Honoring the Jones Boys on Veterans' Day

I have written about the service of my Dad (Johnny) and his brothers, "Bud" and Bob, in earlier posts. Yesterday my brother, Ted, asked me to post the pictures I have in my collection of my grandmother and grandfather standing on the steps of their Eastern Ave. home as each of their sons left for World War II. I've written before that I cannot imagine what it would be like to send each of my three sons off to war. I don't know how they did it.

In honor of Veterans' Day, I decided to go through my picture library and create a collage for my Dad and uncles to honor their service. Since "Bud," Uncle Charlie to me, was the oldest son, here is his collage. Notice the banner in the window. It has three blue stars representing each of the sons who served.

Fred, "Bud", Norine and Peg

Bob was the second oldest brother. The picture on the front porch includes Bob, Margaret Ann, Norine and Fred. I'm amazed how many pictures in my library include my grandfather posing proudly smoking a cigar. I don't know how they did it.

Bob, Margaret Ann, Norine and Fred

Finally, I was surprised that I do not have a "traditional" picture of my Dad on the front porch on the day of departure. He served in England during the war loading bombs on the planes that later were dropped on the Germans. I wish I knew more about his service.

In the top picture, Dad (Johnny) is the third from the left.  The middle picture shows him on base playing with a couple of dogs.  I can't help but wonder if they were permanent residents of the base.

So thank you, Jones boys, for your service. You were definitely part of "The Greatest Generation."

The Anniversary of Dad's Death

Clockwise:  Edith holding Margaret Ann, "Bud", Bob and Johnny  Credit:  Tony Scardina

It's hard for me to believe, but it's the 33rd anniversary of my Dad's death.  This means that he has been dead for more than half of my life.  Those of us who lived through it need no reminders -- but it occurred to me that perhaps my nieces and nephews and the grandchildren may wonder some day about the circumstances of his death.

My Dad was diagnosed at the age of 56 with colon cancer.  My mother, was diagnosed with breast cancer within the same three-week period.  It didn't look good for either one of them.  They scheduled Dad for a probable colostomy, only to discover that the cancer had spread to his liver.  They just closed him up.  The prognosis was grim -- they gave Dad about six months.  (He lived for nine).

The sad thing is that none of this had to happen.  Dad had had signs and symptoms for quite a while previous to his "official" diagnosis.  Due to an earlier uncomfortable medical exam, Dad had avoided returning to the doctor -- he was in denial.  Colonoscopies were not as common nor as pain free as they are now.

We all knew Dad was terminal.  When his liver stopped functioning, his stomach filled with fluid.  Gallons of fluid would have to be drained periodically.  Still -- I was shocked that he died the day he died.  I was a young teacher, pregnant with Elizabeth, and teaching at Pleasant Hill Elementary.  Ginny Hannan called the school office to tell me that Dad had been taken to the hospital and that she thought I needed to come to the hospital.  Our school day ended at 2:30 and I asked if I could wait until the end of the school day.  She suggested I leave right away.  Now I was the one in denial.

When I arrived at the hospital Dad was conscious, talking and even joking with the nurses.  We had to "corner" a nurse to try to ascertain whether or not we needed to tell Karen, living in Miami, to come immediately.  She suggested that Karen come NOW.  I guess that's when reality hit.  We told Dad that Karen was on her way.

Fr. Allison came to the hospital and gave Dad communion. Dad asked him if this meant he was "converted." (After attending the Catholic Church for more than 30 years as head of our household, Dad never wanted to "convert." I think this was out of respect for his father). Fr. Allison replied that he didn't think he ever needed to convert. Good response.

My Dad and Grandma Ryan had this constant back and forth about who was going to die first. I still remember Grandma walking down the hallway of the hospital to Dad's room where he had died minutes before. The shock on her face is etched into my memory. Dad won the race. Grandma was 79 and I know she would have gladly traded places.

My Dad was only 57 years old when he died. It was preventable. To honor him each of his children get regular colonoscopies. We'll all eventually die of something, but I'm confident it won't be of colon cancer.

There will always be posts that celebrate the life of my Dad, Mom and siblings -- but on this day, I couldn't help but recall his death. I hope when my time comes, I die as peacefully, surrounded by those who love me -- and there were many.

Dad (from Karen's pictures)

Mom and Dad's Wedding Anniversary

Margaret Ann, Evelyn, Virginia, Johnny, and Jim

Sixty-three years ago today on January 24th, 1948, my parents were married. It was probably a day very much like today. We have a light snow here in Cincinnati. Pictured above is my Mom and Dad celebrating their 25th Anniversary with members of their original wedding party. My mother is wearing her wedding dress -- 25 years and seven children later. What I wouldn't give to have legs that look like that!

Pictured at the left is the original wedding party. My grandmother made all of the bridesmaid dresses for this and the two other weddings that were to take place within a five-month period.

In an earlier post, I discussed how my non-Catholic father and Catholic mother got married at St. James Church in Wyoming.  They had a "Mass".  Little did I know that I was going to have to have a "discussion" with my 5th grade religion teacher, Sr. Mary Alice, about how this was not possible -- it was against canon law.  It's amazing that that memory still sticks with me because it was probably the first time when I would not back down from an authority figure in my life -- especially a nun.  One of my cousins recently gave me a copy of the booklet that was used at their wedding. It gave me some pleasure to see this.

Mom and Dad have seven children, fifteen grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren. As of this writing, we are anticipating three more great-grandchildren, including for the first time, a set of twins. I hope they are watching us. Happy Anniversary!

Music of Our Parents - True Love

Background:  Shadowhouse Creations

My parents, Johnny Jones and Ginnie Ryan, married 63 years ago on January 24th, 1948.  As mentioned in an earlier post, they were part of the post-war group of brides and grooms who were later responsible for the "Baby Boom."  My mother and her two sisters, Evelyn and Florence, all got married between January and May of 1948.  Evelyn was actually the first to get engaged, but she felt that, as the oldest, my mother should get married first.  Therefore, my Mom and Dad had to "get it together" and schedule a date before Evelyn's planned April wedding.

It snowed that January 24th, and my mother used to say that there was a movie out at the time called The Bride Wore Boots.  Sure enough, a search of Wikipedia came up with a review of a 1946 romantic comedy staring Barbara Stanwyck and Robert Cummings -- not the most memorable film.

But this is one in a series of posts that discusses the music of our parents -- songs that are etched into the collective memories of the "Big Kids."  One of my favorites is a song called True Love.  I found out that this song, written by Cole Porter, was featured in a 1956 film called High Society.  It starred Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly and Frank Sinatra.  The lyrics were simple.

True Love

Sung by Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly

Suntanned, windblown
Honeymooners at last alone
Feeling far above par
Oh, how lucky we are

While I give to you and you give to me
True love, true love
So on and on it will always be
True love, true love

For you and I have a guardian angel
On high, with nothing to do
But to give to you and to give to me
Love forever true

For you and I have a guardian angel
On high, with nothin' to do
But to give to you and to give to me
Love forever true
Love forever true

"True Love" earned Grace Kelly (Later "Princess Grace of Monaco") her first and only gold record. It earned Bing his 21st.  (Credit:  Oldie Lyrics)

I put together a photoshow that features the marriage of Charles McCafferty and Evelyn Ryan.  It is accompanied by this beautiful song.  To hear it, click on this link:  McCafferty Memories

To see a clip of the movie with Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly, view this youtube clip.  I love the sailboat.

Johnny Jones and Virginia Ryan

It's been a real adventure blogging about my Dad's siblings: Edith, Charlie (Bud), and Bob. Now I have the privilege of writing about my Dad and Mom -- Johnny and Ginnie.

Dad was the 4th child born to Fred and Norine. He was born on September 30, 1920 (at least that's what we always thought). His birth certificate says that he was born on September 20th, but his mother insists that it was a typo and she ought to know -- she was there. The family count was now one girl, and three boys.

Johnny was ten years younger than his older sister, Edith. I know how this can be as I am 10 years older than my brother, Dan.  The picture is cropped from the picture of "The Perfect Family" picture posted in an earlier posting.

 Dad attended school at Highland Elementary, right across the street from his home at 2424 Eastern Ave. (now Riverside Dr.).  My cousin, Fred Breving, told me that he remembers seeing water founts in the back of the school that were designated for "Colored" and "White".

I have no doubt that Dad loved growing up on the river.  We have that wonderful picture of him in his canoe that he would take out into the river and ride the wake of steamboats that passed by. He had to sell the canoe when he married our mother so that she could buy a sewing machine.

As a young man of his generation, Dad had to go to war.  He spent the war in England loading bombs onto planes.  He never really discussed much about the war, but England was constantly being bombed by the Germans during the war and the Allies returned the favor.  There must have been some lighter moments as one of the pictures that survived the war was one of Dad with two local dogs.

(I think we all inherited that gene).

In this picture, Dad is the one in the upper right hand corner.

Mom and Dad met after the war.  The Newman Club, a Catholic social club for college students, sponsored a boat ride on the Island Queen to Coney Island.  One of Dad's best friends, Bob Kroner, was the President of the organization and invited Dad to come.  Thus my non-Catholic father met my Catholic mother.

Mom and Dad dated and got married on January 24, 1948 at St. James Church in Wyoming.  It was cold and snowy that day in stark contrast to January 23, 1947 when Bob and Mary got married.  Mom and her sisters got married between January and June of 1948.  Her sister, Evelyn, actually got engaged first, but she felt that Mom, being the oldest sister, should be the first to get married.  It was a busy time for Virginia Ryan because she sewed all of the bridal and bridesmaids gowns for all three weddings.

Of this marriage were born seven children: Kath, Tom, Tim, Karen, Ted, Dan and Don.  Dad, whose primarily worked as an electrician at the Environmental Protection Agency, worked additional part-time jobs to support his family of nine.

We lost our father at the age of 57 to cancer.  Our mother married two more times -- first to Dick Godar who also died of cancer, and then to Frank Klug.  Cancer also took Mom shortly before her 72nd birthday.

We often reflect that our parents would be so proud of us.  They both believed in us and believed in education.  I could write an entire blog on my immediate family -- and perhaps eventually I will.  Just know that all of us were blessed and continue to be blessed by being born into this family.


To view of photoshow with pictures of our parents, go to: Johnny and Ginnie Photoshow

A River Runs Through Us

I recently attended a conference sponsored by the Hamilton County Genealogical Society. They brought in a speaker, John Phillip Coletta, who works with the National Archives and conducts workshops on preserving your family history. He encouraged us to lay out our documents and try to come up with a theme.

That advice struck a chord with me because I've always known that as far as the Jones Family in Cincinnati is concerned, the Ohio River and boats ties all of us together over six generations. The picture at the left is one of my Dad, Johnny Jones, who grew up on Eastern Ave., now renamed Riverside Dr., in the East End of Cincinnati. His home was right across from the river and he passed on his love of the river to all seven of his "river rats". This picture is loved by our family because we know he had to sell this canoe to buy a sewing machine for my mother. They had four children in less than four years of marriage, and I'm sure they were looking for every way they could save money.

The more I research my Jones line, the more aware I've become of the role that this river and boats have played in each generation. The first Joneses in Cincinnati came here about 1843. Alexander Jones married Elizabeth Kinley in Aberdeen, Ohio across from Maysville, Ky. in 1840 (and boy is there a story about that). When they arrived in Cincinnati, Alexander got a job as a carpenter building steamboats, a booming occupation at this time. They lived in the area called Fulton, a neighborhood that spread east along the river for about two miles. This was just the beginning of the Jones family connection to boats of every shape and size and the Ohio River.

As I am new to blogging, I hope you are patient with me as I learn about this wonderful tool