On a Haywagon

Amazing how a memory can stay with you.  Also I feel so lucky that one of my fondest memories was memorialized in a photograph.  Thanks Dad. ( I believe he was the photographer, at any rate. )
The back of the photo is stamped "Aug 10 1950" which means I was exactly 5 years, 5 months and 1 day of age when I took this unforgettable ride on a hay wagon up into the hills behind Aunt Bridge's farm in St. Joseph, Pa.  I remember it clearly.  I was thrilled and excited to be on such a major excursion. I was unafraid and in my glory. I remember feeling that I was special to this handsome young farmer.  I was being cared for and protected and this was a impression that became forever imprinted in my heart and soul.  It makes me realize that young children are highly pliable and receptive to the adults who interact with them.   That summer afternoon so many years ago this young, caring farmer was a mirror for me.  In this mirror I could to see that I was sweet and worthwhile.  I could feel that I was safe and sound under his protection.  I was given a wonderful memory and a priceless gift.  I'm guessing that he had no idea of how his small act of kindness remained a part of me forever.

Rita O'Donnell Fries and the Children of Kathleen (Coleman) & Maurice Fitzgerald

Going "up to the country", i.e., Friendsville, Pa. and St. Joseph's, Pa, has always been a big part of the life of the family of Margaret (Coleman) and TJ O'Donnell.   Margaret left her entire nuclear family ( there were 8 siblings in the Frank and Hannah Coleman clan) "up in the country" when she moved to NYC (primarily Brooklyn) to marry the love of her life, TJ O'Donnell.   Although TJ was also a farmer's son from St. Joseph's, Pa., his two brothers, John and Frank also left the farm to become members of NYPD's finest and they, too, moved to Brooklyn, NY where they married and raised their families.  Nonetheless, the Margaret and TJ left an enormous part of their heart and soul in the endless mountains of Pennsylvania, and they left that immense love of the green rolling hills in the hearts of their offspring.
After the fact, my mother's sister, Annie O'Donnell, told me that she went to the country every single year of her life except for one.  I remember feeling badly that she didn't tell me this before the year was out. I would have made certain that she made it that year too.  The fact that she made note of it made it clear to me that it was obviously very important to her.
My mother, Rita, loved going up to the country, too.  She eventually brought the love of her life, Charlie Fries, up to the country with her and he feel in love with this "garden spot of America".  I was born on March 9th, 1945 and I like to imagine that I was created right there in the beautiful fresh air of God's country.  After all, my mother did tell me once that June was her very favorite month to "go to the country."

Lucky Kid has Rockaway Beach

Spent many hot, sunny, summer days with family and friends at Rockaway Beach.  Remember the fun, the feel of the sand and the salt water, and the happiness that seemed to reside there.  For some reason, I vividly remember the taste of the lemonade and how there would often be sand mixed in.  Didn't fully realize then how lucky we were to live just a short car ride to the Atlantic ocean.    

Home for Christmas

This photo was taken on Christmas Eve at # 64 Interboro Parkway (my Grandma and Grandpa Fries' House) in Brooklyn, NY (circa 1950). My brother, Marty sits in the middle.  He was home from St. Charles Hospital (Port Jefferson, Long Island) for a short visit for the Christmas holiday.  He was admitted to St. Charles Hospital for rehabilitation after contracting polio in 1950.  He was diagnosed as having polio (via a Spinal Tap) at King's County Hospital in Brooklyn after falling in the kitchen as he walked over to his highchair.  He was transferred to St. Charles Hospital where he lived for many months while he was given therapy by the Daughters of Wisdom nuns.   The polio affected the muscles in his lower extremity.  When he came home permanently on Good Friday the following year, he was surprised to see that there was no longer a Christmas Tree in the house.

Elizabeth Daniel Fries - my Father, Charles A. Fries, Sr.'s Mother

 

I do not know the year or the occasion but believe that this photo was taken in the early 1900's

Grandma and Grandpa Fries Celebrate their 50th Wedding Anniversay ? 1958

Rockaway Beach - June 29, 1947 and Dr. Carrington, MD

 

We had some great family outings at Rockaway Beach.  In this June 29, 1947 photo Grandma and Grandpa O'Donnell sit with their eldest daughter, Rita, and their grandchildren, Sharon, Tom and Mary Beth.  I have very many fond memories of times spent in the sand and salt water with extended family all around me. I wonder if we wore any sunscreen back then.  I can taste the sandy lemonade now.  We often parked near Dr. William Carrington's house at Beach 143rd Street. His home was the first house after the stone wall. He was our family doctor for many years.  He was a great guy, down to earth, boisterous, hefty, friendly and, at times, a bit outrageous.  Many times our family would be his last patients of the evening (back then the MD's had evening office hours to accommodate the family's work schedule and the fact that a lot of the Moms stayed at home and didn't drive or have an available vehicle to get to the Doctor's office.)  After he finished his official visit with us, we would get invited into his dining room (his living quarters were connected to his house on Claredon Rd in Flatbush section of Brooklyn) and he would open up his china cabinet and serve my Mom and Dad some alcoholic beverage.  Of course, he would join in on the toast.  My mother had a huge smile on her face and my father seemed so proud to have such a good rapport with our family physician.  He listened, he respected our knowledge base, he wasn't high highfalutin.  He was a joker too.  When my brother, Marty, was about 10 years old, he had to have an emergency appendectomy and when Dr. Carrington came to the bedside before surgery, Marty said, "Don't make any mistakes, Dr. Carrington".  Dr. Carrington replied, "don't worry, Marty, I bury my mistakes." How's that for a sense of humor! All in all he was one in a million, and we were lucky to have found such a gem.