The Smartest (Mouthed) Mom on Earth

The current Carnival of Genealogy topic surrounds the education of our mothers.

Mom, how'd you get so smart? We'll examine our mothers' education. What schools did your mom attend? Did she graduate high school or attend the school of hard knocks? Did she attend a one room school house or was she home-schooled? Was she the first in the family to attend college? Maybe your mom took self-study courses or was an avid reader. Tell us all about how a mother figure (mother, grandmother, mother in law, godmother, etc.) in your life became so brilliant!

Sadly, as is typical in my family, I had to do some second-hand research in order to answer these questions. While I remember some stories about my mother's school days, there aren't that many in my memory to give an in-depth answer to this question. Unfortunately, mom is no longer with us, having died from lung cancer in 1988. So I called on my father and the Internet to help me with this topic. The Internet proved to be rather useless, too, I'm afraid. Apparently two of the three schools my mom went to are no longer in existence.

I do recall a couple of funny stories about my mother's elementary years. I remember her tales of Catholic school, and how she hated it so. She told of the story of her teacher who wanted her placed in the class for ... well ... "slow" students because she (my mother) had the audacity to ask the teacher why "2 + 2 = 4".

Teacher: 2 + 2 is 4.
Jean: Why?
Teacher: (patiently) Because if you take two apples in one hand and two in the other and count from left to right, you'll get 4.
Jean: Why?
Teacher: (not as patiently)Okay, hold up your index fingers and your middle fingers. Now count. See how you get 4?
Jean: Why?
Teacher (not at all patiently): GO TO SISTER{ insert name}'s OFFICE RIGHT NOW.

My poor mother. All she wanted to know was why it was called "FOUR" and not "SNUFFLEOPHAGUS" or something. All the teacher had to say was 'Cuz God Said So" and mom would have been perfectly content. Instead my mom got in trouble. No wonder she had to resort to tricking her mother, who walked her to school, by walking the front door only to walk out the back door when gramma was out of sight. (and this "hooky" playing on the part of my mother didn't come out until all of us kids had finished our own schooling!).

I don't have any stories of mom's junior high school years. How sad is that? Dad says she went to South Junior High School in Niagara Falls, NY. The Niagara Falls NY part I knew, but a picture I have of her in front of her Junior High School I swear said "North Junior High School". Not having the original photo, I can't check it. But dad said he and his sister went to North and mom went to South. Here is a picture of my mom with a little bit of her Junior High School in the background.

As for high school, mom went to Niagara Falls High School, graduating in 1956. I don't have any stories of her high school years, either. How sad is this (and how many times am I going to ask this question?). I do, however have a great story about her high school ring.

My mother's first cousin was Jane (WILLIAMS) JOHNSON (1927-1996), the daughter of Margaret DOYLE (1900-1948) and Raymond WILLIAMS (1900 - ?). I was always very close to Jane and always referred to her as Aunt Jane. She was the secretary at Colonial Village Elementary School where I went to grade school, was there for me when I got sick and had to go home and when I got sent to the principal's office for punching Jeff W. in the stomach (he pushed me first!). Today, the library at Colonial Village School is named for her.

Sometime in 1996 I got a little box in the mail from my uncle Neil, Jane's husband. I knew something was wrong; Jane was the correspondent in the family. Sure enough, he'd enclosed a letter explaining that Jane had died in February of that year. He and his daughter were finally going through Jane's things, and in the process of cleaning out one of her purses, he found the item in the box he sent me: My mother's High School ring from 1956! I was absolutely dumbstruck. Apparently Neil and Jane had found the ring somewhere, and Jane put it in her purse to keep it until she could mail it to me. She never did, obviously. That ring is among my most treasured possessions.

There is a lesson to be learned by all in my story this month: Sons and Daughters: TALK to your parents about their own growing up years. DON'T roll your eyes at the stories they tell --WRITE THEM DOWN. Mothers and Fathers: TALK to your children about your growing up years AND about family stories handed down. LET your children roll their eyes: TELL THEM ANYWAY.

And yes, I did mean to yell ;).

47th Carnival of Genealogy

The 47th Carnival of Genealogy, with the topic of describing the hometown of your ancestor(s), is posted now at Jasia's site, HERE. I didn't get a chance to write an entry this time around, though it wasn't for lack of desire. Both my paternal and maternal ancestors settled in Luzerne County, PA; my maternal line in Pittston and my paternal line in and around Nanticoke.

While I do know pretty much what brought my ancestors to Pittston (railroading) and Nanticoke (coal mining), I know very little about the towns themselves. I have not had time to research them, either, which is why I was not able to partake in this month's COG.

Many other Bloggers have had time to do their research, however, so hop on over to this month's installment of the Carnival of Genealogy and get ready for some good reads! Meanwhile, I'll start doing my own research on Pittston and Nanticoke.

A Shocking Experience

This month's topic for the Carnival of Genealogy asks participants to talk about traits handed down to us from our ancestors.

What traits run in your family? Which of them did you inherit? Do you have your mother's blue eyes? Your grandfather's stubbornness? Your aunt's skill with knitting needles? Is there a talent for music in your family? Or do you come from a long line of teachers? Have you ever looked at an old photo and recognized your nose on another family member's face?

I could tell you all about my sometimes morbid sense of humor. Or about my light brown hair, that as a child I swore meant I was adopted since everyone in my immediate family had dark, dark brown hair. I could muse about where my temper comes from, or where my tendency to overanalyze things originated. I could ponder which of my traits were shared by those who came before me. I do this quite often anyway, you know. So today I'm not going to tell you about all of that. Today I'm going to tell you a little story.

You see, I have a little problem that is big-time annoying. And often painful. If you ever saw me getting out of my car you'd have an idea of what this problem might be. Or at least when it manifests itself. When I get out of my car, I hesitate to touch the car door to close it. I make several silly-looking attempts to put my hand on the door before I actually do. Sometimes, I even hesitate to put the key in the door.

It's the same thing when I turn a light on or off. And when I go to open the sliding patio door. Or attempt to touch another human being. Like the song says, " it starts in my toes then I crinkle my nose ..." (from the song, The Bubbly Song by Colbie Caillat). I cringe when I have to touch nearly anything. Even if there is wood around.

What is this little problem? Well, I have this annoying tendency to get static shocks when I touch anything. I'm not talking about a little "zap" here and there. I'm talking about a ZAP nearly everywhere -- sometimes I even see little blue and gold streaks. Touching wood before touching anything metal or containing metal does not work. Shoot, I even touch the wall and get a shock from the metal framework behind it. Believe it or not, I have even shorted out THREE computer mice by touching the blasted things. Yes, you read that right. I've touched the mouse, gotten a shock, and the mouse stopped working. THREE times this has happened. Rebooting doesn't help, unplugging the mouse doesn't help. Only replacing the mouse helps.

I keep a can of Static Guard in my car and at home. I have Scotch Guarded the new fabric chair I just bought (the heck with good back support, what was I thinking?) as well as the carpets in the house. I have even asked the doctor if this could be something physiological or nutritional. She looked at me as if I was from outer space. I have switched from dryer softener sheets to liquid fabric softener, and this has helped. It has not solved the problem, but it has helped. I should buy stock in the skin moisturizing companies; I use so much of it I keep them in business. I live for the monsoon season, though not for the spectacular lightening that people in Arizona just love (I am actually quite frightened of it), but for the fact that we actually have moisture in the air and that prevents the shocks.

So why am I posting this in a COG article about traits? A few months ago I was talking to the wife of my father's first cousin and she said "You know, Tom has that exact same problem".

So just which of my ancestors can T om and I blame for this electrifying trait?

Focus on Disabilities

My faithful readers (if I have any left with my recent decline in posts) will recall that I've had several posts on either this blog or my other genealogy blog, The Oracle of OMcHodoy, that describe my Aunt Marianne. I have also mentioned that I've had a few aunts with disabilities, including another with Down syndrome, Anna DOYLE (1909-?).

My mother's father, James O'ROURKE (1902-1963) also had a sister named Lucille, who is rumored to have had some type of mental illness. Many people hide their "different" ancestors. I cherish them, and in some odd way, credit them with my profession as a social worker in a clinic for children with medical diagnoses that often result in a disability (such as cerebral palsy, spina bifida, and a whole lot of other illnesses and disorders).

Today I found a blog that looks to be hosted by Temple University in Philadelphia. I found it after reading a comment by Penny, who featured my very own Marianne McHUGH. I'm so glad she posted a comment on my COG post on women. Sure it's nice to know that someone appreciated the post and the pictures, as others have said they did as well. But I'm glad also that I found a new resource that may prove helpful in my life as I strive for a better understanding of people with disabilities and in my career as a medical social worker.

Check out the blog at Temple University Disability Studies program. You might learn something and be enriched by the experience.

The Magic 8 Site

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 8 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

This was kind of a neat website I was sent via email. Apparently there are 139,667 people in
the U.S. with the first name of Colleen. 18,217 people in the U.S. share my last name.
There are 8 people in the U.S. that share my full name.
How many people share your name?

I Regret to Inform You...

Randy posed a question on his blog that was posed previously by Mark Fearer:

"I'm teaching a beginner genealogy class, and I'd like to help people avoid the mistakes we made when we started out. I have my own list, but I'd like to get an unscientific poll from this prestigious group of the three things you regret the most, when you started (i.e. not citing sources, etc.)."

I'm afraid my regrets will be much the same as others' were. First, I regret that my grandparents had all died before I'd completed my childhood. I know, I couldn't have prevented this, but I still regret that my maternal grandfather, James O'ROURKE (1902-1963) died the year before I was born.

My paternal grandparents, Mary (HODICK) McHUGH (b. 1906) and Joseph McHUGH (b. 1902) both died when I was 12 years old (Mary on Valentines Day in 1976 and Joseph in Sept. of 1976). While we visited them often, I was at a developmental stage where their growing up years just didn't interest me.

In the late summer of 1977, my family had moved from Niagara Falls, NY to Tempe, Az when I was 13. My maternal grandmother, Regina (aka Jean) died 2 years later. Again, though I was closest to her and wrote her often after we moved, I never thought to ask about her own history.

As a result of my grandparents' deaths when I was still a more-or-less self-centered child, I don't have a single recollection of stories from them about their families and hometowns. And this, I now feel, is very, very sad. At least I have memories of them, which offers some comfort. And I do have many photographs, especially of Grandma Hodick-McHugh.

While no regret will top the lack of stories I have about my ancestors, I, as many other genealogists as well, regret my lackadaisical methods of citing my sources. For my speculations that I included in the "notes" section of my genealogy database, I think I did a pretty good job of citing the sources that led me to those speculations. But I know I need to go back and review a whole lot of the information to re-discover the sources.

Lastly, to keep with the question of "three" regrets, I'd have to say that I regret that I take a long time to make good on my promises to cousins to send updated information and pictures. I won't make excuses. I'm just horrible at getting things out in the mail.

You might have noticed that I did not post a picture of Gramma (DOYLE) O'ROURKE. That's because I was saving hers for the end. I think I posted this picture once before a long time ago. It's a picture of my grandmother DOYLE on either her first communion day or her confirmation day. I'm guessing she was about 8 years old, which would date the picture around 1913. The original photograph is oval shaped (though not a bubble picture, like the original of my paternal grandparents' wedding in 1925) and is in very poor condition. So poor I advised my niece who now has possession of it to never take it out of the frame again, as it is crumbling on the edges (it was mounted on cardboard of some sort). Anyway, a friend of mine managed to get a decent digital photograph of the picture which I took to a local photography shop. They were able to change the background. I intend to bring it back someday and ask them to put a bit lighter-shaded background on since she looks rather ghostly in this one (I think the digital version wound up making a double image, as they told me it had one). However, it is still among my most treasured possessions, which I thought I'd never have since we kids would have wound up in arms over who gets it had the decision been left to us. Thank God for technology.

Here it is, Regina (Jean) DOYLE ca 1913.

Tribute to Women

The 44th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy is all about women! Since March is Nat'l Women's History Month, we are to pick one woman in our history, family, friend, historical figure, and spotlight her for our blog. There were so many women in my family history to choose from, but really there was no question as to whom I'd pick.

My paternal grandparents' oldest surviving child was Marianne McHUGH. She was born 29 Nov 1930 with Down Syndrome. They were basically told to lock her away in some institution, that she'd never be able to function. My grandparents would have none of it, took her home, and raised her almost as if nothing was wrong. She was part of the family and would be treated as such. The story has it that Marianne was given the baby doll she's holding in the first picture by a cousin when she was born .

Marianne was followed by two non-disabled children, Noreen and Dennis (my father).

She grew up alongside her siblings, and amidst her aunts, uncles and cousins.



She was always part of the activity, not shunned and set aside.

She was allowed to be silly and was not afraid to be herself.

Marianne was favored by all who met her, say those who grew up with her.

And everyone was favored by her.

I knew Marianne as a child as my aunt -- my dad's sister. I do not remember playing with her, talking with her, getting to know her. I was a child, and she was my aunt, whom I knew was different. I always wished I'd known her better. But through stories I've heard about her from dad and cousins, I think I know her well enough now to know that she was one special lady.

I often wonder what her life would have been like had she been born in my era, instead of her own. She would have gone to school, for one thing. Perhaps she would have joined Special Olympics. As it was, she did not partake in any community activities that I know of; I doubt anyone with Down Syndrome did in that time. But she was raised in a loving home, was given all the attention she ever wanted (and probably more) and she was adored by others as she adored Liberace.

Yes, Liberace. Apparently the world in the McHugh household stopped dead in it's tracks if Liberace was on the radio or later, on t.v. And no one DARED to walk across the room by crossing between Marianne and the t.v.

Marianne died on 28 April 1978 at the age of 47. Not a bad life span for a woman with Down Syndrome born in 1930. Word also has it that Marianne was buried with but one special item.

I hope the word is true.