Joe ~ May 25

 

Where did I come From?

 

In the process of change I have pondered family heritage and who I am the progeny of. There are the ones who I know something about and there are those that have little attached to their familial relationship. On my Dad’s Mother’s side were the McAndrews. My great grandfather was alive when I was a toddler and I vaguely remember him playing the tin whistle and his wife was very old and frail. I think they would be considered a typical Irish family who immigrated after the Great War looking for what Ireland couldn’t offer. John, my great grandfather was famous for riding his bicycle through Wilkes-Barre at the ripe age of 96 taking care of people’s stokers. He always had a bottle of Bushmills in his possession and after several mishaps where he was found passed out in the front yards of his clients, his bicycle was retired. The drinking of the whiskey, however, continued til his demise of natural causes. The Dettmores were pretty much an unknown commodity. My Grandfather was a drinker and was pretty much considered to be the black sheep in the family. Later in life I learned of Uncles and great Uncles who were seemingly fine upstanding citizens. As far as I can tell, alcohol was the binding factor on both sides of my Dad’s family. In this coal mine town there were bars and taverns on every block. Alcohol was an everyday staple of the work-a-day life of nearly all the inhabitants of this depressed way of life. 

Now, On my Mom’s side of the family there were the Gracers. French/German from what I could surmise. My great grandmother, who I’m told came from Alsace-Lorraine died in childbirth when she was young. Nobody in the family seemed to know how many children she bared and in those days a Man who lost his wife and could not take care of his kids sent them off to orphanages. So for years I thought I only had one great aunt and one great uncle. Later, I found out there were at least 5 other siblings who were separated as they grew to adulthood. My Grandmother married into the Kelly family. Joe Kelly liked the drink, so my grandmother would say and he ended up getting drunk in a work truck and was hit by a train while crossing the tracks with two of his fellow workers. A sad legacy for sure. Joe Kelly’s death happened when my Mom was 6 years old. So the connection to the Kellys was very fuzzy by the time I realized how this genealogical puzzle fit together. A Great Aunt Esther who was indeed the Irish matriarch and had a very long nose which she looked down on you from and was very sharp in expressing her opinions sat on the Kelly throne. I remember her husband Bill McGroarty, who would sit quietly on the rare times I was in his company. I never heard him utter a sound. Then there was Aunt Anna and Uncle Eddie, They were in vaudeville and Anna, being a Kelly was much more likable than Esther. Anna had two daughters. Nancy, the oldest went to a private Catholic Girls school and was much to important to have anything to do with us Dettmores. She had three children, two of which committed suicide. Anna’s other daughter, Baby (Marguerite) committed suicide a year after her husband committed suicide and her daughter suffered from numerous mental disorders. Anna’s son, Ned, was a lovely man who lived on a Military disability pension. He would sit on the back porch which was lined with aluminum foil and watch the TV in the living room because of the aliens and the lethal waves that were emanating from the electrical devices. I guess war can do that to you. So, from what I can gather a lot of stuff going on the Kelly side. Once in a blue moon I’ll go up and search for my Grandfather’s grave which had somebody else’s name on it because they couldn’t afford a gravestone. Naughton…I’ll always remember that name. 

So in the next few days I’ll head down to St. Mary’s Cemetery and visit the folks. My Grandmother on my mother’s side remarried a man named Bill Weber. I used to take my Grandmother to the gravesite to visit and would always run ahead to make sure the memorial World War II flag and medallion were there. The first time I went with her there was no flag or marker. She cried…So ever since I make sure there is one present even if I’m the only one there. My Uncle Joe Kelly, his father’s namesake, is interred with my Grandmother and Bill Weber. I am now there alone to remember this family and the fact that I still have a car load of my Uncle’s belongings to sort through. I’ve been procrastinating. Pondering over where I come from….