Mom went on, “I guess I will just have to take the kids with me when I go there. It will be OK, because John will be at work. It will only take me a few minutes.”
Mommy dressed Lauren and I then waited until a little later in the day so that Daddy would be at work; then we got into the car and drive over to our home. I am excited to see my home, and I hope Daddy is there, too. We park the car across the street, then Mommy takes me by the hand, holds Lauren in her right arm, and we go up to the front door. Climbing up the stairs to the second floor, she struggles with the two of us while going up the long straight staircase to the second floor. I am so excited to be home again.
Lauren is smaller than I am, so Mommy took her into the kitchen and put her in the crib. I started walking towards Mom’s bedroom door.
“Don’t go in there, Patrick,” Mom said. She then walked over to the door and pulled on the doorknob to make sure the door would not open.
“Here is a book, go sit down over there with it,” she said, while handing me a small book with pictures in it.
“Ok, Mommy”, I said.
I walk to the couch and sat down with the book. I know she does not think I can open that bedroom door, but I can. After flipping through some of the pages in the book, I am bored and want to do something else. I hear Mom in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around as she packs a box.
Walking away from the couch, I go to look at some of my favorite things around the house. One of them is the big, long rifle that my Daddy carries in parades. He always has it in the corner next to the door in our apartment so the door hides it when it is open. The gun is bigger than I am and it is a shiny dark brown and scary looking. Daddy once told me it is a “1903 Springfield rifle”. He also showed me once that, when he carries it in the parades it has a long knife on the end of the barrel called a bayonet. It is against the rules for me to touch that rifle, so I won’t. Anyway, it is exciting and fun just to look at it.
Next, I go wander back toward the kitchen and see what Mommy is doing. I peek around the corner of the doorway and see her throwing silverware, pots and pans into a box along with some plates and other stuff from the kitchen. She is very busy, has that determined look on her face and is packing as fast as she can. Since she is this busy, maybe I can sneak into the bedroom without her knowing it. I may have some toys in there. I walk back towards the bedroom through the dining area.
When I get back to the bedroom door, I look around carefully to make sure Mommy can’t see me. The door is closed, but I practiced opening it before. I reach up with both hands and can barely reach the doorknob. Twisting it to the left with all my strength, on the second or third try, I am thrilled when the door starts to open.
I better not let Mommy see me in the bedroom, I thought, so I close the door carefully. Inside the bedroom, there are two twin beds with white bedspreads. The brown five drawer tall dresser is on my right. In order to check to see if some of my toys are under the first bed, I crawl on my knees and look underneath. No toys here, so I crawl out around the first bed.
Wow, I think I see Daddy's legs hanging off the end of the other bed! I am so thrilled, without getting to my feet; I crawl rapidly over to the legs. It is my Daddy! I recognize his shoes. I am so excited! My Daddy is here! My Daddy is here!
From my knees, I reach up, grab the bedspread and pull myself up on the bed just to the left of his legs. It definitely looks like Daddy because he is wearing a white T-shirt that he always wears around the house after he comes home. As I crawl on the left side of him, I smell something awful and feel something hard and crunchy under my hands and knees. That hard stuff cracks into pieces as I crawl over it. It smells really musty and strong and makes my nose feel funny. Nevertheless, I am very excited because I am with my Daddy.
When I crawl up to his face, I am surprised, because it is a different color than my Daddy’s face. He is laying on his back, his arms spread wide with his face turned slightly to the right. I look closely at his mouth, nose and eyes. The eyes are very tightly closed and squinting. His mouth is open and has a funny look on it. This cannot be my Daddy. Whoever he is; he has brown curly hair just like him. However, the face I am looking at is a darker color, so it cannot be him.
I am so close to his face, I reach out with my right hand and touch it. The face is cold, not warm like Daddy’s face is, and there is still that awful smell. I am scared because I do not know who this person is. Thinking of mother in the kitchen, I need to get out now so she will not spank me.
I crawl backwards while still feeling that crunchy stuff again, go down to the floor on my feet, and walk as quickly as I can back to the door. I am still worried my Mommy will find me in here. I reach up with my hands; twist the doorknob and the door opens again. Walking outside the room, I carefully close the door by pulling it toward me until it clicks.
A few seconds later, while still a foot or so from the bedroom door, Mommy came out of the dining area.
“Patrick, where have you been? What have you been up to,” she said.
Coming over to me, she takes both of my hands and looks at them. They both had that funny reddish hard stuff on them from the bed that is now sticking to my hands in small translucent pieces. She asked,
“What is this on your hands? You have it on your legs, too,” she asked.
She quickly brushed it off my hands and my legs and said,
“Don’t get into anything more, now. I am almost done in the kitchen so we can leave shortly.”
I looked back at the bedroom door and she said,
“Remember, I told you not to go in there.”
Taking me by one hand, we walk through the dining area back into the kitchen and she sits me down on a chair while she finishes packing the box.
“You stay right here with your Sister while I take these boxes downstairs to the car,” she says. I did not dare move. I sat there watching Lauren, who is grabbing the bars on the crib looking at me. After Mommy made two trips down to the car that took a few minutes, she came running up the stairs, and into the kitchen. Putting the coats on, we walked past her bedroom toward the entry door.
When we passed our bedroom door, I said,
“There is a black man in there!”
She said loudly,
“There is no black man in here. You are just imagining things.”
Taking me tightly by the hand, we carefully walk down the stairs as she holds Lauren in her right arm. As we walk across the street toward the car, suddenly, a huge bad thought came into my head and I felt a surge of fear. Turning around, I pointed back toward our home, and said,
“Daddy, Daddy!”
Mom said, angrily,
“Come on, Daddy is not there.”
I started to cry. Mommy was not happy with me and she walked even faster toward the car, pulling me by the arm. I did not bring up the subject again.
A day or two later, Mommy tried to call Daddy at work.
“Louis, this is Marguerite Connolly calling, is John available,” she asked.
“Marguerite, John called in sick about two weeks ago, and I have not spoken to him since,” Louis said. He went on, “I really thought I would be hearing from him or he would just show up by now.”
“I haven’t seen him for about two weeks, either,” Mom said. I have been staying at my parents’ house in Endicott,” she said.
“Well, I sure would like to know what’s going on with him”, Louis said. This is a pretty hard place to run by myself,” he added.
“I will let you know when I find out,” Mom said.
Hanging up the phone, she stood in the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face. Elaine, her Sister, seated at the kitchen table, said,
“What is going on with John?”
“I have no idea but Louis, his partner, just told me he was not feeling well two weeks ago, and has not heard from him since,” Mom replied.
“I will check with Ernie and maybe we can stop by your house on the way home today,” Elaine said. Yelling int
o the next room where Ernie and Grandpa were talking, Elaine said,
“Ernie can we stop and see what John is up to on the way home?”
A gruff voice responded loudly from the living room,
“Sure we can. It is right on the way.”
Elaine said,
“Ok, Marguerite, we will stop by, see John, and then we will call you when we get home”.
“Ok, why don’t you take my keys so you can let yourself in if he is not there and leave him a note to call me? I will get them for you,” Mom said.
Mom walked into our small bedroom and came back with the keys.
“Here they are. I’ll hear back from you in an hour or so?” she said, handing the keys to Elaine. Elaine nodded.
Elaine and Ernie left in their car a few minutes later, but instead of calling on the phone, they came back to Grandma’s house a little while later with strange looks on their faces.
Elaine said,
“Marguerite, Mary should take the kids into the other room because I have to talk with you and Mom about something.”
Mary took Lauren and me into our small bedroom and sat us on the bed. I liked that because she was always my favorite and often told us stories. She was just nice and did not speak “baby talk” to us. She would always laugh at many things we did and said. She just treated us as if we were real people, and we knew she loved us. From the other room, I could hear Elaine and Ernie speaking to Mom and then both Grandma and Mom talking back loudly but Lauren and I could not understand what they were saying. When the three of us finally came out of the bedroom, Mom, Elaine and Ernie were gone. Grandma would only say,
“Your Mom, Elaine and Ernie have gone back to Marguerites’ house for something.”
This was very puzzling to Lauren and me but I feared it would have something to do with Daddy. The picture of that man with the dark face laying on one of the twin beds came back into my head and scared me again.
After a long while, they all came back to Grandma's and many unusual things started to happen. Mom asked Mary to, again, take Lauren and I into the bedroom, and all the adults started talking very quietly in the living room. A few days later, everyone was dressed in black and went off to church and left Lauren and I behind with a babysitter.
When everyone came back, Mommy took me into our bedroom alone and said,
“Daddy has gone to heaven and he will not be coming home anymore.”
I cried and said, “Why did he leave me?”
“It’s not your fault, he just died,” she replied.
Somehow, I knew that was not the truth. Did Mom really know that man was in her bedroom? Why did she not go in there that day? From then on, whenever Mom or other family member told me anything, I would wonder if it was the truth. I felt very sad, bewildered and scared. What was this life? I see one thing and the adults see something very different. I do not think I will be here very long.
Chapter V- Life without Daddy
Mommy is very determined, but she is really in a hard place. I watch her face a lot when she is paying bills or has papers in her hands. After Daddy went away, she has very little money. Her passion and facial expressions assure me that she will make things work out for us because she is an educated woman and graduated from Union Endicott High School years ago.
A little while later, Mom sat Lauren and I down and said,
“I have to get a job somehow, and you two will be staying with my Mom during the day when I do. It is not normal for a woman to work but I have to. I have no choice and you two need to understand I will not be with you during the days, if I can find a job.” I did not know what Lauren and I would do if my Mom was not with us during the day. Lately, she spends a lot of time talking to my Grandmother and Grandfather about what she should do. Grandma and Grandpa also had a great deal to say, too, because they did not want their Grandchildren “living in a bad neighborhood”.
After much discussion, my Grandparents and especially Grandfather, Lawrence decided what the best course of action regarding housing should be. He and Grandma bought a large, old run down two-story house on Main Street in Endicott. It had two separate residences, upstairs and downstairs, plus a basement. The plan was that we would all live together as one big happy family. Both residences had two bedrooms, one bath, a living room, family room and kitchen. Grandma, Grandpa and Mary would live on the first floor and Mom, Lauren and I would live upstairs.
Our home upstairs has a kitchen equipped with a sink, gas stove and electric refrigerator. There was also a big cast iron furnace heater in the family room, in addition to several radiators throughout the flat. I had my own bedroom and Mom and Lauren shared the other. We were all to live together in one big house. Mom was very happy about our new house, except she still did not have any money and was still looking for a job.
A little while later, we moved into our new family home. At last, Mom found a job as a Secretary at General Electric in Johnson City, just a few miles away. The job did not pay much, but it was enough so that she could pay a small rent to Grandma and Grandpa. She said the amount of rent she paid was not very much, but it was all she could afford. Things were finally coming together, and I started to feel like I had a home and a real family. I still thought how much I missed my Father but I did appreciate the other people in my life, Mom, Grandma, Grandpa and Mary. As far as Lauren and I were concerned, they are very special and we are lucky to have them in our lives.
Mother is the oldest of three daughters of Lawrence and Nell. A meticulous and orderly person, she always has beds made and the house neat and clean, and expected Lauren and I to help keep it that way. She is a dominant and assertive woman and that personality is not popular and easily accepted in this culture. For many years before and during her marriage, she kept a diary of daily events, which detailed her life when John Connolly and she were dating. According to that diary, she was aggressive about meeting his family and making certain that they liked her. As a working female with two children after John’s death, she is in a very unusual situation in the United States at that time.
She went to work every day as a secretary and came home about 5:30 to 6 PM. On the weekends, she would have dates with local men or go to hang out at a local cocktail lounge with one or two girlfriends. Very strict about her diet, she kept her slim and attractive figure and dated frequently. Several of the men she saw wanted to marry her, but only if she did not have children. Mom was ferocious and dedicated to caring and loving her children and she let the men in her life know that. Single life as a working Mom was very tough for her.
Nell, my grandmother, is the stay-at-home wife of her husband Lawrence who ardently took care of her home and watched over her grandchildren, Lauren and I, when home from school or when our mother was out on a date. She is a very loving, caring heavy woman and as the mother of three daughters, she kept in daily touch with all of them. She is cheerful and friendly with all the people she encountered as well as her neighbors. A devout Catholic, she attends Mass every Sunday and expected her daughters and grandchildren to do the same. Polite but very assertive in all things, especially family matters, she is very close to members of her immediate and distant family. Family is very important to her. She has one sister, Mary, and one brother, Leo. Most of the family lives in the immediate area of Endicott and other nearby locations in southern New York State. They have frequent get-togethers and Nell is always a family leader during those events.
Lawrence, my Grandfather, is a quiet, polite, courteous, but hard-working man, easy going and obedient to his wife, Nell, who walks to work every morning at 7:30 AM Monday through Friday and comes home at 5:30 PM. Just as many other men, when he walks in the front door, he expects dinner to be ready and on the table. This is one of the few demands and expectations that he seems to have. Nell is always eager to please him but she always has more demands of him than he has of her.
Lawrence is always working around the house and has a well-equipped wood shop in the basement complete with a workbench,
electric saws, vices and tools. When he is not sitting in his comfortable chair in the first floor family room, you will find him at the workbench downstairs in the basement. The house he purchased in order to provide a home for us initially needed a lot of work. When he was home, Lawrence was always working around the house, painting, adjusting, or enhancing the woodwork, working on heating systems, siding, or landscaping. There was not one system or part of the house with which he was not intimately familiar. A devout Catholic, he insists on saying grace before every meal and praying on his knees before bed every night. He is a good man.
After moving into our big white house, my Mom started taking me to church with her on Sundays and holy days. The church name is Saint Ambrose and their Priests and Sisters of Charity run a kindergarten and elementary school on the same parish grounds. Mom told me that the Catholic Church was very holy and wonderful, and that the Sisters of Charity and the Priests at Saint Ambrose Parish were the best people there were. If I was lucky, she said, I might be able to go to school at Saint Ambrose, but Mom did not know if she could afford it.
Walking into Saint Ambrose Church, holding my Mom by one hand, I look up and see the arches that support the ceiling from the many columns. These arches run down into round columns about twenty feet before the building walls. The sides of the church have many colored windows and the marked Stations of the Cross. Everything focuses on the front Altar, which is front and center at the nave. The sparkle of the candlestick holders and colored lights coming in from the large, stained windows create an incredible feeling of awe. I feel very safe here in this holy place.
One day at our house on the weekend, Mom said,
“I have to go to a church service today; do you want to come with me?”
Thinking I would see that huge and wonderful building again, I said,
“Yes, Mommy.”
After walking about five blocks to the church, we walked up the long front stairs and through the large main doorway.
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