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,