Sharing my Story to Heal the Broken Child - The Sin of Chewing Gum

 

The following incident happened to me in one of the four long “endless” years I attended St. Michael’s Elementary School in East New York.  I’m not sure which nun inflicted this next bit of humiliation on me, but since I remember - till this day, 6 decades later - my deep feelings of shame and embarrassment, something tells me it very likely might have been the work of Sr. Christiana or Sr. Delores Theresa.

I was caught chewing gum in class which was apparently considered a really terrible sin because the punishment inflicted on me just about destroyed any of my remaining self-esteem. I was told to stand up at the side of my desk, remove the gum from my mouth and push into my hair right smack above my forehead. Sister said she wanted it to be plainly visible so everyone could see that I had sinned (I may have paraphrased the word sinned but you get my drift) and, possibly it might deter my classmates and other students at St. Michael’s Elementary School from committing such a heinous crime. I had to continue my day, walking around school with this “scarlet letter” hanging prominently from my bangs. I remember that I held my head down in shame and wished I could disappear into the floor. I remember my feelings of mortification vividly; and I remember that this particular day never seemed to end.

When I got home from school I uttered a quick, “Hi” as I ran past my Mom and up to my bedroom.  I grabbed my Mickey Mouse hat from the top of my dresser and pulled the cap down over the front of my forehead.  I desperately wanted to cover the gum, my terrible “sin”, and my shame and embarrassment. I went downstairs, got a drink from the refrigerator and sat at the dining room table to do my homework. After awhile my mother noticed I hadn’t removed the Mickey Mouse ears.  Eventually she questioned my atypical behavior with one simple sentence,  

  “Why are you wearing that silly hat all afternoon?” I immediately burst into tears. The floodgates opened and I was sobbing.  Not knowing how she would react, I told her of my terrible crime. “I was chewing gum”, I said between my sobs “and Sister made me stick the gum into my hair.” When I pulled off my cap to show her, she opened the nearby kitchen drawer, pulled out a scissor and quickly snipped out the gum.  In one beautiful, glorious second, my mother removed my humiliation, absolved me from my sin and restored me to wholeness. 

She may have hugged me too.

Anne Rose O'Donnell was born 100 years ago today.

Normally, during the years that Aunt Anne lived on Ledgewood Drive in Colonie, NY, I would be baking a birthday cake on this date in December.  Typically, we would be celebrating Aunt Anne's birthday with her.   It was quite wonderful having her live close by.  Since she never married, she was, in essence, "another mother" to all her nieces and nephews.  She was generous and loving and when she died rather suddenly in October 1994, it was a shock to all of us.  She had named me the Executrix of her will and when I went through her personal belongs in her apartment and her storage area in the basement, I felt privileged, albeit, a bit invasive.  Honestly, when you die, your privacy is thrown to the wind.  Everything she left behind was on display for me to see.  I found a photo in her night stand, right next to where she slept.  It was a picture of Annie and "the love of her life", Eddie Moran, a farmer from the green, rolling earth known at Irish Hill in the area of Friendsville, Pennsylvania.   They never married, but, I dare say it was certainly not for lack of love.  Sometimes, certain life circumstances intervene. While looking through old photos albums, I also learned about a major family secret.  Honestly, it jumped out so vividly and unexpectedly, it was as if Annie was leaning over me and egging me on.  I did a little investigation and the secret was confirmed as true.  Nonetheless, it wasn't popular with the family and shall remain hidden in this Blog entry.  I also found documentation of many loans that Aunt Anne made to family members, and most were not repaid.  This will also remain a secret.  It did, however, give me a very clear picture of Anne's love, forgiveness and generosity.   On one occasion, I remember hearing that Aunt Anne told my brother, Marty that she wondered whether she would ever be remembered or missed after her death.  After all, she never married nor had any children to pass on her legacy.  Well, Aunt Anne O'Donnell, we love you and miss you and will share your stories as long as we live.  

Anne Rose O'Donnell was born in Brooklyn, NY on 12-10-1920.  She spent many delightful summers at her grandmother, Hannah Byrne Coleman's house in Friendsville, Pa., where, as a teenager, she attended Square Dances and other wonderful events and met the love of her life, Eddie Moran.  For many years she worked in Manhattan as a well loved and well respected manager in the Insurance Department of the Talbot Bird Company.   She liked to play games, especially a King of Hearts card game with her nieces.  She enjoyed movies at the Loew's Gates and RKO Bushwick with her nieces, Sharon and Mary Beth.  She liked singing Irish tunes with her family, and especially liked “Galway Bay".  She enjoyed Chinese food, rye and ginger, pretzel sticks, and the TV Golden Girls.  She learned to drive in Friendsville and never drove again until she retired to Colonie, NY.  Anne lived in Brooklyn, NY and Woodhaven, Queens before moving to Colonie, NY after she retired. She was very close to her sister, Dot, who died in 1942 at the age of 22.  They were a year apart in age - Dot was born in December 1919 and Anne was born in December 1920 and Anne grieved Dot's loss always.  She also had her heart broken when she lost her only brother, Joe, on October 13, 1951.  The story I heard was that when Aunt Anne, 30 years of age at the time, came home from her job at Talbot Bird Insurance Company and was given the devastating news that her brother Joe had been killed in action in Korea, she sat on her mother's lap in a rocking chair as her mother held her and rocked her like a baby.  Joe was 29 years old at the time of his death, and he was approximately a year and a half younger than Anne.   Sadly, Anne was surrounded by the loss of her two siblings. 

Anne died on October 7, 1994 at Albany Medical Center.  She is buried in the Friendsville, Pennsylvania Cemetery next to her parents, Margaret Coleman O'Donnell and T.J. O'Donnell and her beloved sister, Dorothy O'Donnell. 

 

More Remembrances of my Aunt Anne O’Donnell

Aunt Anne was a physically beautiful woman with a gorgeous, voluptuous body. Most of the Coleman and O’Donnell women were endowed with pleasing, plentiful bosoms and Anne was no exception.  One famous true story or, should I say, infamous true story, involves this exceptionally attractive attribute of my pretty Aunt.  Anne knelt in the white sands of Rockaway Beach in a cream colored one piece bathing suit.  Honestly, she looked like a model on the cover of the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated. I guess the photographer, my father, Charlie Fries, Sr., must have thought so, because he made a Christmas  Card using this photo and unbeknownst to Annie, sent it my Aunt’s co-workers at the Talbot Bird Insurance Company that Christmas.  Nowadays, it might not have gone over so well but back in the 1940’s it was a big hit at the office.   I’m not sure how my Aunt Anne felt about it! As least the photo was definitely flattering.

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