December 31, 1999
Dear Family,
The least known, most overlooked Nolan is our patriarch, James A. He was
born James A., Jr. on December 31, 1886, and left us on January 23, 1939, a
few weeks after his 52nd birthday. Today is the 113th anniversary of his
birth.
Most of us, his children, still speak of him as "Daddy" . The youngest of
us would say, "Daddy we hardly knew ya."
Mother often spoke of the significance of December 31st in the life of our
family. There would be an open house at 105-11 220th Street to celebrate
Daddy's birthday. Neighbors, clients and fellow parishoners from SS. Joachim
& Anne would stream through the house. My sister Marie recalls that it was
some time before she came to realize that not everyone was celebrating her
father's birthday on the evening of December 31st.
I must confess I have no direct memories of all of that. My memories of
December 31st focus on an annual trek I made with Mother to SS. Joachim &
Anne Church for a New Year's Eve service. Father Herchenroder or Father
Witterholt would read the names of all of those who had died during the year
so that we might pray for them. Marie and I attended a similar service on
All Souls Day this year. Our pastor, Father Lou, read the names of family
members lost during the year, including my brother, Frank. When we lighted
candles and recited appropriate prayers, those New Year's Eve services so
long ago in the old white wooden church in Queens VIllage seemed near at
hand.
Toward midnight on New Year's Eve, we would join Mother and Sophye on the
sidewalk in front ot the house, banging pots and pans, and tooting horns. On
December 31, 1956, Marie and I were newlyweds, living in the small two room
apartment Mother had originally set up for Bob and Shirley. We have a
memorable picture of us with Mother & Sophye, together with my brother-in-law
Jim McNichol and his fiance, Joan Heaney, banging the pots and tooting the
horns to welcome the New Year, 1957. And of course, no New Years's
celebration was complete without herring on crackers, with maybe a bit of
horseradish. We should not forget that my Grandma King's maiden name was
Gleitz.
Though my father had eight children, he lived to attend few of their
graduations and none of their weddings, He never knew the joy of sharing in
the lives of the ninety + grandchildren and great-grandchildren who are his
progeny. Before his own early death he had experienced the loss of his first
wife, Elizabeth; his daughter, Veronica; his brothers Frank and Warren; his
sister, Mary; his mother and father, James A. and Mary; and Mother's
parents, Johanna and Francis King. He also suffered through many bouts of
poor health.
Despite these many adversities, my father had a successful career in the
law, and was a strong and loving presence in the lives of his wife and
children, as well as in his large extended family.
This has been a difficult year for us. We still feel keenly the loss of my
dear brother, Frank who, though he was twelve years older than my father,
seemed, by current standards, a relatively young man, full of life. We were
shocked by the terrible illness which afflicted Stephen Koch.
But there were joyful moments as well, the weddings of Frank's and Kenneth's
sons, and Bob's grandson, and the births of new great-grandchildren, Maggie
and Timothy. And we are relieved to know that Stephen has come a long way
back in his recovery.
So, as we await with hope the arrival of the 21st century, let us briefly
look back 113 years to the 19th century, and say to our Father: Happy
Birthday, Daddy; Happy Birthday, Grandpa; Happy Birthday, Great-Grandpa.
You did good!
Happy New Year to all!
Love,
Warren & Marie
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