Brother No. 4

Patrick Joseph Conway was born on March 1, 1954. He is my younger brother. Our birthdays were only a few days apart, but we always celebrated them separately. 

Mama told me that Daddy loved all children but told her Pat could wrap him around his little finger. I believe he felt strongly about Pat because of the miscarriage Mama went through a couple of years before Pat was born.  Pat was 3-1/2 when Daddy died. He may have some vague memories of Daddy but most of what he knows can be attributed to Mama keeping Daddy part of our lives. We never forgot what a great man of stature and integrity he was. We always wanted to be children of whom Daddy would be proud. That wasn't a burden, it was an honor. We loved Daddy. 

Pat ~ Christmas 1956

Growing up Mama always said she thought Pat would be the tallest of the boys. Jim grew to be 6'2", Danny was 6'0" and Johnny was 6'3". Pat eventually was 6'6". My perception of Pat when he hit about 6 was that he was a pasty white, crybaby. He was always sniveling about something. Of course, I just figured that was normal for younger siblings. I am sure Johnny didn't want much to do with me at that age. Eventually Pat didn't annoy me so much. I went off to the convent when he was 9. Saw him for Christmas and summers those first two years.  After that I didn't see him or anyone else much until I was 19. Two years later I left the convent. Pat was out of High School and seemed somewhat normal. The whole being separated again from late 1970 - June 1973 rules out any first hand knowledge of him during that time.

Mama and I finally cleared up our misunderstandings and I was back in touch. I married in the summer of 1973 and Pat was dating a girl named Debbie. I knew Mama wasn't crazy about her. Pat was supposed to be going to the Community College and the goal was to eventually head to a 4 year college or university. Debbie was not really college material. She was pretty rough around the edges. She came from a large family, not particularly educated, typically with names that were initials. He indeed wrote to me about her saying her name was Deborah Mae and how sweet he thought that was. He obviously was hormonal. Before you could blink, they were engaged.  He told me they were going to be married in the summer of 1974 so that I could be there as well as a cousin of hers who was in the military and needed to arrange the time off. They really wanted us to be there.

That was their story until they suddenly decided to get married in March of 1974, four months early. He swore to Mama they were not pregnant. She always wanted to believe him but I know she doubted it.  She begged him to not marry Debbie. He can say otherwise, however, once Mama and I resolved our misunderstanding, we were close. We talked all the time. The night of his marriage, we talked on the phone at length. She was in tears. She had hoped he would come to his senses. They married and within the first month announced they were expecting. Duh! Of course, Pat, ever the manipulator, reminded Mama she became pregnant on her honeymoon. No one bought his story, but he must have thought we did. 

Mary Catherine ~ Pat
Debbie ~ Carolyn
July 1974

Rich and I went to Dallas in July of 1974 and I met Debbie for the first time.  I thought she was cute and had a definite "country" way of speaking. Evidently I had been "built" up to her. I learned later she was afraid of me because I was more polished and educated. I was not someone who would have looked down on a person from a different background. People are the same. Mama always said you don't have to be rich to buy a bar of soap. As long as people were clean and kind, I didn't think about what was different. I was just myself and eventually she appeared more at ease. We went to Six Flags and to a Texas Rangers game and, of course, a picnic at Gangie's.

By this time Pat had grown a mustache. I never liked it. Oh well. I never liked it on Johnny, either. Danny could pull it off. Jim never tried. But I digress.

During this time, Johnny and Mama had not reconciled. They were estranged longer than Mama and I. I lived in the Chicago area, Johnny in California, Danny and Mama had conflict a lot, so Jim was the one in charge of her financial affairs. In December, Jim died suddenly. It sent a shock through Mama like nothing. Losing a child has to be the absolute worst loss for a parent. She then decided to put Pat in charge of her estate if anything happened. She believed it was the best decision. Johnny came home for Jim's funeral. It was such an incredible reunion for Mama and Johnny. It makes me cry as I write this. We all missed him so much.  Everything healed between them.

We were overjoyed. Johnny eventually convinced his wife, Mary, to move to Dallas. She hated our family, the water, you name it. She was afraid we would make him a practicing Catholic. She was Christian Scientist. She made his life miserable and left him in Dallas, taking the children with her back to California. Side note on Mary and her religion. She did not go to the doctor appropriately during her pregnancy because of her religion. Johnny's only natural child was born nearly albino and with vision problems and many allergies.

When Mary left, Johnny remained in Dallas and lived with Mother and Mary Catherine. Pat was living in a house on Llano that mother had bought when Danny and Anita were first married. The place was not being cared for by Pat and Debbie. When I went there it was trash cans overflowing with dirty diapers, dishes all over. Remember, you are never too poor to buy a bar of soap. It was embarrassing to take my husband there. Jim had made the decision for Mama to buy an apartment building and she was living there. I will relate that part of the story under the Post for Brother No. 1. 

Now that Johnny was there, Mother was going to change her executor to him. Mary Catherine was still a minor and she wanted to be sure provisions were made for her. Mother helped her children as best she could. It wasn't easy raising six children with no job for 21 years after Daddy died. Daddy had left her well provided for, but, you still have to manage it. With Pat, she would pay him to do work around the apartment complex. That way he could buy a washing machine or refrigerator etc. The problem was, he didn't finish things and she paid him in advance. It was unconscionable to me that he would use her this way. She was upset but Pat got by with things. She wanted to believe in him. He made Danny look like a saint in a lot of ways. 

When Mama died in 1978, she had her will in her purse, still not getting to the attorney to change it. We, all, knew it and that includes Pat. Pat and his family moved a lot. It seemed like they were dodging creditors etc. In 1976 we spent Christmas in Dallas, Mother told Pat to tell Rich and me about his new job. He was going to have an office on Post Oak Road in Houston. He had previously told Mama he wasn't sure if she knew where that was. HELLOOO!! She lived in Houston. It's a main street. He built this up to her that he was going down to Houston to pick out furniture for his office. He schmoozed this up one side and down the other. When he finally got around to telling Rich and me what the job was, it took everything in me not to laugh in his face. He said he was going out to DFW (Regional Airport) to pick up diamond shipments in the early hours of the morning. I kept it together till Rich and I were alone and we both said, "Oh my God, he's working for the mob". What did he think he was doing??? But he served it up to Mama so he looked respectable. Then he just kept moving around and eventually was painting cars. Debbie told him he needed to get a real man's job. Johnny stopped by one day and found him painting without a mask. Johnny went to his car and got him one. Johnny was in sales for Tools etc. 

When people move, things can get lost, etc. Johnny asked me to go to Pat's home after Mama's funeral and get her stuff. Johnny wanted a witness. He did this in a kind way and reminded Pat this is what Mother wanted. Pat just hung his head. Then Debbie spoke up and said, "If you turn that over to him, I will leave you".   Mother's will only left stuff to Pat and Mary Catherine. The bulk went to Mary Catherine. She had a line in her will that stated to the effect, she left nothing to anyone else for reasons known to them. Here is why she left me nothing: She already gave me all her expensive and costume jewelry, I had several paintings of hers, 144 place setting silver flatware, 12 place setting china, vases, hand made table cloths, knick knacks. She already had given me things when she was alive. I wasn't expecting anything. 

After Jim's death Mother had a codicil written up giving part of the sale of the apartment building to be divided among Jim's four children. When Sally moved to Plano and made it awkward for Mother to see her grandchildren, she had it removed. Sally had a copy but the date appeared to be altered to look as though it was still valid. 

Eventually Pat just left with his family. He had taken Mother's estate and blown it. He likes to say he invested it and lost it. Sally took Mary Catherine to court to try to get her kid's 1/3 of the sale of the apartment building. We all sent letters to the judge that Mama wanted Johnny as Executor. Pat was gone. The money was gone. Mary Catherine was a mess and no inheritance to sustain her. She eventually moved to Houston in the early 1980's. Johnny moved back to California to be near his children. Mary had poisoned Johnny's kids against him. He felt like they didn't care if he was there or not so he moved back to the Dallas/Ft Worth area. 

Sally stayed in touch a few times a year with letters about her kids. I sent them birthday and Christmas presents. She called as well and it always ended with "I know you know where Pat is." I did not. I still cared what happened to him. Sense of loyalty to Mama and Daddy probably made me feel that way. He had a daughter born in 1980 and that was the last time I spoke to him before he disappeared from Texas. In 1986, Danny died. I felt compelled to find someone who could reach Pat to let him know. I felt an obligation. Everyone else, including Johnny, said, "Don't bother". I owed it to Mama. I remembered Debbie's maiden name and where her family had lived. I looked up a name and it was one of her brothers. Told him Pat's brother had died, and could he give him the message. He said, "Why don't you call him, He's working at a shoe store in Memphis." So I looked up Stride Rite (don't remember if he told me that) and found one in Memphis in a mall. Called the number and asked to speak to Pat Conway. They said, "Just a minute". I had no clue what I was going to say next. When he answered I recognized his voice by how he said Hello and I said, rather haltingly:  "Pat, this is your sister, Carolyn. Your brother Danny has died and we didn't know how to find you, you son of a bitch". He was shocked, obviously, and asked questions about Danny's death etc. Then he said, he was coming back for the funeral. Johnny said, "Tell me not to come because Sally will have the police at the airport and definitely not to bring Debbie". Johnny was one of the most honest and kind people I knew. That was saying something for him to say that. Pat said, "I'm coming and I am not coming without Debbie." 

Pat stood there and played the martyr at the funeral. You would think he was now an only child. He acted as though he was the most important sibling and how he "loved his brother, Danny". During the time he was there for the funeral, I told him, "Pat, I am your last shot at being accepted by this family. I am the only one who cares. Everyone else gave up on you a long time ago. But, I am not going to lose sleep over you anymore. The ball is in your court. If you want to be a part of my life, you have to make the effort. I have tried. It's time for you to man-up".

He moved back to Dallas but whenever he called, he never asked me about my family. It was always a tale of how bad his life had been and how his luck was so bad etc. I would get off the phone depressed. He didn't care about me. You didn't want to say anything about how well your life was because he would have just resented it. So I just listened and waited for the call to be over. Then I would cry after I got off the phone. What a waste. 

One day, I sent him a handwritten letter. I took it down to the library and photocopied it, so if he responded I would know what I wrote. He must not have thought that through because I got back a bunch of double talk etc. that he wrote as though he was quoting my letter. I looked at my letter and I had not said anything like that. Mother and I spoke at length about him and his irresponsible behavior. That's how it always was. Pat is not understood, people won't give him another chance, he really tried to do whatever. Same story, different day. 

Our family health has been a concern ever since Daddy died at the age of 38. Jim was 32, Danny was 42 and Johnny 46. Pat evidently has had considerable heart problems over the years. I had reached the point where our daughter were teenagers, in college, and all he ever talked about was how rotten his life is and played the sympathy card on his heart. I was always the peace maker, but I had had enough, so I made up my mind that I was not going to be empathetic any more. I listened while he went on and on about how he had been dealt such a sorry card in life. He didn't know what he did to deserve this etc. So I rather coldly said, "And you are telling me this because?" His angry reply was, "I just thought with our family history, you might think it was important information. But you can just take your fucking perfect life and go straight to hell". He then slammed down the phone. I have not heard his voice since. 

Now, my curiosity gets the best of me sometimes and I stalk him on facebook. Usually around something important like Father's Day or a parent's death anniversary. It's amazing the stuff he puts out there. He is delusional. My cousin, Marilyn, used to forward me emails he sent her. In those emails he would say how he made peace with his brothers before they died, and wished his sisters would one day find it in their hearts. blah, blah, blah. Now here I call 'liar, liar, pants on fire". 

Jim died - was found dead - and had not made peace with Pat
Danny died unexpectedly and had no use for Pat - plus Pat had been missing in action for years.
Johnny died unexpectedly and Johnny could forgive just about anyone but Pat. Johnny and I were in close touch, Pat was not.

Last fall on our mother's death anniversary he posted that she had been dead for 37 years and now he was the age she was when she died. Not true. She was 62 and he didn't turn 62 until the following March (6 months later). 

He talks about Daddy as though he had a long relationship with him and is like him. Heavens no. Nothing like Daddy. Still using our parents to get jobs.

He had never cared once to get in touch with my children. But he plays the great loving uncle to all the other kids, old school and church friends, etc. He and Debbie have remained married since 1974. Her FB page says sent went to Rice University. Really!?! Taking a class online or something - but she did not go to Rice. She couldn't afford it, it's in Houston, enough said.

I never told him to get out of my life. I never had a chance to respond to his F.U. He has made all the decisions in his life that have resulted in the life he has lead. I look to my brother, Johnny, as someone of integrity. I see integrity in my sister, Mary Catherine. I like to think I have integrity. That is a gift from our parents that a few of us accepted and have shown it in how we live our lives. 

Sibling Revelry

I entered this world the fourth child of seven pregnancies. First girl, and last child born in the 1940’s. It seemed like there was the first four kids and then the two born 1954 and 1956 respectively. My mother had a pregnancy between my younger brother, Pat, and me. I do not know if it was a boy or a girl. No one ever said. I am guessing it was early in the pregnancy and sex not determined. I have never seen a death certificate.

Mama was great at telling me stories and things that happened in life. I do have a faint remembrance of her being in the hospital around Halloween about 1952. I recall Daddy taking us trick-or-treating and she was not there. It probably didn’t seem unusual at the time because our Dad was always there and very involved. To say I adored my father sounds trite but absolutely 100% the truth. 

Johnny, Carolyn, Danny and Jim

Mama was pretty well filled up with taking care of four children with the oldest seven years older than the youngest. I was an unexpected surprise; wasn’t supposed to happen. They thought they had a slip up on the ‘rhythm’ deal but then Mama’s monthly visitor arrived and they felt they had dodged a bullet. They had just purchased a two bedroom home. There really wasn’t room for a girl with three older brothers and my parents. However, as she signed the mortgage papers she was overcome with malaise that she had experienced before and knew a baby was on the way.

Once the baby girl arrived, she (meaning me) was fixated on by her adoring father. He called me his little Dolly. Mother said he was cooing over me in the hospital and he took notice of her. He said something to me to the affect of “I better give you back before that green-eyed Mama gets on me”.  Mama said she was appalled at herself and embarrassed that her loving husband thought she was jealous. She said he was speaking to me (a newborn) like an attentive suitor and she had never had a rival. She was mortified. I was no threat. She knew that and she adored my father.

Within a couple of years they moved to our home at 7044 Tokalon Drive in Dallas. This is the childhood home I remember so fondly. Now they had a four bedroom home and enough space 

for all of us. 

7044 Tokalon Drive, Dallas, Texas abt. 1952

Lo and behold, Mama became pregnant. She was not happy about it. She had her hands full. At some point she was having problems and needed hospitalization. I am guessing Gangie came to our house to watch us. Dr. Robinson indicated she might be losing the child. Mama was inconsolable thinking God was punishing her for not being happy about the pregnancy. Daddy spent every moment he could with her at the hospital. She sent him home to get something to eat and bring her back a new nightgown and a few things. She was at St. Paul’s Hospital which was a Catholic hospital. Mama was Methodist. She had no desire at that time in her life to become Catholic. In fact, she did not become Catholic until after my father died. Daddy was very devout and never wanted her to convert for him.

He kissed her and said he wouldn’t be long. He went to a coffee shop across the street and something made him stop and go back up to check on her. Mama says that she was alone in her room when she turned a saw a statue to Mary. As if she was speaking Swahili, she inexplicably said, “Mary, Mother of God, help me”. She said it was surreal. Daddy came back in and thought something was amiss. He got the doctor. The nurses arrived and were prepping her for surgery. Dr. Robinson came in and tugged on her toe. Suddenly he yelled at the nurses who were prepping her to stop and get her in there now, she was going to abort.

Abort?! Mama says the words stung her so badly. She didn’t want to lose her baby and definitely not abort. They managed to get her quickly to the operating room and saved her life.

Because of the feelings she had during that pregnancy, they began intentionally trying to have another child. It must not have taken very long, since my younger brother was born on March 1, 1954. I was five years old at the time and sorely disappointed not to have a sister. I already had three brothers. I remember going to the hospital with my Dad after Pat was born. I can even recall the beige coat I wore. He left me in the waiting room while he went to see her and the baby. Children were not allowed. Not sure who was watching out for me down there alone. During this time my two oldest brothers, found the school Mother’s Club book at called EVERYONE and told them Mama had a baby.

Two and a half years later, I got my wish. I finally had a sister. This was so exciting. It took me a while to realize that she wouldn’t exactly be a playmate. I was nearly 8 years old. When Daddy came to my second grade classroom, Miss Colligan told me to go see my Dad in the hallway. He told me I had a sister but I could not tell anyone. He probably had the same conversation with Jimmy and Danny. Now the age range was 14 years from oldest to youngest. 

Granny Conway

My father’s mother, Clara Mary Bonifas, was known as Granny Conway. My brother, Jim, was the oldest grandchild, so don’t know how she came by that name. I never wanted to be known as Granny to my grandkids. There’s a reason for that.

 

These pictures were taken probably in the early 1950’s. She would have been in her mid to late 60’s. Does she look all warm and fuzzy to you? She made me feel creepy. I used to visit her with my Dad. She died in 1957 at the age of 73. She had many siblings but they probably didn’t live near us or had died. I only met George and Susie. George never married. He had been somehow “taken care of” as a younger man so that he would not be able to have children. Whether or not he had a lobotomy as well, is not clear. He was a kind gentle soul. 

Uncle George (7 years older than Clara)

Aunt Susie (6 years younger than Clara

Aunt Susie never married (her choice I am sure). She was my godmother. Why my parents picked someone of her age for their young daughter’s godmother is beyond me. She was left-handed as am I. Every year on my birthday I received a $2.00 check she typed.  She lived into her 80’s and my mother cared for her in her last years. That couldn’t have been easy since in her ‘younger’ days she wasn’t the most tolerant person.

But I digress. Clara’s husband Will Conway died when I was an infant so I had her and my mother’s mother, known as Gangie, for Grandparents.

Zora Palmer “Gangie”

 No brainer – this is the one I loved.

Let me count the ways that Clara was not my favorite.

As a child, I knew her as cold, clammy with white hair that had yellowing stains in it. My Dad was good to her. She never seemed a happy camper. She lived alone in an apartment on the side of a house on Velasco (I think) in Dallas, Texas.  She lived the end of her life with my Uncle Walter and his wife, Mabel on Hazel Road in Dallas. Granny had uterine cancer. That Walter was able to take her in is beyond me. How easy a sell was that to Mabel. Of course, Mabel is a colorful character that deserves her own document.

Clara and Will Conway lived in Parsons, Kansas when their first two children, Walter and John, were born in 1904 and 1907, respectively. I know of no other children between them and my father, Bill, who was born in 1918 in Dallas, Texas. I can only speculate. After my father, came a younger brother and sister, plus another daughter who did not live long.

Walter married Nell Vickers and had a son. Do not know why Granny was against the marriage but she broke it up and I believe Walter was not allowed in his son’s life. Walter was a kind man but probably hard to stand up to Granny. John married Addene who I believe had been married before and had children from that union. Probably not going to sit well in that Catholic family.

Along came my Dad, Bill. The best thing to happen to any family and, how he became who he was in that family, is beyond me. My Dad was a very hard worker, great student and devout man. He was valedictorian of his HS Class and offered a scholarship to any Texas University. He turned it down because he went to work to support his parents, two older (now in their 30’s) brothers (weren’t helping) and younger siblings. He worked so his sister could take a bus across town to Ursuline Academy – the exclusive all girl Catholic High School.

Bill started in the sample room in the Cotton Industry and worked his way up to a Treasurer and Financial Officer by the time of his death in 1957 at the age of 38. Ruby was his childhood sweetheart. She was born in Dallas, but grew up mainly in Houston. However his parents lived next door to Ruby’s maternal grandparents, John and India Stuart. They were affectionately known as Mammie and Daddy Stuart. Her grandparents were devout Methodists. Though the Conway’s were Catholic, there was a lot of fighting and swearing and probably some drinking going on there.

Understandably Mama’s family loved my Dad but had some reservations because of his family. Ruby and Bill did not marry until he was almost 23 and she almost 25. Granny would assail him all the time about running off and getting married and playing the martyr. He was their meal ticket.

Well, eventually, Ruby and Bill did just that. They went to the Cathedral in Dallas and were married. I believe they went to Ft. Worth for their honeymoon and sent telegrams to their parents. Granny did not make life easy for Mama. Mother became pregnant soon after they were married and had been a frail girl. She had a rough pregnancy and was bedridden a lot of it. Daddy would come home on his lunch hour to help her to the bathroom and care for her.  Granny used to call and harass my mother. She knew Mama was having a rough go, and she would call her, let it ring and ring while my mother struggled to reach the phone, then she would hang up, Granny wanted her to miscarry.

Walter got wind of it and set her straight. For once, he had a backbone. Granny had destroyed his first marriage and was trying to do the same to my parents. He took her aside along with his brother, Dick, and said, “Mother, if Ruby loses that baby, Bill is going to kill you and I am going to help him”.

Credit my mother with being a person trying to make the best of it. In my childhood, I remember Granny being at our house and never once felt my mother was unhappy about it. She talked to her, helped her, you name it.

In June 1957, Granny died. I sat next to my father at the Rosary the night before the funeral. Aunt Mary, her youngest living child and only daughter, wailed and carried on, which only made me cry more. I felt sad because my grandmother had died. I didn’t like her but to me that was wrong because you aren’t supposed to feel that way about your grandmother. I was only 8 at the time. I recall vividly looking up at my Dad, one of the most loving people I have ever known. He shed not a tear. He was stoic in contrast to Aunt Mary. Only three months later I was sitting in about the same spot for the Rosary at my father’s service. I was truly inconsolable that night.

Your parents are usually pretty good about keeping the negativity about grownups away from young ears. It wasn’t until I was grown with a child of my own that my mother told me about what my Dad learned about his mother around the time of her death. I guess he thought the cancer had made her wise up and become a better person. He discovered however that it was all show and she was stealing from her brother, George, who was being cared for in a home. She was a liar and a thief. He had no use for dishonesty.

My aunt Susie was a tough old broad that thought we were loud. The last time I saw her, she took us to a Trini Lopez/Vicki Carr concert at SMU. That was so out of character. She wasn’t a bad person, but very severe. My mother, to her credit, made sure we went to visit Susie in Oklahoma City and when Susie retired she moved to a home in Ft. Worth called St. Francis Village. When she moved out of there, Mama brought her to live in the apartment building and cared for her. Susie left her things to my mother. None of my father’s siblings invested in Susie because she wasn’t the easiest person to be around. Mama did it for my Dad.

This is one of the many reasons I am proud to be their daughter. They taught so much without preaching. They just lived their lives as good people who cared for others. We all should try to be better at that.  

Brother No. 2

Born on March 31, 1944, my brother, Danny, made his entrance. Danny actually is a Junior. My Dad did not want him named after him but my mother insisted and they agreed to call him by his middle name. It would be a bone of contention at different times. When his first child was about to be born, he decided there would be none of that. He told his wife, Anita, that he would pick the boy's name and she should pick the girl's name. He selected Lawrence Scott and planned to call him Scotty. He thought he had it covered until his daughter, Danielle Marie, was born. I guess he was out-maneuvered.

Danny was always the center of "something". He was smaller than older brother, Jimmy. There were some health issues in his life. He was born with an enlarged thymus. This makes it difficult to breath, chest pains, fatigue. it was not possible for him to participate in organized sports. That is too bad because, of all the brothers, he was the most interested in sports. Always thought he could have been a punter. He could drop kick a football over our house. See attached picture of said house.

He also attempted drop kicking one over the second floor of our grade school.  When he was younger, but after I was born, he was isolated in a hospital with what they concluded was a mild case of polio. I recall this but was pretty young. I remember looking through a glass at him in the hospital. Then, there was the whole emergency appendectomy. He looked hale and hardy but these underlying conditions weakened him physically.

Danny was the child that could wrap anyone around his finger: Parents, grandparents, teachers - but he didn't have to try. He had a magnetism about him throughout his life. Never knew a girl or woman whose head wasn't turned by Danny. He didn't act as though he was aware. My mother-in-law met Danny in 1978 when she came to my mother's funeral. He was 34. Rich said she never stopped talking about him all the way back to Chicago.  When I returned she told me how nice everyone was but she gushed about Danny. I am sure he had no clue.

As a kid, he always had a plan for something fun.  Our cousins, the McGees, came for a visit many summers while their Dad went to conventions. Usually, they stayed about 2 weeks.  Jimmy McGee was about 3 years younger than Danny.  Danny was probably 12 at the time and decided to give his cousin a piggy back ride. Everything was fine until he accidentally lost his balance and Jimmy suffered a broken collar bone. To this day, I don't like to see anyone giving another person a piggyback ride.

Mrs Nell Brady was one of the few lay teachers at our Catholic school. She also was one of the few lay teachers who was also Catholic. Danny was one of those boys that had a twinkle in his eye and melted her heart. He was every bit as smart as his brother, Jim. However, he enjoyed having fun, making other people laugh and have fun, yet sometimes he didn't pay attention to his studies like he should.

Danny was an artist. He could draw beautiful pictures. His class projects for science and other subjects were in such a great detail and drawn freehand. While he was in high school he worked for McShann florist. His floral arrangements were stunning. After he left the Navy, Danny went to beauty college. He was great at creating hair designs. He once told me that men can make more money than women doing hair because women will listen to a man who tells her a certain look or cut would be attractive for her. He swore up-and-down that he would never work for Neiman Marcus the Flagstaff store in downtown Dallas. However Neimans came calling and Danny was offered a job that he couldn't turn down. He worked at the downtown store for sometime and at that time the only other one on the planet was at North Park Mall in Dallas. Eventually he left there to go work in a salon out in Casa Linda. Most of the men who worked for Neiman Marcus in the late 60s and early 70s were very effeminate and that's not who Danny was. One of his clients in the neighborhood salon was the wife of the very famous billionaire HL Hunt. At some point Danny left the world of beauty salons and became a PR manager for Columbia records. some of his duties involved wining and dining the Columbia record artists when they were in Dallas. He seemed to really enjoy that.

Maureen and Me

I met Maureen Kurdziel in Des Plaines in 1965. She had come to St. Joseph’s Hall with two other High School seniors. They were from her parish, St. Camillus, located near Midway Airport on the South side of Chicago. I believe they all were Seniors at Queen of Peace Girls High School. They were close to a nun from our order, Sr. Miriam Rose. I could see why these girls were comfortable around her. She was young, maybe five years older than I was at the time.

We were supposed to make them feel welcome and answer their questions etc. I had graduated the same May on an accelerated program at the Motherhouse. If they chose to enter Nazareth as Postulants, they would not be in my class. They would be a year behind me.

I was always someone who enjoyed telling jokes and making people laugh. I didn’t make fun of people I knew. They were always somewhat generic jokes. I wouldn’t want to tell a joke that could make someone uncomfortable. Unknowingly did that at Thanksgiving dinner as a child. How embarrassing. They found my humor amusing and found there are people who are nuns that are not so pious that they are unapproachable. We hit it off pretty well. The only joke I remember was the one with cards called Smoke and Fire. It for some reason was a big hit and I was the bomb. The other girls, Mary Lou Guzik and Janis Bednarkevicz laughed along with Maureen. Maureen and I seem to connect first.

The summer of 1966, they sent us out to Parishes in Chicago for a long weekend.  I don’t know why, but I was selected to go to St. Camillus. There, Sr. Miriam Rose had some time for us with Maurren, Mary Lou and Janis. I don’t remember anything we did. The only thing I know for sure, is that Richard Speck had just murdered nurses on the south side somewhere and he had not been caught. Not being familiar with the South Side, I was a little leery. Eventually he was caught and you can read all about that somewhere else

I received my Novice veil on Aug. 11, 1966 and was given a new name, St. Rose Marie. About a month later, Maureen and Mary Lou became Postulants. Janis chose not to join us. Postulants are allowed minimal interaction with the Novices. I was happy to see Maureen and Mary Lou there. I had few friends because I kept my distance. No one could be trusted. All your actions were scrutinized. The nuns in charge of the Novices were Sr. Ancilla and Sr. Benigna. Ancilla was evil. She rates a whole chapter unto herself. Benigna was kinder, gentler, but I didn’t trust her because she and Ancilla were thick as thieves.

Anyone who passed me in the halls, was greeted by a smile. I particularly enjoyed greeting the older, Senior Sisters. They seemed to enjoy the attention from a young nun. Seeing Maureen and Mary Lou was always fun. I had to be careful when we were allowed to fraternize at an evening recreation. Any time spent with one or two people repeatedly was cause for reprimand and humiliation.  I just didn’t have it in me. I wanted friends and felt so alone. Alone in my thoughts and ideas. Alone in my heart. Nothing was ever sexual in feeling but Ancilla and peers made you feel disgusted. The expression was, “You are to be friends with everyone and no one.”

I had friends in the convent over the years and almost everyone turned on me – in hind sight – to make themselves holier or better than everyone else. One friend, Flo, made my time there easier. When she left, my heart broke, because I had no one to be my friend no matter what. Again, I never had any intimate feelings about anyone there. The same cannot be said for some of the others.

By the end of 1967, Maureen had left Nazareth and returned home. Mary Lou stayed awhile longer but eventually left. Maureen would write to me. We corresponded somewhat regularly. It didn’t start immediately after she left but within the year. I had another year of Novitiate. She would come on visiting Sunday to see me. She brought her boyfriend, Dennis Mares. He was always nice. I thought it was unusual a guy would want to go with his girlfriend to visit a nun.

I remained in Des Plaines until January 1970. After my finals, I was sent to Texas to teach 6^th, 7^th and 8^th grade Social Studies, Religion both 7^th grades and 8^th grade Art.  While there, now a mere 30 miles from my home in Dallas, I was able to come to terms with my decision to leave. I had not even given it a thought till I had Dallas in my sights. It was not something I day dreamed about or wished would happen. I felt trapped at Nazareth and there was no leaving

Maureen was very encouraging and told me to decide what was best for me. I was an emotional mess. That is what nuns are. They never have an opportunity to explore their emotions and never grow in that aspect of their lives. Living in the parish gave me the freedom to explore this concept of leaving. I had done well my semester teaching at St. Andrew’s. I had been tough, but the kids grew to like me because I stood up for them and I played the guitar. They decided I wasn’t so bad.

The story of my mother and me handling this is for a different chapter. Needless to say, she was sad and disappointed I was leaving. As my mother, she told me to stay. I was nearly 21 and for the first time did not back down. That was very hard on Mama. Eventually I did leave (summer of 1970) and Maureen flew to Dallas to visit me the last week of August. Mama was furious and decided this girl had been the one to convince me to leave. There was no changing her mind. Maureen and I had some fun time together. Mother even did some stuff with us. One day Maureen rented a car and we drove to Six Flags Over Texas. Since Ft. Worth is not far, we drove over so I could show her where I had taught school. We kind of snuck around because the kids were in school and I didn’t want them to see me or disrupt anything. I did see one nun who had been a friend there, Sr. Barbara Ann, and we spoke out of sight of the kids

Maureen and I headed to Six Flags and enjoyed the day. The next day Sr. Norlene, the Principal, called my mother and told her I had been at the school. She asked her to tell me that I should not come back, it would be confusing for the children. My mother lost it and put me on the phone with Sr. Norlene. I couldn’t believe this nun had stabbed me in the back. She knew my mother well from time she had been Principal at my school in Dallas. She mealy-mouthed about, “I didn’t mean to cause problems with you and your mother” etc.  Don’t think I ever forgave Norlene for that. That was all Mama needed to let me have it. I sat in the living room, with Maureen nearby in another chair while Mama let me know again how this was so horrible that I left the convent.

Maureen attempted to calm my mother down. Bad move. It just solidified my mother’s impression of Maureen as the one who put the crazy idea to leave in my head. I believe the next day Maureen headed back to Chicago. 

The story got a little crazier in that I was now so down on myself. I was 21 now and being treated like the 14 years old I was when I left in 1963. Well, truth be known, Mama wasn’t far off.  I started classes at El Centro College in Downtown Dallas, All my classes would transfer to North Texas State where I planned to attend to get a degree in music. My professors were all from the Denton Campus.

On Oct 31 we had a great time with Aunt Susie (that’s remarkable in itself) at a Concert at SMU. The stars were Trini Lopez and Vicki Carr. The following morning Mary Catherine and I overslept for Mass. Mother showed up after already going to an earlier Mass. She flipped out on us for not being ready and told us we could walk to church. We rushed and started walking. She came up in her car and yelled for us to get in and proceeded to give us grief all the way to Church. She told us to walk home. Well, we hung around church in no particular rush because we had to walk home. When we came out her lone car was there. She yelled at us to get in and gave us heck for not coming out sooner. She had been waiting and Mary Catherine had to babysit for someone, mother had to get her there etc. I just sat there with tears streaming down my face.

I did something I had NEVER done before to my mother or any other adult, I swore. It was quiet because I was tearful and said, “Yeah, nobody gives a damn but you, Mother”. Her response was typical. “I guess I’m an SOB too”. “No, Mother, I didn’t say that”. “You might as well have”. Because that is where it went. I tell you this not to think ill of my mother, but more to understand how terribly fragile I was emotionally.

Anyone who knew me at the time, knew I never liked Chicago. The girls were mean, stuck up and arrogant. The city looked dirty to me compared to Dallas. The put us down just because of our drawl. As it often goes with my mother, she blew up and then it was over. Seriously, it was like it never even happened. We went on and acted normal the rest of the day.

I couldn’t let go of the desperation I felt. This was always going to be a problem. I had embarrassed my family and parish by leaving the convent. No one understood what my life had been there. I couldn’t verbalize it at that time. The letters I had written home for seven years had told a different story. A normal person might have gotten help but I felt so alone. I packed all my sheet music in one bag. Clothes in another bag and took my guitar. The next day I sold my books back at the El Centro Book Store. It gave me enough money for a one way ticket to Chicago – a place I disliked a lot. I left a note on the mantle. Didn’t say where I was going. Two of my brothers were in the next room. I just hoped they wouldn’t see the Taxi pull up in front of the house. Went to Love Field and when I arrived at O’Hare, I called Maureen. She came and picked me up and took me back to her home. Her parents let me share her room for three weeks. I found a job at Steel Sales on Pulaski. Maureen worked at Bigelow Carpets in the office. She gave me a ride to work. A lady from Steel Sales gave me a ride home.

Within a short time I was in the hospital in Chicago. I had bad stomach pains (probably from so much crying). The hard part was that it was a Catholic hospital. I was in a ward with three other women. Mrs. Chappell was very old and dying. There was a younger girl - no clue anymore why she was there. Then there was a middle aged woman who thought all the nuns were holy and to be admired. To make the icing on the cake, the hospital was run by Nazareths. One of my friends worked in Radiology. I had  upper and lower GIs, EEGs, etc. The GIs were a little tough on the modesty. I tried to make light of it and the other people told Cindy I was being difficult

Maureen and Dennis came in and tore me a new one because Cindy was trying to help me, and she had to work there and I was doing all the stuff to create work for her. I thought I had been hit by a Mack Truck. What were they talking about? Beats me. This was the first I had seen Maureen has aggressive and negative attitude toward me. It was telling but I didn’t see it at the time.

Eventually left the hospital. Within a couple of month found a new job downtown Chicago, Illinois Bell Telephone Company Treasury Dept. I no longer needed a ride since I could take the Archer Express down to State and Washington then walk four blocks to my office. This job gave me freedom and confidence. I was an overachiever. They loved me and I progressed steadily every six months with a promotion.

I found a place to live that was a couple of rooms converted in the attic of a widow's home. It was at 6111 South Austin right next door to St. Symphorosa Church. She was a sister to the Pastor and I believe cooked for him. She was very sweet to me and only charged me $15 a week. A sitting room, a bedroom and a bath. No kitchen, no air-conditioning, She made me toast and gave me juice before work Mon-Fri.

I opened a checking account and Maureen told me I was stupid. I should do what she does. It worked for her parents etc. They took their paycheck, cashed it and put the money in envelopes in their dresser drawer. One for rent, one for groceries, one for gas, etc.  She said, if you have a checking account you will spend all your money. I could not understand why she was so obtuse and didn’t see that this was safer. You pay your bills; you live on what’s left. And ALWAYS put at least $5-10 into a savings account each check. She told me I was pretty dumb for somebody with a good GPA and college education. 

Truth be known, Maureen was the one who struggled in school. It seemed she put that off on anyone she thought wasn’t using common sense. Deflect, deflect, deflect. Carson, Pirie, Scott was having an end of the season sale and I bought a good warm dress coat for $65.00.  She freaked out and said I spent too much money and how stupid could I be. Lucky for me, I had Ancilla for years, and I realized I might make mistakes but no one was going to put me down and make me feel less than who I am.

Segue, I had erratic periods and thought I should go see a gynecologist. They wanted to put me on birth control for my periods. I did and it worked for many years. I asked Maureen for the name of a doctor. She and her mother went to a group. I cannot remember anymore the name of her doctor but I would say he was probably born in the US. One of his associates was Dr. Fernandez, the other Calderon. I saw Maureen’s doctor the first time I went. Now a little backup here – when I came to live with Maureen and her family, I learned her doctor had Maureen’s mother and Maureen on an anti-depressant, Librium. I knew NO ONE who took anti-depressants. When I saw her doctor, that was the first thing he did, prescribe Librium. Didn’t know enough to question. I didn’t take them very much. Never been good at remembering to do that anyway.

Whenever Maureen would lash out at Dennis he would say, “Have you taken your pills”? This was so bizarre to me. Dennis and I were often on the receiving end of her put downs.  Always insulting our IQ by saying we were so smart but so dumb. Then she gave you the silent treatment and you played twenty questions to figure out what innocuous thing you said that set her off. After that, you apologized so that you could be friends again and the black cloud would go away.

This is a pattern from 1970 until whenever it was she had the abortion in the 1990s. 

We were the only couple in our group of close friends who lived in the suburbs. Maureen thought that was uppity. Nonetheless, Rich and I had better paying jobs than they did and I could take the train downtown. The stores I needed were all in the burbs now. Well, Dennis and Maureen decided to make a move to the suburbs, the same one where we lived. They were having a home built. We could not tell them at the time but we soon would be moving to Iowa. We stayed in touch. They came out once or twice and we came in as well. Maureen and I could always talk on the phone at length about much. 

I noticed the calls were getting fewer and colder. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was different. I asked, knowing full well, I must have done something and here we go again. Finally she said she couldn't tell me of all people. I reminded her we are best friends and there for each other. Let me be your sounding board. I won't be judgmental etc. 

She finally broke down and in a barely audible tone told me she had an abortion. I knew no details and do not know when this took place. I was glad I was on the phone because I am sure my face would have given away my surprise. I very calmly said something non-preachy and to the effect that "OK we can do this. You can change what happened but you can change how you go forward. I am here for you."  I had no clue why she would get an abortion. She was in here mid-to late 30s. Her other two children were late teens. She didn't want them to know she did this. She finally spoke of why they decided this. Dennis told her he would stand behind/beside her whatever she decided. 

Then she said how she had just gotten her job as an art teacher and it had taken her a long time to complete her college and it just wasn't the right time. My heart broke. I never said anything to that effect but inside I thought, "Why didn't you give me the child".  She proceeded to say I would never have done this. My response was calm and like, "No, I wouldn't have done it but you aren't me. We can't change it, how can I help you move forward?"

She proceeded to damn the Catholic Church for making her feel guilty and if there were a God shouldn't have been molested by her cousin as a child. Why didn't He hear her cries for help. What kind of God does that. I didn't offer any platitudes. It would have been on deaf ears. I did know about her being molested long before this but not sure how it fit into her having an abortion. I just let it go,

That one time in the Car

When I was pretty small, we went for a visit to Gangie, Bee and Charlie’s house. It was Daddy, Mama and me. I was wearing a beige wool winter coat. Ok, you may think that is insignificant but it does play into the story. First let me give you a peek into our favorite place to go. Going to Gangie’s house (both G’s in her name have the hard G sound) was ALWAYS welcomed. We loved her. We loved Bee and we loved and were entertained by Charlie. He was a wealth of information. He knew how to do just about anything.

They lived in a brick two-bedroom home off Northwest Highway in Dallas. Thornberry Lane – sounded so idyllic. There were about 6 steps into the house, a single attached garage but you had to go outside to enter house. It was charming. Nice living room and dining room. Good size for the eat-in kitchen that hosted a window to the backyard which went deep to the end of the lot. No en suite but a nice tiled bathroom that had its own personality. The home was welcoming. No toys save a small wooden bowl with two or three wooden alphabet blocks.

You could always count on Gangie for Movie magazines under the large square table in her bedroom: Photoplay and Mirror were particular favorites. Also, McCall magazine with the Betsy McCall paper dolls in the back. Sometimes we played dominoes or Canasta. Television was in the living room. Doors were fixed on the cabinet for when it was not in use. We watched Golf – especially Arnold Palmer. Gangie was convinced we were related. Our grandfather was an avid golfer as were Bee and Charlie. If you were there on a week day you might watch Tennessee Ernie Ford featuring Molly Bee. The television was off more than on and no one had withdrawal.

The back yard was home to great cook out. Usually they made hamburgers. In the summer we often topped the meal off with homemade peach ice cream. You got to have a turn stirring it. In the winter we made candy, especially divinity and Bee’s $100 Fudge.

Brookhaven Country Club was their home away from Thornberry Lane. It boasted of Professional Golf courses. There was a men’s course, a women’s course and one for both. Four swimming pools graced the property. One was Olympic-size and Charlie taught me how to improve my diving there. Danny was an ace diver who could jack-knife and swan dive with the best of them.  As we got older, I enjoyed the Adults only pool which kept away the cannonball kids etc. They were one of the first members and their membership number was very low. They introduced us as their kids. Bee and Charlie were unable to have children of their own. Sad for them, they wanted them so much. It was a boon for us since they treated us like their kids. Hours with them are cherished memories for all six of us.

1974

Carolyn Aunt Bee and Jim – Gangie’s back yard

                                                 Gangie and Charlie and their back yard

Gangie and Danielle (Danny’s daughter) in the Living Room on Thornberry Lane

Bridget ~ Danny and his son, Chuck

Bridget and Molly with Danny and his son, Chuck, at Bee’s House 1983

So if you are from Dallas and Rich is from Chicago, how did you meet?

This is one of the most common questions we receive. Usually I think, surely they have heard the story. Are there still people left who don't know? Sometimes it is people who have known us for years. The easiest response, believe it or not, is that my best friend married his best friend. He was the Best Man and I was in charge of all the music for the wedding. We first met in late 1970.   

The LONG story starts out with the statement that I used to be a nun. The person across from me usually raises an eyebrow and I immediately respond, "thank you". No one ever says, “You know, I was thinking that maybe…”. Nope that doesn’t happen. It’s similar to when I first tried to get a job in Chicago after I left the Order. The interviewer could not figure out why I had never had a job before I was 21. Also, my resume had a huge lapse in time. Once they learned I had been a nun (which I only told them as a last resort) the interview for the job ended. The interview changed to either “why did you leave” or “why did you enter”.

But back to the encounter ~ our friends who were going to be married introduced us. They thought we would be a good match. I doubt Rich looked at me and saw a prospective date. I was pretty emaciated and a psychological mess. The nuns had done their number on my self-esteem and I was new to the world of equal adults. It was a couple of months before we went on a date alone. Rich took me to see the movie Love Story. I had read the book and liked it. The movie was kind of dumb – a lot to do with the casting of Ali McGraw and Ryan O’Neal. What I most remember was standing outside the Chicago Theater on State Street in a mini-skirt, in January smoking a cigarette. It was freezing that night. That was the beginning of our relationship.  

By the time our friends married in April, we were an item. That was 1971. By December that year, Rich asked me to marry him. I was thrilled and he had even figured out the date, June 8^th. Ok by me. But he meant of 1973. I was disappointed. But we immediately opened a joint savings account. Every paycheck Rich put in $25.00 and I put in $15.00.  We saved until we had enough to pay for the wedding and then broke then news to his family and our friends. Oh yeah, Rich didn’t want us to tell anyone till we had enough to pay for it.  I skipped a little part of the story by how I ended up in Chicago so let’s back track a bit.   

In 1963 at the age of 14, I and 8 other girls from Dallas and Irving rode on a school bus with 6 nuns to the Mother House located in Des Plaines, Illinois. The story of my life there will have to be separate. I remained with the Order until August 1970. In January of 1970 I was transferred to Ft. Worth to teach 6th,7th, and 8^th Grade Social Studies, 7^th grade religion and 8^th grade Art. I had not completed my degree but that doesn’t matter in Catholic Schools. This put me only 30 miles from home and made the decision to leave easier. Easier for me, yes; but for my family, no. My mother took it hard as a convert to the Catholic faith. It was an embarrassment to my family. They still loved me, but it was hard to deal with in the public eye. Unbeknownst to me, my mother was treated shabbily by the nuns once I left and my sister was terrorized at school by the nuns. All of that for a different blog.

After leaving the Order in August 1970 and returning home, the relationship with my mother reached a breaking point. I did not handle things well. I wasn’t upfront with her about what had gone on all those years in the convent (again, different blog) and why my leaving wasn’t as sudden as it seemed. She felt like her daughter had walked out on a marriage without making an effort. So I did the only stupid thing I could think of, I sold my books back to the college, took the money, hopped on a plane to Chicago to where my friend lived. She and her family let me stay with them for three weeks. I got a job but after four months found a better one where I worked the next seven years.

Rich and I were/are a good match and now we have been married over 40 years. Time flies. We have had a wonderful adventure and are blessed with a family that is A+.

I am often asked if I would do it again – meaning the convent. Without hesitation,YES! It wasn’t the life for me but had I never gone, I doubt Rich and I would crossed paths, let alone marry. That would be sad to think of a world without the particular children and grandchildren we have. You just never know.