Christmas 🎄 Past 1950
The Fries family did not sit for a formal Christmas Card photo this year because my brother, Martin Joseph Fries, was not at home. Earlier that year, he fell as he walked toward his highchair in our kitchen. He said he tripped, but the grim reality was that he was experiencing the effects of the dreaded Infantile Paralysis, better know by every parent across the USA as Polio. I was only 5 years old at the time but events that are heavily laden with sadness, heartbreak and terror, somehow leave an indelible brand in one's brain, even if that brain is only five years old. I remember the exact position of the highchair and the shock and alarm that permeated the room. I heard the rapid talk between my parents and knew the family was in crisis. Our trusted, family physician, Dr. William Carrington was contacted and his recommendation was to take my brother to King's County Hospital immediately for a spinal tap in order to confirm the suspected diagnosis. I remember holding onto my mother's hand for dear life as we walked the perimeter of Kings County Hospital while we waited for the procedure to be done. I remember the feel of the sidewalk beneath my feet and the high foreboding fence to our right side. My mother didn't say much. My father was inside with his baby, Marty. When we got back to our house at 62 Interboro Parkway, Marty was laid on the living room couch as we waited for our parish priest to arrive to give him a special blessing. He had been summoned from St. Michael the Archangel, Jerome St, East NY Brooklyn. The priest blessed Marty using the relic of a little girl from our Parish, who had recently died. This gave great comfort to my parents and later on I heard that the progression of Marty's paralysis stopped as soon as he received this blessing.
Marty was taken out to Port Jefferson, Long Island to St. Charles Rehab Hospital/Home run by an order of nuns known as the Daughters of Wisdom. He was admitted for extensive physical therapy and resided there for many months. It was a sad and lonely time at the Fries residence. The photo above was taken on Christmas Eve on my Grandma and Grandpa Fries' enclosed front porch when my brother was allowed home for a few days over Christmas. Marty is the little guy with the snazzy tie sitting in the center. When he returned back home permanently on Good Friday the next year, he was very disappointed to discover that the Christmas Tree had been removed.
The Fries family did not sit for a formal Christmas Card photo this year because my brother, Martin Joseph Fries, was not at home. Earlier that year, he fell as he walked toward his highchair in our kitchen. He said he tripped, but the grim reality was that he was experiencing the effects of the dreaded Infantile Paralysis, better know by every parent across the USA as Polio. I was only 5 years old at the time but events that are heavily laden with sadness, heartbreak and terror, somehow leave an indelible brand in one's brain, even if that brain is only five years old. I remember the exact position of the highchair and the shock and alarm that permeated the room. I heard the rapid talk between my parents and knew the family was in crisis. Our trusted, family physician, Dr. William Carrington was contacted and his recommendation was to take my brother to King's County Hospital immediately for a spinal tap in order to confirm the suspected diagnosis. I remember holding onto my mother's hand for dear life as we walked the perimeter of Kings County Hospital while we waited for the procedure to be done. I remember the feel of the sidewalk beneath my feet and the high foreboding fence to our right side. My mother didn't say much. My father was inside with his baby, Marty. When we got back to our house at 62 Interboro Parkway, Marty was laid on the living room couch as we waited for our parish priest to arrive to give him a special blessing. He had been summoned from St. Michael the Archangel, Jerome St, East NY Brooklyn. The priest blessed Marty using the relic of a little girl from our Parish, who had recently died. This gave great comfort to my parents and later on I heard that the progression of Marty's paralysis stopped as soon as he received this blessing.
Marty was taken out to Port Jefferson, Long Island to St. Charles Rehab Hospital/Home run by an order of nuns known as the Daughters of Wisdom. He was admitted for extensive physical therapy and resided there for many months. It was a sad and lonely time at the Fries residence. The photo above was taken on Christmas Eve on my Grandma and Grandpa Fries' enclosed front porch when my brother was allowed home for a few days over Christmas. Marty is the little guy with the snazzy tie sitting in the center. When he returned back home permanently on Good Friday the next year, he was very disappointed to discover that the Christmas Tree had been removed.
