Mom, part 4...

The whole family at Ocean City, NJ on one of our rare vacations at the beach

1022 Homer Avenue became home to the growing Dougherty family. It’s strange to think that we only lived there for maybe five years, because for Mic and I, that’s the place we think of as home, though we lived on Link Avenue for many more years. It was Mom’s first chance to really have her own home—at least, a full-sized house. The blond bedroom furniture they had there (and maybe they did have it before—I wasn’t around) Dad still uses to this day, although the mattress has been replaced. Our big night out was Saturday night at Carmassi’s, still known then as Rebel’s Corner. We would have hamburgers at a table in the bar, and watch Studio Wrestling in the hope of seeing Bruno Sammartino wrestle.
 
             Mom sent her daughters off to school for the first time; kindergarten at Perrysville Elementary School, and then first grade at St. Teresa’s. We were allowed to walk back and forth to school alone, because in those days it was safe to do so. And in the summer, to save her sanity, Mom would let us pack a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some Oreo’s, and an empty Skippy jar filled with water to go up to Scharmin Park for a picnic lunch. Mic and I both had our First Communion at St. Teresa’s, where Dad was in the choir and we attended weekly Mass. In those days, you had to fast for 3 hours before taking communion, so no breakfast until after Mass. Mom and often Mic would go to 9:15 am Mass, then I’d go with Dad to 10:45 and listen to him sing in the choir. Then along came Vatican II, and the fast was dropped to 1 hour.

Mom got involved in co-chairing the Bridge Luncheon for St. Teresa’s, held at the Beverly Hills Hotel on Babcock. She and Jeri Noble were there once for a meeting and some of the local mob guys who hung out there mistook them for prostitutes. They set them right.

Mom also joined an informal group of friends that called themselves The Club. It consisted of Mom, Jeri Noble, Rita Darr, Lorraine Young, Bea McClure, and Lois Cole. Everyone had kids around the same ages, and the purpose of the Club was girls’ night out. Once a month they’d meet at a different house, the hostess would provide the food (it got fancier as the years went on), and the ladies would sit and talk through the evening. In the summer there was usually a picnic out at North Park, and the women remained friends for the rest of their lives, though they stopped meeting monthly around the time the kids went off to college.

During the 60’s Mom and Dad were Kennedy Democrats. They invited a young Nigerian student from Pitt to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. His name was Bayo, and he was the first person of color Mic and I had ever met. At that age, their liberalism made a powerful impression on us, one that for me, at least, didn’t dissipate in later years when they swung more to the conservative side. Two things happened while we were on Homer Avenue that profoundly affected all of us, but particularly Mom and Dad.

The first has already been mentioned—Vatican II. “This (Vatican II) was actually very stressful for many Irish Catholics, who were raised with the security that there was a clear, definite source of authority in their lives. Once anything about the Church could change, their whole foundation was shaken.” (McGoldrick, Ethnicity and Family Therapy) Not only was the fast shortened before communion, but eventually permission was granted to eat meat on Fridays, and the Latin Mass would disappear and be replaced by English.

The Bridge Luncheon committee - Mom is seated, second from left, Jeri Noble is seated fourth from the left, Lois Cole is standing on the right

The second thing was the assassination of President Kennedy. The first Irish Catholic president, who had safely shepherded the country through the Cuban Missile Crisis, who was just like them with his young wife and family, was brutally killed. The days to follow, right through the end of the funeral were in everyone’s face, hour after hour, on the television.

The religious and political foundations of Mom’s life were rocked in the early 60’s.  Before the end of her 30th year she had lost both of her parents, the young handsome war hero Irish Catholic president of her country, and the bedrock certainty of her Catholic traditions. The one major family loss during the early 60’s was the death of Aunt Mary, Mom’s mother’s sister. Then Dad lost his job and even Mom’s economic security was in question.

Eventually Dad found a job in Columbus, Indiana, a place Mom would forever remember as “godforsaken Columbus, Indiana.” While it was heaven on earth for kids, it was hell on wheels for Mom. Torn from the heart of her sister, brothers, and myriad cousins, Mom was deeply unhappy and never stopped hoping we would return to Pittsburgh.

Our one and only Christmas in godforsaken Columbus, Indiana

She began her autobiography in Columbus, perhaps as a way to be close to her family in mind, if not in body. We made a number of trips back to Pittsburgh in the year that we were away, once in a blizzard (we took refuge in the Town House Motor Lodge in Springfield, Ohio), once on the train (we saw Phyllis Diller at the train station), and always to stay on Simplon Street.

It was on one of those visits that Mom showed her “Smitty” side to us kids. She and Aunt Helen told us we could go over to Aunt  Mary’s house and look through it. She had died about a year before, and it was to take literally years before it was cleaned out. We went over, a bit spooked at the idea of being in the house of a dead person. We were all upstairs when we heard strange noises. Suddenly two “ghosts” appeared on the stairs. There was a lot of screaming and running around until Mic bravely challenged the ghosts and claimed they were Aunt Helen and Mom. She recognized them by their tennis shoes!

Mom smoked constantly in Columbus, and the ulcer that had plagued her since her father’s illness continued to give her trouble. At the same time, she made sure Mic and I had swimming lessons, tennis lessons, golf lessons, joined 4-H Club, and were in an ice show. Kevin started kindergarten, and Mom dressed Mic and I in identical clothes and fixed our hair in identical Patty Duke haircuts.

 The only family we had in Indiana, Paul and Cookie Catherman and their daughters Paula and Janie, were a lifesaver for Mom. They lived in Indianapolis, and about once a month we would drive up to see them or they’d come down to see us. A few years ago I found a short letter Mom got in Columbus from Aunt Florence, another of her mother’s sisters. It was a response to an inquiry from Mom about a recipe, and included the family news that Uncle Sonny (Mom’s youngest brother) seemed likely to be getting engaged soon (he did).
 

Mom and Dad went to their one and only Kentucky Derby while in Columbus, and took the entire family to see the new film, My Fair Lady. We went down to the legendary Brown County and had dinner at a well-known restaurant, but all we kids cared about was the old-fashioned candy available at the country store. Mom may not have liked Columbus, but life there was seldom dull.
 
A little more than a year after moving to Columbus, Indiana, Mom’s dream came true and we moved back to Pittsburgh. By the time we returned, all three children were in school, which left Mom free to go back to work if she wanted to. The one job she could get that would make it possible for her to be home for us after school was for her to teach school. Although she hadn’t completed her degree, St. Teresa’s hired her to teach, and she eventually taught English, religion, and spelling.
 

Mom had a gift for teaching. She was creative, buying stocks with her students so they could learn to watch the stock market, developing her own version of Junior High Quiz for the students, and introducing her religion class to Passover and matzos. She expected the best from her students, and she got it. It was not unusual for her to find ways to help students who were having difficulty. Without extensive training, she was able to pick up on learning disabilities and find out who could provide a solution.

In 1969 Neil Armstrong stood on the moon. We were over at the Rooney house for the event with Mom’s cousins Rita and Steve, and their children, Maureen, Steve, Jr., and Bill. Rita was like the older sister that Mom never had, the older woman who probably helped fill the gap left by her own mother’s death. Rita’s house was perfectly coordinated and always spotless; looking back I can see how strong her influence was on how Mom decorated her own home. Rita, unfortunately, got cancer at a time when cancer was almost invariably a death sentence. Mom went over and took care of her on a daily basis, and after her death stayed closely connected with the rest of the family.
 

After Rita’s death the holidays became more focused on getting together with Aunt Helen’s family. Sometimes one or more of the brothers and their families would come also, but the Doughertys and the Burnhams were always there. We kids were growing up, and Mom was considered the “cool” mother by all of our friends. Many a summer afternoon either Mic and her friends or my friends and I would sit around the kitchen table with Mom, drinking iced tea and talking about life.

If you wonder where my dad was - he was often behind the camera!

The further adventures of Mom and the rest of us next week...