My Aunt Norene (aka Peaches) and her Brother, Francis Coleman, and My Reflections

Norene was born on Oct. 6, 1897 in Middletown Twp.  Her parents were Hannah Byrne and (George) Frank Coleman.   She was a toddler when her father, Frank, died in 1901. (see "a bit of the Coleman Family History" for more details regarding Norene's parents and her siblings).  Norene married James Purtell on 11-3-1920 at St. Patrick's Church in Middletown, Pa.  Jim Purtell had a farm near Little Meadows, Pa., where the family lived up until the time of his death. The couple had seven children and Norene was a homemaker until her husband's untimely death at which point she went to work as an agent for The Prudential Insurance Company. At that time it was very unusual for women to be employed as agents.  Out of necessity, she managed both her job and raising a family.  (Please note: the above information is taken from the Curley Reunion Green Book published in 1980 and 1989).  The following thoughts are my own:
The Coleman women seemed to have been a hardy bunch.  I guess they took after their mother, Hannah "Work" Coleman.

November 8, 2019 - I came across some typewritten notes in some of the memorabilia boxes I inherited from my parents' basement.  One of the papers included some of my reflections regarding my great Aunt Aunt Norene Eleanor Coleman Purtell.  I had jotted down some of my thoughts and remembrances when I heard that she had died.  My notes appear to end rather abruptly and possibly there is something more somewhere in the house. But, I decided that now may be the time for others to add some of their own reflections and memories of a wonderful woman. 

When I heard that my Aunt Norene died I felt lonesome for myself, but happy for Aunt Norene. I could imagine seeing her being joyfully greeted with open arms by her family in heaven. I sensed she was more than ready to leave this earth and she wanted very much to be there in heaven.
The last time I saw Aunt Norene I wanted to ask her to give my Grandmother Margaret a hug for me. I never said it aloud but somehow I knew she heard my inner voice. Aunt Norene had a certain sensitivity for hearing what was in one’s heart. I know my Grandma O’Donnell was thrilled to see her younger sister once again. I could envision them smiling as they hugged each other after so many years.
I laid awake in bed that night as memories flooded my mind. All my senses were filled with my Aunt Norene. I could see Norene busily working in the big farmhouse kitchen, stacking wood in the old,  iron stove, and I could smell the delicious aromas of a freshly baked berry pie. What beautiful first memories of a beautiful woman.
I could hear the rosary being recited as we all knelt together around a table by the front window in  living room on Evelyn Street in Johnson City.  As we prayed, I could feel the warm, summer night breezes sweep over my shoulders as Our Blessed Mother stood in the center of this little altar, watching over us.  It was ever so peaceful and soothing.
I could taste Aunt Norene's home-made, "Hannah (Work) Coleman's Molasses Brown Bread.  It wasn't until years later that I discovered that exact taste again on a trip to Ireland.  I don't know what I did with that often-used recipe, so please share it with me if any of you happen to have it.
I felt the warmth of being hugged close to her bosom. No one who has had the privilege of an Aunt Norene hug can ever forget the sheer joy of its comfort.
I could hear her unique, wholehearted laugh.  My spirit lifted as I heard it again.
I started to think how interesting it was that Aunt Norene never seemed "old" to me.  Her spirit always remained young. I could talk to her about anything. I didn't have weigh my words or censor my thoughts. With my great Aunt Norene, I could be myself.  She never judged me harshly. As a matter of fact, didn't she always give everyone the benefit of the doubt?
I thanked God that Aunt Norene was close by when I waited anxiously to see if our son, Brian, was really going to be ours.  As I waited his adoption, her support was invaluable and a true gift.
Although her life was not always easy, I never heard Aunt Norene complain. Her strength was phenomenal. She was the last surviving link from her generation to the next.  Even recurring cancer couldn't take her until she was ready to go.
I remember her scrabble games, her delicious meals - especially that yummy chicken and dumplings my husband and I enjoyed around the table in the house she shared with her sister, Mae.  I remember her unpretentious expressions of faith and the those tiny tomato plant seedlings she planted in her driveway on Floral Avenue every Good Friday. Even the soil seemed to respond to my Aunt Norene. Honestly, who else could grow such glorious tomatoes in a tiny strip of dirt between a driveway and the side of a house?
I remember her courage, her youthfulness, her lovely silver hair which she arranged so beautifully on the top of her head.
I remember the Mary Kay make-up party at her kitchen table, her wonderful tales of her youth and the enlightening stories about her ancestors......
 

Since I have been focusing on my Aunt Norene the last couple of days, a couple more memories have resurfaced. Since my purpose is to share a little about this special woman so future generations might know something about her, I will add these memories to this blog entry.

One very simple memory - I remember being surprised by the fact that she kept the butter in a dish on a shelf in her kitchen rather than in the refrigerator. I had never seen that done before. 

One story I remember only vaguely was nonetheless fascinating.  I don’t recall a lot of the details but this true life tale made me realizes that young people hadn’t changed all that much over these many years.  One day when the Coleman teens were planning to attend a long anticipated dance that evening, a letter arrived from Ireland.  The young people, realizing that the letter probably contained news of a relative’s death in the “old country”, decided to hide the letter until the next day so that they could attend the dance. If the older folks heard the news of this somber event, it would have been considered inappropriate for the younger generation to attend the dance.  They danced that night and the older generation was none the wiser when the letter was presented to them the next day! 

Another time, Aunt Norene was taking a trip in the car with Bob and me and I was lamenting the fact that at this time of year the trees were barren and brown.  She said that it was actually the look she enjoyed the most since it was peaceful and restful and restorative.  I learned a lot from this woman even though in the time our lives overlapped, I didn’t get to spend an immense amount of time with her.  I can only imagine that those who knew her best have some amazing memories they could share. 

Aunt Norene died 11-15-