Thursday, April 2, 2020

#3 Unbridled Thoughts during the 2020 Pandemic

This evening I took a short walk around my daughter’s neighborhood. It was cold, damp and dreary.  In my mind I started singing “ Don’t they know it’s the end of the world ðŸŒŽ “.  These are my uncensored thoughts so I hope they don’t drag you down.  Sometimes it helps to get the thoughts out of me and onto paper, so if you prefer not to read the dark stuff, simply pass it by.  
I thought about the great flood and Noah’s ark and how God promised never again to destroy the earth by means of water.  I share this story not because I take it literally but because it is a story that was a part of my life.  This current pandemic is so overwhelming in its impact that it certainly brings the idea of the end of the world to my mind.  Maybe the end of the world will come about because of the massive power of a minute but monstrous virus ðŸ¦ . At any rate I have no doubt that life as we know it is ending.  When we emerge on the other side, and I do hope and pray that we do, we cannot help but be changed people.  
There are so many unknowns, and we cannot truly predict the final outcome. 
I wonder if we will be more understanding of those who routinely have barely enough to survive. I wonder if we will be humbler, less arrogant, less greedy.  I am thinking about all those things we take for granted in our country and how we consume so much of the goods of this earth while so many don’t have bare necessities.  Is this virus changing us, teaching us some very needed lessons? I wonder. 

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

Unbridled Thoughts during the 2020 Pandemic

I’ve been going through boxes ðŸ“¦ of memorabilia in the basement. This is a monumental, exhausting task because the boxes contain not only my own immediate family’s treasures but also the things my parents’ collected from their own married life and even the lives that led up to their creation.  My mother’s sister, Aunt Anne O’Donnell, lived in an apartment over the garage in the same house as my parents lived and as Executrix of her estate I also inherited the precious few things she preserved.  
Just about everything I throw out leaves  me with the feeling that one more piece of who I am and where I came from is being erased.   I try to think differently but still these powerful emotions overwhelm me with just about everything I put in the trash.  I do get a sense of joy, however, every time I can connect a piece of the past to the right person - the person to whom it really means something special.  I guess it is a matter of how much energy I have to be able to complete this task. 
As I write these words my husband just put an old 45, “ You are my Everything “ by the Temptations, on the record player I insisted we buy several years ago. I must admit we rarely use my unnecessary purchase but it certainly was fun to hear it today as all hell is breaking loose in the world outside our cozy home.  Frankie Valli just sang a To Give ( the Reason I Live) - I couldn’t help but think it describes the medical personnel and all the other people who continue to put themselves at risk to keep other human beings alive. 

Sunday, March 29, 2020

The Flu Epidemic of 1918 kills my Greatgrandfather



My paternal grandfather, Joseph Fries is the 2nd boy on the left ( the guy with the dark socks ). The other boys in the photo are his siblings. I believe the fellow standing to his left is my great Uncle Eddie Fries and the little guy to his right is John ( I believe he was a twin but the other twin died). The guy to his right was named William ( Willie ). I do not have too good a grasp on the Fries family history because my father was not as much into Geneology as my mother. This is the history I remember hearing over the years.  My paternal great grandfather, Jacob Fries, emigrated with his parents  from Laufach, Germany in October 1860 when he was 9 years old.  They settled in a German section of Brooklyn ( East Williamsburg  “German Town” ). At the time of WW II the name of one of the streets in this German neighborhood was Hamburg Street. Because the Germans were none too popular, the street was renamed Wilson Avenue. The Fries Family attended Most Holy Trinity Church on Montrose Ave.   My grandfather, Joseph Fries, was a glass cutter ( I have a punch bowl downstairs in a box in our basement that he cut), before he joined the NYC Police 👮 Department. He retired as a Sargent and went to work at Packer Institute in Brooklyn.  My grandfather married my grandmother, Elizabeth Daniels in the early 1900’s at Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church on Montrose Ave.  My father, Charles Anthony Fries, ( their second child) was born on November 2, 1915 in the front bedroom of the home they bought at 8 Vermont Ave (eventually became known as 64 Interboro Parkway when the Parkway was built in front of their house connecting the borough of Brooklyn to the borough of Queens. My father remembers studying in his room during his college years and hearing the construction of the highway outside his window. 
My father’s grandfather, Jacob Fries, died in the fall of 1918 of Flu Pneumonia. His son, Charles J. Fries also died  of the flu one month apart from his father ( one died in October and one died in November of 1918 - discovered that my great Uncle, Charles J. Fries actually died on 
Dec. 24, 1918).

   My father’s Uncle Charlie  had been scheduled to be ordained a Catholic priest two months after his untimely death. My father, Charles A. Fries, was 3 years old at the time of his Uncle Charlie’s death but I believe he and his immediate family did not live in the same household and therefore did not succumb to the virus. When my Dad was ready to enter High School, his family encouraged him to go to a pre-seminary school in Garrison, NY to begin his studies to become a a priest ( OFM Cappuccin - Order of Friar Minors). It was thought that the family was looking for a replacement to the priesthood after Uncle Charlie died prior to his ordination. My father enjoyed his two years in Garrison, NY but when he was brought back up to Garrison to start his 3 rd year, he refused to stay and came back to Brooklyn to finish his Junior and Senior Years at Bushwich HS.
My Dad use to say by his 3rd year in high school he realized that girls were more than simply “soft” boys.  
My grandfather also had two younger sisters, Mamie and Anna, who are not pictured above.  My Great Aunt Anna Fries Dannenhoffer lamented that she wished God would have taken her instead of her brother, Charlie, because he was going to enter the priesthood and she considered that so very important.  Great Aunt Anna always spoke about the good old days when she was a child.  I got the impression that she was somewhat of a golden child to her father and brothers.

Wednesday, February 19, 2020

Rooftop Fun on Atlantic Ave

When I step into cool, refreshing water on a hot day
I am transported back to that same feeling when as a small child, we climbed out the kitchen window onto a backyard rooftop at Aunt Anne and Uncle Gerard O’Donnell’s apartment on Atlantic Ave in Brooklyn.  From there, staying far from the un-unfenced sides of the rooftop, we walked a few feet into a tiny, one foot deep rubberized rectangular pool of refreshingly cool water.   It was heaven on earth on a hot July day before the advent of in-ground pools and air conditioning.  Every time I go bathing in any type of swimming pool, I think of my Dad’s younger sister, Aunt Anne, and my heart ❤️ is filled with gratitude for giving us this wonderful experience.

Thursday, January 30, 2020

Return to Sender - October 1951

The Saddest “ Return to Sender” letter 
Postmarked Flushing, NY Oct 5 9PM 1951 
Returned 18 Oct 51 

To: Lt. Joseph T. O’Donnell 0-1059578
       Army Unit 8069
       APO 301
       c/o San Francisco, Calif. 

From: 62 Interboro Parkway 
           Brooklyn 7 
                 NY 

Dear Joe, 
         Mother gave me your new address so I’ll write a few lines to you tonight to let you know we’re all thinking of you and praying for you every day.  I hope the going isn’t too tough. How is the food?  Would you like us to send you anything in that line? 
           Do you have any radios over there? 
If so, you’ve probably heard the Dodgers lost to the Giants yesterday.  The World Series started today and the Giants won the first game from the Yanks.  Charlie, Sr. came home very excited about yesterday’s game. It was the first time I ever saw him so aroused over a ball game.  I’m wondering if Junie and Joyce will be down.  They had planned to come for a week but I haven’t heard from them since we were up there. 
            I haven’t seen Marie or the children since Saturday.  Mother said they visited her last night.  I hope Marie gets a phone soon.  Then I can call her and get the news.  Last Thursday I spent the day at Maureen’s and in the evening the kids and I stopped up at your house.  Marie said she was busy from quarter of five till eight thirty doing homework with Sharon.  I had the same headache tonight with little Charlie.  Boy, it feels like I am back in school again.  I’ll be getting re-educated if it keeps up. 
           Mary Beth’s class went to the Bronx Zoo today.  She was very happy about the trip and had a wonderful time.  She has the same teacher Charlie had in the second grade. 
            We don’t get much war news on the radio lately.  Do you hear anything or know anything about how things are going?  I guess it will require a miracle to put an end to all the fighting.  Take care of yourself.  I’ll write soon again. 
                               Love
                                    Rita 

                          October 4, 1951 

You’re in the Army Now

Pvt. Jos. T. O’Donnell 
13th Battalion Battery A
1st Platoon B’ldg 1711
Fort Eustis Va. 

To: Mrs. Charles Fries 
58 Interboro P’kway
Brooklyn 
New York 

Instead of a stamp it says Free

Newport News Va
Dec 14 1942 

                     Thursday Dec. 10, 1942 
Dear Rita, 
          I guess by right I owe you a half a dozen letters, but I’ll be darned if I can ever catch up.  However I got your letter today so I’ll try to answer them in order starting now. 
           Gee you must have had some time at Prof. Kirkpatrick’s house.  Stanley Birnbasson the fellow sleeping on my right had him a year in school. He says he’s a great guy.  He’s color blind as anything though.  They had a great time kidding him. Have Charley ask the Prof. if he knows Stan.  He had him last June ending. He is the only one that got two A’s both semesters.  A real smart guy.  Only 19 and has graduated from college. 
           I don’t know now when I’ll be home again.  We are gigged this weekend and I don’t know if it carries on any further. Gosh I hope not, I’d love to get home again before Christmas. 
           I had my O.C.S. physical yesterday. I don’t know how I made out.  My eyes aren’t corrected to 20/20. I hope they give me a waiver. 
          We’re busy every moment now, work all day, after supper scrub floors and go to sleep.  Oh yes I left out Math class from 7 to 8.  Some fun this army. 
          I think I better close for now.  I’m writing this after noon chow and another class & lecture begins any minute. 
           Loads of Love to you & the boss. 
                      Your lovingly brother
                                             Joe.


Monday, January 20, 2020

Three Quarters of a Century


The Beginning
On March 9, 1945, at Midwood Hospital in Brooklyn the Nurse brought me into my mother’s room so we could meet face to face for the very first time.  Heavy sedation during childbirth was the norm back then, so she was pretty much in “ La La Land” when I emerged from the warmth of her body into the cold, glaring lights of the delivery room.    She had delivered her boy two years earlier, so the arrival of a female this time around was greeted with jubilation.  The joy passed quickly.  The nurse placed me in my mother’s waiting arms. One look at me and instantaneously my Mom screamed, “this isn’t my baby, this can’t be my baby!  “ Thinking she had committed a grievous mistake, the Nurse immediately grabbed me back from my mother’s arms.  Examining the name bracelets, she was relieved to see the mistake was not hers.  The way my mother tried to explain it to me years later is that my face was flaming red and discolored, crunched up and distorted in a hideous cry.   You’re heard of “ a face only a mother could love ❤️ “. Well this was a case of a face even a mother couldn’t love!  What a way to begin my life outside the womb.  My mother assured me she thought I looked a lot better the next time she saw me.