Nor Their

Autumn is the traditional time for apple picking, and that is when I make applesauce.

Sadly I now must.admit, it is also about the only time of the year, I still remember the “Family” especially in this “after Covid” environment.

Although no one in our family picked apples, my Uncles always insisted upon homemade applesauce at this time of the year,

Most likely that was an edict from their still reigning Patriarch. The explanation for most things in their closely knit family was “Because that’s what ‘Marm’ liked.”

My sister and I had four middle aged uncles living in the tenement flat directly above ours during childhood. The youngest member of the household, our gentle Aunt, “Kept” the house, cooking, cleaning and serving the needs of her needy brothers and domineering Father,

Only one of our Uncles ever visited our hone and that was never without a brief knock on the wooden door.

Bill entered our kitchen nightly and remained during our dinner, speaking only to his older sister, our Mother,

Joe would nod curtly if passing on the stairs but also, never forgot to send a weekly allowance to my sister and I.

Ellen and I both grew up believing everyone had a small purse crammed with dollar bills. It was years later we learned that was indeed a fallacy

Dan was a gentle soul due to his “problem,” which was never quite explained. If it extended beyond an alcohol addiction, I never knew.

Yet I still remember Dan’s quixotic sense of humor that was once shared with a very young child, and only ended when she. became too old to interact with the handsome dark eyed Irishman.

Sadly, I never saw dear Dan share a meal or joke with his brothers and he spoke only rarely to either of his sisters.

Frank, the youngest of the clan, committed the unforgettable sin of marrying an older woman the year he was 32 and immediately left the family household

Ethel, our Uncle’s attractive wife, occasionally visited her sister in law and our home. However, she never went “upstairs” or entered the family domain. Nor did Frank return there after his marriage.

Soon after the quiet wedding (that only Mom and I attended in a church in Times Square outside the Parish,) Uncle Frank began a routine of early Saturday morning visits to his sister while the rest of our household slept

And of course, John, the beloved oldest, the family war hero, and the Lost Sheep who was mourned until her death by the Matriarch, was never forgiven by the male family members.

John would appear spasmodically at our home when he knew his Irish twin, Ann, would welcome him with tea and more than sympathy. They looked alike the brother and sister. Often I sat quietly watching a large brown paper bag being packed by Mom for her brother to take to his “furnished” room. Despite trying, I was always unable to hear their whispered conversation,

Although I never learned the reason for John’s exile, I always wished I had known him better.

That never happened however . I was married and living in Ohio when I learned only “John has died.”

My maternal grandfather was a tiny man, exquisite in demeanor, but unyielding in his demands for the “boys.”

The aging family unit continued to support his household whims and demands even after his death. In life they all feared his wrath.

None ever left to truly establish a life of their own.

Now if or when I occasionally am tempted to dwell on “the good old days,” I remember five kind men who are well descripbed in Henry David Thoreau’s words,

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

While my applesauce begins to simmer and the comforting fragrance fills the air of a small and often cluttered apartment, I remember the kindness, courtesy and generosity of a family that never shared their pain or sorrow with others.

Although they never revealed their secrets, they each left me a gift.

Bill shared his faith inspiring me by daily attendance at Mass until death claimed him,

Joe taught me quiet generosity including the memorable bouquet of white roses I carried on my wedding day.

Frank gave me a realistic view of indepemdence

Dan taught me about gentleness

And dear John has inspired me to always forgive

And wasn’t that far more important than sharing secrets?