1957Baby JoanMary Joins the Family

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

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!

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!

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

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.