wag-on-the wall- clock set at midnight. The Sentinel intended to use this photo to welcome the New Year, 1955.

At Tullabrachy we see this picture of Patrick in the little wicker child’s rocker and sitting in front of a bridal wreath in blossom, 10 0r 11 months old.

He loved it when his granddad Bergin placed him up high into his large, empty, wood floored farm wagon. “What do you say, Corky?” My dad loved to talk to Patrick nicknaming him Corky. No one else did this. I can see the conversation going on here.

2nd row- Marcia, Michael, Mark, ?, Patrick, Polly,
Roger top left

An extended family gathering in Gran's and Granpa's back yard. Patrick not very happy without mother but then neither does Mark seem engaged. We continued our activities as referred previously. An abundance of daily contact with family on both sides continued.

Grandmother Bergin and Michael

Those Bridal Wreath bushes behind mother and Michael give this location away!

At intervals we visited Dr. Quincannon’s office for well baby visits and shots for the boys. One Fall visit Dr. Quincannon shared with Bruce what became words to alter our lives, “If you continue working at the present rate you will be incapacitated by your 48th birthday”. Bruce brought this diagnostic news home to share with the extended family. Well, now, this was hard news to deal with; extremely problematical. We had much discussion in both extended families and between the two of us. What could we do? We each wanted him to heed this well respected medical advice. Bruce knew his GI Bill would be terminated in February of ’54. This put some pressure on making decisions. What were his chances of enrolling for the 2nd semester at U of IL, Loyola, De Paul, Roosevelt, Northwestern, anywhere? At each institution the reply, “No. Impossible, semesters were now in session”. His chances were nil. He was encouraged both by my father and brother, Bill, that getting an education was the right thing to do. Gran said she would be very proud of her son attending the University and graduating. Last resort he contacted the University of Chicago. They had the reputation of being more flexible than most institutions. He went in for some testing. He has a high I.Q. and did well on the tests. They agreed to accept him. He enrolled immediately, so not to lose his GI Bill assistance. He would commute on the Northwestern from Richmond from this day forward.

Now what of the farm management? The dairy herd won’t wait. There was no one in the family to take his place. Bruce was the youngest son. Bruce had been fostering a friendly contact with the Ken Jacobson family living in Hebron town. A deal was made that Ken would cooperate with chores all through the week, assisted by Otto. He and Otto grew to know and became fond of one another as they worked together.

But, the only solution for the farm was to sell out all the livestock, machinery, feed, all nine yards. The Stewarts’ made plans for a Spring Farm Auction. Additionally they would need to search for and find renters to farm the land and use the buildings, a capable family. It all happened so fast!

A magnifying glass might aid when reading to appreciate what happened here. Near the bottom of the list I see reference to the Roto-Pack silage distributor. I'm getting tears in my eyes as I type.

Could Otto come with us to Chicago as our son and participate in our new life? I wanted him to. Bruce was more realistic. This was a most difficult transition. When the Jacobson family offered to have Otto come live with them for the remainder of his time here it seemed credible. This would be an exciting venture for Otto. We contacted Monsignor McMannus at NCWC in Washington, D.C. and explained. He contacted Jacobson and was extremely satisfied with the altered plans especially as it was OK with Otto and he would remain in the same town, same school, same parish and with a Catholic family. Of course, Msgr. didn’t know that Otto was a Daddy, out of wedlock. Would it matter?

All the plans went into play. The day for the Auction arrived. The Stewart family let go of their precious, well documented, purebred herd, all their machinery, never again to work these friendly fields of their ancestors, bring in their cattle. This was a turning point for the RW Stewarts, a serious retirement, with strangers living on the property.

It was a shocking, sad day for me the day we moved out. Seems I was unaware of how immediate the general plan would be. As I was removing our belongings down the back stairway from the farmhouse another family was coming up the stairway and into the kitchen carrying in their belongings. I experienced them as intruders in my home. I hadn’t time to weep, to let go of, to grieve over. I was leaving behind the three years we spent in the family farmhouse. Gone. We move on.

Patrick will celebrate his 2nd birthday with all his newly acquired little friends whose daddies are students just like his daddy at the University of Chicago.

Hedi and Otto Schweins at home ini Germany [picture received in 1954]

1952-Michael's First Year

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Brother Billy and cousin Tommy shown here the year the 2 were students at Marquette University. This snapshot is taken when they are visiting family at the Morris home on Highland Avenue. Shown in the photo Barbara Morris and Douglas. Back of house looks like it could use some maintenance. This photo taken before Michael’s birth.

Barbara- Bill- Tom- Douglas

Bill will be teaching his first year I think. Tom, enters the Jesuit Seminary.

I have a letter saved which I received from cousin Tom following Michael’s birth and it's from St. Stanislaus Seminary, Florissant Missouri. Postmarked January 3, 1952. '--all those magnificent tributes to Michael the Archangel in the Church’s prayers---- will have satisfaction and significance to all of us now. He closes- ‘Thanks for all you have done for me. We must work together- we’re young and the world is our job. In God and Our Lady, Tom

This is how many young people in our generations were raised. Our job would be to change this world-- we were steeped in Catholic Action. There were those who weren't and this proved a piece of the problem in the next century.

Michael Bruce Posing in his Daddy's Big Chair

Michael Bruce is laying on the maple chairs my parents gave us before our wedding. They have bright red and green cushions which I covered in this blue, black and white pattern. He is kicking his feet lie 'riding a bicycle'.

*****************************************************************

1952- Springtime- Illinois Sweet Sixteen Tournament the Green Giants squad won the IL Boys Basketball Championship. Little brother, Jimmy, is with the squad. He’s 16.

Front row, from left: Coach Russ Ahearn, Ken Spooner, Paul Judson, Bill Schulz, Phil Judson, Don Wilbrandt.
Back row: Jim Bergin, Jim Wilbrandt, Joe Schmidt, Bill Thayer, Clayton Ihrke.

50 years later in 2002 a book, Once There Were Giants, written by Scott Johnson and Julie Kilter was published commemorating this small town high school fete. The story is well told. I selected a few words from the dedication to clue one in. To have the whole scoop you need to order this book from bookstores or on line. I share a couple of reviews to further interest you.

"They'll be writing about Hebron's Green Giants and their 1952 Illinois high school basketball championship as long as basketball is played." -- Rock Island Arg

If I were a coach, a copy of this book would be in my office. Before big games I would draw from some of Russ Ahearn's numerous inspirational "chalk talks" for some words of wisdom. I would also furnish each of my players year in and year out with a copy of the book and insist that they read every word. In short, the book is an underdog's bible. It says that no matter how small a school is or what the odds say, with dedication, a true spirit of teamwork and, above all, endless hard work over many years, any team can achieve greatness. True athletes are made, not born.

-- Mike Dorsam, sports editor, Streator Times-Press (2/16/02]

Hebron had only 98 students, and only 42 boys, at the time it won the state championship. Its opponent in the title game, Quincy, had an enrollment of 1,035 (in only three grades).
Hebron High School consolidated with Alden High School in 1948, so the school's official name was Alden-Hebron when it won the championship. Hardly anyone outside of McHenry County knew or used the school's real name.
Bill Schulz, the 6-10½ junior center who lived on a dairy farm near Alden, had never seen a basketball game until he entered Alden-Hebron as an eighth-grader.
Hebron was rated No. 1 in the AP or UP poll in 9 of the 13 weeks that polls were taken during the 1951-52 season.
The championship game with Quincy was the first ever to go to overtime. It was also the first overtime varsity game that Russ Ahearn had ever coached and that the Hebron players had ever played.
The semifinal games played that afternoon were also televised. The state tournament title game was also televised.
All five of Hebron's starters went to major colleges on scholarships.
Many of Hebron's players honed their basketball skills in a grade-school coal room and in a hayloft set up with hoops at each end.

Jim Bergin

My hunch is what’s described here is my brother Jimmy being intensely coached by our brother Billy on the barn floor since he was 7 years old that he might possess this skill. How to shoot, dribble, pass, run, jump, block, guard, the entire 9 yards of instruction-- not always appreciated. [Reminds me, too, this was another family project as together we laid a new barn floor for the original had rotted through and was dangerous to tread.]

Becoming Giants, a one-hour documentary from Rail//Rowe Productions, traces the Hebron story from its initial success in the early 1940s, through the 1952 state title, right up to the celebration at the 2002 IHSA state tournaments. Included is archival film from the championship battle against Quincy, rare home movie footage of the 1952 Hebron team, and interviews with the players.

This extraordinary accomplishment put Hebron, IL ‘on the map’. If one said one was from this small town, 65o people, northwest of Chicago, anywhere in the state, folks knew the town one referred to. It was extraordinary how the popularity of this incident remained impressed on the psyches of Northern IL folk for decades. The mayor, Lynn Ellison, a cousin by marriage, erected a basketball water tower to mark the unforgettable accomplishment.

Northern Illinois Landmark

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In ’52 I became what would later be termed ‘a stay at home mom’. There was a lot to do in addition to taking care of our new baby, Michael. We were immersed in a family business. Most of which took place out side our back door. Tractors, machinery, salesmen, daily milk truck pickup, all, I’d spy from the kitchen window as the parade would pass through the yard. Grandpa Stewart would drive the Chevy truck to the back door on his way to or from the barn to visit Michael and me.

Michael Ready for Walk to the Barn

Oft times Michael and I would walk out to the barn to visit and while away our time, sometimes visiting before our evening meal. Chores before supper, for Bruce, consisted of getting the barn prepared for milking time. Time would be spent throwing out portions ground meal to each animal. Additionally, he would climb to the top of the silo throwing down large scoops of corn silage and wheeling the feed into the barn where he would pitch a forkful in the front of the stanchion for each cow. The cattle would be munching on their silage and licking up their grain meal, sucking up water from the automatic watering cups. One could hear the pleasant sounds of the stanchion, too, as they consumed their evening meal. Bruce describes it like a crowd noise with sounds of breathing, grunts, movement, moos, licking, slurping water. And later on, during milking process, we would watch the new calves sucking up milk from a pail as they bucked their heads as if being nursed by their mother. Usually music would be playing on the radio. Music adds to a cow’s contentment.

Radio programs I associate with our fledgling marriage and our budding relationship-

The Greatest Story Ever Told originated as a U.S. radio series in 1947, half-hour episodes inspired by the gospel stories. The series was adapted into a 1949 novel by Fulton Oursler, a senior editor at Reader’s Digest. I recall this program coming on about milking hour on Sunday evenings.

Mike Nichols, comedian and Elaine May, comedienne.

Born in Berlin in 1931, Nichols attended a segregated school for Jewish children. His father, a doctor, fled the Nazis by moving the family to New York City when Nichols was still a child. [Elaine]May was born in 1932 in Philadelphia, the daughter of the director, writer, and principal actor of a traveling Jewish theatrical company. She caught the thespian bug early, appearing on stage in the roles of little boys. The two met while attending the University of Chicago, and they first worked together honing their improvisational skills at the Compass Theatre, a Chicago nightclub. Later, Nichols and May decided to take their show on the road. [We knew them from their radio broadcasts.]

One Man's Family

One Man’s Family, the ongoing evening soap of the Barber Family One Man's Family, was heard for almost three decades (1932 to 1959). Created by Carlton E. Morse, it was the longest-running uninterrupted serial in the history of American radio. [Examples of these programs may be heard and enjoyed simply by entering the title into Google on your computer].

I read in our Diocesan Paper the National Catholic Welfare Conference, NCWC, is seeking families to house exchange students from Germany. The students would live with a family for a year’s time and return home. The idea was to enrich students, both American youth and German, with the year’s experience in an American home and school, aimed at bringing an element of peace and understanding between nations. Bruce and I agreed to fill out an application and mailed it in. NCWC was handling the placement of Catholic German students. We were accepted as a host family. The Franelchar farmhouse had a large, bright, very private upstairs bedroom which had been Bruce’s through high school, still furnished, bed, dresser, desk. Our student was to live with us as a son/daughter, participating in the daily structure of the family. We asked for a boy. Bruce would appreciate this teenage assistance on the family farm. We were rather young for his parents. Our student would be able to move about this small community becoming well acquainted with the populace. We had both the Stewart and Bergin families to participate in broadening the exchange. Soon we were clued in on all the details concerning our student, Josef Albrecht, from Bergzabern, Germany, a small town where he lived all his life, his father the town butcher. He experienced the Nazi era, and the struggle of his people through World War II, the bombing, the hunger, lost lives.

Josef Albrecht, Bergzabern, Germany

Joe was a brunette, brown eyes, rather short and sprightly. One of Bruce’s double cousins, Jim Stewart, was operating the adjacent Stewart Homestead following his return from extended service in the US Army. Cousin, Jim, having served in Germany was not the least bit happy about what his young cousin was doing. I suspect there were sentiments akin to his with other townsfolk. In fact, this was the project’s purpose, building, healing relationships. Josef, being from a Catholic family was able to attend church with us at St. Joe’s and came to know this community as well and vise versa.

Big Brother Josef Holds Michael

Joe pitched right in as a son would in doing the daily chores, perhaps better. He was used to working with his father. He seemed happy most of the time, made friends at the high school, loved to read, made good marks, received these weekly air mail letters from home. He had a problem in sweet corn season for the corn repulsed him as at home corn on the cob was food for the hogs. Family would occasionally send a package. I had a similar problem sampling some of his mother’s culinary gifts for they could be strange to me-- I not the first by whom a new is tried kind of person. Today most anywhere in this world people eat and dress similarly. His clothing was definitely of foreign cut, shirts, trousers. He carried his books in a pack on his back. Unheard of. Quaint. We carried our books loosely on our hips. [Many years later all the schoolchildren carried backpacks in the USA.] The war brought nations closer and changed many customs. Josef was an amiable young man and we got along well through the entire time he was with us.

Michael Holds Bucky Cowboy

Christmas Joe’s family sent Michael a gift from Germany, a toy dog, Dalmatian, pull toy, which made a sort of quacky sound as it moved along. Up to this time mostly toys were just toys without requiring skill of any sort, not made to educate. Germany was famous for motion toy production. I was kind of disappointed because educational toys, Playschool, had just come on the market here in America. These were toys that would challenge a child’s physical abilities, not simply entertain. Michael was into pushing things along but not yet interested in pull. One would need to try hard looking for things which might make this family group, Joe, Michael, Bruce and I, incompatible. Josef was very loving towards his little brother. Josef mixed well with the extended family of all ages.

Michael had a favorite toy as an infant. We called the toy Bucky Cowboy. Kind of wore cowboy out.

Cousin Priscilla 5 days younger than Michael

He had a little cousin, Priscilla Eggert, born just a few days after him on December 31. We enjoyed visiting Priscilla and her mother and Uncle Art in their home in town, St. Albans’ Street, Hebron, near the high school, and comparing notes, watching the two grow. Her big sister, Susie, was the little flower girl at our wedding. She also has two other sisters, Polly and Judy, Bruce’s eldest niece, and a brother, Gene. These were some of Bruce’s nieces and nephews who were born when we were in high school and I in college. This is why I always assumed my husband knew so much about little children, was so experienced.

MaryKay, Michael, Bill Fellows

Aunt Sally, Michael, Chuck, Irma, Bill, RW

Bruce had a cousin, Chuck Fellows, a bit older, who lived with his wife, Irma, near Gran’s home Lyons, WI. They were famous for traveling on their honeymoon on a motorcycle. They would religiously drive over once a month on tour to pay a visit to the IL relatives, in their homes. They’d proudly refer to Auntie Beth and Uncle Bob. They had a son, Bill, who was just a step older than Michael. The babes kind of drew us together. We enjoyed their visits and share time, occasionally with a meal. We would return the visits in their neck of the woods. Chuck had built this tiny, tiny home, smaller than a cabin, where they lived in Lyons. Eventually, as his family grew he built a large basement beneath the ground. They lived in the basement for several years as Chuck, with the help of his family, finished the house above ground. He did all the construction in his spare time as he went about operating his father’s dairy farm.

2 Dads- RW Stewart WT Bergin + Susie

We had many Sunday afternoon visits at the house on the hill, too, particularly in the yard as the extended family gathered together. The best visits were when the Whitney’s from Springfield were visiting. Between Bruce and Francese there was a great deal of cigarette smoke to endure. Michael was such a favorite with aunts and uncles and all his cousins, mostly old enough to coddle him. Both families repeatedly said how spoiled he was going to be. Until this generation folks seemed to me to truly concern themselves with the danger of ‘spoiling’ babies. It was in this century much more studying was done concerning children and their families. Society discovered what one generation called spoiling was actually meeting the needs of growing children. And if needs were met the child would grow up a normal and productive member of society.

Bruce and I, on rare occasions, went to a movie at the newly constructed theater in Genoa City. We couldn’t seem to locate a ‘baby sitter’. My mother never volunteered to drive over to our place at night. The times Gran came down the hill she was always so worn-out-looking I didn’t want to ask her again. One time there was this conversation with sister-in-law, Charlotte, in which she concurred, “Yes asking Mom to baby-sit wasn’t OK”. Odd thing, really, as they always had a ready sitter with young brother, Bruce, when they were our age. Seemed rather unfair to me.

I very gradually came to realize I no longer had my high school, college, ability to memorize pages at a time. [In the 1980’s my eldest daughter Joan was dabbling in New Age stuff, when a friend told her something happened to your mother many years ago when she lost some mental ability.] I haven’t a clue the how or why of this just my realization my memory was certainly not what I started out with. Looking back to my loss of blood at Michael’s birth and the slow medical response my hunch is some ability was impaired at that time. I could truly relate to this future diagnosis.

Seems Bruce would get seriously ill every month or so. When ‘under the weather’ there was no one to pitch in to do his chores, could take no time off. All the responsibility to the animals and farm were his. When ill, he kept himself going by taking a trip to visit Dr. Leschuck who lived at the edge of Hebron town, 5 miles away. With or without appointments Hebron folk who were ill could drive to his home and wait on his large screened in porch for the doctor to call them in. Often I accompanied him to town. Leschuck would shoot him up with vitamins and other stuff. With his help Bruce could go back to his demanding work without missing a beat. This man was not our family doctor. I believe the Eggert family used him.

Our Out-of-doors Baby

March 17, 1952 we received a nice letter from my sister, Elayne, having entered the novitiate at Mt. Carmel, Dubuque, IA in which she congratulates us on the birth of our son, Michael Bruce. I was able to write a letter to her occasionally. And she could write to me occasionally. Elayne's letters are hard copy proving we continue to call our father 'Daddy' and our brothers 'Jimmy and Billy'.

Michael loved being out of doors in any kind of weather. As he grew older Bruce erected a fence from the house to the garage which provided a safe play space. There was a gate at the opposite side of the yard which opened into the large apple orchard, with many varieties of apple trees, ripening at differing times throughout the summer months. One must be certain that gate was closed for Michael would just take off through that orchard, tiny as he was. Hopefully, he would head up towards the little white house on the hill, his grandparents’ home. One never knew. For sure he wouldn’t just stand there, he’d travel a distance. A prelude to his later life.

Daddy built a sturdy wood swing support in the backyard. Traveling there in the 1990‘s , the house gone, that swing remained. Michael was the pride and joy of the extended families. For a full 17 months he was the Prince. As my pregnancy advanced I often insisted on Michael walking beside me even though he would prefer to be carried. I was preparing him to become the ‘big brother’ in our family, this being an initial step, or so I thought at the time.
Out of Doors on the Screened in Front Porch

Learning About Machinery

Observing Daddy's Business
Excercising Ins and Outs of Kiddie Kar
Judy- Marcia- Roger- Aunt Charlotte- Jay- Josef- Gene