A Lesson

The clocks in the loving home my sister and I once shared on 58th Street were always set fifteen minutes ahead.

Why?

Ellen and I never knew despite oft inquiring.

However, I doubt if either she nor I have been late more than once or twice in our distinctly different lifetimes.

So perhaps a lesson was learned by both of us early in life.

Uncle Bill arrived about 6 p.m. nightly, shortly after our family had finished dinner.

After. walking down the one flight of stairs, and entering our kitchen, he would announce:

“I’ve come to set your clocks, Annie” (his nickname for his younger sister, our Mom.)

Upon completing the task Uncle Bill immediately departed.

My Dad, the soul of patience, never complained and would continue either finishing his cup of tea or reading his newspaper.

Not many men nor women I have known have ever exhibited the patience Bill Donlon had for his complicated family of in-laws.

Of course, Dad already understood what neither my sister of I had not yet realized.

Uncle Bill wore a cloak of loneliness, and the nighttime ritual to our kitchen helped lessen the weight he carried all his life.

In a day when matriarchy was unusual, my Mother had inherited the role of family caretaker long before her marriage.

It was a role Anna King Donlon only relinquished upon death, leaving but one survivor of the large King family, her younger sister.

Because Mom was undoubtedly the most practical woman I have ever known, Fantasy had no room in her world .

Which was why I was so astonished when on a beautiful October afternoon she confided:

“I expected to die the year I turned 68, but since today is my 69th birthday, apparently, I was wrong.”

Suddenly I realized all five of my Uncles had left this world the year they were 68, and their loyal caregiver Sister believed she, too, must follow their example.

However, Mom lived another twenty years, and continued reaching out to help her always growing collection of “poor souls.”

Although I am not the only survivor of the “Family,” I am only one who chooses to remember and admit I often wonder why.

However for some unknown compulsion, I do believe the sacrifices a complicated family once made continue to teach me a much needed lesson about love, its penalties and rewards.