WITH ALL THEIR HEARTS -- MY PARENTS' WONDERFUL LOVE STORY
I found an old telegram tucked away in my dad's locked desk drawer after he died in 2005. It was puzzling to me to find this piece of my parents' history, hidden so long from their children's prying eyes. Dad was never someone who saved things. He was always cleaning things out, throwing away anything that had lost its usefulness to him. So why was that faded piece of yellow paper saved for more than 60 years? Is it possible that Dad left the telegram locked away in his desk for his children to find after he had gone? Was there some secret about my parents' lifelong love that he wanted to share with us, some life lesson coded into that plain, brief message?
Mom is now lost in a lonely world without her husband; even her long ago memories have been mostly forgotten. Mom can no longer tell me what special history the words of the telegram reveal. I have my own memories of my parents' lives together gained from all the years of growing up under their watchful eyes and being close to them after I moved away. So I will weave my thoughts and memories around the faded words of this old telegram. Perhaps in recalling my parents' history, I will discover the two people whom I never really knew, but have always loved.
Neither one of my parents had an easy life as a child. Dad was the youngest son of Sicilian immigrants in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The family was poor, but dad's parents were intensely proud of who they were and what choices they had made for themselves. Dad's father sold fruit in the local produce market; his mother cooked and cleaned their home and sewed and washed the clothes the family wore. Dad was a teenager during the Depression of the 1930‘s; his family always had enough to eat and a warm place to live.
When Dad was old enough to work, around the age of 15, he was expected to help support the family, just as his older brothers were doing. Dad's first job was sewing zippers in pillows at a local furniture factory after school; each properly installed zipper earned him 25 cents. Dad completed his high school education though his two older brothers did not. Dad even attended radio school after his high school graduation to earn a Commercial Radio Telegrapher's License. Dad earned bachelor and master's degrees while my sisters and I were growing up; he never stopped learning and finally retired from the business world at 80 years of age.
Mom was born in Charleston, South Carolina, the youngest of nine surviving children, two other children had died soon after birth. When Mom was four years old, she was placed in a Catholic orphanage with several of her older sisters and brothers. Mom's mother had died of cancer, and her father could not care for the entire family. Mom lived at the Charleston Foundling Home during the Depression of the 1930's and was finally on her own after her high school graduation in 1942.
The orphanage relied on the charity of kind people to support the nuns and the many children who had found a home in the orphanage. Mom's food and clothing were very limited; the building that housed the orphanage and the convent was old and drafty. There was seldom meat or eggs to eat and only two new dresses every year. Still Mom came away from that difficult and impoverished childhood believing her life blessed because of the love of the nuns who cared for her.
Seeing photos of my mom when she was young, I can imagine that lots of young men wanted her heart. Mom loved to dance to Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey and all the Big Band sounds. Mom has a wonderful smile and has always been a little bit flirtatious. Mom is outgoing and friendly and even now retains her quick wit. Though arthritis and bad knees stole away Mom's dancing days, she sings along with her favorite songs and taps her feet in time to the music. In her heart my mom is still young; it is just that her body grew old somewhere along life's way.
Among our many family pictures is an old photo album that Mom has kept for all these years. The album contains pictures of Mom and the "boys" she knew so long ago. Dad never seemed to mind that Mom kept a record of those special memories, after all, he was the one "boy" Mom finally took home. The existence of the old album reveals another one of our parents' secrets to a long and happy marriage -- Mom and Dad knew deep in their hearts that they were committed for a lifetime to one another; there was no reason for jealousy or hurt feelings about one another's past experiences to interrupt their love.
A few years ago before Mom lost her most precious memories, she wrote down what she could remember of how her married life began and all the years which she spent loving and raising a family. The time of Mom and Dad's meeting and falling in love was during the Second World War; the year was probably 1943. The words below are exactly what my mom wrote, but this short excerpt covers only the beginnings of their wonderful love story.
My Life Story by Bert
In looking back at my younger years, I started thinking of the time I met my wonderful husband. I was 18 years old and our church had a dance every Friday night for the USO. My sister, my girl friend and I went to the dances often.
On one particular night leaning on the jukebox was a handsome sailor. I told my sister and girlfriend that I would marry that handsome sailor some day.
Well, the handsome sailor asked me for a dance and later he walked me home. He asked me if he could call and come over again and that is how it all started. My handsome sailor was transferred from one place to another and then the Navy sent him back to Charleston.
Frank and I got together again when he returned to Charleston and he asked me to marry him. I said "yes". On the 17th of June, 1944 we were married at 7 o'clock in the morning at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Charleston, South Carolina.
Mom's brief description of their meeting and falling in love is so much like the telegram I had found in dad's desk. Each separate memory that is revealed has been condensed to the simplest words, hiding a multitude of events and emotions. Each written word contains more meaning than any single word can hold. Each written word has a story of its own tucked away somewhere deep inside it.
I can imagine these two young people meeting at the USO dance for the first time, smiling at one another, getting to know one another, as they listen to the music playing on the jukebox. In years past, when Mom still had her memories, she would often say that "Chattanooga Choo-choo" was her favorite song. So I wonder now if Mom's favorite song was playing on the jukebox when she and Dad first met, or did it become her favorite song after that first magical meeting?
Mom and Dad had told us bits and pieces of their story as my sisters and I were growing up so we knew that they continued to see one another after that first meeting in 1943. They communicated by letter whenever Dad was transferred to another Navy base outside of Charleston, SC. Mom kept all of her letters from Dad in little bundles, each small package tied with pink ribbon. This treasure trove of letters, which had been kept on a high shelf in their closet when we were young, has now been sealed and locked away.
Because Dad had earned a commercial radio telegrapher's license, he was sent for further training once he enlisted in the Navy. This training would enable Dad to operate and repair radio and other electronic equipment. Dad often went out to sea in the PBY's which were looking for German submarines, communicating with the Navy command when a sub was spotted, operating equipment in flight or repairing that equipment shortly after the flight was completed to help the Navy keep the sea lanes open and the American East Coast safe from attack.
The Navy unit Dad was attached to was Fleet Airwing 5 which had bases along the Atlantic coastline in Charleston, SC, Beaufort, NC, Norfolk, VA, Falmouth, MA and Quonset Point, RI. Dad had been stationed in Charleston and in Beaufort around the time when he met Mom. I learned from the telegram that after their marriage, Dad was transferred to Falmouth, MA.
As Mom related in her little story, the couple had been married in Mom's parish church, The Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Mom's pastor, Father James J. May, had been a lifelong friend. Father May had baptized Mom when she entered the orphanage many years before. It was Father May to whom Dad spoke when he wanted to ask permission to marry Mom. Mom's parents had been gone a very long time; her dad had died in 1934 and her mom several years earlier in 1928. Mom looked to Father May as a special confidant, as a surrogate father who took the place of her own missing parents. Mom returned each year to Charleston to visit with Father May until he passed away in 1958.
Dad's mom, Provvidenza La Manna, came to Charleston for the wedding, traveling by train for the early morning event. Provvidenza La Manna would not allow her youngest son to marry without having met his intended bride or having someone from dad's family present to witness the most important moment of dad's young life.
The young couple had a simple reception at the home of Mr and Mrs. Urrichio, the family with whom Mom lived after leaving the orphanage. After the reception the two young people traveled to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for a short three day honeymoon. Dad and Mom never told us where they lived after the honeymoon, nor where Dad was stationed at the time of their wedding. Two months after their wedding -- in August -- Mom was visiting Dad's family in Pittsburgh. We do not know when Mom arrived in Pittsburgh, nor how long she stayed with dad's parents, but we do know that Mom left Pittsburgh to begin her life again with her new husband in Falmouth, Massachusetts on August 6, 1944.
These two photos show mom and dad on their honeymoon in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Dad rented a small cabin near the beach for them to share for the short vacation. Mom and Dad look so happy and relaxed in these pictures. They are so filled with joy, for they have found that special someone who would complete their life. The war that rages around them, stealing away the lives of so many, seems far away from these few precious moments.
In early 1945 dad's Navy unit was transferred to Moffit Field outside of San Francisco, CA. The war in Europe was slowly coming to a close and would end officially on May 8, 1945. Dad's unit would be useful in the fight against the Japanese Navy. During the time when the unit's planes were being refit for the Pacific assignment, Dad was required to report for Naval duty only once every three days. So Dad and a Navy buddy would hitchhike into San Francisco where they would hire on as electricians constructing "Liberty ships". The extra money Dad earned allowed him to send for Mom, and they were able to have a few weeks together before Dad "shipped out" to the Solomon Islands. It was during the weeks in San Francisco that their first child was conceived.
The war was finally over when the Japanese surrendered on September 2, 1945. Dad was sent home to the United States aboard the troop ship, the USS Tulage, and was released from active duty on December 31, 1946. Dad had returned to Pittsburgh, a year before his active duty ended and just a week before his first child was born in November 1945. I can almost imagine dad's anticipation at returning home to his wife and soon to be born child. The endless weeks of waiting, the slowness of the troop carriers, the searching for ground transportation to take him back to Pittsburgh. How much Dad longed to see his wife, to visit with his parents and family once again! How much Dad looked forward to the start of a new life and the joy of living with the woman he loved so completely! Perhaps Dad even wondered how it would feel to be a father and to hold his first child in his arms.
Throughout their lives people could see how much Mom and Dad were devoted to each other, how they treated each other with respect and tenderness. People often remarked that Mom and Dad were still very much in love even after so many years. There were large celebrations given in Mom and Dad's honor after 40, then 50 and finally 60 years. Often people would ask Dad to what he owed the success of their marriage. Dad always had two responses about how he and Mom kept their relationship so strong. First, dad would say: "I remember that if I win an argument, in reality, I lose". Then to everyone's laughter Dad would add: "And when my wife says "Jump!", I always ask "How High?"."
Mom and Dad would perform little acts of kindness for one another to show each other how much they cared. Dad had promised Mom that he would take her home to Charleston, S.C. every year to see her sisters and brothers and the nuns who raised her. And every year for 60 years, Dad kept that promise. Mom loved and treasured Dad's family, treating each one of dad's sisters and brothers and his parents as though they were her very own. And she learned to cook Dad's favorite foods, though she seldom ate the Italian food that Dad loved so much. Always listening to one another, always being aware of the other person's needs, always putting the other person first -- that's how my parents were to one another.
Psychologists teach us that children are self-centered. Perhaps it is nature's way of ensuring a child's survival. Children only see the others in their lives when they have a need to be filled, like food or water or safety. Unlike the child I once was, I recognized the specialness of my parents after I was grown and on my own. I responded when Mom and Dad had needs and I tried to help them. But like the child I once was, I did not ask the questions about the small events in their lives which made them who they were. Now that Mom is unable to answer and Dad is gone, I am left to imagine and to guess about all those small events which transpired between them, the events which would explain how they came to be who they were and how they made such a wonderful love story.
I started writing this piece by asking a question about the old telegram I had found, about why the telegram was saved for so long under lock and key. Now I think I know the answer to this curious puzzle. Dad kept the telegram for Mom -- for her to find -- just in case he was called away before she was. Dad wanted Mom to know that he would be waiting when she arrives in that new place he is preparing for her. Dad wanted Mom to know, that just like so many years before, they would be in one another's arms again.
July 29, 2008
Mom died early this morning. After the funeral home had come and taken mom away, my sister and I busied ourselves with the tasks of cleaning up mom’s room. My sister had taken a short break to be alone with her thoughts, sitting in what had once been the dining room. After a few moments she noticed that a clock hanging on the wall, which had not worked in more than 15 years, was ticking once again. Excitedly, my sister called me to listen. I heard the sound too. The clock was indeed running and continued to run for several days. What mystery had started the broken clock?
My sisters and I believe that the ticking clock was a sign for all of their children -- Dad was waiting for Mom when she arrived in that new place he had been preparing for her, just as he had been more than 60 years before. That magical love which they had shared for so long had brought mom and dad together again. Our grief had been partially turned to joy, for the parents who meant so much to us were together once more. And that simple sign of the ticking clock assures my sisters and me that Mom and Dad will be waiting for us, when we each make our own journey from Death to Life.
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