Wings Are Made

It was my sister who read it first, and called to ask if I remembered any of them And, of course, I did.They had more in common than the first initials of their last names, the Reddys, the Raffertys, and the Rileys. During the years the three families all lived on the same block, all their neighbors recognized, even if they didn't admit it, the three families with the names beginning in R were quite different. Each one was a one child family, and that was highly unusual in Hell's Kitchen during those pre-pill years. I suppose everyone realized even then that all three children had a status, real or imagined.

The three families religiously attended 11 o'clock High Mass on Sunday, always in intact trios, walking slowly up the block and precisely turning the corner on Ninth Avenue en route to the Cathedral. I loved to watch them from our fifth floor window each week after returning from the 9 o'clock children's Mass with my Dad. Despite the ten year difference in our ages, I understood the pretty daughters were quite special, but always wondered why. All three fathers were scrupulous in courtesy, never neglecting to tip their hats as they passed other families who were either watching from the tenement windows or huddled on the concrete stoops lining the block. However, beyond a smiling "Good Morning," or "Good Evening," dependent on the time of day, they seldom held a lengthy conversation with any neighbor or fellow parishioner. The three mothers were also meticulous in civility, never condescending, but aloof. None of the three ever wore the mandatory starched cotton house dresses seen on other women living in the neighborhood When they emerged daily for errands from behind securely locked wooden doors, their salt and pepper hair was tightly wound in fat sausage curls framing slightly rouged cheeks. I recall each of them wearing a single strand of pearls with various assorted navy blue print silk or rayon dresses. I doubt if they were ever seen without the flaming Fire and Ice Revlon lipstick, so popular in those years. I wondered if they were always "dressed up."

I thought about the three families yesterday after reading Eileen's obituary that my sister had scanned and emailed. It was unusual because apparently, it could have been written for either of the other two daughters whom I had watched religiously from a fifth floor window so many years ago, and had virtually forgotten. They were raised as fragile flowers in their youth, protected from any of the perils of association with young men in the neighborhood and trained to be the Rocks of Gibraltar for their parents in old age. All three were kept apart by rules, regulations and the bonds of what was perceived as love or obedience. And each of the pretty young women meticulously obeyed the parental commands and unfailingly, respected their boundaries.

Relinquishing the temptations of the neighborhood or the inviting smiles of the black haired, blue eyed, young Romeos standing on the corner, the three remained always the good girls. If they were ever tempted to stray into a flirtation, or even a friendship, it was a well-hidden secret. I often wondered though as I watched from the window why they were only seen with their parents. I loved watching them because they were so very pretty, but I don't believe Eileen, Marian or even Agnes attended any of the local church dances or block parties. I doubt if they ever returned an admiring glance or smile from one of the many neighborhood princes who had returned from battle and was incredibly eager to claim a princess. As I think back, I hope I was wrong in my childish innocence, and hopefully, there were, if not alliances, a few temptations. Every human deserves at least one, if not two.

All three teenagers graduated without honor or distinction or even recognition from the Cardinal's designated high school, and then moved on quickly and easily with family references to long term employment in the then safe and sterile employment areas. I never know where any of them worked; either a utility or insurance company most likely. However, because I still watched them with curious admiration, I was aware they traveled separately to their jobs and returned home at different hours. None of the trio pursued further education, but that wasn't unusual in a neighborhood where education for women was considered frivolous. And yes, on Sundays they still walked to 11 o'clock High Mass with their parents.

The neighborhood changed subtly and significantly. However, none of us ever notice or wish to admit the creeping vicissitudes of age, especially when it affects those we love. The six parents had been middle aged when their children were born, and before long,the three daughters all became caregivers. It was already too late to try out still unused wings, and life settled down into a placid, if not contented, existence. For some unknown reason it was during that period when the parents relinquished enough control for the trio to occasionally attend a parish concert or one of the popular musical comedies shown on Broadway together. If friendship hadn't quite developed, a reluctant camaraderie was born between the clans and each of the three was admitted tentatively into the other two's circle.

Within the next decade all six elders departed from this world, one by one, and the three now middle aged daughters began to see a bit more of each other. Nothing dramatic, privacy was still ingrained, but now there was more free time. Also, they were the only original neighbors remaining on the block and keepers of the memories. Each one had already admitted privately, she had little in common with her fellow employees especially those with husbands or children. Fortunately, retirement wasn't that far in the future. They also agreed that the corporate environment had changed and office friendships were unimportant. Once or twice when the summer heat was intense, the three women did take a bus trip to the Jersey shore, never staying more than one night away from home. Old habits or edicts are so difficult to relinquish.

The creeping exodus of long time neighbors continued not only from the block, but the city. Still the three now elderly women remained in the same apartments, neighborhood and Parish where they had lived so long. As the familiar community changed slowly but surely, their status did also. No longer were they recognized as private or special; instead simply viewed as reclusive. None had ever been taught the art of friendship and had only learned a desire for privacy. Without any of them understanding the reason, they became isolated.

Sadly, time eventually takes its toll on all of us, regardless of family name or status, imagined or real. Today's obituary simply read "No immediate family, survivors or loved ones," and it could have been applied to either of the two other daughters in three families once considered special. And who, sadly, were never taught an important truth, wings were made for flying.