My mother was Beatrice Elizabeth Connelly, known as Bea to family and friends. She was born on December 31, 1920, and passed away on April 22, 1994, at the age of 74. My mother was the middle child in her family, and the lineup was: Margorie, Vera who died at the age of seven, Cecelia, Beatrice, Shirley (Mickey) and Cornelia (Connie). There was another sister who died at birth, but I am not sure where she was in the lineup, and I never heard her name.
Her family moved to Allendale, probably when she was 14. Prior to that time, they lived in Passaic where my mother attended Passaic Grammar and High School. She was a graduate of Ramsey High School and Hackensack School of Nursing, where she then became a member of the Hackensack Hospital staff. She eventually became a Navy nurse. About two years after moving to Allendale, her father, whom she was very close to, died suddenly of a stroke or aneurysm. Of the five surviving sisters, Bea was the only one educated beyond high school.
When her father was still alive, Bea, her sisters, and their mother, Maude, would spend much of the summer at their cabin at Budd Lake. Maude was very close to her family, especially her sisters, and mom said extended family members also spent time there with them, so there usually was a large group. She shared with me that in their teenage years, she, her sisters, and cousins would go out in the row boat to smoke cigarettes. I don’t believe my mother was ever a real smoker, so I am just writing it off as a typical teen experimenting.
My mother was a strong woman with a very generous and compassionate heart. She was more reserved, where my father was more gregarious and “the life of the party” much of the time. My mother had a great sense of humor and enjoyed having a good time but didn’t like being in the spotlight. She was a very practical woman and had a real knack and eye for spotting and picking out inexpensive garments on a hanger that would look like a million bucks when put on. When I shopped with her, I would pass up a garment not seeing the possibilities and potential it had, but she would pull it out and say, “Try this on. I think it will look good on you.” It usually did.
Like her mother, she eventually also had to raise her family as a single parent. Regrettably, she lost her husband to alcoholism when it took over his life and took a toll on our family life. I am not exactly sure when my father’s job changed, but I will never forget when we didn’t see him for a couple of weeks. After leaving the UAW, his new job required him to travel, I think mostly to Pennsylvania, so he was out of town often. On one of his trips, he started drinking and getting lost in his own world with the bottle. My mother contacted my father’s friends, asking them to go and bring him home. Sure enough, Cupo and Johnny Hayes went to Pennsylvania to get him. My father’s friends were very loyal and always there for him, as were many folks who knew him. The Allendale police, as well as other local police, would even drive or escort him home if they found him driving after being on a binge. I was stunned once when my brother Jimmy stood in our kitchen yelling at a couple of officers telling them that they weren’t really helping him when they did this. When he wasn’t drinking, my father was a very likable and good, decent man who was always helping others, and I think that is why his friends, family, co-workers, and acquaintances were always so willing to cover for him. My father was active in AA and there were times he would go away for days, maybe a week or so to “dry out” and shape up. As the situation became more unpredictable and unreliable, my mother started brushing up and studying to return to nursing. I can remember her spending evenings at the kitchen table studying to get updated and knowledgeable about new drugs and medical processes and procedures. She eventually went back to work as one of the head nurses at the Allendale Nursing Home.
My mother dealt with my father’s drinking like most folks did at that time, as it was not considered a disease but more commonly thought of as a social flaw. It wasn’t typical for people to discuss family and personal problems, and she just didn’t talk about it from an emotional standpoint. In the worst of times, one of my vivid memories of my mother is her kneeling and praying to St. Jude for help. (His statue was kept on her bedroom dresser.) Catholics believe he is the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes and pray to him asking for his help, by praying to God on our behalf. As kids, we were trained to get my father’s wallet, keys, license, and money, and help him to bed. Then “the watch” would begin, with us keeping an eye on my dad making sure he didn’t get his hands on any liquor, so he could start “drying out” and sober up. This was quite a challenge because when he was drinking, he was a very different person who was sneaky and would easily lie about what he was doing.
Knowing what she had to do to protect her family, my mother eventually started proceedings for a divorce to avoid liability for any car accidents my father might have. She was especially trying to prevent the possibility of losing our home. Through everything, I know my mother always loved my father, and I believe she was always hopeful that he would recover, so they would be able to rebuild what his drinking had destroyed.
When the first light of the sun, Bless you.
When the long day is done, Bless you.
In your smiles and your tears, Bless you.
Through each day of your years, Bless you.
