Grandpa Cassidy had three sisters. Ethel Mary was two years older than he, born in 1898 in New Haven.

Earlier that decade, the name Ethel was the seventh most popularly given name to baby girls. It means noble.

The youngest of Ethel’s three children, Jean, wrote down the following memory:

We sat on the porch on a sunny Thursday June afternoon, following the big surprise 40th Wedding Anniversary Party. It had been Anna’s idea.

She said we should make hay while the sun shines; and was she so right.

On the previous Saturday, Mom and Dad arrived home from a lovely afternoon with my sister-in-laws’ parents from Springfield. These four always had a good time together, but when they drove into the driveway, about fifty neighbors and friends from all over met them – two even came from California. They were friends for many years.

What a joy for my parents, what a joy for their children to be able to do this. On the following Thursday I spent a beautiful and loving couple of hours with my Mom, listening to her reflections of the party and the gathering of friends.

She had already written to each person who had come or had sent messages of celebration. She was like a gift package, completely wrapped and beautiful. I had been to what would be my last checkup before the birth of our third child and Anna had taken Glenn and Julie for a walk around the block.

I remember asking my mother if she would be hurt if I did not name the baby “Ethel” after her, should it be a girl. She smiled and responded, “I guess it is an old fashioned name in today’s world, but I’ve always liked my name. It means ‘noble,’ you know.”

Ethel Elizabeth Sutherland was born the following Monday night, the night of the day of my mother’s funeral. My mother had simply collapsed and died the afternoon of the day following our visit. I knew I was going into labor during her funeral mass and burial service at the cemetery, but I also felt sure I would get through it and that our baby would be born by the end of that day.

On the same day, my brother got word that his wife, who was in California, had gone into premature labor and he had to make emergency arrangements to fly home. Regrettably, their little boy did not live long – only a day.

Birth, life and death, such mystery. Talk of your pregnant moments in life!

I think about my mother often …

… even though her death occurred 41 years ago. She was a tall, slender woman. She loved laughter, but she was always demure and ladylike. My mother could walk with kings or paupers with even grace. She was deeply religious, a devout Roman Catholic.

I remember October was the month of the Rosary. She would get Anna, my sister, and me to go into the little dinette off the kitchen to say the Rosary each evening during October. It never lasted very long, because before we got very far into it, her tongue would trip her, the words would not come out correctly and she would start giggling.

Anna, indeed, would try to take up the mantle, but by that time Mom, Pat and I would be in hysterics with laughter and the spiritual aspects of the moment gave themselves over to humor. Year after year she would try. Year after year, she failed to get though one complete Rosary without the giggles.

But deeply faithful she was, and her faith endured.

Even so she was not a doctrinaire person, nor was she judgmental. She knew it was the human condition to fall down. She would simply bend down and help others up. I will relate two experiences when I was in high school at age 16 and 17.

The first occurred when it was spring vacation for prep schools and I went to public high. I was waiting at the bus stop for my bus to school when two boys I knew from prep school pulled up in a car with two of my public high school friends. They said to get in they were taking a hooky day and I should join them.

I told them I had never played hooky. They said no good high school experience should ever be without it at least once. Well, I did it – I got into the car. We drove around to see if we could find a fourth girl. But we were just a little too late.

We ended up in the home of one of the two boys. We played cards and monopoly and ate pizza for lunch. About 2 o’clock in the afternoon, the doorbell rang and there was a banging on the door. It was the Army Police. Can you believe it, the brother of this preppie was AWOL from the Army.

Of course, they asked who we all were. Being my mother’s daughter, I confessed to playing hooky and asked if they would give me time to tell my mother before they called her. Of course, they would never have taken the time or interest to do that.

What did I know.

Well, when I go home within the next half-hour, I explained why I was home early and what I had done. Mom listened quietly and said, “I know your good reputation is important to you. I wonder what you think the Policemen thought you and your girlfriends were doing with these boys. A reputation can be easily harmed. I hope you will be careful of something so important.” No scolding. Just quiet and straightforward comment.

The other occasion was when I had been invited to attend the Taft School Senior Prom which was held at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. I had known the boy who asked me for at least seven years (dancing school).

One of my best girlfriends was going with Jay’s best friend and we were invited to stay at his home in Greenwich. His mother had written to my mother and everything was on the up and up. We were traveling to New York by train and coming back after the dance by train. Then I got a letter from Jay saying that we would travel to a friend’s house on Long Island by taxi and go to a pool party. No need to worry about bathingsuits.

Well, I got nervous.

Can you believe it; I showed the letter to my mother. She read it and asked, “Would you feel better if I told you you cannot go?” She waited for a response. There was none. She said, “Jean, darling, next year you will be going to school in Boston. You will have to decide for yourself what is right and what is wrong. Your concern regarding this letter indicates to me that you know what is right. I trust you to do it, to the best of your ability. You will be faced with many pressures and many temptations; if not today, then tomorrow. You are a good person. I believe in you and I always pray for you.”

Well, I went to the big deal dinner dance. It was delightful and glamorous. We did not take a cab anywhere afterward except to the train station because the taxi ride to Long Island was more than what was in the pockets of our dates. So much for my turmoil. I finally didn’t need the bathing suit neatly tucked into my makeup kit.

I wish my children could remember my mother. They were simply too young when she died to have stored up many memories. The eldest was just 3^1/₂. She was a special and loving person. I am grateful for that beautiful afternoon we had together and that our conversation was filled with loving thoughts. Even though she had never had robust health following my birth, her death was sudden and unexpected.

Holding on to that afternoon has been a gift to me.

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Ethel’s kind and gentle nature reminds me of Grandpa. I’m so grateful Jean took the time to write down these stories. (There’s one about Anna, in case you’re wondering who she might be – it’s another wonderful recollection, which we’ll save for another day.)

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