It’s been quite a while since I wrote my first blog about
paternal grandmother’s family. So, if you need a refresher (like I did), you
can look back at the post from September 16. And then tell me I should have
posted Part 2 three months ago…
As I wrote in September, the Popko clan is a bit mythical to
me. My grandmother was the baby of the ten children with nineteen years between
her and the oldest. Not only did her stories come from the perspective of being
the baby of the family (which anyone will tell you is a VERY different
perspective), but some of her siblings she’s didn’t really know. Others she
resented. Some, in her opinion, have a very special place in Heaven. Like the
nuns.
Two of her sisters were nuns, both of the order of Notre
Dame (which always seemed pretty elite whenever Grandma spoke of it, but then
who else has “Touchdown Jesus”?). I learned when researching my family tree
that prior to the newer rules, nuns changed their names when they took their vows
and, thereafter, were never referred
to by their birth names. In fact, their birth names were practically eradicated.
It took me a while to find them scribbled in an old notebook my grandmother
had: Monica and Melania. Monica became Sister Theolinde (or Sister Theo) in
honor of her actual sister. I’m not sure what Melanie became because she
reverted back to her actual name when the rules changed and was known as Sister
Melania. Sister Theo died before I was born. I might have met Sister Melania
(who died in 1987), but I was only a baby if I did. All I really know of them
is they were saints.
Two more of Grandma’s siblings died young. Eva, the eldest,
died as an infant or child. Francis, the eldest son, died in 1948 even before
my father was born. He was married and did have a son (who died in 1999). All I
ever knew of him is what my grandmother said: it was Paula’s fault he died and
Paula’s fault his son died young, too. But, according to my grandmother, any
family tragedy was Paula’s fault.
The other siblings I have met. I remember meeting Uncle Leo
and Aunt Theo at my Aunt Jacque’s wedding in 1990. I don’t remember them really
clearly, but I do remember my dad introducing me to Aunt Theo and then
remarking as an aside how Grandma and all her sisters look, talk and laugh
exactly alike. (He’s right. The creepy thing is, the same can be said of his
four sisters.) To me, Uncle Leo and Aunt Theo were “normal”. They were born,
grew up, got married, had kids and died in old age. Grandma got along with both
of them, so there weren’t any odd stories to stimulate the imagination.
I didn’t odd stories to know my grandma. As a child, I found
her a bit unusual but not uncaring. As I grew, I found her to be too bluntly
honest. For a time, I thought she was picking on me – telling me in letters how
bad my choices were and why. As an adult, I learned she did this to all my
cousins and, upon reading old letters, to just about everyone else as well.
Although this didn’t make for a close relationship, I never thought she didn’t
somewhere deep down love me.
I also never needed stories about Aunt Julie. Aunt Julie,
the middle child, was like the glue between everyone. She knew all her
siblings, she forgave all her siblings, she told stories about everything. She
had been lots of places, had lots of experiences and met lots of famous people
(Frank Sinatra, John Ford, Ingrid Bergman…). Whenever Aunt Julie was around,
stories abounded. And since she will be 100 years old this July…that’s a lot of
stories! The only surviving sibling, today she lives in an assisted living in
Chicago where she has passed over Bingo for Poker (she’s only allowed to play
the men, though, as she’s too tough on the women) and lives a very busy life
with her old neighbors.
To be honest, the greatest family tragedy I never heard
blamed on Paula: Aunt Mary. The story I always heard was she was dropped as an
infant. Whatever truly happened, she was mentally disabled her entire life and
never left the family farm until moved into an assisted living when she and
Paula could no longer take care of themselves. I met Aunt Mary once – the sweet
sister/aunt everyone seemed to feel sorry for. I sincerely don’t think she felt
sorry for herself, though. She seemed quite happy, had her pet bunnies in their
cages and she was well cared for. Her parents loved and cared for her and Aunt
Paula never left after she returned home to care for her dying father. I think
she was very happy.
And Aunt Paula? Well, let’s put it this way: by the time I
finally met Aunt Paula in 2000, I was prepared to meet some woman in a black
pointed hat, broom in hand who was likely to curse me for the rest of my life.
Come to find out, Aunt Paula didn’t have a pointed hat, a cauldron for casting
spells or pointed teeth in which to suck out my blood. In fact, she looked like
my grandmother, never got rid of anything (like my grandmother) and liked to
plant trees (also like my grandmother). But if something went wrong in the
Popko family, it was always blamed on Aunt Paula. Who knows why. Maybe she had
done something way back when to deserve it – a mistake that her siblings
couldn’t forgive. And yet…I discovered later through old newspaper clippings
that Aunt Paula had worked for the University of Michigan and Notre Dame. She
had been in the US Air Force during World War II as a meteorologist, being
honorably discharged in 1955. She returned to Upper Penisula Michigan to care
for her father when he got sick and later passed away. After that, instead of
putting Aunt Mary in some home and going on with her life, she stayed up there
and worked for some established local businessmen until she was too old and
sick to do anymore. She was then moved to an assisted living with Aunt Mary
where she died in 2007.
Families
are funny things. All different personalities. All different perspectives. All
different stories to tell. And yet one. Thinking about my grandma and her nine
siblings makes me wonder: what will my grandkids have to say about “Grandma and
all her sisters and brothers” in 50 years? Who will be the witch? Who will the
saint? I’m honestly not sure I want to know…
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