My godmother’s name fascinated me as a little kid.

Her father’s name was George. Her mother’s name was Anna. And so they named their younger daughter Georgeanna.

That formula sure wouldn’t have worked out as nicely for me. Haroldjoan doesn’t quite slide off the tongue as easily as Georgeanna.

Born in Hartford, Connecticut, in 1932, Georgeanna Helen Lane grew up attending Catholic schools.

It was at St. Joseph College that she met Mom. Sharing an interest in poetry, writing, books, and theater, they became fast friends.

In fact, when Mom graduated in 1952 after serving as editor-in-chief of the school’s literary magazine, Georgeanna was next to lead the team at Interpretations.

The Way of It

Tonight the silvered wing of hail
has brushed the window of my room
and rustled at the crooks, whispering.
Inside, along the walls, finger flames
drew yet another shadow
into the semi-circle at the stone,
listening
to what I freely said to you . . .
because you were not here.

~ Georgeanna Lane ~ Winter 1954

In 1958, Mom and Dad chose Georgeanna to be my godmother:

Growing up, my strongest memories of Georgeanna are of her Thanksgiving visits to us in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, in the 1960s.

She was always late.

It got to be a thing. We joked about it later, but I remember several very long – and hungry – Thursday afternoons in late November. (Remember, no microwaves back then.)

One year, Georgeanna arrived with a flourish – and a darling puppy named Beau! The little fellow dashed about the house, making Dad nervous. A week later, he found a gift Beau left behind for his benefactor – under my parents’ bed.

Mom and Georgeanna would go into thick-as-thieves mode those weekends. I remember feeling left out. But at least I wasn’t expected to recite Bible quotes, right? When we were late (of course) for church that Sunday, we sat together in the choir loft at Saint Theresa’s. Georgeanna teased that I just wanted to look at all the women’s hats in the congregation. In truth, I was saying extra prayers that the crowded loft wouldn’t collapse under the weight of the post-Thanksgiving worshippers.

Georgeanna was a single gal, and she had quite a career. She taught high-school English and was executive producer of “The Catholic Life” series for a Hartford television station.

But then it was time for another degree:

Georgeanna made a name for herself as a school librarian in Connecticut. She incorporated modern media (film strips, anyone?) into her specialties. In 1970, she was chosen to head the College Library Center at Western Connecticut State College.

After we moved to Indiana, Georgeanna and I stayed in touch through Christmas cards.

Although she wasn’t able to attend our wedding, Georgeanna sent a meaningful gift.

A book!

My godmother lived to be 85. Her love of animals was apparent even in her obituary, which requested donations to the local humane society.

Here’s another poem from her college days:

Song Of Success

Gooney Gumping, in his gown,
Brave new ribbons plashing down,
Came one day to Bankertown;
Spanieled out the market round.

Gooney Gumping, for a price,
Staked his garment on the dice,
Gooney Gumping, for a price,
Sold his gown, himself, and Christ.

~ Georgeanna Lane, Spring 1952

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“The Way of It” © 1954 and “Song of Success” © 1952 Georgeanna Lane. All rights reserved.

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