Michelle Cox's Blog, page 3

“Charlie Was the Love of My Life.”

Louisa Berger was born on September 5, 1907 in Macedonia.  Her parents, Martin Everhart and Liese Buhr were German farmers living in what was once called the Austro-Hungarian Empire in an area that later became Yugoslavia.  There were originally nine children in the family, but three of them died of diphtheria. The rest of them worked very hard on the farm and suffered much under the hand of Martin, who was “a mean, cruel drunk,” whom they all hated.  They lived in horrible poverty as things in Europe got progressively worse.  At some point, Martin decided to abandon his miserable farm and immigrate to the United States, taking the family with him.

Louisa was just a small girl at the time, though she says she remembers the ship.  Upon arrival in New York, the Berger family made their way to Chicago, where Martin had a cousin.  He was able to find some work in a factory, but after about a year, he took the family to Minnesota, where they worked on a beet farm for many years.  Martin eventually abandoned this, too, and again moved them all back to Chicago.

By this time, Louisa was roughly fourteen years old and had received almost no schooling.  She got a job in a candy factory in Chicago and worked many hours to bring in money for her family.  Louisa describes herself as being very shy back then, but that she managed to make a few friends at work.  Louisa and her friends made it their routine to walk every Sunday in Humboldt Park, where they loved to hear the bands play in the band shell.  On one of these Sundays, Louisa met a young man by the name of Charlie Berger, who was also walking in the park with friends.  Charlie, Louisa says, was very outgoing and easy to talk to.  “Before I knew it,” she says, “I was on a date with him, and I didn’t even realize it!”

Charlie worked as a shoemaker, and the two of them married when Louisa was seventeen.  They lived on the north side, and Charlie went to night school to become a realtor.  Louisa continued working at the candy factory until she got pregnant.  Together they had five children: Charles Jr., Clarence, Carl, Lillian and Irene.  Once the children were older, Louisa sometimes worked as a cleaner in the evenings.  “Charlie was the love of my life,” Louisa says.  They were never separated except for when he served in the army during the war.

Louisa says she led a very simple life and didn’t go out much.  “I never wanted to,” she says.  She was happy listening to music and was mesmerized when they got a television.  Most of her time, though, was spent gardening and baking.  Charlie dug up almost the whole back yard for her to plant as a garden, and she often won prizes for her vegetables and flowers.  “She was always baking,” says her daughter, Irene.  Even after they all left, she would still bake several pies and cakes each week and bring them to church meetings or to the rectory for the priests to eat. She looked forward to Sundays when her two sisters would come over and they would play cards all afternoon.

Having never gone to school, Louisa was basically illiterate for most of her life, something she was very ashamed of.  Charlie tried to teach her to read in the early years of their marriage, but it proved difficult for him to find the time between working and going to night school.  Louisa, too, was busy with the five children and likewise couldn’t make learning to read her priority.  Instead, Charlie took care of everything—all of the bills and finances and correspondences.

It was a particularly crushing blow, then, when Charlie fell off a ladder and died at age fifty-two.  Louisa’s children stepped in to help her as much as possible, though most of them had already moved out of the house.  The only one still living at home was Carl, and it was he that finally taught Louisa to read.  Louisa delighted in being able to read the newspaper, but it was short-lived, however, when she began to go blind several years later.  Though she can still see a little bit, she has been declared legally blind and must now use a cane.

Remarkably, however, Louisa continued to live independently until about two years ago when she turned eighty-nine and began needing more help.  Irene, Carl and Lillian, the only children still in the area, tried taking turns going to assist her, but they are themselves somewhat advanced in years now, with various health problems and their own families to worry about.  When it got to be too much to constantly go and check on her, they hired a caretaker to come in periodically and even tried adult daycare.  Both of these things helped, but they did not prevent her from repeatedly falling when she was alone.

After a particularly bad fall, Louisa ended up in the hospital and became very disoriented, which prompted the hospital staff to recommend that she be discharged to a nursing home.  Her children were reluctant to do so, but, ultimately, they felt it would probably be for the best considering her condition.

Louisa is adjusting to her new surroundings, but she is frequently confused about where she is and often asks for Carl or sometimes even for her husband, Charlie.  At other times, however, she is very clear and likes answering questions about her past.  It is difficult for her to participate in activities because of her poor eyesight.  She prefers to sit amongst the other residents, however, rather than be alone in her room.

(Originally written: September 1996)

If you liked this true story about the past, check out Michelle’s historical fiction/mystery series, set in the 1930s in Chicago:

 

 

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“That’s What Happens When You Fly Too High…”

Ruby Fessler was born in Chicago on September 16, 1937 to Rudi Fessler, an immigrant from Vienna, Austria, and Ida Beldy, an immigrant from Hungary.  Rudi worked for a trucking company.  Ida cared for their four children and was also a breeder of Shih Tzu poodles.  Ruby graduated from high school, but says she didn’t have any use for school, especially since she began working as a model at age twelve.  She modeled primarily for Sables and Pat Stevens.  Though she didn’t really like it, the money helped to support the family, and her mother made her continue.

When she was eighteen, Ruby entered a beauty contest at a night club in Logan Square and won.  The management was so impressed by her that they offered her a job managing their “Opera Club.”  It was at the Opera Club that the young Ruby met Roger Kipman, a real estate broker who was, in her words, “a real mover and shaker.”

Roger soon took a liking to Ruby, who claims she married him “under duress” at age 24.  After they were married, Ruby says she discovered that he had been indicted three times for six million dollars in government and international theft.  Roger tried to get Ruby to sign some of his money into her name to help hide it.  When she refused to cooperate, Roger beat her.  Ruby says that she was hospitalized three times during their two-year marriage and that the stress and physical abuse left her permanently disabled.

Ruby says she was finally able to get away from Roger Kipman and filed for a divorce, though Roger vowed he “would always be around to get even with her.”  The government apparently offered her political asylum, as did five other embassies, as Roger’s thefts included international schemes and bank accounts.  According to Ruby, several of the employees she met with at the embassies claimed that they had never seen a woman so abused.   “But,” says Ruby, “that’s what happens when you fly too high.  You get your wings clipped.”

In the end, Ruby turned down all the offers from the embassies, as they could promise safe passage out of the country, but could not necessarily help her to get back in.  As Ruby was still recovering at the time, she did not relish leaving the United States, so she turned down all the offers and went to live with and care for her mother, Ida.

For many years, Ruby had a quiet life with her mother and took many trips around the country with her.  She also loved music, art, gardening, and studying ancient cultures.  She even took a few classes in ancient history at the local community college because she was so interested in this subject.  Though she did go out from time to time to the various “private clubs” of which she was a member, she tried hard to keep a low profile, as she was afraid that Roger was still out there looking for her.

When Ida passed away in 1990, Ruby moved into her own apartment.  She had little money, however, and was forced to live in “slum apartments, surrounded by gangs, drug addicts and thieves.”  Ruby somehow blames all of this on Roger, saying that because he was a “slum landlord,” he made her life a hell and had “bad people” follow her from apartment to apartment.  At some point, she reached out to her brother, Steven, who helped her find a decent apartment and stopped over from time to time to check on her.

Regardless of the better neighborhood, Ruby, it seems, was still not safe.  In 1992, four men apparently broke into her apartment and attacked her.  They beat her severely, breaking one of her arms, a leg and her spine, and leaving her for dead.  When Steven eventually stopped by a few days later, he found her lying unconscious and called for an ambulance.  Though she cannot prove it, Ruby is convinced that Roger was behind the attack.  She despairs that he was never brought to justice, first because she could never prove that he was involved, and secondly because she has since heard that Roger was killed shortly after the incident in a street fight.

Ruby spent over a year in the hospital recovering and was then released to a nursing home, where she spent another two years.  In that time, her brother, Steven, died, and she very much grieved for him.  Ruby claims that she put her name on a waiting list at the nursing home to be moved into an assisted living apartment when one became available.  After two years, she inquired about her status on the list and discovered that her name had never been added.  Furious, she transferred to a different nursing home with the help of her sister, Peggy, who had been living in California but who had relocated to Chicago just after Steven died.

Peggy has helped Ruby with her admission to this current nursing home, but she is very antagonistic to the staff and is at times verbally abusive.  She appears to be somewhat mentally unstable herself and makes unrealistic demands on Ruby’s behalf.  Ruby, however, though she tolerates Peggy’s presence, is quick to point out that Peggy has no authority over her and cannot sign any documents for her.  They have never been close, Ruby says, and adds that “we don’t get along.”  When asked about Ruby’s somewhat fantastical history, Peggy will not comment except to confirm that her sister was indeed beaten.  With no children and no other living siblings or friends to question, there seems to be no way of easily corroborating Ruby’s story.

The previous nursing home provided some clues, however, saying that Ruby has a history of schizophrenia and suffers from panic attacks.  They were also somehow able to determine that previous to her last hospital stay, she had been living alone in dirt and filth and that she had come in to the hospital with many bedsores.

Ruby is very alert and aware of her situation, but seems withdrawn and unmotivated.  She does not appear to have any interests in the life of the home and does not interact with other residents except to ask them for cigarettes.  She will engage somewhat in conversation with staff if prompted.  She looks forward to Peggy visiting, but when she does come, they usually end up arguing.

(Originally written: February 1996)

If you liked this true story about the past, check out Michelle’s historical fiction/mystery series, set in the 1930s in Chicago:

 

 

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An Obsession With the House on Strong Avenue

Zita Fodor was born on May 12, 1913 in Budapest, Hungary to David Fodor and Terezia Kozorus.  It is unknown what type of work David did while still in Hungary, but when he and Terezia immigrated to America, he found work in Chicago as a tool and die maker.  Terezia cared for their two children, Zita and Gyorgy (George).  It is interesting to note that David was a Lutheran and Terezia a Catholic.  Obviously, this did not stop them from marrying, and they raised their children this way, too.  Zita followed her mother and leaned toward Catholicism, while George leaned toward being a Lutheran like his father.

When the Fodors first arrived in Chicago, they rented a small apartment on Northwest Highway.  Later they rented a place on Strong Avenue, and then finally purchased their own home just a few blocks up from where they had been renting.  The Fodors lived on the first floor and rented out the upper floor for all the years that Zita and George were in school.

Zita graduated from eighth grade and then got a job as a nanny for a wealthy family.  Sometimes she even traveled with them to their summer home in Michigan.  She did this for several years, until her mother, Terezia, died of liver cancer.  Zita came back home, then, to care for her father and brother and got a job as an assembler in a factory that made televisions and radios.  Later she quit to take a job at Switchcraft on Elston Avenue, again as a machine operator.

Zita was very devoted to her father and brother, but when the upstairs apartment became available, she surprised them by announcing that she was going to move into it herself.  She would still cook and clean for them, she explained, but she wanted her own space.  Not long after that, her brother, George, announced that he was getting married.  Zita was extremely upset by this news, not wanting anything else to change, and tried to talk George out of it.  When George informed her that he had every intention to go through with the wedding, Zita had no choice but to accept it, though she was cold to George’s wife, Marie, for many years after.  In fact, says Zita’s niece, Donna, “the two of them never got along,” no matter what Donna’s mother, Marie, did to try to please Zita.  “She was a person that hated change,” Donna explains.  “It was very stressful for her.”

Zita was further upset when George and Marie announced that they planned to rent an apartment down the street after the wedding.  Desperate to keep the family together, Zita offered to move back in with her father so that George and Marie could have the upstairs apartment.  George, however, wanted his own place and declined, much to Zita’s disappointment.  As it turned out, it wouldn’t have worked anyway, as her father remarried soon after as well, and his new wife, Sophia, moved in.  Again, Zita was very upset at the prospect of yet another change, and seemed to go out of her way to make life miserable for her new stepmother.

Though she was now the only single one in the family, Zita had no desire to ever get married and often loudly said so.  She was fiercely independent and wanted to stay that way, claiming that the idea of marriage was “abhorrent” to her.  Her father believed that perhaps she just hadn’t met the right man and thus set about trying to find his daughter a husband.  Eventually he introduced Zita to a young Hungarian immigrant by the name of Elek (Alex) Lukacs whom he knew from work and whom he was very fond of.  Elek began to spend a lot of time at the Fodor house and eventually worked up the courage to propose to Zita, who promptly refused him.  Her father was angered by this and tried to force Zita to marry Elek, but she refused and remained unmarried and independent her whole life.

One thing that the Fodors all had in common was a fierce attachment to their house on Strong Avenue.  For Zita, it was more than an attachment, however; it was almost an obsession.

When Zita’s mother, Terezia, died, her father had a will drawn up in which he bequeathed the house on Strong Avenue to both Zita and George.  He stuck to this decision even after he married Sophia.  So when he died of a massive heart attack and Sophia discovered that she would not get the house, she was furious.  There was not a lot of love between she and Zita and George, so, in the end, Sophia was eventually forced to move out and went to live with relatives.

Zita remained in the upstairs apartment, and she and George rented out the bottom floor.  In addition, George decided to honor his father’s last wishes to bequeath his share of the house to Zita, should he die before her, instead of to his wife, Marie.  Years later, however, he discovered that Zita had not reciprocated, as she was supposed to have done.  He somehow found out that she had in truth wrote a will in which she intended to leave her share of the house to the American Indians, her one true passion in life.  Furious, George changed his will and left his share to Marie.

Unfortunately, like his father, George also died of a heart attack.  His share of the house accordingly went to Marie, who obviously had her own house, so their daughter, Donna, moved into the first floor apartment of the house on Strong.  Donna eventually married and had two children and still lives in the little house on Strong Avenue.  Over the years, she has managed to melt her eccentric Aunt Zita’s heart.  Likewise, Donna and her family have grown to love Zita and have been caring for her as she has aged.

Zita eventually retired from Switchcraft but had little to do to fill her time.  She had no hobbies besides reading about American Indians and had few friends.  “She’s gotten more and more introverted and eccentric over the years,” says Donna.  Her health continued to worsen, and she eventually had to begin dialysis.  Just recently, however, she has refused to have any more dialysis treatments and has instead decided to go into a hospice program in a nursing home, as she now has so many problems that Donna cannot handle them all.

Donna has helped her to get settled into the nursing home, bringing her many of her things from home, but Zita is not making the adjustment well.  She is depressed and irritable most of the time and will not get out of bed unless forced.  She has no interest in the other residents or any of the activities offered.  At times she can be pleasant with the staff, but usually she pretends to fall asleep while being spoken to.  Donna and her family continue to visit as often as they can, but Zita seems to get no joy even from that.

When asked about her house on Strong Avenue, Zita says she has changed her will so that it will go to Donna and hopes she will never sell it.  She says that “it was the first thing we owned in a new country, and we were extremely proud of it.”

(Originally written: May 1994)

If you liked this true story about the past, check out Michelle’s historical fiction/mystery series, set in the 1930s in Chicago:

 

     

 

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Her Favorite Job Was Working in an Ice Cream Parlor

Apolonia Ruzicka was born on March 30, 1914 in Chicago to Jonas Horacek and Marie Blaha, both of whom were immigrants from Czechoslovakia, though they apparently met and married in South Bend, Indiana.   Jonas and Marie were introduced at a church picnic.  Marie actually fancied another boy, but Jonas was persistent in asking Marie out until she finally gave in.  They began steadily dating and then got engaged.  After they were married, they lived with Marie’s parents for several years to save money.

Jonas had a good job at the Studebaker factory, but when the Great Depression hit, he was let go.  Despite his best efforts, Jonas could not find another job, so the young couple decided to try their luck in Chicago.  They found an apartment near Archer and Ashland, and Jonas got a job as a tool and die maker, while Marie cared for their two children, Apolonia and Helena.  Eventually, in the 1930’s, they were able to buy a two-flat on 31st Street.

Apolonia only went to school through 8th grade and then got a job at the Schulze Baking Company.  She was always outspoken and loud, the opposite of her younger sister, Helena, so when she announced that she was marrying one Frank Marek, a young man she had met at the White City Ballroom, everyone was shocked that she had found someone.  Frank was a quiet man who worked as a mechanic and didn’t seem to mind Apolonia’s strong opinions or outbursts.  After they were married in 1935, they moved into the upper apartment of Jonas and Marie’s new two-flat and began a family right away.

Apolonia and Frank’s first baby, Rose, lived for only one day.  Heartbroken, the young couple tried again, and finally, in 1939, Apolonia had a healthy baby boy, James.  He was quickly followed by Donald and Leo.  Apolonia stayed home to raise her boys until after World War II when she got a part-time job in the mail order room at Sears and Roebuck, working evenings at Christmas-time.

By the 1950’s, Apolonia and Frank had saved enough to buy their own house and moved to Cicero.  Apolonia got a permanent part-time job working the counter at the Prince Castle Ice Cream Co., where she was a favorite among the customers.  Tragically, however, in 1958, Frank died of lung cancer at age forty-nine.  After his death, Apolonia could no longer pay the bills just by working part time, so she got a full-time job working as a cook at Morton West High School.  Her son, Leo, says that this was a particularly hard time for his mother, as she grieved not only for Frank, but for her job as well, as she loved working at the ice cream parlor and had made many friends there.

After several years passed, Apolonia was introduced through a cousin to Peter Ruzicka, who worked as a carpenter’s assistant.  The two hit it off and married in 1966.  Apolonia sold her house, and she and Peter bought a different one, also in Cicero.  They were happy together, which was significant, Leo explains, as his mother was hard to please.  Peter wasn’t the most financially successful man, but he somehow made Apolonia happy.  It was nice period for all of them, as after she married Peter, she wasn’t as “emotionally needy,” Leo says and and demanded less of the three boys.  Sadly, however, they did not have many years together, as Peter died in 1978 of heart disease.

After Peter’s death, Apolonia lived alone and found solace in crocheting, knitting, bingo, and gardening.  She likewise remained an active member of the Slovene Center and volunteered for years at its many Bohemian picnics and dances.  In later years, she also joined a group, the Friendship Club, for senior citizens at her church, Our Lady of Charity.  Leo reports that his mother was always “as strong as a horse,” and was never really ill.  She lived independently, even into her eighties, until she was found one day on the floor of her home, unconscious, by a neighbor, who quickly called an ambulance.

Apolonia remained in the hospital for over a month, though her sons were never given a straight answer about her diagnosis.  None of Apolonia’s sons live in the Chicago metro area, so it was hard for them to get information or to really assess what was wrong with their mother.  Leo was finally able to fly in from New York and was shocked to find his mom on the psychiatric ward of the hospital.  He also discovered that they had done “exploratory surgery” of her bladder, which had resulted in her being placed in intensive care.

Outraged, the family demanded that Apolonia be released back to her home with the help of a caregiver.  After only a few days, however, Apolonia was taken back to the hospital due to various complications.  The hospital then discharged her to a nursing home, where she is making a difficult transition.  She is angry and complaining most of the time.  Leo explains that she has always been this way and consequently has had trouble in her latter years making and keeping friends.  “Since she turned eighty,” Leo says, “she’s definitely gotten worse.”  According to him, her depression and irritability has increased, and she has lost interest in a lot of her hobbies.

Predictably, then, Apolonia does not enjoy any of the home’s activities and also does not seem interested in forming new relationships.  When the staff attempt to interact with her, she either shouts “get out!” when they enter the room, or she pretends to fall asleep while they are talking to her.  It is hoped that she can eventually acclimate, especially as all three of her sons are unable to visit on a regular basis.

(Originally written: July 1994)

If you liked this true story about the past, check out Michelle’s historical fiction/mystery series, set in the 1930s in Chicago:

 

 

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A Secret War-Time Affair

Adam Cerny was born on January 25, 1911 in Chicago to Teodor Cerny and Cecilie Klimek, both immigrants from Czechoslovakia.  Teodor and Cecilie grew up in the same town in Bohemia and married there.  Teodor worked as a farm laborer, and Cecilie cared for their four sons: Simon, Tomas, Radovan and Othmar.  At some point, the Cernys decided to start a new life in America and made their way to Chicago, where another son, Adam, was born.  Teodor found work in a warehouse for Marshall Fields and then got a job for a company that delivered coal, wood and ice.  Ice was always the steadiest, Adam remembers.

When the Cernys first arrived in Chicago, they lived in an apartment near Milwaukee and Grand, but later moved to a nicer place on Cornelia.  Finally, in 1922, they had saved up enough to buy their own house on Hutchinson, which is where Adam has subsequently lived his whole life.

Adam graduated from Lane Tech high school and immediately got a job as a mail clerk with Lansing B. Warner, Inc., a specialized insurance company for the food industry.  He was later promoted to purchasing clerk, and the only time he was ever absent from work was during WWII.  When the war broke out, he joined the army and was stationed in Italy and Africa, serving from February 1942 until November of 1945.  When he came home, he found his job at Lansing waiting for him, and he remained there until he retired at age fifty-five.  From there, he got a job at Grant, Wright and Baker, which was an advertising firm.  He began as a purchasing clerk, but to fully occupy his time, he also started proofreading the ads on the side in his spare time.  He remained there until he retired again at age seventy-seven.

Adam never married, though his nephew, Frank, says that there has always been a story in the family that Uncle Adam had a love affair while he was stationed in Italy.  It was something that he never spoke of, merely hinted at.  One Christmas, however, when they had all been drinking heavily, Adam told Frank cryptic bits of the story, saying that he had fallen in love during the war with an Italian woman by the name of Josienne, whose husband was also off fighting in the war.  Adam told Frank that he had kept up a correspondence with her for several years after the war and had only one picture of her (shown above).  He apparently begged her to come to the United States, but she never did.  Eventually, Josienne’s letters had stopped coming altogether, and Adam never heard from her again.  Sadly, he had no way of finding out what might have happened to her. 

Frank says that he has tried to bring up the subject several times over the years, but Adam no longer wants to talk about it, saying “that’s all in the past now” and almost seems embarrassed that he ever mentioned it in the first place.  Frank reports that he would occasionally urge his uncle to try to find someone else, but Adam was never interested, usually replying that someone needed to “stay home and care for the old ones,” meaning, of course, his parents.  As the youngest, this job fell to him, especially since all of his older brothers had long ago married and moved out.

Thus, Adam remained at the house on Hutchinson and dutifully cared for Teodor and Cecilie as they aged.  Teodor eventually died at age eighty-four of what was probably prostate cancer, and Cecilie five years later.  “Uncle Adam was a good caretaker,” Frank says, and even gave Cecilie her insulin shots in the later years.  After both of his parents died, Adam continued to live alone until the early 1990’s when he fell and broke a hip.  He spent several weeks in the hospital, during which time it was also discovered that he had prostate cancer.  He was determined to go home, but Frank convinced him to go to a nursing home, at least for a time.  Adam agreed to go temporarily, though Frank and the rest of the family see it as a permanent move, given his prognosis.

Adam, for his part, says “there’s no place like home,” but seems to enjoy his new surroundings none-the-less.  He is extremely alert and aware and is cognizant of the inner workings of the home itself and the various roles and schedules of the staff.  He enjoys sitting with other male residents to watch any type of sports game, except soccer, which he says he “has no time for.”  His favorite thing to do when he was at home, when he wasn’t working, was to potter about the yard and have a beer with his friends.  He religiously read the Chicago Tribune daily from “cover to cover” and still does, even here at the nursing home, and loves doing the crossword puzzle, a lifelong habit.

Adam is a very pleasant, down-to-earth man who is not easily ruffled and seems to be taking his fate in stride.  He believes in God, he says, but has never had much time for church.  He seems fully aware of his terminal prognosis, but says he is determined to enjoy what time he has left.

(Originally written: July 1994)

If you liked this true story about the past, check out Michelle’s historical fiction/mystery series, set in the 1930s in Chicago:

 

 

 

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Married at Fifteen

Hai Bo Song was born on October 5, 1914 in China to Jie Fu Song and Jing Fen Chan, who were farmers.  It is unclear how many siblings Hai had, as cousins in China were also referred to as brothers and sisters.  Hai’s youngest son, Ning, explains that at that time in China, it was common for most of the people in a whole village to be related to each other.  “That’s why two people from the same village were never allowed to marry.”  In those days, Ning says, “people were very much tied to the land, and a family’s wealth and worth was determined by the amount of land they owned.”  Thus, it was the custom for the man of the family to travel to the United States to work and to save money for a period of ten to fifteen years and then come back and buy another parcel of land to increase the size of the farm.  He would then send his oldest son to America to begin another ten- to fifteen-year stint.

Though they were already considered somewhat well off, Hai’s family was no exception to this practice, with Jie and several of his sons working in America in shifts.  When Hai was fifteen, her parents arranged for her to marry Wu Hong Lim, who had been working in America with his father from age 12.  When he turned eighteen, he was sent back to China to marry the girl his parents had selected for him, Hai Bo Song.  He stayed long enough for Hai to give birth to a healthy son, Tai, and then he returned to America to complete his stint.

As it happened, Wu stayed in America beyond the normal fifteen years due to WWII.  After the war ended and the Communists moved in to take over China, thousands of people fled, trying to get to America to be reunited with their fathers or husbands.  Hai and Tai were among these and managed to make it out of China.  They eventually met up with Wu in Chicago.  There, Hai and Wu had two more sons, Shi and Ning.  Tai was well over fifteen by the time Shi was born, but a fifteen-year gap between siblings was obviously common for Chinese families at the time.  Wu and Hai lived for many years in Chicago’s Chinatown, with Wu working as a waiter and Hai eventually getting jobs in factories.  In the 1960’s, the family moved to the north side of Chicago.

Ning explains that his mother is a quiet woman and easily pleased.  She enjoyed socializing with her Chinese neighbors when they lived in Chinatown and has never really learned to speak English well.  She also liked crocheting, playing Mahjong, gambling, and watching Chinese soap operas.  She only left Chicago once, and that was to go to Boston for a relative’s wedding.  She also enjoyed going to Chinese funerals.  Once they moved to the north side and had a small yard, she also took up gardening, something she hadn’t done since she her days in China.

Tai and Shi eventually married and moved to the suburbs, but Ning has remained all these years with his parents, caring for them as they aged.  Except for a hairline fracture in her back after she fell in 1972, Hai has remained in good health until recent years.  In the early 1990’s, Hai developed shingles and, according to Ning, has slowly “gone downhill” since then.  Ning says that whenever the weather changes, she still has twinges of pain.  Two years ago, she fell again, this time breaking her hip, but she eventually recovered, slowly but surely.  Ning says that his mother is amazingly strong, both physically and mentally, and that she has always been independent, out of necessity, from a young age.  “She never gives up,” Ning says.

At the time that Hai broke her hip, however, Ning was also struggling in having to care more for his father, Wu, who was progressively becoming more confused.  He was repeatedly found wandering in the neighborhood, lost, with the police bringing him back to the house nine times in the space of a month and a half.  The police suggested that perhaps Wu be admitted to a nursing home, but, Ning says, “I couldn’t do it.”  It would have gone completely against Chinese culture, Ning explains, in which the “children are obligated to care for their parents.”  In an effort to keep Wu at home, Ning instead put high locks on the doors to keep Wu from wandering.  This only seemed to incense Wu, however, and caused him to become combative.  He even once drew a knife.  This was the last straw for Ning, already worn out from caring for his mother.  He took Wu to a doctor, who in turn diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s and insisted that he be admitted to a nursing home, which Ning reluctantly agreed to.

Not long after his father was admitted to the nursing home, Hai suddenly collapsed one day in severe pain.  Ning called an ambulance, and it was discovered that part of her intestine had ruptured.  During the resultant emergency surgery, the doctors further determined that she was also suffering from colon cancer.

Hai was accordingly discharged to a nursing home with hospice care, though not the same home where Wu is a resident.  Ning thought it best for them to not be in the same place, as in their later years, they had become very argumentative.  Also, Ning reasoned, they would not be together, anyway, with Wu being on a separate Alzheimer’s unit.  Ning wanted Hai to be in a smaller facility that could hopefully give her more attention.  Tai and Shi and their families have started to become more involved and visit often, though it is Ning who continues to come twice a day, every day.

Hai seems accepting of her prognosis and seems to take her fate in stride.  She is very alert, though she can only communicate through an interpreter.  She says that she is not afraid to die and that she has lived a good life.  She does not seem to enjoy sitting with the other residents, preferring instead to sit alone in her room, where she waits for Ning to come and visit.

(Originally written: November 1995)

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Reunited . . . Christmas 1933

Hana Jezek was born on September 25, 1922 in Brezova, Czechoslovakia to Bartholomew Jezek and Irena Vedej.  Bartholomew was a soldier and was always on the move with the army.  It was in one of the little villages he traveled through that he met Irena and fell in love with her.  They eventually married and had two children: Hana and Bartholomew, Jr., or Bart, as he came to be called.

In 1929, when Hana was seven and Bart five, the situation in Czechoslovakia was so bad that Bartholomew and Irena decided to try a new life in America.  Bartholomew had brothers and sisters who had already made the journey and had settled in Chicago.  They were constantly urging Bartholomew and Irena to join them, and, finally, the two decided to go.  Once the decision was made, one of Bartholomew’s brothers wrote and advised them to come without the children, as they would be unburdened that way and could make more money.  At first, Irena refused to leave Hana and Bart, but after much pleading, Bartholomew finally convinced her to leave them with a grandmother.  Irena cried and sobbed when it was time to leave and was often depressed and inconsolable on the ship bound for America.

Once in Chicago, Bartholomew got a job with his brother at the Brach Candy Company on the night shift, and Irena found work at S. K. Smith, which was a lithography company.  After four long years of working, they were finally able to send for Hana and Bart, who arrived in America on December 15, 1933.  They traveled on a ship in the care of several other people from their village who were immigrating, too.  Irena was overjoyed to see her children, never having forgiven herself for leaving them behind.  Irena always said that it was their best Christmas ever.  From that point on, she spoiled her children completely.

By 1940, the family had saved enough to buy a little house on Karlov Avenue, where Hana has lived ever since.  When she graduated from high school, Hana got a job at the Zenith radio factory and worked there for 42 years, never missing a day.  Her parents were similar in that they remained at the original jobs they found upon arrival in Chicago until the day they retired.  Hana says that her family was just like that.  “Once they had a thing,” she says, “they always stuck to it,” whether it was a job or a house or a car.  “They didn’t like change.”

Hana and her brother, Bart, were very close as children and remained so as adults.  When WWII broke out, Bart enlisted in the army, and Hana wrote to him every week with the news from home.  When he came back from the war, he married the girl who lived down the street, and they eventually bought a house on Karlov as well.  Hana loved her sister-in-law, Dorothy, and was very involved in the lives of her nieces and nephews.

Hana herself never married, saying that “the right fellow never came along,” though Bart is of the opinion that she simply didn’t want things to change.  Whatever the reason, Hana instead devoted herself to working and to her hobbies, which included travel.  Hana loved travelling and went all over the United States with her mother.  Bartholomew never wanted to go, saying that he had traveled enough as a soldier when he was a young man.  He called himself “a homebody,” preferring to stay and take care of the house while his wife and daughter went on their trips.  He adored both of them and always had a hot meal waiting for them when they returned from their travels.

Hana enjoyed knitting and crocheting and was very active in their church, Trinity Lutheran.  Later in life, she developed a passion for going to the movies and went to see all the new films, either with girlfriends or her mother, at the Gateway, the Karlov, the Tiffin or the Logan.  Hana lived with her parents her whole life on Karlov Avenue, caring for them as they aged until they died in their eighties.  Bartholomew died of congestive heart failure at age 82, and Irena died after a stroke at age 86 in 1990.  Since then, Hana has lived alone in the house, though Bart and his family live close by.

Hana very recently began experiencing chest pains and was hospitalized with what she thought was a heart problem.  It turned out to be a respiratory condition, however, requiring oxygen, and her doctor felt she should be admitted to a nursing home until her condition clears and her health improves. Hana agrees with her doctor’s advice, but she fully plans to return to her home on Karlov as soon as she can.  Bart and his wife, Dorothy, likewise feel this is a realistic goal and are very supportive.  Not only do they visit Hana regularly, but their children and even grandchildren frequently come to visit “Great Aunt, Hana.”  They appear to be a very loving family and concerned with Hana’s well-being  and comfort.

Until she can go home, Hana is patiently biding her time, careful to follow her doctor’s instructions to the letter.  She is very cheerful and friendly and seems to genuinely like talking with the other residents and participating in almost every activity the home has to offer.

(Originally written: December 1994)

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She Never Really Stopped Loving Him

Grace Phillips was born on October 3, 1922 in Alder Point, Nova Scotia to Warren McAndrews and Mary Jane Wilson, both of whom were Scottish Canadians.  Warren was a coal miner, and Mary Jane cared for their ten children: Margaret, Grace, Leon, Calvin, Rosemary, Dale, Katherine, William, Mattie and Lillie.  Lillie was actually the daughter of Mary Jane’s best friend who had died during childbirth.  Lillie’s father was overwhelmed and distraught and had no use for the baby that had somehow lived despite the botched birth, so Mary Jane took her and raised her as their own daughter.

When Grace was about twelve or thirteen, the McAndrews decided to move to Chicago in hopes of a better life.  Warren, desperate to get away from the mines, found “a good job” in the city as a carpenter.  Grace only completed seventh grade and then stayed home to help her mother with their large family.  In her teens, she got a job at a factory that made decorative braiding, a skill Grace became quite good at.  It was one of the things, actually, that attracted her future husband, Gordon Phillips, to her.  When he first met her, he noticed that even though the clothes she wore were simple and not expensive, she made them look elegant by adding braiding.

Grace and her sister, Rosemary, had the same set of friends and often socialized in the big dance halls around Chicago.  It was at one such place, the Merry Gardens, that Grace was introduced to a mutual friend, Gordon Phillips.  Gordon and Grace started dating and fell in love, but when the war broke out, Gordon immediately joined up.  They decided to get married before he shipped out, so Grace bravely traveled alone to North Carolina where Gordon was stationed in order to get married, as he was not allowed to leave the base.  Shortly after the wedding, Gordon was indeed shipped out to Europe, so Grace returned home to Chicago to live with her parents and to wait for Gordon to come back.  She got a job in the meantime at a factory that made gold rings.

Unfortunately, the war did not go well for Gordon.  He was captured by the Germans and spent eight months as a prisoner of war.  When he finally came home, he was only 110 pounds.  He got a job right away, however, in a tool and die factory, and Grace quit her job to be a housewife and then a mother.  Together, she and Gordon had three children: Donna, Carol and Steven.  They began their married life in a small apartment on the north side and moved from place to place until they settled in an apartment on Diversey, where they remained together until 1970.

Grace and Gordon’s marriage, however, was not a happy one.  “He was never the same” after the war, Grace often said.  “He wasn’t the man I married.”  Grace tried hard to make it work, but Gordon began drinking more and more until she could no longer take it.  Gordon moved out and eventually remarried, while Grace remained in the apartment with Steven, the only child still at home.  Grace got a job as a purchasing clerk for the Society for Visual Education in Chicago and managed to support herself and Steven over the years.

Grace’s daughter, Donna, remembers her mother as being very submissive to Gordon, who suffered from severe mood swings, among other things.  “But when she divorced him,” Rosemary says, her mother became “much more independent.”  She went out more and became more social.  She had always enjoyed reading, embroidering and crocheting, but she now took up walking, too, sometimes spending her entire day off simply walking through the city.  Once Steven got married and moved away, she likewise got more involved in her church, St. Bartholomew, and volunteered many hours to the St. Vincent De Paul society.

In 1990, Grace decided to move to a new apartment, but after only two years in the new place, she was robbed twice and mugged once on the street.  She decided at that point to retire from her job and move to a better apartment on Patterson.  Grace continued with her hobbies and volunteering, though, until February of 1994, when she discovered that Gordon had died.  He had had a quadruple bypass the year before and had been recently diagnosed with prostate cancer.  While in the hospital having surgery to remove the cancer, there was apparently a mistake made that cost  Gordon his life.  His heart had begun to beat irregularly, so he was given a medication to slow it down a bit.  Tragically, however, the nurse on duty accidentally administered 10x’s the amount prescribed, which stopped his heart completely, and he died.

Though Grace and Gordon had lived for years and years apart with little or no contact between them, Grace was very affected by Gordon’s death and went into a depression after he died.  Donna believes that her mother never really stopped loving her father.  According to Donna, Grace never once spoke negatively of their father, despite all that had gone on between the two of them.  It is perhaps not surprising, then, that just two months after Gordon’s death, Grace suffered a stroke, which left her right side paralyzed.  She spent five weeks in the hospital recovering.  When it was time for her to be discharged, her family suggested giving a nursing home a try.  Grace agreed to this but believes her stay at the home to be temporary, though her daughter, Donna, confirms that she and the rest of the family feel it is a permanent move, as it is impossible for her to care for herself now.

Grace seems in relatively good spirits and has a great sense of humor, but she is very frustrated by her inability to effectively communicate because of the stroke.  Her speech is severely limited.  She can get simple things across, but relies on her daughters to give more lengthy explanations to the staff whenever they come in to visit, which is somewhat problematic for all concerned and for obvious reasons.  Grace has been successful, however, in communicating to the staff that she wants to be up and about in her wheelchair and not lying in bed.  Though she cannot really talk to the other residents, she prefers to be sitting among them and is eager to participate in activities if a staff member or a volunteer can sit and help her.    

(Originally written May 1994)

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Her Dreams of Being a Nun Were Dashed!

Nedda Scarsi was born on April 7, 1910 in Chicago to Giovi and Fara Mancus, both of whom had immigrated to the United States from Sicily as a newly married couple.  Giovi made a living selling produce from a cart that he pushed from street to street, and Fara cared for their seven children, of whom Nedda was the youngest.  Nedda attended school until seventh grade and then quit to help her mother at home.

From an early age, Nedda was a very religious child and dreamed of becoming a nun.  Her mother wouldn’t hear of it, however, and insisted she get married instead.  When Nedda retorted that she didn’t know any men and didn’t really have an opportunity to meet any, Fara arranged for her to marry the son of some Sicilian friends.  For a while, Nedda tried to resist, but, finally, when she was twenty years old, she agreed to marry Vincenzu “Vince” Scarsi.

Vince worked at the Galvin Manufacturing Corp. factory, which later changed its name in the 1940’s to Motorola.  Nedda stayed home and took care of their four children:  Sonia (Sunny), Concetta (Connie), Antonio (Tony), and Francesca (Frannie).  Sunny and Connie were born very close together, right after Nedda and Vince married, but then ten years passed before Nedda became pregnant with Tony.  Another five passed before she became pregnant with Frannie, thus the Scarsi children were spread across a large space of time.

Shortly after Connie was born, Nedda’s mother, Fara, passed away, which caused a rift in the family that still exists today.  Giovi had long since passed away, so when Fara died, the children began to fight over the assets, which included three, three-flat buildings, which they rented out, and a considerable savings stuffed in mattresses around the house, as neither Fara nor Giovi had any trust in banks.  The four brothers aligned themselves against Nedda and her two sisters in their fight over how the assets should be distributed.  It was eventually sorted out, but each “side” refused to forgive the other and went their separate ways.  Thus, Nedda has never once spoken to any of her brothers since that time.

Nedda tried hard to make her own life with Vince, but they never really got along. In fact, they fought constantly.  To make matters worse, in 1953 when Frannie, the youngest, was just five, Vince was diagnosed with nose cancer.  The stress in the house worsened as a result, and the fighting intensified.  Finally, after two years of this, Vince and Nedda separated.  Nedda got menial labor jobs and went on welfare to support herself and the kids, but she became severely depressed.  Eventually, she was fired from her job and stayed in bed all day, sleeping constantly, forcing Sunny and Connie to care for both Tony and Frannie.

In 1962, Vince passed away, lifting some sort of burden from Nedda, and she began to “come around” again, says Tony.  By the time Frannie graduated from high school and moved out of the house, Nedda began to “perk up” and would finally leave the house and do errands.  Her favorite activity was to clip religious articles from the newspaper and put them in a box.  She also loved watching television, especially magic shows.  Eventually, Frannie got married and had a son, Frank, whom Nedda grew very close to and who became her favorite.  Often, Nedda would take the two buses required to get to Frannie’s house so that she could help watch him.  For years, she went to Frannie’s every Sunday for dinner.  She never really had many hobbies except collecting religious artifacts.  She only went on two trips in her lifetime: one to San Diego to see Sunny and one to Kentucky to visit Connie and her family.

As the years went along, Nedda was able to live independently until her mid-eighties when she began to experience a lot of problems with her bowels.  Tony and Frannie arranged to take her to the hospital, where she had many tests, all of which were inconclusive.  She was released back to her home, but she continued to get worse.  Finally, Tony and Frannie took her back to the hospital, and it was determined that her colon was no longer working but that she was not a candidate for surgery.  She was accordingly admitted to a nursing home, but after only a few days, she required emergency surgery for a colostomy.  During the surgery, it was also discovered that she was suffering from a massive hernia, which was pushing all of her internal organs up into her chest cavity, creating breathing problems.  Despite the doctors’ initial misgivings about the surgery, it was a success, and Nedda was able to return to the nursing home.

Tony and Frannie are both amazed that their mother is now more optimistic and outgoing than she has been in years.  At times she is very disoriented and confused, though, often telling the staff that her husband, Vince, will be by soon to pick her up.  At other times, she seems focused and has asked Frannie to bring all of her religious items from home so that she can hang them up in her room.

“She never got over wanting to become a nun,” Tony says.  “She talked about it constantly,” so much so that they were all surprised that she didn’t enter the convent when Vince finally passed away.  By that time, though, she was isolative and depressed, and when she did start to “come out of it,” she focused all of her energy, for some reason, on her grandson, Frank.  In fact, she never spoke of being a nun again, but continued to clip religious articles from the newspaper or magazines all the way up to her first hospitalization.

Nedda is a very easy-going woman, but does not yet interact with the other residents.  The staff are attempting to find some activities, such as saying the rosary, which might appeal to her.

(Originally written December 1995)

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Unwilling to Give His Brother the Biggest Share of the Catch

Cal (Caolan) Maguire was born on May 21, 1916 in Ireland to Caolan Maguire, Sr. and Mary Brady.  Caolan, Sr. was a fisherman in their little village by the sea near Balbriggen, and Mary cared for their thirteen children, of whom Cal, Jr. was the youngest.  Cal went to school until about seventh grade when he quit to become a full-time fisherman with his father and brothers.

When he was eighteen, Cal joined the Irish Merchant Marine.  After five years, though, he went back to being a fisherman with his father and brothers.  When he was in his twenties, he married a girl he had met at a dance in the next town over, Skerries, by the name of Mary Brady, the same name as his mother, though she was apparently no relation.  After their marriage, there were thus two sets of Cal and Mary Maguires living in the same area, which apparently sometimes caused confusion with the post office.

Cal and Mary lived for one year with Mary’s parents until their first baby, Aidan, was born.  By that time, they had saved up enough to get their own small house, where two more sons were born, Fergus and Keefe.  Cal and Mary may very well have repeated their parents’ life, had not an incident happened one evening when Cal and his brothers were coming in from a day’s fishing.  Their father having recently passed away, Cal’s oldest brother, Sean, declared that he should now be getting their father’s portion of the catch, which, of course, had been the biggest portion.  Cal and his brothers protested, but Sean was adamant.  Finally the other brothers agreed to let Sean have the biggest part of each day’s catch, but Cal would not give in.

He was so infuriated by the situation that he wrote to his sister, Eileen, who was living in America with her husband, and asked if she would make a place for him.  While he waited to receive word back, he shunned his brothers’ company and fished on his own until a letter from Eileen finally came.  Yes, she told him, he could come and live, but there was not room for all of them.  So after much debate, it was decided that he would leave Mary and their three sons behind while he went to try to make a new life in America.

Cal arrived in Chicago in the early 1950’s and first worked at a molasses factory.  He could not contain his love for the sea, however, and a year later was able to find another job “on the boats” working for the Great Lakes Towing Co. where he continued to work until 1981.  Just as he had promised, he eventually saved enough to get a house on Carmen Avenue on the city’s northwest side and was finally able to send for Mary and the boys.  Cal became very involved in their parish, Transfiguration, which was right down the street from where they lived.  He had many other past times as well, including playing the accordion in various neighborhood bars and pottering about the house and yard.  He was an expert gardener and even won the neighborhood prize one year for his flowers.

In 1982, a year after he retired, his son, Aidan, arranged to take him back to Balbriggen, Ireland for a visit.  The plan was to take Mary, too, but in the end, she refused to go because she was afraid to fly.  Thus, Cal and Aidan went alone, and they apparently had a wonderful trip together.  The whole village threw what Cal describes as “a big do” and even had a small parade to welcome him back after so many years.  Cal was astonished by the village’s reaction, but he was sad that only three of his sisters were still living.  Everyone else had passed away.  Still, it was one of the highlights of his dad’s life, Aidan says, to be able to see so many of his nieces and nephews and extended family.

Eventually father and son returned home, and Cal went back to pottering around the house and gardening until Mary died in 1987.  At that point, Aidan noticed that Cal began to be more and more forgetful.  Aidan would travel into the city from Bensenville each weekend to check on Cal and became more and more worried about his father’s safety.  Often Cal would ask, “Where’s your mother?’ or “Where’s the boat today?” obviously forgetting that Mary had since died, or that he and Aidan no longer worked on the boats.

“He was living more and more in the past,” Aidan says, so much so that Aidan and his wife, Linda, decided to have him move in with them.  After only three months, however, Aidan could no longer take Cal’s repeated questions and confusion.  Regretfully, then, he placed him in a nursing home nearby, but was not satisfied with the care provided.  Also at this time, Aidan was becoming increasingly frustrated by his brothers’ lack of involvement.  Both Fergus and Keefe were living in the city, so Aidan decided to place Cal in a nursing home near them so that they would not have an excuse not to help out.

Fergus and Keefe do visit periodically, but Aidan is still the one coming faithfully twice a week to spend time with his dad.  Cal, for his part, seems to be adjusting well.  He is at times disoriented and asks repeatedly for Aidan or Mary, but is easily redirected.  He does not mind sitting with other residents, though he does not really interact.  His favorite thing seems to be listening to music.

(Originally written Oct. 1996)

 

If you liked this true story about the past, check out Michelle’s historical fiction/mystery series, set in the 1930s in Chicago:

 

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