We bid farewell to my aunt, Rosemary Maxwell, last Saturday with minor fanfare but heartfelt gratitude for her place in our lives and her contributions to my mother’s side of the family.
By my estimate, perhaps 50 or 60 of her Maxwell descendants showed up at the Catholic church in Newport, N.Y., then gathered at a local restaurant to retell stories about her life and sing the spoof written about 30 years ago.
Why should you continue reading? Her only connection to Ogdensburg was that the Rev. Justin Thomas, former rector and librarian under Bishop Terry LaValley at the Diocese of Ogdensburg, celebrated her funeral Mass. Rosemary also had the nursing staff quaking in the early 1990s when she surveyed A. Barton Hepburn Hospital as part of the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Hospitals. Its seal of approval remains the gold standard for a hospital’s policies, procedures and effectiveness. That’s probably why Rosemary hated it when we dubbed her “the inspector.’’
But the impactful loss of her passing, or any other 96-year-old, is that we lose oral history, lose connections to the times in which she lived. It’s one less chance to appreciate how easy life remains today, although American society carries a martyr complex when it considers our current trials – pandemics, recessions and the political shift toward right-wing populism.
Rosemary wasn’t from The Greatest Generation, but darn close – call it a Greater Generation. As I contemplated her life, I made notes about the shifts in society:
THE ECONOMY
Rosemary Theresa Maxwell was the ninth of 12 children, a 4-month-old when the U.S. stock market crashed in late October 1929. The family stretched what little money they had by living off garden produce. Children drank powdered milk, which Rosemary abhorred until her passing. As a teenager, she recalled, “The first one down the stairs on a Friday night wore the best clothes.’’
She made it through nursing school by asking for a scholarship, inheriting books of dropouts, and sharing the stipend of her generous older sister, Eileen Maxwell Holleran. The government had funded the Cadet Nurse Corps program during World War II to promote nurse training. This is another example of how the government can invest in training and promote the middle class, and eventually boost the national economy.
ENDURING TRAGEDY
Rosemary knew of death from a young age. Her sister, Katherine Norma died from ptomaine poisoning two years before Ro was born. When Ro was 7, her grandfather was operating a railroad handcar and was struck and killed by a truck at a highway crossing. As a 31-year-old, she lost her father. He was tarring potholes on a state highway when he was struck by an inattentive driver. More recently, her friend and living companion of 40 years died, but Covid pandemic rules prevented Aunt Ro from entering the nursing facility. Ro held a vigil outside her window.
LOSING ORAL HISTORY
Aunt Ro could recall relatives, who seemingly only existed in family trees, and put their lives into context. She had memories of her maternal grandmother, who came directly from Ireland, married a farm laborer, then lived with Ro and her siblings after her grandfather’s tragic death.
Rosemary was intended to be named Mildred May, but when her mother’s sister, widely known as Fat Aunt Jane with a matching ego, went to register the birth, she changed the name to Rosemary Theresa.
With six older sisters, several nicknames were exchanged. Lois, also called Marie, became Mrs. Goodwrench after a brief fling with a ship’s operating engineer. Helen was Butch and Murph. Eileen’s middle name was Regina; she hated Regina the Queena. Rosemary became Maynard, Mildred May and Ajax, for her penchant for cleaning.
Aunt Ro served for several years as a Catholic nun and we feared her stern demeanor whenever she arrived in her black habit. Seemingly, she never made a mistake. On the day Sister Mary Nora dropped a full bowl of cake batter and the pottery shards and chocolate cake mixings scattered everywhere, my sister, also Mary Nora, had to run from the room to conceal her laughter. You never, ever disrespected the nuns.
THE EPILOGUE
A reconciliation likely happened in heaven when Aunt Rosemary passed. She and my mother playfully bickered for years over an incident in which Ro’s beloved Dachshund, Doobie, was yipping at my mother’s ankles, and Eileen responded with a boot. They could never agree whether a common foul or flagrant foul was committed, but it was immortalized in the chorus of Ro’s song, set to the tune of McNamara’s Band.
Regina the Queena she laughs on high, I fret she has a plan
To kick my dog round heaven ‘fore I reached The Promised Land
With Aunt Rosemary’s arrival at the pearly gates, perhaps they can settle the issue. If not, I am sure Eileen has a new nickname – Bigfoot.
Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/
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