Sunday, June 21, 2009

Some Folks Who Shaped My Life:

Two young sisters gave special attention to me, 2 years old, and also to my sister, 3 1/2 when my family moved to New York City. They lived in the home next door. We have a picture of our home in Minneola, from the family album, of the 4 of us sitting on the curb out front. 

 I was a sleepwalker for quite a few years. [I believe I passed on this gene to Timothy Stewart, grandson]. During my night walk I would find my parents, they'd give me a hug, and return me to my bed. My mother would often tell a story of the days when she would leave us with a black woman when she and dad went out for the evening. Those nights I would take my usual walk, climb up in this woman's lap, hug and kiss her, after which she would return me to my bed. All who heard the tale would exclaim and giggle or be shocked because in 1929 there was no mixing of the races, or so it was among us Irish. We were not equal. They were our servants. We often had black women come into our home to help my mother, probably up until the time we moved from Chicago to Hebron, IL. Often we were told to wash our hands well after holding coins as they might have been in a dirty nigger's hands. 

The BVM nuns at Gesu GRade School, in Milwaukee impressed me immensely for better and for worse. Sister Jean Allen was a young, beautiful woman who taught first grade. I believe each of us, Elayne, Bill and I, had her for our teacher. But, she is also the nun who put the tape on my mouth and that was a sad, sad tale for me. Then in 3rd grade I had a witch of a nun who also affected me negatively.  We had these beautiful passout sheets with number problems. I loved these. More than one day she pulled my hair, my braids, as discipline. I hated math after that. 

Yet, in the 4th Grade, after brother Jim was born and we moved to Greenview Avenue in Chicago's North side I attended Our Lady of Lourdes 4600 North Ashland Avenue. This was Sister Mary Edgar's class. She was truly an influential teacher for me. We sang songs, put on shows within the classroom. I only have the best of memories of her. And I feel she inspired me. I met her a time on the playground and my chin was down to my chest.I was quite shy by then. She stopped me, spoke to me, and said, " I must walk with my head held high". I can imagine now she would have followed this instruction with something akin to, "Remember you are a child of God, Who loves you completely". And I would have believed her because she represented God to me. 

In 6th Grade I took my teacher, Sr. Mary Barbara's, name for my Confirmation name.

Probably 1941 dad moved us temporarily from the Tullybrackey farm in Hebron to Chicago to attend school. He wanted us to be enrolled in parochial schools for the school year. Had we remained in Hebron for the winter we would have spent the year in the one room Burgett country school. This year I was in 8th grade at Our Lady of Mount Carmel on the very near North side. This was a wealthy neighborhood.I was impressed when several times the Monsignor Casey had his driver pick up us 8th graders in his limo. My best friend that year was Moira who lived a block from us in a house of mirrors. This is what I called it. Her father was a famous architect.We lived that winter in a coach house behind the big house. In this kitchen I spilled the sugar on the pantry floor when making a chocolate cake. My mother was so distressed because sugar was rationed and we had few stamps for replacement.  

Winter of 1942 I would be a Freshman and attend attend Senn High School, which was about a mile walk daily one way. Dad had difficulty renting an apartment because of us 4 kids. He told the landlords, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel that he had 2 children. Then we were told we had better behave ourselves. Our family satisfied their expectations and they treated us warmly. The final weeks each of these 2 years we returned to Hebron and did attend the one room country school. This was a treasured experience for me, 8 grades in one room, with Mrs. Reynolds coping with all through the day, now with 1st grade, and again with 8th graders, pump in the yard for getting our drinks, trees and green grass and chirping birds for recess and lunch hour. Perhaps a Moo or 2.  


 

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Elizabeth Alexander’s “Praise Song for the Day”
Posted: 24 Jan 2009 10:27 AM CST
Alexander did a tremendous job on Tuesday with her simple and brave inaugural poem. She held her own in the company of inaugural poets who include Robert Frost who recited The Gift Outright (1961), Maya Angelou who read A Rock, A River, A Tree (1993) and Miller Williams who offered Of History and Hope (1996).

Praise Song for the Day
An Occasional Poem for the Inauguration of President Barack Obama
by Elizabeth Alexander

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what’s on the other side.

I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

**

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Born Again American



Here's a video which I think you'll like.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Mama Mia

We were able to rent Mama Mia last week and view. We have been awaiting this view since last summer when folks up in Juniper were exclaiming over it.

We viewed it twice. I thought this necessary because after all the exclaiming sometimes I build up an idea and find disappointment because my idea was in error. So I began with this. It is a rollicking adult musical, first of all.

Meryl Streep has a 5 star performance.

What I mostly wanted to share is how I surely teared up with her number near the end. I believe it was "Slipping Through My Fingers". Wow! Just the thought and mention of it! How my girls slipped right on through my fingers. Yes. And it was my sons, also. From where I stand now those maybe thirty years were much to short. Even though the 'old lady after Sunday Mass at St. Michael's in Orland Park' told me love them and appreciate them now for the time is so short', I heeded. I still missed most and this song is the proper treatment of all that was left.

Happy New Year, all of my children. Michael, Patrick, Kevin, Joan, Robb, Chris, Buffy, Amy, Jaime and your lovely lifelong companions and our beautiful grandchildren, all

I viewed this film as an adult musical. I am thinking one needs to have lived a piece of life to see more depth to this artistic piece. I saw the film as a deeply spiritual venture. Adult because one cannot put it into a 3rd grade mentality of righteousness, of sin, of Hell, of guilt. The spirituality went much deeper than that. This was about family and friendships and community, of love lived. Human judgment held no place here. This told a story of how I face my life bravely and joyously, every day a new day. I trust my Creator that I will never be abandoned. How difficult this is for me with my truly large issues! Yet to live so will be a life well lived and the feeling of serenity. Trust. Be my best in sharing human love about me and leave the rest to God, my heavenly father/mother who is with me through all. Will make the rough places smooth. Live well. Appreciate all the gifts of nature I am given.