Twelve, a childhood memoir
Did you ever wonder to yourself, as I have, “Is there anything, anywhere, such as an ideallic childhood?”
Perhaps if I share my story, then you can share with me your thoughts on this question.
Post Word War 2 was a period of optimism and reclaiming normality in the USA and elsewhere. This era is where my story begins.
On Dec 1, 1945, my mother, Josephine McCallion from Manhattan married the love of her life, my father, Henry Frances O’Grady from Yonkers, NY, in the Church of St. Rose on Lima in Manhattan. After they were married, the young couple live in a small apartment with Henry’s parents in Yonkers, until they managed to secure their own home on Bronxville Road.
In 1949, their first child my older sister, Joanne was born, followed a year later by my arrival in May, 1950. Fortunately, their new house on Bronxville Road had room to expand, as my parents went on to have 10 children in all from the years spanning 1949 to 1962.
Dad was a carpenter by trade, who enjoyed crafting things in our loving home. I can still smell the sawdust and wood shavings that fell from the 2”x4”’s as he plied his manual tools, while making and fitting book shelves, or cupboards. We eagerly offered assistance, handing him screws or nails, as we tried to help.
While Dad was always very loving, it was still the a time before enlightenment on the misguided corporal punishment. If we misbehaved while he was out at work, we were threatened with the reoccurring warning, “wait ‘til you father gets home”. The leather belt would be pulled swiftly from his waist. As he smacked the kitchen table with his belt, the reverberating clatter would send us scurrying in all directions; anything to avoid getting “the strap” for being bad. Of course, his actions were typically just a mechanism to startle us into submissiveness and to the realisation that he meant business, and we should desist from the offensive behaviours.
Before marriage, our mother was a secretary for a NYC publishing company and tried her hand at journalism. Josephine was a terrific correspondent and to this day I cherish some of her letters. When she got married she left work, as was the custom at the time, she quickly devoted herself to her growing family. One of her many attributes, Mom always had a great sense of family connections. She entertained her siblings families, the McCallion’s as well as those on Dad’s side of the family, so our closest friends were also our first cousins. She also corresponded with her many first cousins in Ballyboofey and Armagh, as well as with Dad’s family in Castlerea, Roscommon, Mayo and Galway.
Dad’s father, Martin O’Grady, left his beloved Derreentighe, Trien, Co. Roscommon when he was in his late teens, joining his sisters, Mary Ellen Clancy and Kitty Sherwood in Brooklyn, where he worked as a builder. She opened our home up to many visitors from Ireland, so that when we were children we had many Irish experiences.
Our parents shared the belief that, “A family that prays together, Stays together”. Every evening, we got a call from the front porch around 7:00, to “come in for prayers, it’s time for the rosary”. Sunday mornings Mom got up early and went to first mass at 6:30am, while Dad stayed home with the babies. Dad then got the older children and brought them to 9:00 mass in St.Joseph’s Church in Bronxville. The Grade school we all attended was under the auspices of the Dominican Order of Preachers in St. Joseph’s School, so we had the habit wearing nuns, some, amusingly with boys names, like Sr. Michael and Sr. James Anthony to teach us during our formative years.
One thing Mom always told us was that coming from a big family was an advantage because you always had someone to play with. This was too true. It seemed to me that my older sister Joanne was better than me at so many things. She had a melodious soprano voice and learned to play guitar readily, mastering all the Peter,Paul and Mary folk songs. As a teenager, she could design and make her own clothes. She was a diligent student. Many teachers regarded her as a model pupil, with good manners and she always got good grades.
At the same time, I struggled in school, requiring remedial reading as a young child. I dreaded the day each term that the report cards were issued as I scraped a modest pass in most subjects, compared with Joanne’s straight A’s. Suffice it to say that academically, I was a late developer!
While I loved to sing, even my mother told me I was a crow. I never grew tall or beautiful like my older sister, but she was the first and paved the way for the rest of us. She got her first part time job on weekends in Roberts Toy Store…talk about a job that every child dreamt of…well she had it. Joanne was generous to a fault. She spent a small fortune every Saturday evening as she put aside Matchbox cars for little brothers whom she adored, Thomas and Terrence. Joanne made every working Saturday night feel like Christmas with the excitement generated for the little kids, from the wondering what’s she gonna bring this week for the boys.
Next came our brother Martin. Before we knew it he was a strong, muscular athlete who could run fast and hit a baseball out of the park. Martin was competitive and quickly brought on one year his junior, Henry Patrick. Henry always took delight in clowning around and making people laugh.
Yes, mother was correct, we always had playmates in abundance.
Christmas was always festive and joyous. While money must have been tight,
Santa nonetheless arrived, one years with Shirley Temple dolls for me and Joanne…the next year Schwinn bicycles equipped with 3 gears.
The seasons in the New York of my childhood were each very distinct. Summers could be sweltering, autumn spectacular in its colourful displays, and winter we just hoped for snow. One year, when winter temperatures plummeted, Santa brought us ice skates!
The nearby Bronx River was frozen solid. Mom walked us all down to the river bank where we donned our shiny new skates and made for the ice. Despite the freezing temperatures, the air was crisp and dry. We discovered if you spread your coat all the way open, and made sure that the wind was at your back, your coat became your sail. Standing in your skates on the frozen massive lake, magically the breeze pushed you up river until you were out of sight. It seemed to take you to another scintillating world.
Getting back to down river was a different matter! It was a lot of work skating back down, against the wind, but truly worth the effort for the unforgettable and unparalleled joy of being in gliding motion on ice.
The winter months also meant Jolly Snowmen became part of our family. Sleigh rides down hill gave a thrill like no other, but the toboggan that held 5 or 6 of us was also a source of excitement, an element of danger, but delight in the snow.
The best presents of all, of course, were the new babies. After Henry Patrick, John Francis was born in 1955, 5 years younger than me. I can recall him coming home and making his larger than life presence felt. He broke a record at the time set in Bronxville’s Lawrence Hospital, as being the biggest baby ever born there.
Before long, John joined in some great games when we played outside. We built forts and tree houses, played jump rope and skipping. When we tired of that we reimagined the jump ropes into reigns and played cowboys rustling wild broncos and palominos. We had a black lab named Jake, who we dressed up as a Native American Indian to participate in our games. During the hot summer months, Mom would sit in the yard and watch us as she fed the babies. Occasionally she would join in our games, such as dodge ball. We’d make a circle around the person in the middle with the red rubber ball. They would take aim and fire as fast and as hard as they could, hoping to pelt one of us as we endeavoured to dodge the ball. The best of all was when Dad came home from work and pitched to us as we learned the rudiments of baseball. Of course Martin was by far superior to his older sisters and little brothers, but we enjoyed it all the same.
Our rainy weather game consisted of a lot of table top activities, colouring, making paper machete flowers, games of checkers, even chess. Mom enjoyed teaching us card games like Gin Rummy, Go Fish, Steal the Old Mans Pack, and simply, Old Maid. We’d get on the floor for games of Jacks or marbles or Chinese Pick Up Sticks. The boys had construction toys, like LincolnLogs and Mechano, plus loads of match box cars as well as Lionel train sets. Not only did we have playmates, we had play things to enjoy.
Mom was a great reader, and always read stories to us until we were old enough to read ourselves. She shared her love of her favourite books, like Louisa May Alcott, “Little Woman”, plus “Heidi” by Johanna Spyri, and all of Mark Twain’s but especially “Huckleberry Finn” and “Tom Sawyer”. Now I think what great perseverance she had to plough through these beautiful tomes word for word, as we hung on to every word.
After our brother John, we had 3 girls, the beautiful Mary Brigid, followed a year later by Clare Margaret. As children playing with dolls wasn’t as much fun as playing with real babies. We had such fun dressing and undressing the babies up as princesses, putting them in go carts or buggies and racing around the yard with them.
Of course, black and white television made entertainment on Sunday nights a trip with Jimmny Cricket in the Mickey Mouse Club to The Wonderful World of Disney. Favourite programs that we enjoyed included Rin Tin Tin, The Lone Ranger, Lassie, cowboy shows Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. The TV was never on during the day and only ever turned on in order to tune into family viewing.
In 1960, our sister Sheila Maureen came into our lives. Life took a different turn as it became apparent that she had special needs. I was 10 years old when we all piled into the station wagon in order to bring Sheila for investigations to Monte Fiore Hospital in the Bronx. Dad sat patiently in the car with us waiting for Mom and Sheila to return. It was the first time I saw my mother cry. It was also the first time I heard words like “mental retardation” and “brain damage”. As my mother cried I can recall Dad saying, “ it’s ok Jo, we won’t love her any less because of what the doctors say!”.
My mother told Dad that they had asked if we “wanted to ‘put her away’ in an institution in Willowbrook”. Baffled, my mother retorted, “sure why would we do that to the weakest of the children…they are all our children…”. Then and there we all became stronger and more committed to each other as a family. Yes, she needed a lot of help, and still does…while trying at times, this does not diminish the love she has brought and the life lessons she has taught us all. Sheila’s development was clearly delayed.
In 1961, Terrence Michael was born, a beautiful red headed bundle. While Mom took care of his infant need, me and Joanne managed Sheila. As we entered our teenage years, Thomas James came along on Nov. 29, 1962.
You see, Mom was correct regarding the advantages of a large family. There’s always a spare pair of hands to hold the babies, or bring the laundry in off the line!
So, you see, the first 12 years of my life were full of love, joy, activities and a firm understanding that the world was a wonderful place.
My grandfather, Martin O’Grady was a staunch Democrat and active campaigner. We all wore KENNEDY/Johnson buttons in the lapels of our school uniforms, and were overjoyed when the Eisenhower administration was concluded to give way to Jack Kennedy in the White House. Despite having an awareness that many worried about the crisis in Cuba, the Bay of Pigs, we had great belief that with President Kennedy, we were in safe hands.
On November 22, 1963, I was in eighth grade. About 2:00, our teacher responded to a call to the Principal's office. When she returned to our classroom she was distressed as she fought back the tears. Sobbing, she relayed the unfolding news of the tragic assassination of our beloved President Kennedy.
School was dismissed and we walked home incredulous of what we had heard.
Ever adult we met that afternoon was crying. I had never witnessed so many years adults in tears. Of course, we all as children, were bewildered and in denial. Why had this happened? More questions than answers.
My childhood was over…for I had heretofore thought of the world as a happy and safe place. Now , as I left my early years behind, that assumption was shattered as I came to the realisation that bad things can happen to all people, even the good ones, powerful ones, and Irish ones too!
We did pick ourselves up and dusted our selves off, after all we had to celebrate Thomas’s first birthday.
Kathy O’Grady Reilly , December 1, 2020 ( 75th anniversary of Henry and Jo’s wedding in NY)
The O’Grady girls
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