Marie Murphy & Joe O'Donnell on their wedding day

I will never, ever understand war.

Memorial Day

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After 58 years, the heart still breaks

By MARY BETH BUCHNER, Special to the Times Union
First published in print: Sunday, May 24, 2009

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 and 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, many years later, I walk up State Street and pass a memorial to another forgotten war, Vietnam. There on the silent, dark monuments are names written in bronze, too numerous to count. 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.
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.
I think these thoughts once again. May we continue to remember them. May we never look lightly on war and may we work feverishly to maintain the freedom and peace they died to preserve.
Mary Beth Buchner

Juggling

Dear Friends,
At the moment I am struggling/juggling plans for my 45th Nursing School Reunion, my Dad's 95th birthday celebration and taking orders for shirts for Christ Our Light parish. I have not had a moment to write any stories. I'm too busy living to write about living. I feel a loss when I don't have time to write but I guess life can be like that at times. Twice this week I have heard this statement - "don't expect perfection this side of the grave" and since I hope to stay this side of the grave for a while longer, I will have to make due with imperfection.
In case you enjoy seeing photos as much as I do, and even though I don't have time to write a story, I am attaching the the photo that I put on my Dad's birthday celebration invitation. I thought it was rather cute. It was taken when my father was in the 5th grade (school year 1925-1926) at St. Michael the Archangel Elementary School in Brooklyn, NY. I enjoy looking back into history through photographs from the past. I hope you will enjoy it too.
Good night, sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite.
Love, Mary Beth

Beloved Little December Child

On December 2, 1993, my sister, Meg, went into premature labor and delivered a perfect, tiny little baby boy, Joseph Adam Carrick. He weighed only 1 lbs. 8 oz. We all loved him so. We hoped and prayed that our love for him would be enough. We thought our tremendous feelings of love would truly be able to sustain him.
When little Joseph left us 24 days later on December 26th, we felt indescribable heartbreak. We also had this strong and convincing feeling that his unique and special spirit would never really leave us. So in the midst of our broken hearts we supported and comforted each other as best we could. We stood together and shared our words and music with other parents and families who had experienced the ultimate pain of loosing a child.

Within My Heart

Chorus: You're here with me,

within my heart
And there you'll stay
We'll never part
Your spirit lives inside of me
This part of you will always be

And when I see the sun arise
You'll see it too
You'll use my eyes
You'll use my feet to do your dance
I promise you, you'll have your chance
You'll sing your song
You'll have your day
I'll never let you go away
I'll keep you warm and safe and sound
Within my heart

You'll build a castle in the sand
You'll shape its' form
You'll use my hands
You'll run through snow that looks like lace
My ice cream cone is for you to taste
And when my life is dark and blue
I'll look inside and I'll find you
You'll put a smile upon my face
You'll be the breath of peace and grace
That sees me through

And as I walk down through the years
Throughout my life,
the laughs, the tears,
the joy and pain that's filled my heart
You'll be there still
You always will
Withing my heart

Then, when my time on earth must end
I'll have no fear,
I'll have my friend
The one I love will be with me
now and through eternity
The love that started one spring day
will never die or go away
I'll keep you warm and safe and sound
I'll hug you close and feel you here
I'll keep you warm and safe and sound
Withing my heart

Music - Joe Carrick
Lyrics - Mary Beth Buchner
Albany, NY 1994

Busy Day

I have had a busy day so I am too tired to write down all the little stories floating around in my head. It is exciting to me to have all these stories in my head - I never get bored this way as there is always another story. I have stories about my grandfathers, stories about my youth, stories about my old boyfriends, stories about nursing school days, stories about my husband and our rocky first year of marriage. Speaking of our first year of marriage - My brother-in-law sent us a card on our first anniversary. It was truly priceless. I only regret that I threw it away. It is probably the only thing I ever threw away as I have more memorabilia than just about any person I know. Well anyway, on the front of the card there was a picture from an old movie. I think it was Clark Gable and his leading lady (don't know who she was). They were dragging themselves out of the desert. They were were leaning on each other, their clothes were torn and ragged-looking. They appeared dirty, sweaty and exhausted. In plain English, they looked like hell. Inside the card it said, Glad to see you two made it through the year. I remember thinking, Gee, was it really that obvious. Well as I said at the beginning, I had a very busy day. I am having a dinner party for 11 tomorrow evening and I had to shop and clean and cook so I will share some of the first year of marriage stories another day.

P.S. 7 - Stink Pot - 6

It was easier being Public in spite of the fact that one day many years ago, my cousin, Sharon, said to me, “Nah, nah, Na NaNa, you go to P.S. 7 stink-pot 6”. She was hitting below the belt and I felt like a complete and utter fool. So, in an effort to regain my footing I tried my best to answer her in an equally insulting manner. “Well ha, ha, Sharon, you go to St. stink-pot Barbara’s”. Without batting an eye, Sharon comes back with, “You committed a sacrilege, you committed a sacrilege”. I burst into tears and Sharon responds gleefully “cry baby, cry baby”. She knows it and I know it - I’m a great big cry baby – always was and always will be.

Shortly before this memorable verbal exchange Sharon tells me that she goes to Catholic School and she is a Catholic. “Are you a Catholic?” she asks. I think for a second and then recall that I go to a Public School -P.S. 76 to be exact -so it only takes me a second to deduce that I, therefore, must be a Public. I proudly announce, “I’m not Catholic, I’m Public”. This doesn’t sit well with Sharon. She is, after all, two full months my senior and she never heard of anyone being Public. In my defense I started PS 76 when I was a mere baby of 4& ½ years and I was just starting to learn all the intricacies of labels, religion and politics. Even the idea of “community” was a new and exciting concept to my little kid brain.

Sharon is stronger than me. She lost her Daddy, my Uncle Joe O’Donnell, in the Korean War when she was only 6 & ½ years old. She was forced to be strong. Sometimes life circumstances make us stronger than we ever cared to be. I admire Sharon. I love Sharon. After having heard the little scenario above, you might have thought differently. You might have surmised that we didn’t care for each other. Actually, nothing could be farther from the truth. I have been Sharon’s friend since the day I was born. In fact, I’ve always been grateful that, within two months of each other, her parents and my parents created female off spring. What timing! They produced a marvelous thing – two female cousins who would be able to share life’s adventures with each other. From childhood vacations, teenage dances, chatting about first kisses and boyfriends, conversations about plans for our future, participating in each other’s weddings, arguing and debating when we didn’t agree, sharing our sorrows when life didn’t work out the way we hoped it would. I dare say we have been gift to each other and for that I am eternally grateful. I may be part Public and part Cry Baby but I am forever Sharon’s friend.

PS. The photo was taken in January 1950 when Mary Beth & Sharon were flowergirls for their Aunt Margie & Uncle Bill.

New Baby Arrives in Town

Could not help but brag a little today. I just received my first glimpse of Marty & Kerri's 4th child. I think his name is Ryan but the final decision has yet to be made. I hope it is Ryan - I like that name a lot but hey, it's not for me to say. He was born on Sunday ( Sunday's Child is full of grace), April 25, 2010 - 7lbs 1 oz.- Mother and Baby are doing fine. Christian, Nolan, and Addison were excited- each in their own way- to meet their new baby brother.
So now my little brother, Marty, & sister -in-law, Donna, have their 5th grandchild. Wow! and to think that just yesterday, my brother, Marty, was just a kid himself.
God bless the new little guy. May he have a long and fruitful and very happy life.
Love, Great Aunt Mary