Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Grandpa Nolan's Letter to 5-Month-Old Son

                                                                          January 3, 2002
Dear Family,
It was 1917 and the great war in Europe had been raging for more than three years.
On February 1, 1917,  Germany began unrestricted submarine warfare, confident of  dealing Great Britain a crippling blow before the United States could effectively intervene.  President Wilson quickly broke off diplomatic relations with Germany.
On March 18, 1917, three American merchant ships were sunk by German U-boats without warning and with great loss of life.
President Wilson hesitated, then made a dramatic appearance before a joint session of Congress on a rainy Monday evening in Holy Week,  April 2, 1917.  He called for a declaraion of war against Germany, stating:  "The world must be made safe for democracy." On Wednesday, the Senate voted 82-6 for war.  In the early hours of Good Friday, the House voted 373-50 for war.  The President signed the declaration of war on the afternoon of Good Friday.
On May 29th a young father - just thirty - recently widowed and still  in mourning, considered the possibility that he would be drafted into military service and might never return from the war.  He sat down and wrote an eight page letter to his infant son.
The young father was my father, James A. Nolan.  The infant son was my brother, also James A. Nolan.  Jim celebrated his 85th birthday on December 16, 2001.  December 31, 2001 was the 115th anniversary of my father's birth.
Below I have transcribed the remarkable letter which my father wrote on that day.
(Note:  The letter is reproduced as it was written, without editorial change.  Because my father's handwriting was, in places, somewhat difficult to read, and my copy of the letter was poor,  I have used question marks to indicate where I was not confident as to the word used, or to indicate a word or phrase that was not discernible.)
..........................................................................................................................
                                                                              273 Etna Street
                                                                                   Brooklyn, N.Y.
                                                                                        May 29th 1917
Dear Son James:
              You are only five months old and some days as your father writes you this long letter.  Your mother, the best and loveliest of God's creatures, died the day after you were born December 17th 1916.  You were born December 16th 1916 at 134 Euclid Avenue, Brooklyn, N.Y.  Dr August G. Maron and your father and the nurse were present.  Your mother saw you and held you in her arms for a little while and then said "good night" to Papa and while asleep took convulsions which lasted twenty-two hours and resulted in her death.
               Your mother was born in Brooklyn, the daughter of William J. Warren and Carrie G. Warren who both died while your mother was very young, about four or six years of age.  Your mother,  I will hereafter call her "Bessie" - her full name was Elizabeth Gertrude Nolan - was born February 17, 1892.  Her brother William is still living and at this writing works for the New York Central Railroad at Niagara Falls, N.Y.  He is younger than Bessie. He is married and has a little boy, who is your first cousin.  Your mother's grandmother (Catherine Williams) is still living at Little Sisters of the Poor Home for the Aged at DeKalb & Bushwick Avenue.  She is almost seventy-four years old.  She has seen you and has prayed for you and Bessie ever since you were born.  When Bessie lost her mother the family lived on Marion(?) Street Brooklyn N.Y. near the g! ood Catholic family named McGill.  Miss Emma McGill, a very good maiden lady, virtually raised Bessie.  The family adopted her - not legally - and orphan though she was Bessie received every advantage in life.  She sang sweetly but softly, she played the piano nicely - she played with a touch all her own  - her personality was more than pleasing, her appearance almost beautiful and her love for Papa and Papa's for her rich and beautiful - one for the other.  We were married June 25th 1913,  at the Church of Our Lady of Lourdes on Aberdeen Street Brooklyn.  Father McAdam married us in the evening and we had a big wedding.  Aunt Grace and Uncle Willie, my younger brother and sister, stood up for us.  We spent our honeymoon at Lake George, N.Y.  We took up our home at #134 Euclid Avenue and lived there until after you were born and Bessie died.
               You were baptized at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament Euclid Avenue and Fulton Street Brooklyn.  Father John M. Kiely who knew Bessie and I well - christened you James.  Emma A. McGill was your godmother.  That was as Mother - Bessie and I planned it before you were born.  My brother Joseph was your godfather.  Bessie is buried in a plot in St. John's Cemetary, Queens County, in a newly purchased plot.  The grave in which she is buried is the second grave from the left.  I paid 250 to enclose the plot.  I paid $100 towards the ground.  My mother paid $100 toward the ground and my brother Frank $25 and my brother William $25.  The plot contains eight graves which will permit of 24 internments.
               Your mother and father for almost two years before mother's (Bessie's) death attended Mass at eight o'clock and received communion weekly.  That is a practice which will keep you right all your life.  Keep it up and God will pour down his love and blessings upon you all you life.  If it be God's will  your father and your mother too  if she were here to advise with you  would love to see you a Priest of God.  If God gives you the vocation  may you prove a good one.
               After Bessie died  I broke up home and went back home to my mother and father at 32 Essex St, Brooklyn N.Y.  For four months my mother tried to mind you but she lost her sleep nights and broke down in health, and Papa had to get out  one morning with you or else Grandma Nolan would have passed away with your care.  I went temporarily to Miss Emma  A McGill your godmother and for a few days stayed there.  Then I decided that the best thing for you and me was to establish our own home again.  Accordingly here we are.  Grandma Nolan consented to allow Grace my sister and a good friend of Bessie's to stay with us until we could find a housekeeper.  But no housekeeper was available and sister Grace and I are here with you keeping house.  Grace loves you and had done a great deal for you so far.  If you can show your gratitude at some ! time in after life do so.  On Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings Grace receives her gentleman friend and Papa and you have a quiet evening at home and so far you have been a very good boy.
               The nations of the world are at war and Good Friday last our own country joined the war forces against Germany.  The real cause of  it was the use of the German submarine against peaceful passenger ships and the wholesale slaughter of our people.  Congress has passed a Conscription bill which makes your father liable for draft.  I am not afraid to go but I do not like to leave my half-orphan boy to the mercies of the world in my absence.  God will take care of you I am sure if I am called away from you.  This letter is written you so that if I am called to defend my country and taken away perhaps never to return you may have something to remember your father and mother by.  I am a lawyer with only a small practice.  I have earned enough thank God in our married life never to deny either Bessie, your mother, or you or myself anything moderately ! right and proper.  I studied law at night, working and supporting myself as a stenographer and clerk by day.  Your mother was a stenographer and was employed as a stenographer in the office of the Corporation Counsel in Brooklyn, before her marriage.
               Your mother procured(?) me to join the Church choir and I have found much recreation learning the bass part of the various Masses.
                Let me give you a  ??????  in life - from experience.
                Be careful of your companions - chose the best - not the richest.
                 Do not waste your time.  Keep busy every moment. Idleness is th chief ally of the devil.  God loves those who work hard and keep
                 occupied.  Offer it all for the Honor & Glory of God.
                  Keep your bowels regulated and go to stool at least once a day.
                  Read good clean books.
                  Practice frequent communion.
                  Leave liquor alone - your father or mother never touched it.
                  Smoke, but not to excess.
                  Suffer patiently for Christ's sake.
                  Be kind, patient and charitable.
                  Always give in to those you love, even though you are right and they
                  are wrong., but let them know they are wrong.
                   I will write more some other time perhaps - Pray always for your
                   mother and father.
                                                                         Affectionately
                   xxxxxxx                                              Papa
                                                                          (James A Nolan Jr)
..........................................................................................................................
My father was not called to military service, whether because of his single parent status or because of some medical condition, I do not know.  His brothers Walter and Joseph did serve in the military.
After being cared for by Aunt Grace, my three and one-half year old brother James found a new mother  in July, 1920 when my father married Mary Catherine King - my mother. She was twenty-two.  They had seven children, tragically losing their second daughter, my sister Veronica, in April, 1926.  Veronica was a toddler - about twenty months old.
My parents married life was short - less than nineteen years.  After my father's death in 1939, Mother went on alone for forty-six years, the center of a loving and constantly growing family.
At the beginning of this new year, may God's blessing be upon all the young parents in our family, and especially upon those who will be bringing new life into the world this year.
                                                                       Love to all,
                                                                       Warren
                

Patrick Nolan Remembers Uncle Peter, December 2002

I will not say these words are new, only that they are from my heart. Uncle Peter's warm and outgoing personality always put me at ease and while I can't say I remember details of what we spoke, I can remember vividly his willingness to engage me, as a young man in conversation and my relief to be able to talk so easily with one of my many uncles. I felt we connected and that was a big deal for me. I remember it as if it were yesterday.

As Michael Nolan said, this was a really great thing when you felt nervous amongst a sea of Nolans (which was also especially daunting for us out-of-towners). We never had much time in town to visit, so the opportunity to get to know one's relatives was extremely valuable. Uncle Peter's abilty to knock down the walls of distance and to ignite familiarity was awesome. Whenever I visited the Reehils, we had a great time that began with their bright smiles greeting us at the door. My brothers and I enjoyed teasing the girls and always felt so welcome.

My last visit to their home must have been in the 80's. It was this Nolan gathering there where I met an older Michael Nolan and we decided that we were both a little odd for this Nolan clan ("black sheep", if I remember Michael's exact terminology).  In Peter's living room, a budding writer and an artist discussed our future endeavors. It helped bring us both closer together. Michael is now my daughter Erin's godfather. The Reehi!
ls home was always a wonderful place for the Nolans to come back together and I appreciate their boundless generousity.

Though the time has come for him to go home and the fragility of human life is again revealed, nothing will conquer my loving memories of Uncle Peter nor silence the prayers this night on his behalf. His memory will live within my heart forever as an example of how to be a happy person, as an example of courage but mostly as an example of how to love and be loved.  I guess I can take some comfort in knowing that Uncle Peter will be waiting to welcome me Home one day with his wonderful smile. God bless him, let him laugh again and give him and his family peace through Your love this night and forever. Amen.

Peter Reehil, RIP--December 2002

Dear Family and Friends,

The husband of my sister Joan, "Uncle" Peter Reehil, died at home today,
Friday, in West Islip, Long Island at 3 p.m. (the hour of Devine Mercy
as the Lord revealed to St. Faustina) in the bosom of his loving wife,
children and grandchildren, his pastor and his doctor. Older Catholics
among you will remember how we always prayed to St. Joseph for the grace
of a happy death. The act of dying may be difficult indeed, but which of
us does not think about and  pray that our own time to leave this earth
might be like Peter's, at home in the company of the Lord and in the
arms of our dear ones?

Peter was terribly ill from cancer for some fifteen and more years. He
was a grand Catholic man, a Korean-era Army paratrooper, a retired
teacher, devoted husband and father of four splendid daughters. Growing
up just blocks away from my family, he was a local Queens Village,N.Y.
boy, attended the same parish church, same parish school as we Nolans,
and worked as a loan officer in a local bank while attending college on
the GI Bill.  I remember him, his parents and extended family as far
back as the early 1950's. Always he called me Kenneth.

 We loved talking
endlessly together whenever, on military leave or after retirement, we
visited their home. What I will always remember about Peter and be ever
grateful to him for were the many kindnesses he lavished upon my mother
in her declining years. My mother thought the world of Peter. He cared
for her in his home, took her to the doctor, etc. How often he wheeled
her a couple of blocks to mass at his parish of Our Lady of Lourdes. Do
I doubt that this very evening she has already thanked him in person,
welcomed him "home", and rejoiced with him as he was finally reuniting
with his own parents, Ruth and John? Not on your life! Because, as we
have been told:
"Eyes have not seen, nor ears heard the treasures our Father has stored
up for us in Heaven."  Go in the peace of the Lord dear sweet brother!

Kenneth

Mary Nolan Koch's Conversion

Years ago, my reaction to Imogene's request to tell you the story of my
conversion would have been:  "Conversion?  Why I wasn't a convert.
I've always been a practicing Catholic.  I was baptized as a child."
That would have ben my understanding of conversion--something that
non-Catholics decide to do.

But I know differently now.  I know that I'm always undergoing
conversion--turning more and more to God and becoming closer to Jesus
through the daily reception of the Eucharist.

All of my life I have been a weekly communicant, but it wasn't until
the early 1980's when I took early retirement in order to care for my
invalid mother and then my husband, afflicted with Alzheimer's Disease,
that I started attending daily Mass.  Soon I realized that the daily
reception of the Eucharist had become the focal point of my life.

At first I would say that this daily reception of the Eucharist was a
private spirituality, but gradually I realized that I was also
receiving nourishment from the community of believers ath the morning
Eucharist, that it was a communal celebration. After all hadn't Vatican
II told us that We, the People are the Church, we seek community around
the Table of the Lord.  If Jesus is broken and passed around, so too
must we be, if genuine community is to be realized in our Church.

I remember reading an articile in America magazine that reflected my
ideas about Eucharist and community.  It made the point that the
Eucharistic liturgy should be a magnet to draw us out of our private
hideaway places.  I could see how communal Eucharist could break down
the barriers of self-interest, social and economic class, even race and
age.  It might seem an impossible task, but I know that in sharing
Eucharist, Christ gives us the graces to accomplish even impossible
tasks.

This new realization of the importance of Community in the life of the
Church led me to study about Small Christian Communities when I was
enrolled in the Diocesan Pastoral Formation Institute.  I began to
realize that small group participation could lead to the renewal of the
Church.  By coincidence our RENEW program was starting in the Parish,
and I became one of the leaders of RENEW.  My Small Group became an
importance source of communal spiritual nourishment for me, and I am
pleased that we have continued to meet as a Small Christian Community.
My prayers at Eucharist now include not only the members of my own
Small Group, but also all the members of St. Martha's community.

I'm happy to know that in the early years of this century, Pope Pius X
encouraged the faithful to receive frequent Holy Communion because it
was not the common practice until that time.  Recently I was impressed
with Jesuit Father Jack Morris's comment that "nothing to more critical
to a vital ch urch agenda, as we sail into the high winds of the
multicultural third millenium that the Eucharist" to bring us together.
I know as I read the new Cathechism that I agree with the statement
that the "Eucharist is the source and summit of the Christina life."

There were sometimes troubling days for me, and receiving the Eucharist
each morning gave me the spiritual nourishment and strength I needed to
cope with what was happening in my life.  Becoming closer to Christ,
sharing in His life, death, and resurrection became the focus of my
spiritual life.

Also about that time I started daily Scripture reading.  I was
particularly influenced by the Gospel of John.  In Chapter 6 he
recounts Jesus' promise, "I am the Bread of Life, whoever comes to me
will never hunger, and whoever believes in me, will never thirst."
Jesus goes to to speak of sacramental nourishment, "unless  you eat the
flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life
within you."  I was impressed!  Jesus was promising me eternal life.
John did not speak of the Institution of the Eucharist at the Last
Supper, but in the other three gospels we read that at the Last Supper
Jesus instituted the Eucharistic sacrifice of his body and blood.  As I
received this Sacrament I became united with Christ in sharing his Body
and Blood.

In this connection I have a deep concern that as the priest shortage
continues to grow,that there will be many parishes that will not be
able to experience the joy of the daily Communal Celebration of the
Body and Blood of Christ.  I know how important it is to me to continue
my growing relationship with Jesus, to be able to give Thanksgiving for
all He has done for me and for the Community of believers. I pray that
all Christians will continue to have this opportunity.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Family Resources

Nolan Memories
This blog is not listed or indexed by google or any other search engine, so it provides considerable privacy. You can only read it if you already know the URL. Only old photos will be posted.

Nolan Family Pictures
Click on the thumbnail to see the larger photo. Many photos are captioned, and are arranged in chronological order. Enjoy the photos as a slide show.

Nolan History

Grandma Nolan

James

Mary

Robert

Joan
Warren

Frank

Ken

Nolan Reunion Google Group

This is a private closed group.  At present only first cousins belong, but their spouses and their children are welcome to join.  Members must be invited, and only members can see who belongs, post, and read posts.  You can receive messages as individual email, as a email digest, or on the web.

If  you want to join, email grandmamaryjoan@gmail.com

Can You Find Yourself Or Your Parents?

Bridget Gordon Madden, Our Great-Grandmother

George Argentieri, St. Francis College, 1937

Monday, August 1, 2011

All I Learned About Stephen Koch From His Baby Book

Stephen was born at 8:40 am, November 19, 1948 at Mary Immaculate Hospital. His parents were Mary V. and Joseph J. Koch. He was named Stephen for St. Stephen.  He was baptized at Our Lady of Loretta Church,  Hempstead. His godparents were Agnes Zaleski and Frank Nolan.

His birth was registered in Queens, NY. He was 8 lbs, 14 oz. and 21 inches long. He had blue eyes, blonde hair, a fair complexion, and resembled Richard (which is not true). His first visitors were the family.  Under notes, cards, telegrams, gifts, someone has written  'nothing." He got his first tooth in April 1949.

His first outing was home from the hospital. The same person who wrote nothing above claims in first train trip was September 1956.

Stephen was too young to appreciate that first Christmas, but by the second Christmas he was really enthused by his blocks and pull toys. His first birthday was a family party; those present were Mary Jo and Richard, and he got toys. His first step alone was 14 months. At two y ears old he had a family party and got toys. No guests are mentioned. His third birthday was a family party, and no gifts or guests are mentioned. For his fourth and fifth birthdays, there were apparently no parties, guests, or presents.

His first or second or hundredth words were not noted. Half the family tree is filled out by his sister.

His playmates are Richard, Richard Walley, Douglas Burrill, and Bobby Schuler. Presumably his sister was too busy filling out his baby book to play with him.

He started school in September 1953. He went to Queen of the Holy Rosary in Roosevelt from kindergarten through third grade, then went to St. Martha's.

His teachers: (as far as I can decipher mom's handwriting)
Miss Finn in kindergarten
Mrs. Boyle (sp?) in first grade
Sister Brian Thomas in 2nd grade
Miss Rice in 3rd grade
Sister Francis Gabriel in 4th grade
Sister St. Monica in 5th grade
Sister Owen Marian in 6th grade
Sister Lawrence  Marie in 7th grade
Sister Catherine Eli in 8th grade

Stephen walked home from Roosevelt when he started 1st grade

This entry was mom's zenith as a family historian. 

Stephen joined the cub scouts when he was 8 1/2 years old.

His favorite stories were Lolita and Tropic of Cancer, writes the same person who assured us he got no presents as a baby.

Mom notes, "we had several pussy cats." His sister lists Frisky 1, Starkey, Frisky 2, Bagheera; mom lists Trigger; the Lolita person lists "cat."

Here are the important events in Stephen's life

Chicken pox, Jan. 1951
Mumps, December 1953
Measles, June 1954
Polio shots, 1955
Holy Communion May 1956

He was inoculated against diptheria and whooping cough in 1949; smallpox in 1950; polio in 1955

There are various heights and weights listed.  That is it.

Significantly more entries in Peter's book were done by his sister and Michael's and Mark's books have mysteriously vanished.

Jim's Tribute to His Dad, March 2004

Shortly after Uncle Jim's death in 2004, Jim gave me permission to share his moving eulogy of his dad. I just came across it, and I  loved reading it again. I am sure you will to.

James A. Nolan, III

Dad's life spanned nearly the entire twentieth century.  He was born during the "Great War", he served in World War II.  He grew up amidst the economic strains of the Great Depression, he participated in the expansive growth of our country in the second half of this century.  Born a decade after the first flight, he watched the astronauts go to the moon. With his death, for me, the twentieth century can finally come to a close.

      It would be an exaggeration to say that Dad left his mark on his century. Historians will never consider him a great or influential man.  And Dad did not seek to be a great man.  He was very content with what he had: a very supportive wife, a family of brothers and sisters, children and grandchildren of whom he was very proud, a series of life long friends, many of whom he would recall in his last days, with whom he shared good times and to whom he could always tell a good joke, over and over again.  These things he prized.  

 I cannot communicate with the dead, but I think I know our Dad well enough to tell you some of my father's present thoughts about how lucky he was in life.  In the early part of this century, without antibiotics for infection, many young infants were born motherless.  They were destined to become orphans or stepchildren of another woman.  But for my father, in the first three years, there was a loving woman named Aunt Grace.  At three years of age, my father met a new woman, Mary Nolan, who accepted him into her heart as her own child.  "James", as she insisted he be called, was always her pride and joy.  Mary stood by her son James and her other six children despite the deprivations brought on by the early death of her husband.    James and his brothers and sisters were very lucky to have such a woman as a mother.

    Coming out of school in the Great Depression, many young men found the doors to opportunity closed.  A retired judge, a friend of Dad's father, offered the young "James" a job in the legal department at the East New York Savings Bank.   With the exception for his service in the Navy, Dad stayed with that job until his retirement.  The job enabled him, through mortgage lending, to participate in the greatest period of growth on Long Island.  It brought to Dad many business associates, developers, other bankers, who could appreciate a good joke.  It brought many lasting friends, some who are here today.

      The greatest gift of life to my father was his acquaintance with another woman, Catherine Connolly Nolan.  An attractive and intelligent woman, Catherine, for the most part, put her ambitions to the side in order to fulfill the dreams of her the husband and the children she loved.  Catherine could put up with Dad's faults, soothe his ire and steer his, at times, pessimistic thoughts in a positive direction.  And Catherine loved doing it!  Our Dad suffered immensely from the death of Catherine, depressed and withdrawn for years after her leaving.  For a long time, we barely heard him mention her name.  This past week, a few days before he died, James told us that he "was going to see his bride".

Finally, Dad was fortunate in his last ten years to have a family and caretakers who loved him.  As a physician, I care for many patients who have been abandoned in nursing homes.  Despite his illness, Dad remained in his home, at center-stage in the family to the moment of his last breath. Many a billionaire cannot say the same.  I know my father is thankful to all of you.

    Good luck only comes to the lucky.  What was Dad's secret?  I would argue that Dad's secret was that he knew how to like people.   There may be someone in this world, who has met my father and who does not like him.  However, with absolute certainty, I can tell you that there is no one, whom my father has met, in whom my father did not immediately see the good and with whom my father would not immediately share his humor. We Irish are world renowned for holding a grudge.  Dad did not hold grudges.  The business world can be a cut-throat environment.  Dad thought the best way to succeed was to treat everyone else fairly. I would argue that Dad attracted good luck because everyone who came into his presence met a warm smiling face and a friendly voice, which communicated immediately that one was accepted and loved.

      I would like to end by re-telling you one of my father's war stories, which exemplifies the good fortune of my father's life.  Many of you will remember that my father served during World War II as a young naval officer on the light cruiser Biloxi, which was in Admiral Halsley's fleet and participated in most of the major battles in the Pacific in 1944 and 1945, including the battle of Leyte Gulf in the Phillipines and the assault of Iwo Jima and Okinawa.  You may remember that a large portion of the losses of the U.S. naval fleet were due to attacks of Japanese Kamikaze bombers. In fact, more than 4000 sailors died from these attacks during the last six months of the war.

On March 27th, 1945, just about 60 years ago today, the U.S.S. Biloxi was close to the shore of Okinawa, covering the minesweepers, which were preparing for the attack on Okinawa on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945.  The Biloxi was hit squarely in the side, at the water line, by one of these Kamikaze bombers, but the bomb did not explode.  Knicknamed "Double Lucky" the Biloxi survived without loss of life.

Now for the rest of the story: A young attorney in Brooklyn was anxious to join the navy, but had one problem.  He wore thick glasses because he was farsighted and had astigmatism.  An intelligent young man, he learned that it was easy to memorize the eye chart, passed the eye exam and served almost three years as an officer in the Navy without eyeglasses. This young naval officer was assigned to antiaircraft spotting on board the Biloxi.  At general quarters, this officer was in charge of the team of 20 mm antiaircraft gunners on one side of the ship.  However, on other watches, the junior officers had to assume more responsible positions.  In the case of this young officer, his dog watch job was to ride in the crow's nest high above the ship and aim all the five inch guns, the ship's biggest antiaircraft weapon.

Because the Kamikaze attacks off of Okinawa occurred continuously day and night, the Biloxi was not at general quarters when it was hit.  This young naval officer  was at command of the five inch guns and busily firing upon a Kamikaze which he saw diving upon another ship.  The Kamikaze which did strike the Biloxi had been strafed by the machine guns but was not blown out of the sky because the big guns were never aimed at it! When the bomber crashed into the ship, the young naval officer, recently promoted from ensign to lieutenant junior grade, immediately thought it was his fault that the plane had made it through the defenses.  The ship would sink and he, if he survived, would be court-martialed for dereliction of duty and cheating on his admission physical exam.

What luck, the bomb penetrated the side of the ship and landed in a room full of potatoes and beans.  It did not explode.  Some officers and crew won metals for bravery in defusing the bomb.  The actions of the young naval officer were never questioned.  After completing the assault of Okinawa, the Biloxi went back to San Francisco for repairs.  The young naval lieutenant took this opportunity to marry his sweetheart.  Some of you attended the wedding.  Nine months later, I was born.

Our Catholic faith teaches us that all that happens to us is not due to luck but to Divine Providence.  Not a sparrow will fall from the sky without God's attention to it.  God is active in history and cares for each of us individually.  Well then, God has been very good to Dad in his life.  Now God has taken Dad home.

I hope God likes to listen to jokes.

Dear Mary, Love Dad

Uncle Warren added the notes to this transcription of a 1936 letter from Grandpa Nolan  to my mother, two weeks after she turned 15.

105 11 - 220th Street
Queens Village
Aug 23 - 1936

Dear Mary:

 It pains me that I have not written you sooner, because you must think
that your daddy hasn't been thinking about you.  Your mother will tell you I am
a poor hand at letter writing. She can boast of few love letters. Furthermore
half the time, like yourself ,I cannot or do not write legibly. I made up my
mind I must write at least once to the finest "daughter" in the universe to show
my deep love and affection.

I bought a nice book for you to read "Gone with the Wind," only 1037 pages.
You probably can read it in a few hours. It will take me as long as it took to
read Anthony Adverse. Father Herchenroder took a copy away on his trip to the
coast. He spoke highly of it. By the way I don't know if I told you - James,
Miss Margaret the housekeeper and (myself) I (pardon me) accompanied Father
"H" to his train. He will go to Chicago, Grand Canyon, San Diego, Los Angeles,
Portland Oregon  Seattle, Vancouver British Columbia through S.W. Canada to
Minneapolis, Minn, then to Chicago and back home about Sept 19 - about four weeks
vacation.  We had a card from him from Chicago. He stated he was cleaning up
the passengers on the Pullman playing pinochle.

Vinny Stork is also California bound. He travels on the bus.

Marie Nolan is summering at Peconic Bay and the rest of us hug (?) the
back porch.

Well it was ever thus, the wealthy "travel" and "summer."  The poor have
children.

So we come to the end of the sheet and this letter with love and kisses
from all home and a big kiss from Mother and Dad.
..............................................................................
...........................................
                                           Notes

1. Father Herchenroder was the long time pastor of SS. Joachim and Anne
Church.  The Nolans and Herchenroders had a Brooklyn connection. It is my
understanding that Father Herchenroder was a cardplaying guest at our home many times
prior  to my father's death in January, 1939.

2. The Storks were our neighbors on 220th Street.  During World War II they
had a flag with seven stars in their window, representing their seven sons in
the service.All returned home safely.

3. The last child was born on May 18, 1936 - my brother Ken, number eight for
my father, number seven for my mother. (Their little sister Veronica died as a toddler when my mom was only five.)

1936, Dear Mary, Love Dad

Uncle Warren added the notes to this transcription of a 1936 letter from Grandpa Nolan  to my mother, two weeks after she turned 15.

105 11 - 220th Street
Queens Village
Aug 23 - 1936

Dear Mary:

 It pains me that I have not written you sooner, because you must think
that your daddy hasn't been thinking about you.  Your mother will tell you I am
a poor hand at letter writing. She can boast of few love letters. Furthermore
half the time, like yourself ,I cannot or do not write legibly. I made up my
mind I must write at least once to the finest "daughter" in the universe to show
my deep love and affection.

I bought a nice book for you to read "Gone with the Wind," only 1037 pages.
You probably can read it in a few hours. It will take me as long as it took to
read Anthony Adverse. Father Herchenroder took a copy away on his trip to the
coast. He spoke highly of it. By the way I don't know if I told you - James,
Miss Margaret the housekeeper and (myself) I (pardon me) accompanied Father
"H" to his train. He will go to Chicago, Grand Canyon, San Diego, Los Angeles,
Portland Oregon  Seattle, Vancouver British Columbia through S.W. Canada to
Minneapolis, Minn, then to Chicago and back home about Sept 19 - about four weeks
vacation.  We had a card from him from Chicago. He stated he was cleaning up
the passengers on the Pullman playing pinochle.

Vinny Stork is also California bound. He travels on the bus.

Marie Nolan is summering at Peconic Bay and the rest of us hug (?) the
back porch.

Well it was ever thus, the wealthy "travel" and "summer."  The poor have
children.

So we come to the end of the sheet and this letter with love and kisses
from all home and a big kiss from Mother and Dad.
..............................................................................
...........................................
                                           Notes

1. Father Herchenroder was the long time pastor of SS. Joachim and Anne
Church.  The Nolans and Herchenroders had a Brooklyn connection. It is my
understanding that Father Herchenroder was a cardplaying guest at our home many times
prior  to my father's death in January, 1939.

2. The Storks were our neighbors on 220th Street.  During World War II they
had a flag with seven stars in their window, representing their seven sons in
the service.All returned home safely.

3. The last child was born on May 18, 1936 - my brother Ken, number eight for
my father, number seven for my mother. (Their little sister Veronica died as a toddler when my mom was only five.)

Ken's Recollections of a Small Boy

Originally posted to Nolan, August 5, 1999



Date: Mon, 5 Aug 2002 17:52:57 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: Recollections of a small boy.

A few days ago my grandson, Justin Nolan (Denis, our middle son is his
dad) turned seven years old. I started to think about the year 1943 when
I turned seven...perhaps in second grade at SS Joachim &Anne. WWII was
on big time; times were serious: there were air raid wardens, sirens and
drills. Blackout window shades were drawn at night; the few cars
authorized to be on the road (due to gas rationing) had their headlights
blackened except for a tiny cat's eye center glow that would allow the
car to be seen by another car or a pedestrian but did not cast a beam
visible from the sky...by a potential enemy 'spy' plane!

 Mostly our family's concerns during that time seemed focused on the eldest
children, Jim, Marie and Bob. Jim was either already in the Navy or
about to go. Marie's graduation from high school(Our Lady of Wisdom
Academy in Ozone Park...now closed) and her entry into the labor market
automatically changed Jim's draft status. He was no longer 'exempt' from
service as the "sole support of the family." The entire family was, I
recall, gathered by the living room fireplace in QV on the snowy day
that soon-to-be 'Ensign Jim' anxiously awaited an overdue taxi to the
LIRR station, as he headed off to Great Lakes Naval Station...which Bob
was later to do in late '44 or early '45. 

Don't recall just when Joe Koch entered Marie's life, but when he did and was 
later stationed in Lordsburg, N.M. (guarding German POW's?), I was the proud recipient of a
"hand-beaded" Indian leather belt which made me feel important...in the
same way that, earlier, Kay Connally (Jim's fiance) stole my heart by
presenting me a beach pail and shovel wrapped in purple cellophane! (I
wonder: do younger kids in today's families experience such indelible
moments that "connected" them forever to the future spouses of their
elder siblings?). I was later to shine Joe's Koch's 'civilian' shoes for
35 cents a week as he went to work, post war, for the Metropolitan
Insurance Company on 23rd(?) Street...did I press his suit trousers too?

Yes...all good preparation for attending Xavier's ROTC and a twenty year
military career! Mostly, during the war, I remember the atmosphere
surrounding long distance calls that we were expecting from Joe Koch or
brother Jim. How we came to know to expect them, I can't
recall...(Warren: did an operator alert us in advance?). The requirement
was that we boys be still and silent (as if in church) because "Marie
was waiting for a long distance call from Joe" in the radio room just
off the dining room. The sound quality of such "patched" calls was
clearly not digital!

 I especially loved the calls from Jim when we all lined up proudly to talk to our big brother serving on the USS Biloxi,And who in retrospect was clearly my surrogate father given the nineteen years difference in our ages. Funny how it is for the little kids in a family: I almost don't remember a time in my life when my eldest siblings' spouses, Joe, Kay and Shirley were not already part of the family! 

Finally, during the war families proudly displayed in their
front windows 'service banners' (perhaps 10"x14" flags with a two inch
red border and a large white field with a large blue star in the center,
with gold fringe on the bottom and on the upper
dowel from which the flag draped. We had such flags displayed for Jim,
Bob and Joe.

The Stork family down the street had five sons in service and five blue
stars.  My best friend, Jackie Cavanaugh's house, had a flag with a gold
star on it...did you ever see the women dressed in white suits on
Memorial Day on TV from Arlington Cemetary? They are the "Gold Star
Mothers" whose sons and daughters died in the war. Jackie's brother
'Jimmy' died in the war; if the war memorial is still at the Queens
Village Plaza by the LIRR station, Jimmy's name is there. The practice
of displaying the service banner ceased after the war and only
reappeared after "911." I presented one to my new neighbor, Linda
Trevino, who son is an Air Force officer in Dubai; another blue star
banner other hangs proudly in my own front window, an old soldier's
tribute to his Air Force Captain son and a daily reminder to pray for
him, our troops and our Country!

Happy Birthday, Brother James, From Warren

December 16, 2002                                         HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER JAMES! 
Yes, James!  You will remember that in our Queens Village home you were always James.  For Mother, it was always James, Marie, Robert, Francis and Kenneth.  It was only later, beyond 220th Street, that Jim, Mary, Bob, Frank and Ken evolved.  And Joan and I?  Well we had those plain vanilla names for which there was no easy substitute, though Joan  pinned "Huck" on me  one summer because I would run around without shoes. 

Today is your 86th birthday!  You were born on December 16th, 1916 in Brooklyn.  For our historically challenged younger generations of Nolans, that was about four months before the United States entered World War I, and about five months before the birth of your fellow World War II sailor, John F. Kennedy. 

As for every child your birth was a triumphant event in the family.  But for you - and for Daddy - it was also a tragedy because you lost your mother, Bessie (Elizabeth) on the following day. 

Our father's sister, Grace, my godmother, became your interim mother. You had a special tie to her all the years she lived.  We are all familiar with the remarkable letter Daddy wrote to you, his infant son, in May of 1917, when he feared being taken away from you by the Great War.  He told you about your mother, and gave you lifetime counsel about both your praying - and your pooping. 

You were a little boy of three and one-half in 1920 when a new mother came into your life - Mary Catherine King - "Mae" to some.  How many times over the years did you entertain us with your story, somewhat elaborated, about how you accompanied them on their honeymoon!  Recently you have taken to referring to her as your stepmother.  For many years, I did not know about the sad circumstances of your birth, but throughout all my life I never heard you refer to her in any way except as "Mother". 

In 1924 the family moved to Queens Village. For a while you attended P.S. 34, across the street from SS. Joachim and Anne church.  But when the new SSJA school was built you entered the fifth grade - then the highest grade - and were in the first graduating class with your pals, Joe Keating and Gerry Stork.  My Marie and I went back to SSJA a few years ago for the 75th anniversary of the founding of the school.  Your old 220th Street pal and classmate, Joe Keating, was there and asking for you.  You were followed at the school by your six brothers and sisters.  Our old school is still going strong with more than 500 students, many of Haitian background. 

Tragedy touched the family again in 1926 when you lost little Veronica.  That must have been tough for a nine year old boy. 

Along the way you become an educational prodigy, graduating 8th grade at the age of 12, and completing Brooklyn Prep at the age of 16.  You set the pattern for your four younger brothers going on to Jesuit high schools, Regis and Xavier.  After Brooklyn Prep you entered a six year undergraduate/law studies program at the old St. John's University in Brooklyn. 

Coming on the scene in 1932, my first memories of my big brother were of your law school days - not studying, but going to parties.  You were a pretty happy-go-lucky guy in those days, hanging out with Ed Hahn,  Jim Fallon and Bill Reilly - the crooner.  I have an enduring memory of you raiding my piggy bank before a big date.  Somewhere along the way there was a girl named Kay. 

But at home , things were not going well.  During the 1930s, Daddy was in and out of the hospital.  Frank and Ken were born in 1934 and 1936.  You told me the story of how Daddy summoned you in 1938 and made it clear you needed to get a job.  He sent you to see an old friend, Judge Richards, at the East New York Savings Bank. (You told me Judge Richards and his wife had wanted to adopt you after your mother died.)  Judge Richards gave you a job as a young attorney for the bank for the princely sum of $12.00 per week.  Except for World War II, you were to spend your whole working life there. 

Daddy died on January 23, 1939.  Mother, just 40 years old, was widowed with seven children, the youngest just two.  There was no social security.  Three rental properties in Brooklyn provided a small income, but rents in those days were $25.00 per month.  Without knowing all the details we do know that during our growing up years, you were always helping her financially, first from your small bank pay, then from your naval officer's salary, and later, while you were raising your own family, you found a way to help. 

I remember a snowy day in 1943 when you left Queens Village to begin your training as a naval officer at Notre Dame.  When I got to Notre Dame in 1954, and would pass Morrissey Hall, I would often think of you living and training there. 

Soon you were in the South Pacific as a young ensign on the U.S.S. Biloxi.  From the maps and stories in the Long Island Daily Press we at home could have some idea what was happening in your life.  We also had your heavily censured V-mail letters. 

There was a happy, rainy day in May, 1945, when you were back in Queens, marrying your sweetheart, Kay Connolly.  We local yokels  from Queens Village were pretty impressed by the reception at the Belmont Plaza on Lexington Avenue in New York. Mother's first grandchild, Mary Jo was there - sort of.  In the pictures my very big sister, Marie, sheltered herself behind a covey of her younger brothers.  You had to return to the Pacific to finish the job.  Happily the war against Japan ended in August.  Many years later you told me how your ship went to Japan to recover Allied prisoners, and how you visited the site of one of the A-bomb attacks. 

Returning to civilian life and to the East New York Savings Bank, you and Kay had a small apartment in Queens - Forest Hills or Kew Gardens or somesuch.  You invited us all for a spaghetti dinner. You were the chef, preparing a special tomato sauce. I was a very impressed thirteen year old for whom spaghetti was something that came out of a can labeled Franco-American.  I had also never been in an apartment building before. 

Your first baby, Jimmy M.D., was born in 1947, and things went on from there. As my Marie noted when she came into the family in 1956, it was helpful that the next generation was color coded, your and Kay's redheads, Bob and Shirley's blondes, and Joe and Marie's brunettes. 

I guess you thought all Nolan boys should be lawyers so you were a bit uncomprehending when you found a history teacher in the family.  It was a bit ironic that, just out of the army, and with two new babies, I found my first teaching job at JHS 149 in Brooklyn, a few blocks from the East New York Savings Bank. 

A few years later, I got a teaching job in West Islip, found a house and needed a mortgage.  It was the summer of 1961.  You and Kay were on a cross-country auto tour with Kay's sister Virginia and her husband, Bill Mitty.  I guess Mother had your tour schedule, for we knew that you were currently staying at the residence of Bill Mitty's uncle, the Archbishop of San Francisco.  And so it was that the mortgage process for my humble $14,800.00 abode on Raleigh Lane in West Islip began at the home of  an archbishop.  Of course, archbishops were in better repute in those days. 

Jim, all the two dotters, including my four children, have wonderful memories of you, of your singing, joking and story telling, of your arranging "shows" in which they participated at family gatherings.  We adults still tell your jokes.  Recently I got a big kick out of telling you one of your jokes that you had forgotten. 

We are sad that you have lost Kay, and that you are alone.  But you have four great children who love you and care for you, some  wonderful grandchildren, and a host of nieces and nephews scattered over the landscape for whom you have provided lasting, joyful memories. 

And though our tight knit band of seven brothers and sisters was broken with the loss of our dear brother Frank, six of us are still here, standing strong, and you are our leader! 

                                               With much love on your birthday, 

                                                 Your kid brother, 

                                                  Warren (and Marie)

Grandma Koch's Youth

This discussion was originally on the Madden Koch google group.


Mary Jo:
Talking to my Koch  girl cousins at recent funerals, I realized I did not know the real Grandma Koch, who made money on the horses, told off nuns on the bus, etc.  I hope Betsy, Tricia, Kathy, and Georgine will share some of the stories with this group.

My dad sometimes said.  "Grandma had 7 kids in ten years from age 30 to age 40, and it almost drove her mad." He never elaborated.  Did anything happen after Dick and Peggy were born?

Georgine:
I think Grandma had a nervous break down after Peggy and Dick were born .  My mother alluded to it and I remember her telling me "Don't have more children than you can take care of."  I gathered that she (Mary ) helped take care of the twins.  I know that the family moved a lot and I wondered if that was for money reasons.  The girls were all very close and my mother was shy so I think that her sisters were the core of her friends.  I have tried to write a few of my memories of the family times together and will transcribe some to you.   The Koch Family did stay very close when we were kids, and I remember many happy times.


Kathy:I too remember my Mom speaking about her Auntie coming to stay with them after the twins were born because Grandma couldn't take care of them. Times were tough.


Sharon:
I was told by my mom that Grandma Koch had more a physical breakdown than a mental breakdown.  She was exhausted nursing the two twins (who were 8 lbs each at birth) around the clock.  My mom said Grandma found herself walking into walls while holding the baby because she was so tired.  I believe Grandpa was working a lot of hours and for some reason, Grandma's sisters couldn't help out at that time.  Grandma had four little ones under the age of five (Jane, Agnes, Dick and Mary) and the impression I got was Grandma was wiped out.

I know she was sent away for "rest."I can't remember which of Grandma's sisters came to help, but she stayed long enough for Dick to start calling her "mom".  The story my mom told me was when Grandma came back, your dad (Joe) told the twins, "now this is your REAL mother.". I can imagine all of this must have been very frightening to the all the children being your dad couldn't have been older than 10 or 11 when it happened and of course all the other children were even younger.

I believe that is why Grandpa moved the gang out to Queens so Grandma could be in the "country".  However, Grandma was a city girl and as my mom described it "hated the move".  On the plus side, had they not moved there, my parents would have never met each other.

My mom used to tell me that Grandpa was a gardener and liked to fix up the houses that they rented.  He would make those houses so nice that the owners sold them and the Koches had to move. This apparently happened a lot because my mom said she went to a lot of different schools in 8 years.  I think Grandpa bought the house in Queens but I could be wrong.  I know my mom said it was important to her that her children grow up in the same house, and I think the rest of her siblings felt the same way.

I was told by my mom that she felt much loved by Grandma and that she felt Grandma had as many kids as she could possibly have.  I think my mom felt Grandma wanted so many kids because Grandma's mother died, the father couldn't take care of her and her siblings, gave them away to family members except for Grandma who was adopted by other people when she was around seven. Grandma said to my mom "I was the only one adopted by strangers."  Her father died sometime after that.

My mom also told me that Grandma's adopted mother had a little girl of her own much later on and got the idea in her head that Grandma might want to marry her son (the fact that she had her own daughter by blood probably also played into this).  Grandma told my mom that had not true, he was her brother, she grew up with him and there was nothing more than that. When Grandma turned 18, her adopted mom told Grandma that she should leave now which Grandma did.

When Grandma's adopted dad and brother found out, they went searching for her. When they located her, they pleaded with her to come back, that "Mom was wrong for making you leave."  Grandma refused to come back because she was so devastated by the actions of this woman who had been her mother.  Grandma used to cry about it and told my mom that she missed the little girl as well whom she had been helping to raise.

Grandma changed her name back to Madden and broke all contact with the family.  My mom told me their names but I'm sorry now that I didn't write it down.

Mary Jo: 
I want to cry for Grandma. How miraculous that she was able to be such a loving mother and grandma after she had been treated so abusively. What an incredibly strong woman she was!

Agnes to Joe, October 1945

Among the thousands of letters my dad and mother exchanged from  November 1942 to March 1946, I have found some family letters, from my dad to Grandma Koch and from Uncle Francis. I found just one letter from Aunt Agnes.  I gather her writing to her brother is an event.


October 12, 1945

Dear Joe,

Yes I am really writing to you.  I just never do get around to it  so you will have to overlook it.

We finally got Mary [Argentieri] off and now we are all very busy with my coming wedding.  I am truly exhausted, but you know all about that because you’ve gone through it already.

Mary called today and the baby is fine.  She weighs fourteen pounds so she certainly is a nice fat healthy baby.  I still thinks she looks like mom, at least the nose anyway.


We really are terribly busy and we don’t get the chance to get to see our niece very often.  Yes we did receive your letter.  Johnny and I got her over here one Sunday but we haven’t the time to do that right now.  We would really like to see her oftener than we do. (That’s really more often isn’t it?)

I am sending you a wedding invitation because I thought you would like to have one.  I am also sending you a picture from the Press of Mary and George.  I will send others later on. We haven’t heard from Mary Argentieri in over two weeks but you know how Mary is about writing (almost as bad as me).  They have a new apartment and I guess she is very busy setting it up.


We haven’t been able to find a place to stay yet.  That is one of my biggest problems.
We want a furnished apartment but none seem available thus far.  Furniture is too terribly expensive to get any right now.


We are going to Florida on our honeymoon.  We will drive down there now that gas rationing has been lifted.  I get more and more tired as the days go by.  I certainly will be glad when it is all over.  Johnny is nervous about the mass already but I guess he will live through it.


Peggy said when she saw the baby outside the bank she looked beautiful.  She is so plump and cute that she is convinced that the baby takes after her father, the plump part naturally.  All the girls in the bank thought your wife is a very pretty girl.


I  will close now because I have to write some more letters.  Take care of yourself.


Love from all,
Agnes


PS We got a “v” mail from Dick.  He is coming home the end of December.  How about you, anything definite yet?

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Joe to George, July 27, 19445

I am so grateful to Georgine for finding this letter.

Somewhere in France
Friday, July 27, 1945

Dear George,

Here I thought I was going to surprise you with the news of the arrival of my daughter on the 17th of this month. Instead you and Mark beat me to the punch by announcing your wedding to take place in September.

Congratulations George--after sixteen months and twenty-one days of wedded bliss ,I'm more than ever convinced that marriage is wonderful. My Mary and I are happier than ever be
because of our brand new daughter. According to the latest reports our Mary-Jo looks exactly llke my Mrs and not the least bit like her dad so she is going to be a real pretty little girl.

Again I'm saying am I surprised! So the last of the old yearbook committee is finally taking that step. I'm sure you and Mary will be happy--there's something about being married to a Mary that guarantees it. Even if she is my sister, I think you're a lucky man, George. There won't be a dull moment at your place with Mary around--I know there never was at the Koches. The gal can talk or have you discovered that for yourself? I like them beautiful and talkative myself--I forget you've already met my Mrs. It will be nice having you for a brother-in-law George and I 'm not saying that because we can use a dentist in the family.

Mary tells me you've stationed permanently at Lovell General, you lucky dog. I bet you're glad to exchange Massachusetts for India. How was it there? I'm over here in a "vacation" camp hoping that the Japs decide to give up. On the whole I've had it pretty easy over in the ETO. My only contribution to the war effort was a six week period on d.s. at a PW hospital. Aided by a staff of German PW'S I functioned as a registrar's office. It was nice work but it didn't last long enough. I was lucky enough to get a three-day pass to Paris last week. Paris is really a beautiful city and I was a regular tourist seeing all the sights: Notre Dame, Arc de Triumphe, the Louvre with its Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo, a boat ride on the Seine, a tour of Versailles, the Montmartre, the Folies Bergere, the Opera, the Opera Comique, and a host of other high spots.

I sure would like to get home to your wedding but I'm afraid that the army and the Japanese won't cooperate. I hear the two of you will start housekeeping right away. Although we already have a family, my Mary and I still have that experience in front of us. I'll probably be coming to you or Mary for advice. However you tell Mary that she better not try pulling your rank ton the Joe Koches.

Congratulations again, I say, and mine and Mary's best wishes for lots of happiness to the two of you.

Sincerely,
Joe

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Dad's Yearbook Profile, 1937

No problem, riddle, or formula seems to be beyond his ken. He is the outstanding scientist of St. Francis College; he is the winner of the coveted Smith Memorial Medal for excellence in Science. Yet even his own brilliance could not fathom the enigma of Joe Koch. In many ways Joe is a walking paradox. He seldom laughs outright; in fact his picture would lead one to believe that he is a sombre pessimist. Yet it is his nimble wit that makes him a distinctive personality. His humor is never loud; rather it is whimsical and epigrammatic.

To be the leading scholar of the college it is necessary to do more work than the average. A student who is desirous of attaining official recognition must sit at home and do extra assignments. That is the normal procedure. But is that the form fol owed by our human riddle? Certainly not! He is actually scrupulous about not doing more than the assignment requires. He does exactly what he is demanded to do and not one jot more. What he does, however, is of such undeniable excellence that he was one of the first men picked for the Duns Scotus Honor Society.

With regards to one trait, however, Joe appears to contain no contradictions. That is his quality of intense loyalty to his friends.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Mom Graduates from College, 1967



My mom and I graduated from college the same day, June 1967. I graduated from Fordham in the morning; she graduated from Hofstra in the afternoon. She is beaming with pride in my accomplishment; I on the other hand look sulky about her much greater achievement. Mom's father died when she was 17. Because he has been ill so long, he wasn't able to get life insurance. Although mom was a brilliant student, she had to give up her college plans and attend secretarial school to help support her family. She tried to go to college at night, but got pneumonia and had to give it up.

When Mark was 5, she returned to college. Knowing her only as a mother, not an intellectual, the family was staggered by her straight A average. In 1969 she got her master's degree in American History and taught high school. Fortunately, she was able to teach at our local school, just down the block, so she was available to my younger brothers when they came home from school.

I recently found all the A papers she wrote for college and graduate school. I might transcribe some of them.