St. Patrick’s Church

Meg sitting in the spot where St. Patrick’s Church in Middletown Center sat until quite recently. (All that’s left is the cornerstone from 1848 and the graveyard that surrounded the church. Sadly it was torn down and I miss being able to walk up the isle where my grandma, Margaret Mary Coleman, married my grandfather, Thomas J. O’Donnell, on January 19, 1916. The reception followed at my great grandmother’s house but I’m not sure where exactly the house was. I like to fantasize that it was the house in this picture which is a very short distance from the church but my Great-Grandma, Hannah Byrne Coleman was widowed at a young age and left to run a farm and raise 8 children on her own therefore I doubt her house would be so big and elaborate.

Old Black Sailor

On the beautiful country road from the O’Donnell Homestead to Stanley Pond ( now called Stanley Lake ). There is a family story about an incident that occurred when the 3 O’Donnell brothers went to Stanley Pond with their dog, Old Black Sailor. They crafted a little raft out of some twigs and small logs and sent Old Black Sailor for a ride out into the pond. The raft went too far out into the middle of the pond and they couldn’t get it back closer to shore when the sun began to set. Finally, they knew they better get back home before the dinner hour so they reluctantly left Old Black Sailor floating on the raft, fearing that they might not see him again. Since the dog was allowed to wander around the farm, they didn’t say a word about their dilemma to their parents and later that night they went to bed wondering sadly if they would ever see their beloved dog again. When they awoke the next morning and went downstairs they heard some noise at the back door and when they opened it, there was Old Black Sailor in all his glory, a bit water-logged but wagging his tail joyfully!

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Nostalgic trip to the country

Broadening My Understanding of Human Sexuality

Right off the bat, I felt comfortable in Pediatrics and I’ve always attributed my relaxed attitude to the fact that my mother had complete confidence in my ability to care for my baby sister, Margaret Mary, even though I was only nine years old when she entered my life. I was overjoyed at her arrival and found all aspects of her care entertaining and fun. I also believe it is one of the main reasons I wanted to become a Pediatric Nurse. Although I took my studies and nurses’ training seriously it came as a rather shocking surprise, when in my first assignment as an RN on the Pediatric Unit at St. Vincent’s Hospital in NYC, I was assigned to care for a sweet little baby who had a condition that I didn’t remember learning about during my schooling. It seemed that most of the rest of the medical and nursing staff on our Unit didn’t know much about it either ( the year was 1966 ). Among other problems, this baby was born with both male and female sex organs. At the time, the terminology we used when referring to this child was “Hermaphrodite”. Even though we were a major Medical Center in Manhattan, I remember the commotion this baby’s diagnosis caused on our Pediatric Ward. Today, the term "hermaphrodite" is considered outdated and stigmatizing, and the condition is currently referred to as “Intersex”. This early experience broadened my understanding of human sexuality and the vast complexities and variations that can and do exist. The publication ,“Understanding Differences and Disorders of Sex Development (DSD)” is in constant flux as research and development in this area is complex and ongoing. Throughout the recent years there has been a shift of focus from individual bodily differences( whether at the level of genes, chromosomes,gonads or genitals,) to the social context in which such classifications are made, and the ramifications that inclusion or exclusion from normative social classifications can have on individuals. This early experience as a Pediatric Nurse helped me to discard negative, judgmental and erroneous teachings about human sexuality. Currently I know and love and support many individuals in the LGBQT+ community. I will continue to speak out against prejudicial behavior that harms the people I love. ❤️

A Young Child’s Misunderstanding

My Mother’s Story about a little incident involving her mother ( my grandmother, Margaret Mary Coleman O’Donnell) that happened in the late 1890’s. My Mother’s parents farm on Rt. 858, Middletown Township, Susquehanna, Pa was a mile or two from the homestead of her paternal grandparents, - Darius Coleman and Margaret Curley. She often visited there. On one of these visits she got her little legs caught in the rungs of a chair. Her grandma tried in vain to get her loose and called to her grandpa, saying “ I’m afraid you’ll have to use a saw, Darius.”Poor mother screamed in protest when she thought she was going to get her leg sawed off!

A Question Too Dangerous To Ask

I recently attended a “meet and great” session for a group of young seminarians at a local church in the Capital District. They were, of course, all male, and they were in different stages in their pursuit of the end goal of ordination to the priesthood in the Roman Catholic Church. All but one were already wearing the Roman Collar. The parishioners asking the questions were seated in an enormous circle around the large room of the parish center. The “priests in training” were directed to one area of the circle and were seated next to each other. I didn’t take an exact count but a rough estimate is that there were about 10 bright and smiling faces in this black, priestly garb. I believe three of the young men were from countries in Africa, and one earnest, young man -intent on mastering the English language -was from Vietnam. I believe only two of the young men were native born Americans. The pastor who was leading the conversation stood inside the circle, tightly guarding the mic 🎤. I understood the instructions that the Deacon and his wife were going to be invited to ask the first couple of questions and then the questioning would proceed from there. I didn’t know that this meant the questions were to be asked around the circle in a specific direction, which turned out to be my first mistake. In retrospect I realized that the questioning was also one-sided, meaning the parishioners asked the seminarians questions rather than visa versa. It didn’t take me long to start feeling a bit bored. The Deacon and his wife and a few others asked what I considered substantial, meaningful questions. One question about welcoming individuals from the LGBTQA+ community was answered in a rather general way, i.e., “ all are welcome “ . Maybe I had the wrong idea, but frankly I was expecting the discussion of meatier topics, and I was hoping to get a deeper understanding of these young men. Instead, rather superficial questions were being asked. It appears the group sponsoring the “Meet and Greet “ met ahead of time and were groomed as to the type of questions considered appropriate. Many of the parishioners read the question directly from a piece of paper they were holding. It seemed rather contrived and unnatural to me especially since the questions were so simple: “ What is your favorite food?”, “What was your favorite book?”, Who is one person you admire most?”, etc. I had a question that was near and dear to my heart ❤️ so I raised my hand. After several attempts at raising my hand, one of the facilitator ladies, came up behind my chair and put her hand on my shoulder so the Pastor would see that I had a question. It worked, but to my chagrin maybe it shouldn’t have. Before even asking my question, the Pastor announced that he was told the questioning was to proceed around the circle in an orderly fashion and I was on the other side of the circle insinuating quite clearly that it wasn’t yet my turn. In my defense I honestly missed this part of the initial directions. Nonetheless, I felt a bit embarrassed that I had “stepped out of line”. It was somewhat awkward to be called out publicly for my indiscretion. I’m an 80 year old “Cradle Catholic”, and I have a long history of being reprimanded for my honest and sincere questions. It seems that certain things are not to be addressed openly and honestly in the Catholic Church. But, since I was now in the position to speak, I asked the young seminarians, “ What do you envision the role of women to be in your church communities? “ I was quite surprised by the pastor’s response. He grabbed the microphone 🎤 from me and proceeded to say that he would handle this question himself. He proceeded to say very emphatically that everyone knows how much women do in his parish, emphasizing that he couldn’t do without them. But since this is a theological issue currently being addressed by highly educated theologians, it’s not going to be discussed here. ( Please note: I’m paraphrasing here as to what was said and how I heard it). Nonetheless, it was the only question during the entire hour and a half “Meet and Greet “that the seminarians were not allowed to answer. Near the end of the formal meeting I turned to my friend in the circle and whispered that I felt like crying 😢. As soon as the meeting was over the pastor came over to us and tried to smooth over what had happened. He said something to the effect that he had to be protective of the seminarians and asking them that question could have be damaging. His goal is to get them ordained.

A Change of Heart

I was a newly minted Registered Nurse, when I taught a young mother named Maria about the different methods of birth control.  Other Catholic Nurses refused the assignment saying it was against their religion. I was Catholic too, and at that time in my life, a rather rigid rule follower especially when it came to teachings about sexuality. I had swallowed the theory that artificial birth control was “ against the natural law “.  In case you never heard of this reasoning before, basically it’s the belief that preventing the sperm from reaching the ovum was interfering with nature and therefore evil. I went to an all girls Catholic Academy and an all girls Catholic Nursing School therefore I was well versed and thoroughly indoctrinated about “ the sins of the flesh”.  Nevertheless, I readily said “yes” when assigned this task.  I had a relationship with Maria and her young husband and their little toddler daughter.   They came to Clinic D at Downstate Medical Center every 3 - 4 weeks and sat with their baby girl in the Infusion room as she received the blood transfusion she needed to survive. She had a very serious medical condition known as Thalassemia Major. This is a generic condition (autosomal recessive inheritance) where if both parents are carriers of the recessive gene there is a one in four chance that the child born to them will have the disease.  Back in 1967, children affected with this disease typically died in their late teens or early twenties and their lives were severely impacted. I was the Infusion Room Nurse and I got to know these families quite personally.  Therefore when I was asked to instruct Maria in the different contraceptives that medical science had blessed us with, I knew what I had to do.  I didn’t hesitate, I had no doubt, I had not an ounce of guilt.   My thought process was clear and concise. Maria was 22 and her husband was not much older.  To ask them to risk another pregnancy and expose another child to this kind of disease and the suffering it involved was absolutely evil.  God is love ❤️ and he wouldn’t want that.  Moreover to ask a young married couple to spend the rest of their married life as brother and sister was truly against the “ laws of nature”.   I taught Maria with a clear conscience and a loving heart as I knew it was the right thing to do.