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.
Sunday, June 22, 2025
Sunday, May 25, 2025
Memorial Day Ceremony, Colonie, NY 2025
The following was presented at the Town of Colonie’s Memorial Day Ceremony at Veterans Memorial at the Crossings Park on Wednesday. May 21, 2025.
This is the story of my mother‘s younger brother, Joe O’Donnell. Although Joe O’Donnell was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, his daughter Sharon and many of her family members reside in the Capital Region of Albany, NY . I’m grateful for this opportunity to share my Uncle Joe’s story with you at this Memorial Day ceremony this evening.
The night before my Uncle Joe O'Donnell left for Korea, he and my Aunt Marie stayed up all night talking. They wanted to spend every possible moment together, as they knew there was a possibility that Joe might not return. The trip to La Guardia airport the next day was solemn and somber. We were all so terribly sad. I was only 6 & 1/2 years old at the time, but until this day, whenever I pass the airport, I still feel the blanket of sorrow that covered us, Joe's family, as we hugged and said our final good-byes.
When Joe arrived in Korea, he had no way of getting to his post. Since there was a desperate need for officers at the front, Joe arranged to share a jeep with an Army chaplain, the Rev. James Meeder. During their quiet ride together, Joe told Father many family stories about his wife and two little girls, 6 year old Sharon, and 2 and 1/2 year old Diane and he spoke unabashedly of his tremendous love for them. The next day, Joe shared in Mass and Holy Communion with Father Meeder and the rest of his platoon before leaving for the front.
Even though he was a strong and brave young man, my Uncle Joe was not what I envisioned as a warrior. Although he had served his country for three and a half years during World War II as a member of the 325th Glider Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division, and had fought in and survived the Battle of the Bulge, when I think of Uncle Joe, I remember a kind, sensitive and unusually gentle man.
I remember a man who drew pictures in letters home so his two little girls would get some idea of the people and places their Daddy was seeing. I think of a devoted son, a son who composed an original poem for his mother one Mother's Day, adding a note of apology at the end because he wasn't able to get to a store to buy a real Mother's Day card. I have no doubt this little poem meant more to my grandmother than all the most elaborate, expensive cards she ever received.
On Oct. 13, 1951, 1st Lt. Joseph T. O'Donnell was killed in action while leading his men, soldiers of the 38th Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division, up a hill called Heartbreak Ridge. On the day the news of Joe's death reached us at our home in Brooklyn, my Grandma, a reserved and ladylike woman, ran out in the street screaming, attempting in vain to run from the most horrendous news any mother could ever receive. Joe was her only son and just 29 years old.
I remember the bitter cold day in January when we brought Joe's body to its final resting place. I hear the loud and frightening 21-gun salute and the final, mournful sound of a bugle playing taps. But most of all, I still feel the sadness on my Aunt Marie's face as she was handed the flag of a grateful nation.
Now, all these many decades later, whenever I pass a war memorial, I slow my steps and purposely allow my eyes to fall reverently on the names of the young Americans who gave their lives in service to our country. There on these silent, cold monuments are names written in stone, too numerous to count. I offer a silent prayer for them and for their families.
I learned at an early age the pain and sadness that lingers forever when one so young, one so beloved falls on a battlefield. And, it causes me to
think these thoughts once again. May we continue to remember them. May we never look lightly on war and may we work feverishly, unrelentingly to maintain the freedom and peace they died to preserve.
Sunday, March 9, 2025
80!
80!
Reflecting on this monumental birthday:
Today, March 9th 2025 at 1:20PM, I turned 80 years old. It’s difficult to get these words out, no less comprehend how that happened. I’m now in the “very elderly” category. Feelings are flooding over me- I’m experiencing an avalanche of thoughts and memories. I’m driven to write them down in an attempt to come to terms with and understand this part of my life.
This is all new to me as I was never here before. As a matter of fact I probably never even envisioned what life would be like at this grand old age - the golden years ( who the hell are they kidding?! ) I’m not sure of the best way to document my feelings and I’ve hesitated to start, but the only way to start is “to actually start.”Therefore, I will let my mind brainstorm and see what surfaces.
Recently I have attended several 80th birthday celebrations - one for a High School friend, one for a longtime friend and one in honor of my cousin.
I guess you could say we’re lucky to have made it to this ripe old age, and I acknowledge that. Nonetheless, there is pain and heartache attached to this age. I’ve said goodbye to so many of the previous generations-mother, father, aunts and uncles, brother, cousins, friends, nursing school comrades. In some ways, it’s as if I have no past. I miss the phone calls from my mother and my father and my aunts, I miss the ability to seek them for wise counsel, or just a willing ear to listen to the mundane activities of an ordinary day. And, more and more in the presence of the younger generations, I feel superfluous. Their eyes and actions and words mirror back to me my elderly status. I’m seen as someone who needs extra help, both physically and mentally. I appreciate the help but it also reinforces a very vivid picture of “old lady “ that is being mirrored back to me. We live in an age of rapid technological advances, and what used to require the simple turning of a knob on a small screened, boxy TV set now requires multiple remotes and an unending array of different viewing sites. I feel like I need to seek out higher education in order to watch my favorite shows. Luckily my husband of 53 years knows how to navigate the remotes better than I can.
It seems that I spend a great chunk of my diminishing years visiting a vast array of specialists. I have a different doctor for every part of my body.
A Gastroenterologist for GERD(Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disease) and IBS(Irritable Bowel Syndrome) a Cardiologist for high blood pressure, and high cholesterol, an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist (ENT) for sinus issues, an Endocrinologist for Osteoporosis and Adult Onset Diabetes. Add a Dermatologist, and an Orthodontist, Oral Surgeon, an Ophthalmologist and a Physical Therapist to the list and you can see how keeping body and soul together uses up a great deal of one’s time and energy.
Turning 80 has a way of bringing this question to the forefront of my mind , “Will this be the last time I do this ? For example, when I’m repacking the Christmas Ornaments and placing them on their designated shelf in our basement. Or when we head off in our car for our annual trip to Florida for a month during the winter. The drive seems to get longer and longer every years even though the actual mileage doesn’t change. Our joints get stiffer, eyesight weaker, bathroom breaks more frequent. The amount of equipment I need simply to hold my body and soul together is becoming overwhelming- water pick, electric toothbrush, nasal wash bottles, distilled water and saline packets, heating pads, multiple medications, prescription creams and ointments, orthotics, back pillows, bed pillows for positioning myself to avoid back pain.
I guess I’ve reflected enough on turning 80 for one night and an old woman like me needs her sleep 😴 so I’ll say goodnight and reflect again another day. Next time I’ll try to focus on the things an 80 year old can still do and enjoy 😊!
Love ❤️ you all
Friday, March 7, 2025
Messages Left Behind
I found my mother’s elementary school autograph ✍️ book from June 1931 from Our Lady of Good Counsel School in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn. It was fascinating to see what people I know wrote for my Mom. I have all her siblings messages and I will include them in the next Blog Entry
Letters concerning my Great-Grandmother
I came across this letter while I was looking through boxes of old photos to find a photo of my grandma Elizabeth Daniel Fries, for my sister to paint. The following information was written by my mother,” this letter was written by the nurse who took care of Annie Clark O’Donnell. It appears she suffered a stroke in 1922. Gene O’Donnell Frankowski sent a copy of this letter to me. I often wondered why Brooklyn when she died. Tom, her husband, was in Saint Joseph’s Pennsylvania. Annie died on May 29, 1923 and was taken up to Saint Joseph where she is buried.”
This is the nurse’s letter:
Saint Joseph’s Pennsylvania, August 3, 1922
Mr. John O’Donnell, Brooklyn, New York
My dear Mr. O’Donnell,
Ros has asked me to write to you and your brothers in regard to your mother‘s condition, and of some changes which we all feel must be made. When I came here last Tuesday, I felt sure there must have been a change in your mother‘s condition since the doctor had seen her, so I wrote and asked him to come up here he had said he saw no reason why she would not get up and about again, but when he came today, he found a decided change, indicating some trouble in the head and he does not think it likely she will be much better, although there is probably so far as he can see no immediate danger.
There seems to be a lack of coordination between her mind and her muscles. If her head and eyes are pointed one way feet turn in some other direction. The right arm is practically helpless, and she is not able to feed herself. As if she tries to put anything into her mouth with the left hand, she either drops it or tries to stick it in her ear. Sometimes she does better than others, but I am afraid she is gradually becoming more helpless. Well so much for her condition it is difficult to explain it to you now the next thing is what is best to be done. It is a long way from everything out. There is no woman in the family who can be with her and besides, it is too much for one person to care for her and the household.. She will have to have care and it is simply impossible to get a practical nurse here about and a professional professional nurse is too expensive a proposition, except as it is might be necessary for a short time. Ros says there is a hospital near you and the doctor thinks as do we all everything considered that it will be best to take her to New York and put her in a semi-private ward for a time where she can have care and be under the doctors eye and if she does improve, Ros can take her home with her where she can be with her children. This strain is a good deal on your father. Rose had the best can only stay a few weeks and there, you will be no better off than you are now. This is what we have planned. I have had a good deal of experience in such madness and know it can be safely and satisfactory done. Put her in and Auto here and take her to Binghamton. Right before hand and have a wheelchair in Reed– take her out of the car and wheel her over to the Pullman have a drawing room reserved carry her in the carry her into the drawing room and put her to bed. When she gets to Hoboken, you meet her with the car, the conductor will have provided a wheelchair and a port over to car and you can take her to the hospital. This is by far the easiest way for her and cheapest for you. see this way, not be necessary for you to come up here, thereby losing time from your work and expense of travel. I will get her safely on the train and Ros will be all right until you meet her. Of any if anything should go wrong, I can go out to New York with her, but there is no probability of that. We think it will be best for her for me to stay with her until she can be gotten ready to go, but the expense of a trained nurse is not necessary so we want to get her started soon as possible Rose says Thursday, August 10 will be a good day for all, and give us plenty of time so we will leave it that way unless we hear something to the contrary from you that will give you time to make arrangements to meet the train. We will let you know all about any further developments at once. to Tom O’Connell, we can get any word that way. Sooner all the plans are made at this end providing it is all right with you. There will probably not be room in the car for the boys from Hoboken over to Brooklyn so Ros says to be sure and make some arrangements for them. She will finish this letter now. I know you will be worried and grieved but things are so I tell you and one has to make the best of it – and manage the easiest way. She said to me this morning thank God I’ve three good sons. I shall be glad when she is safely settled near you – there is certainly no one dependable here. To do for her and she is miles away from a doctor and everything else. Sincerely, Julia Colby ( not sure of the spelling of this nurse’s name but I find her impressive and organized).
There is also a short letter from John O’Donnell’s wife, Rose. John O’Donnell is Annie Clark O’Donnell’s oldest son. All three sons live in the NYC area at this point- John, Frank and TJ O’Donnell all left the farm to become NYC Police Officers.
Here is Rose O’Donnell’s note to her husband John:
Dear John ,
Dr. Gardner thinks this is just the thing to do and the nurse says it can’t be done any too soon to make all arrangements. If if you do not care to put her in the hospital, why not fix up a bed in the front room for her. I think the best would be to get a single bed.
Pop is kind of poor just now guess he is very much worried and he said he would be very glad to have Ma in the hospital for that is the best as he cannot get anyone here to help him.
Rose