Memoir of my Love Life - The Awakening

The Awakening 

I remember my first feeling of boy-girl love quite clearly.  This wonderful, joy-filled feeling took place on the playground connected to my elementary school, PS 76 in the East New York section of Brooklyn.  I was very young , having started elementary school in September 1949 when I was only 4 and a half years old, and I was in that marvelous place of life we know as Kindergarten.  I don’t even remember his name but I remember that feeling.  I have a vague recollection of his sweetness and I remember the attention he gave me even though the details are a blur.  I remember standing in a circle on the concrete, next to the high, chain link fence that kept us safely within our prescribed boundaries.  We were playing a game where you held hands with the people on either side of you and then you raised  your arms together as one of the kids ran and in and out of the circle through your raised arms as you sang, “Blue Bird 🐦, Blue Bird 🐦 through my window, Blue Bird  🐦 through my window, Oh Johnny I am tired. Take a little girl and tap her on the shoulder, take a little girl and tap her on the shoulder, Oh Johnny I am tired . “. I remember he smiled sheepishly, although at the time I wouldn’t have been able to use that word.  Now, looking back, that word describes his smile perfectly.  And, I remember he kept taping me on my shoulder so I could run in and out of the circle over and over again. It was fun to run around as the kids sang together. and, I liked being chosen so many times; it made me feel special. 

He cared for me! I don’t remember if we played this game often or just that one time, but I remember that wonderful feeling over all these 70 years. 

Wisdom Gleaned from Our Marriage

Since we are fast approaching our 48th Wedding Anniversary, Athena and Christine asked us to share some of the lessons that we’ve learned about marriage. Another way you might put it is, “ How the hell did you make it this far?! We were humbled by their request as we certainly don’t consider ourselves any kind of experts and I dare say luck has a lot to do with it.

Mary Beth speaks: First of all our Initial Spark was an exciting and important component. 

We also had a lot in common in our background, including our Irish-German heritage. ( Bob's Mom was baptized Loretta Carney and my Mom, Rita Mary O'Donnell - Bob is a Buchner and my family name was Fries)
Nonetheless our 1st year of marriage was tough, some would even define it as " brutal".  

Bob speaks: I remember an Anniversary card that my brother, Bill, sent us after our first year of marriage, showing Clark Gable coming in off the desert looking half dead and the words on the card read, “Glad to see you made it through the year”.  Being married was certainly a learning curve for me! 

Mary Beth speaks: Then Bob’s promise to me that our love would be different and would survive the test of time held me in place and really meant something special to me.  Many times over the last 48 years I thought about this initial promise Bob made to me at the beginning of our relationship. As unromantic as it sounds I believe that we make a conscious decision to continue to love each other even when the feelings are subdued or less than stellar. 

Love is not just a feeling it is also a commitment to each other.
A sense of humor helped us survive many an argument. 

(One thing that I had to my advantage was the fact that I was a nurse. I was not the first nurse that Bob ever dated and he was really looking for free nursing care for life!)

I have immensely enjoyed watching Bob show love to others - how can you not love a person who is gentle and kind to old people and young children alike? That kind of behavior is a real aphrodisiac. Surrounding ourselves with loving friends such as Athena and Christine and their darling children certainly helps a marriage survive and flourish. Thank You for that wonderful gift.
I like the fact that Bob isn’t especially jealous and that he was, and is, strong enough to let me do my own thing. (He doesn't suppress my outspoken opinions either!)
I believe it is important that we have been able to forgive each other (sometimes over and over and over again) and that we are relatively patient with each other’s shortcomings. 
He was never any good at writing mushy love letters but his actions spoke volumes - I like that he was able to make me feel his love through the things he did for me and the people I love.

Bob speaks:

I think our marriage has been aided by: 

Our ability to communicate clearly and often.

Telling each other that we’re thankful for having each other in our life.

Making time for the two of us as a couple, and also leaving some personal time for each of us.

As Mary Beth said earlier, learning to forgive.  If we would have an argument and be angry with each other, we tried to never go to sleep without saying we’re sorry.

Here are a few things that I’ve learned on a lighter side:

Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other person is me.

If you’re wrong and you shut up you’re wise.  If you’re right and you shut up, you’re married.

I’ve never laughed at Mary Beth’s choices since I am one of them.

Even as an accountant, I learned new math after marriage.  If I have $20 and Mary Beth has $5, then she has $25.

A great marriage is NOT when the perfect couple comes together.  

  

It’s when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences.

And with that we thank you for listening!

.

 

The Decker Brothers and a Beautiful Act of Love

It just so happened that the day cousin, Sharon, and I planned to take our annual nostalgia trip to the “country”, Sharon had to report for Jury duty.   After a couple of days delay, on Wednesday, May 1^st, we were finally able to leave Albany, NY for our brief journey down memory lane.  As soon as these plans were confirmed, I called to tell Golden that we would be driving through Delhi the next day and were hoping to meet him for coffee.  A woman answered the phone; she told me that Golden was staying overnight at his sister’s home in order to transport her to her medical treatments.  I asked if she was Golden’s wife and she said, “Yes”.  She also told me that her name was Betsy, and she had heard about me from Golden.   She sounded very pleasant and even offered to meet us at the Delhi Diner so that, in Golden’s absence, she could direct us to the Hamden Cemetery.  Betsy was aware that I had been hoping to visit the nearby grave-site

of “my man”, Lyle Decker.   I guess my memories from a special, summer vacation romance needed this concrete step for some sort of closure. I can’t begin to explain why this was important to me since I don’t even know why myself, but I really wanted to say my ‘good-bye”.  

I was surprised at Betsy’s willingness to meet us at the Diner, but I was grateful for her generosity and explained to her that given the information from my car’s GPS, we would probably arrive there sometime between 11:15 AM and 11:30 PM.  Since we had never met before, I simply told her to be on the lookout for two “old Ladies” that that seemed to be wandering.  The night before Sharon and I left, I put a hard-copy printing of my blog entitled, The Decker Brothers, into my vehicle, in case Betsy hadn’t had the opportunity to read my little memoir.  I also brought a coffee table book about Elvis Presley as a token gift to show my appreciation for her kindness.

Perhaps, given the facts above, you can imagine my surprise when we parked across the street from the Delhi Diner and walked into the man himself, Golden Decker!    I discovered later that he had tried to call my cell phone earlier that morning to advise us of the change in plans.  I was already driving and didn’t recognize the phone number; therefore we never got the message. It was certainly a shocking surprise and a truly amazing experience to meet this older “teenager” once again.  But one of the most overwhelming feelings I experienced that day was the immense love that Betsy showed to her husband and shared with us, perfect strangers.   She went to relieve Golden of his responsibilities so that he would be free to come and meet us.  What kind of a woman does such a thing?  All I can say is, “thank you, Betsy for your wonderful act of selflessness and love” and “Golden Decker, you are blessed with a truly wonderful wife.’

After our lunch at the Delhi Diner, (thanks for the treat, Golden!), we jumped in our vehicle and followed Golden “down the road a piece” (this is an old country saying, in case you didn’t know).  We stopped at a house that Golden told me had been Lyle’s home and I, of course, took a photo.  Then we drove over a quaint little covered bridge to one of the loveliest resting places I have ever seen, The Hamden Cemetery.  I learned the sad truth that Golden had already had to bury a son, Rory.  I also stood next to “my man’s grave”, Lyle E. Decker (1943 – 1995) and sadness flowed through my “teenage heart”.   We met Golden’s gentle golden “puppy” Mugsie, who had been waiting quietly and obediently in his vehicle while we reminisced. We walked around the cemetery briefly on this cool, cloudy, overcast day and I felt a certain sense of peace.   Golden pointed us towards Lake Oquaga, we said our good-byes, and Sharon and I were off to the Lake of our teenage years.

The Decker Brothers and the Delhi Diner

On May 1, 2019 I parallel parked and stepped out of my RAV 4 SUV and started to walk across the Main street towards the Delhi Diner. 

“ Can I help you Mam” he said and I immediately realized that for the first time since the summer of 1961, I stood face to face with Golden Decker.  The last time we saw each other I was 16 years old and he was 18.   We’re now 74 and 77 ! If you have never experienced this type of reunion, I must tell you that it is a strange sensation.   Old people stood where once there was youth!    

Although I had connected with Golden Decker on Facebook several months beforehand it was something else altogether to be standing there in front of each other, face to face.   

The “Foxy One “ (as Golden Decker had dubbed my cousin Sharon ) was coming around the vehicle from the curb side. I dare say that for Golden the Sharon-sighting reigned supreme!  If you followed my blog entries entitled “The Decker Brothers” you’ll understand why.  I quickly realized that we’d better move our reunion to the sidewalk if we didn’t want to be flattened.   

We were a little late for the breakfast crowd and a bit early for lunch so we could claim any table in the down-home, country establishment.   Golden sat on one side of the table and I sat on the other while Sharon excused herself to use the Ladies Room. When she returned Golden suggested she sit across the table from him,  “ so I can look directly at your face! “ Our exteriors has changed rather dramatically during the 58 years since we last met but amazingly “who we were at our core” seemed to remain rock solid. 

Memorial Day Means We Remember

" Lieutenant O'Donnell was leading the platoon in the attack on Hill 1100.  While in the attack the platoon was pinned down by hand grenades ( thrown by the enemy ) and small arms fire.  In order to neutralize this fire the Lieutenant led two machine gun squads around the left side of Hill 1100; and after a 45 minute fire fight there, he started to pull his men back.  After the men started back, Lieutenant O'Donnell followed along the ridge. While following along this ridge, an enemy mortar round came in, wounding him fatally. He did not regain consciousness. Sergeant Wright ( Sergeant William G. Wright, US 55 102 008, R.R. # 3,  Columbus, Wisconsin) and Private First Class May ( Private First Class Bernie R. May, US 53 032 068, Route # 1, Union Springs, Alabama)   carried him behind a big rock and the medic, Sergeant Robert Bailey ( Sergeant Robert L. Bailey, US 53 082 709, c/o Mr. H.C. Bailey Union Mills, Route # 2, North Carolina ) went to him immediately.  He held the Lieutenant in his lap as he died."

It took one small paragraph to describe the events that happened on October 13, 1951 on a hill in in the vicinity of Hondang-ni, Korea (an infamous hill that eventually became known as Heartbreak Ridge.)
But, these few words could not begin to describe the monumental loss felt by the family of this gentle man, 29 year old 1st Lieutenant Joseph Thomas O'Donnell, 010 59 578, the only son of Margaret (Coleman) and T.J. O'Donnell and the beloved husband of Marie ( Murphy) and father of 6 year old, Sharon and barely 3 year old, Diane.

My Uncle Joe's Infantry Commander wrote to Joe's wife , Marie, " It is difficult to express to you how deeply shocked the regiment is by Joseph's death; he was one of our best. As an officer and as a man, Joseph was respected and loved by all, and we shall miss him very much both as a soldier and as a friend."

Yes, he was one of our best and we remember.

Dear Honey Bee

As a way of introduction the following letter was written from Friendsville, PA by my mother
( Honey Bug) to my father ( Honey Bee) on March 11, 1942.  My mother was two weeks shy of her 25th birthday. 
It appears that my mother went up to Friendsville to spend time with her maternal grandmother, Hannah Byrne Coleman who was apparently terminally ill at the time (Hannah (DOB November 1965) died in November 1942 at the home of her youngest child, Kathleen Coleman Fitzgerald).

                                                                                         Friendsville, Pa
                                                                                            March 11, 1942
Dear Honey Bee,
           I am up in Friendsville tonight. Grandma hasn’t much of any fever, but is feeling very poorly. She crys a good deal of the time. Mary Rose is taking care of her.  They also have another woman to help but she isn't expected to stay.  Mother and Dad have gone back to Aunt Mays to sleep.
           I am having a great time with the children.  Frank and Mike had me reading stories from their school book.  One was about little Brownies who give children colds and another was about two knights, - Black and White who had a duel.  Each story has a moral.  The latter one was for boys to dress warm and to change under clothing often.  I said that would be a good moral for you to follow.  Mike says to be sure to tell you about that story.  I had made the remark casually and I didn't even think the kids were listening, but they don't miss a trick.
           I don't know whether I should go to Sonyea tomorrow or not.
           Rosina and John are calling their baby John Joseph and nick-naming him Jack. I haven't seen him or Rosina since I came.
           Anne Fitz is here beside me and she send her love.  Mary Rose says to tell you she was asking for you, too.
                                                                          With love and kisses,
                                                                          Rita xxx1/2 x
xx from Mary
xx from Anne

 Other interesting points:  Frank (DOB: 7-8-1933), Mike (DOB: 1932) and Anne Fitz ( DOB: 2-22-1931)  were children of Kathleen Coleman ( DOB: 1901) and Maurice Fitzgerald who owned a general store on the one main street in Friendsville.  Kathleen was Hannah's youngest of 8 children and she was born several months after her father died as a consequence of a farming accident/fall). 
My mother's cousin Rosina (Coleman) Smith and John Smith had just had their first baby, Jack on March 1st of 1942.  They went on to have 5 more marvelous kids!
I believe when she refers to Mary Rose she is referring to Anna Mae Coleman's daughter, Mary Rose Coleman Hartson (DOB: 6-16-19) since she became or already was a nurse.
Funny, it sounds like my father needed to be reminded to change his underclothing.
I don't know what or where Sonyea is??
I imagine that my mother was away from my father for a week or two and it is interesting to me to realize that although my Mom was having some trouble conceiving a child, she apparently got pregnant with my older brother, Charlie ( DOB: 2-16-1943), shortly after returning to the arms of her Honey Bee.

The Day the Surgeon Cried

It was an experience that no one could ever forget unless of course the shock of it made total repression the only real choice.
I was a student nurse at the time - not yet out of my teens - and I was lucky enough to be training in a major Manhattan Hospital. I was back for another few weeks in the Operating Room, having chosen this specialty for my senior rotation. On this particular date, I’m working the evening shift which typically is not a terribly busy time in the OR as all the scheduled surgeries are over for the day.  Basically, it is a time to do peripheral, preparatory type tasks and be physically present in case of an emergency. My OR instructor was with me this particular evening. I remember she had a rather strong foreign accent, an unusually mousy appearance and a nurse's cap that looked like a pleated upside-down cupcake holder.  She also exhibited some rather atypical mannerisms that gave her away as a woman from another country.  She she was quiet, serious and smart as if she were still trying to prove her worthiness in this country.   I really liked and respected her.
In the midst of the quiet, we suddenly got a call to set up for an emergency cardiac surgery.  A woman who had cardiac bypass surgery earlier that day was experiencing problems and was being brought back to the OR.  I remember the massive amount of surgical instruments we quickly assembled; every imaginable tool that could possibly be needed was laid out meticulously on the tables. The complete set up was configured in a large L shape and we stood ready to assist with anything the cardiac surgeon required.
I remember feeling very relieved that my instructor was present and appeared to be in control as I definitely lacked the experience to assist with such a complicated emergency. We were prepared and ready for anything,  or so we thought.
A loud commotion ensued as staff members, including the surgeon, crashed through the OR doors dragging the gurney alongside them. There wasn’t time to transfer the woman from the gurney to the OR table, so the physician began immediate emergency measures right there and then.  Drugs were administered directly through the freshly created breast bone incision and external cardiac massage and electrical shock were applied.  The cardiac surgeon worked frantically to bring his patient back from the brink of demise. Clearly I could see the anguish, the distress, and the desperation that flooded his face as one thing after another failed to get the desired results. His patient was slipping away and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. I felt helpless. My calm, highly competent, and completely prepared Instructor stood helplessly at my side. All our attention to detail, all our perfectly arranged tools, all our correctly lined up medications, were absolutely futile.  The Surgeon yelled for a scissor, quickly cut open her sutures, grabbed her heart into his hands and began to pump it manually.  He literally held her heart in his hands, but to no avail.   When the realization finally sunk in that nothing he could do was going to make her live, he stood there and cried.
Being a young student nurse, I wasn't responsible for anything more, other than the clean up of this area of the O.R.  I did not envy him, having to tell the family of this 35 year old mother of 5 that their beloved had died.  
Addendum: This real life incident occurred in 1964-1965 when Open Heart Surgical Intervention was in its' infancy.  St. Vincent's Hospital and Medical Center in Greenwich Village, NY had also recently instituted something called a Code 99, basically a "crash team" that would spring to action when a patient unexpectedly arrested.  I do not recall a Code 99 being called that particular night. I do not recall the Surgeon's name although I can picture him in my mind.  The nurse at the top pf this Blog entry is my Surgical Instructor, Ms. Danute Mikulskis, R.N, B.S.