As I have written in other places, over the 4th of July weekend I attended a family reunion. But a most unusual reunion (not what I am normally used to) as I’ll explain. But first:
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My father had four sisters (two of whom have passed away the past few years) and collectively these five families have been close over the years, having lived in the New York metropolitan area. And so we’d often gather at someone’s house for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or another time to get caught-up on everyone’s lives.
But beginning in the 1970’s that began to change, as people (a) went away to school and stayed in the area, (b) married someone from a different part of the country, (c) had job transfers (as some of my cousins went into sales, which necessitates relocation), or (d) just wound up elsewhere for particular reasons. We have relatives living in California, the Carolinas, Florida, Tennessee, Maryland, myself in New Hampshire, etc.
By the dawn of the 1990’s, we were gathering just for weddings and funerals (and mostly the latter). Recognizing the situation we were in: in 1992 we began to organize an every-other-year reunion, organized by someone in a different family each time. It’s held somewhere in the Northeast (NY, NJ, VT, CT, MD, VA, PA so far) every other summer, in an area that can accommodate, say, 50 people in hotels/motels with activities to do. Most importantly: it’s a loose weekend where the only constant is a Saturday night meal, often with an outdoor grill. Otherwise, people can go out as much as they want … or just hang out over drinks – and my family quite enjoys ‘potent potables’ (as Alex Trebek might say).
What makes this work: we all get along, there are no family squabbles, when the first divorce took place in the 1970’s we all rallied behind that person (despite our Catholic heritage) and nobody bears any grudges whatsoever. That came from the top: our grandmother Catherine Healy (although her nickname was "Gibby" to everyone) always taught her kids to get along. When recently my oldest aunt died at age 91, we all remembered how she never asked how your job was going, but whether you and your family were getting along. "In the end, they’re all you’ve got" was her adage.
As a result: I look forward to our family reunions, and am sorry to have to leave. I know that I’m lucky, because when telling friends and co-workers where I’m going that upcoming weekend, they often tell me they’re in a 180 situation: dreading a family gathering, and relieved when it’s over.
But my recent trip was not to one of those gatherings (which take place in even-numbered years). Instead, this was a reunion that went back a generation. Our normal reunion involves the descendants of my grandmother – instead, this one involved the descendants of her parents (Nicholas and Ann Healy) who married in 1879. Nicholas owned a shipping company, back when the New York docks were located on the edge of the West Village.
Among the memorabilia we saw during this reunion (and dontcha like the vocabulary?) ..
... and in case you're wondering about the body of water mentioned ....
North River is an alternate name for the southernmost portion of the Hudson River in the vicinity of New York City and northeastern New Jersey. The colonial name for the entire Hudson (given to it by the Dutch in the early seventeenth century) the term fell out of general use for most of the river's 300+ mile course during the early 1900's. However it still retains currency as an alternate name among local mariners and others.
It all started when we were contacted by members of the families of my grandmother's siblings, some of whom I know ….. but most of whom I don’t. In addition (due to prior plans) none of my cousins would be able to attend. And rather than the relaxed, no-agenda weekend our family reunions feature: this would have several planned activities over 3-1/2 days. There was even a website outlining what was to take place, with a total of 150 people expected to take part in at least one of the events. Nervous? Well, a bit ….. yet I need not have been.
The weekend featured a dinner on Friday night, July 1st (but which was a travel day for me, so I did not attend). But each of my siblings planned to attend the Saturday events. It began with us gathering at St. Veronica’s Church on 149 Christopher Street in Greenwich Village – where the family first attended after their marriage. And those streets were sooty, horse manure abundant … and so it was not a desirable part of the city then. (I wonder if Nicholas and Ann could have imagined that this would one day be a chic, fairly expensive part of town?) We did a walking tour around the area, seeing other locations where they lived, including this Greenwich Village location:
... and then we boarded three buses to see other places key to the family history - including one home on Riverside Drive, and these two Harlem locations (one of which Benny Goodman's pianist Teddy Wilson lived next-door to).
While many worked on the events: the individual pictured here (Kevin White) is an event-planner by trade, so he was the logical choice to spearhead the entire event.
And we finished in Central Park, where we were led into the park (marching by family) to the sounds from these two gentlemen:
We chose this point as the end of our long day's trek because Nicholas Healy's company was one of those involved in moving an obelisk named Cleopatra's Needle from the docks to its spot near the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
That night I had dinner with my siblings in Little Italy - and we saw this Cat in the Hat actually, Cat on the Hat from a busker in Mulberry Street.
I thought initially it was a stuffed animal ... but no, it was a real tuxedo cat (whom I gave a quick pet to).
The next day there was a brunch held at the home of a member of the family who lives in the Village today - but with a muggy, rainy day it was just way-too hot with so many people there, so I stayed outside. Next was Mass held at St. Joseph's Church at 371 Sixth Avenue in the Village ... celebrated by Father Patrick Healy who - like me - is a great-grandson of Nicholas and Ann and with a fine closing hymn of .... "America the Beautiful", my favorite patriotic song. Afterwards, we rented the church's basement for four hours (having some pizza delivered) to have a show-and-tell - hundreds upon hundreds of photos, posters, memorabilia, a home video or two - all telling the story not of the old family, but of all of the various offshoots since then. There was even a video-taping session, modeled along the lines of StoryCorps - especially for the older people in attendance, whose memories might be lost without some way to preserve them.
And I was able to offer advice in this area: suggesting that they record the thoughts of several of the elderly people together.
For at one of our (normal) family reunions five years ago, we videotaped my father's four sisters (two of whom have since passed away) about their memories, for posterity. Since my grandmother lived until age 95, I have many recollections of her - but none of my grandfather, who died in 1936 (twenty years before my birth). Since my own father never said much about his father when he was alive, and my four aunts were young when he passed away, William Tracey had always been a blank slate to me.
But these four women were able to paint a portrait of him much better when all together (and thus able to rekindle thoughts, one reminding another of a small detail, another suddenly recalling something else, etc.) and the best story was that of how their parents met.
It turns out that both William Tracey and Catherine Healy worked for Bell Telephone (circa 1915) and he asked her for a date one Friday. She said no, and thought no more of it. But the following Monday, when she arrived at work and opened the top drawer of her desk, she found a handwritten note that read, "To Know Me - is To Love Me". My Aunt Kaye said, "The rest is history” (yet I wonder if that note was found in someone's desk these days, would the Personnel department be contacted?)
Among the memorabilia I saw at this month's gathering, I especially liked this holiday card that Nicholas and Ann had prepared:
A fine dinner that evening, and I was happy to have attended. I returned home the next day, Monday (on Independence Day) - but those who remained had a picnic in Central Park (good weather for it) and watched the fireworks from Governor's Island (the former military base, now a public park and the birthplace of the Smothers Brothers). But I was happy for merely attending 2 of the 3-1/2 days involved, and found it worthwhile. And I do have some more names in the address book, in case I'm "ever in our town, to drop by".
Finally, though I've seen this photo before: one of the elderly people wanted to give it to me for safe-keeping. It's a photograph of Ed Tracey Sr, circa 1920-1921, holding a telephone of-the-day. All-in-all: I have the feeling that if Nicholas and Ann were able to watch what was taking place 132 years after their marriage: they'd have to look at each other and say ..."Not bad".
Now, on to Top Comments:
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From Mnemosyne:
in the delicious diary by DiegoUK about toast Murdoch - with a side of baked Brooks - here, Paolo dishes up a heaping helping of schadenfreude - with cream and maple syrup. There are some mornings when it pays to log on even before breakfast.
From Dragon5616::
Meteor Blades explains how to put the roots in grassroots in Chris Bowers' front page call for action, Let's build thousands of local activist grassroots groups and fight back everywhere.
And from Ed Tracey, your faithful correspondent this evening:
In the diary by Electablog about the lawsuit that Professor Juan Cole has filed against both the CIA and the FBI over invasion of his privacy: Southside likes the timing of this (coming at the time of the Murdoch scandal) ... and sodalis goes there, wondering if the Fox crew may have participated?