Family Matters: A few “snap shots” from a family album

There were the good times and the bad in my life, especially during the Great Depression. Adaptation was ongoing and it was so demanding for so many folks for so long. My mother Alice shifted from role of the shy young farm girl to a married young woman with three children: Joan the oldest, my brother John, and me the baby bringing up the rear.

Alcoholism and prayers often went together. My father sometimes hid the booze bottles around and in the house. Mom would find them and pour them down the sink. Hardly a formula for economic and marital success but somehow they stayed together and in love. Mom prayed ceaselessly during those decades. Alcoholism was an on/off thing with Dad and the off years were great.

For Mom the prayers still went on, like a Catholic nun I suppose. Mom drove and spent much time delivering nuns to various destinations on their request. If prayers alone could do it Dad would have conquered alcohol. Prayers, ongoing harassment, and verbal criticism were all often part of the piece.

There had to be pain for my mother on that day the Cavanagh truck rolled out in the fifties with freshly painted new signs on the doors: T J CAVANAGH AND SONS. No mention of Mom. She deserved more, especially with increased prosperity surrounding her as well. My role? A shamed spectator. Much more was possible. All those piled up years. Surely something could be done. Right? Wrong. Do you need a little help? Could you use a little help? Case closed. Sorry Mom. I could and should have spoken out. Bad memories.

At one point my father was put in jail for drunk driving. My sister remembers it as an overnight. My memory tells me longer. One week? We were baffled when we got together. Mom took charge. “WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THIS’’ she told us and she was right. Mom insisted on silence on the topic. We accepted. Not a word. Why? Only Mom knows and she is not talking.

Mom was often in charge and added new concerns to our world. For example, she fretted about Poor Houses. Warnings were often heard. Poor people could end up in one of those wretched homes where folks were confined because of bad luck and lack of money. It could happen to us. She certainly had me worried. How terrible. Look it up in Oliver Twist and be careful about asking for more. Probably everyone knew that Poor Houses did not exist in Peterborough but Mom did not worry the details. I listened hard, was the youngest, frightened, and accepted whatever I was told. We simply did not know. That’s me. Worrying and worried. Still am. But Mom had the answers and deeply loved her children so no need to worry. Mom is nearby. This we knew. Good thing.

One time in my early teens I was kicked off the altar during Sunday 10:00 high mass at St. Peter’s Cathedral with a full house on deck. I was showing off. How could I be so stupid? When I delayed in the blind hope that this could not happen, the priest raised the ante and I was gone. A disgrace for Mom. Somehow she took it in stride. Mom was a tough resilient woman. Dad must have slept through it all. Anyway, over time I was reinstated at the Cathedral. Life went on. Hard on Mom especially with so many viewers, neighbours, relatives in place looking on. Not really a disgrace but clearly hard to take. For a change I said some prayers for her. Go to sleep now my dear, Alice.

WHAT WILL THE NEIGHBOURS THINK?

The neighbours were another item of concern for Mom. They did not bother Dad. His answer was swift and to the point. Neighbours gossiping? Who cares? Forget them. They don’t matter. Alas, for my Mother it was uncomfortable living with wealth in an upscale part of the city. Five bathrooms by then. Awareness of her limited education and experience could be embarrassing. What might the neighbours think? Nothing. Well it mattered for Mom. My writing no consequence simply misses the target. Enough said. Human relations can always be touchy and difficult. Mom worried and was sensitive about the neighbours. I think there was a photo in the newspaper of her three children sitting in the wash tub in the backyard. Was it shown in the Peterborough Examiner? Oh Horror? Probably someone thought it was cute. Not Mom. Diapers on the line. Well they had to dry somewhere although here too was potential for worrying. Much later my wife and I had four kids so I get it. But back to Dad and Mom. Enough on the neighbours. Count the blessings.

Mom always removed the old worn out shoes she wore when cleaning the house. A knock or a door bell ringing changed everything and suddenly instant movement took over. Old shoes disappeared and a gleaming new pair replaced them. Why? Well what might the neighbours think if they are there unannounced? To ask is to answer. Nothing. Dad had a good fix on these things along with an old observation of Arthur Balfour. It really fits perfectly. If I could I would send my thanks for these his words: Nothing matters very much and few things matter at all. He’s right but not about my parents. They matter very much.