One of my favorite times with Mary was on an occasional Saturday morning or another day when I was off from work. I would ring her doorbell between eight and nine. When she answered the door, the script went like this: “Is the kitchen still open for breakfast?” Her reply, even though she had been up for at least two hours and had finished her breakfast was: “The kitchen is ALWAYS open for you.” I would be invited into her small breakfast nook behind her kitchen and be waited on as though I were royalty.
Standard fare would be orange or cranberry juice, raisin toast and cornflakes. Mary would then offer me my favorite, Entenmann’s raspberry coffee cake. “Well, just a small slice,” I would say. “I’m pretty full.” As I think of it now, I don’t think I was fooling Mary one bit. However, back then I thought I was very clever. By the time breakfast was over and I was really full, half of the coffee cake had disappeared. Absolutely, the food was great but I was also entertained by hearing Mary reminisce about taking the train to the New Jersey shore with her family during the summer, life in South Philadelphia when she was young and other fun stories about her family.
It’s really saying something when you live next door to someone much older than you, whom you see almost every day for more than 21 years, and have only one instance when you were a bit upset (because many times age and the cantankerous factor seem to go together). I had that one time, that I did my best to hide my displeasure. Mary liked to have her way. Every year I would plant a dozen tomato plants in a garden in her backyard that was big enough to hold six plants. One year, I had the tomatoes all planted when Mary came outside. This particular year, even though she ate only a few tomatoes and gave the rest away, she decided she wanted 18 plants. I had to dig all the plants up, re-space them and once again plant them. I didn’t say much to Mary, but I know I gave those plants a good talking to.
Mary had longtime friends that took her to church each Sunday and then took her to their home for a Sunday afternoon dinner, and dropped her off at home in late afternoon. One afternoon they called us to say they had just dropped Mary off at her house, but she wasn’t acting normally, and they asked Barb and me to keep an eye on her. When I went next door to check up on her, she was not talking coherently. We immediately took her to the hospital that was less than a mile away and she was admitted.
She did recover somewhat from her health problems but was admitted to a nursing home directly from the hospital. The nursing home was a fine facility and had a beautiful dining room. You may have guessed what’s coming next. Yes, food once again. As Mary got stronger, many Saturday nights the five of us would get dressed up and have dinner with her. The evening always followed the same pattern. We would visit Mary, have dinner with her, leave the dining room with her and go to the common area where there was a grand piano, complete with piano player. Many of the residents would sit down and join in with the pianist, singing old-time songs. Mary’s favorite was “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” She would sit there and give her lungs some good exercise as she bellowed out the words to the song, while keeping beat with her cane. After the song-fest, we would go back to her room to watch the Lawrence Welk Show. Our evening was complete when the show was over.
The call came from the nursing home one late afternoon that Mary wasn’t doing well and was taken to the hospital. Barb and I went there. Even though Mary had double pneumonia, the doctor assured us she would be okay. I stayed until evening and went home because I had to work the next day. Barb stayed with Mary until the next morning, when Mary died. Although Mary lived a good, long life of 88 years, it was still a shock to us.
As a Christmas present for Barb and me after Mary died, our son, Greg, gave us a framed listing of Mary’s sayings written in calligraphy on parchment paper. I share some of those sayings below:
“Up Mike’s and down Jake’s where they make the fancy decorated cakes” (answering a question when asked where you are going). “Fragrant” (pregnant – Mary, I guess because of her age, never used the word pregnant). “Nine but not 10” (not too smart). “Gelt” (money). “Rubbish” (trash). “Metsa Metsa” (the answer to how are you doing). “Set ye dun” (Have a seat). “My three boys” (referring to our three sons). “Pride and Joy” (again referring to our sons). “Milky ilk” (milk). “Juicy oose” (juice). “Cheerio” (goodbye). “Tele” (telephone). “Cry baby” (if one of our sons cried for an invalid reason). “Greggy and Braddy” (two of our sons). “I’m not a big eater.” “I’m gonna turn into a chicken” (After thinking she had too much chicken in her diet). “There’s nobody like Raymond” (her brother-in-law). “My Bob” (her husband). “Never had one in my mouth” (referring to a cigarette). “All good people come from South Philadelphia” (where Mary and a great number of her friends came from). “Come out of the ark” (when somebody should have known something). “Man Mountain” (referring to our oldest and biggest son). Not that he was that big, but with Mary’s small stature, he must have seemed big to her.
Thanks for reading along with me about Mary. I hope you have been able to tell that she really meant a lot to our family!
Yes, “Mary’s A Grand Old Name” and THIS Mary was certainly someone special!
Jeff Hall, of Honey Brook, contributes columns to Berks-Mont Newspapers. Questions/comments may be directed to jeffreyhall77@comcast.net.
