Ruth Ann O'Connor Coleman
born October 17, 1909
died December 8, 1989
My mother's name was Ruth Ann, but my father called her Ruthie. My dad was Henry Jonathan, but everyone called him Hank. When my mother was in her seventies, my dad's name coming out of her mouth had a sharp edge to it, like she was perpetually cranky and saying it too loud. As far as I knew, my father was not hard of hearing. Her voice made me wince and sounded like nails on a blackboard. Unfortunately, sometimes the last memories we have of our loved ones are the ones we keep, so my impression just from her saying that one word, dad's name, was that she was always angry with him. But I know that is not the way it began.
My parents were actually married twice. The first time was after they met while they both served in the U.S. Navy, in 1942 and the second time was when my dad was baptized in the Catholic Church in 1962. Prior to that, he had been southern Baptist. Since Baptists and Catholics approach hymn-singing quite differently, I always found standing next to dad at Mass an embarrassment to be endured when I was a teenager. He was loud, off key and definitely overly joyous! Now however, years after his death, I would give anything to hear that booming, wavering voice ring out over the heads of those in front of me.
My mother's growing up years have always been a mystery to me, ones she never talked about much. There was one story of my Gram, mom's mother - Frances May O'Connor - killing her brother's prize chicken one Sunday morning at the farm while everyone but her was at Mass, and frying it up for Sunday dinner. According to mom, Gram's brother had chased her around the kitchen with a butcher knife. Apparently, she escaped. Without Gram, there would have been no Ruth Ann. But stories about mom's little girlhood were as scarce as hen's teeth.
Because of the mystery of Mom, I tried to imagine what she was like as a child. Knowing her as I did, her feisty nature, I wrote the following story and gave her a personality that made me smile. Most of the people in this story are real people. Her Mom was Frances ("Fanny"); her dad was John and her sister was Grace. This is still a work in progress, by the way, and I entitled it simply "RA." Enjoy!
.
My parents were actually married twice. The first time was after they met while they both served in the U.S. Navy, in 1942 and the second time was when my dad was baptized in the Catholic Church in 1962. Prior to that, he had been southern Baptist. Since Baptists and Catholics approach hymn-singing quite differently, I always found standing next to dad at Mass an embarrassment to be endured when I was a teenager. He was loud, off key and definitely overly joyous! Now however, years after his death, I would give anything to hear that booming, wavering voice ring out over the heads of those in front of me.
My mother's growing up years have always been a mystery to me, ones she never talked about much. There was one story of my Gram, mom's mother - Frances May O'Connor - killing her brother's prize chicken one Sunday morning at the farm while everyone but her was at Mass, and frying it up for Sunday dinner. According to mom, Gram's brother had chased her around the kitchen with a butcher knife. Apparently, she escaped. Without Gram, there would have been no Ruth Ann. But stories about mom's little girlhood were as scarce as hen's teeth.
Because of the mystery of Mom, I tried to imagine what she was like as a child. Knowing her as I did, her feisty nature, I wrote the following story and gave her a personality that made me smile. Most of the people in this story are real people. Her Mom was Frances ("Fanny"); her dad was John and her sister was Grace. This is still a work in progress, by the way, and I entitled it simply "RA." Enjoy!
.
Ruth Ann O'Connor
Rockford, IL - circa 1920.
Rockford, IL - circa 1920.
"RA"
On Easter Sunday in 1920, after arriving home from 8 a.m. Mass, Ruth Ann O’Connor only wanted to lock herself in the bathroom. Try as she might, however, she could not escape her mother Fanny, who waited for her patiently in the foyer of their home. Ruth Ann and her sister Grace had come in through the front door and when her mother placed a gentle hand on her arm, Ruthie knew what was coming. It was that darned hair bow! Fanny was going to get that thing in her hair if it was the last thing she did!
When she had finally been able to escape and race upstairs to the bathroom, Ruthie made sure the door was locked behind her. She walked over to the sink and looked hard at her reflection in the mirror, moving so close to the glass that her nose was almost touching it. Her small, deeply set, blue eyes stared unblinkingly back. She moved her head from side to side in the dim light. Her high cheek bones bore the promise of future beauty, but at ten they just made her face look round. Her long red hair was tied high in the back with that huge bow, because her mother had insisted. Fanny always said she looked like she was hiding something when she let her hair hang loose, but the bow was a nightmare. It was as big as her head, but she couldn't think of a way to get rid of it.
“Who would want to hide such a face?” Fanny would ask in mock concern, and Ruth Ann could never tell what she meant. Was she pretty, or just funny-looking? Was she robbing the world of a good chuckle, or the advent of the next Mona Lisa? Truth be told, Ruthie didn't mind so much pulling her hair away from her face, since it was so curly and thick. What she didn't like was the fact that everyone and their Uncle Tom felt the need to remind her that her hair was that dreadful, that wild, and that much in need of taming. Grace apparently was too mature and beautiful to wear anything as foolish as the contraption Ruth Ann had in her hair, but to her relief and gratitude, her sister had at least been instrumental in convincing their mother that she should not have to wear the danged thing to Mass that morning, saying it would block people's view of the altar.
“She probably would have been too embarrassed to have a sister with a bow bigger than her head,” thought Ruthie, but that was all right. Not having to wear it was the point. Now that the bow was safely in place, however, secured with nine million hair pins, she was ready for the occasion of Uncle William’s arrival, and hopefully the massive bow would never have to worn again – at least not by one Ruthie O'Connor.
A huge sigh escaped her lips. She made kissing noises at her reflection, and then giggled. Ruth Ann could not wait to grow up.
Uncle William was due any minute from Wisconsin. He was taking his family to southern Illinois where he had recently bought a farm and planned to live, along with cows and chickens and any other type of creature that belonged on a farm. Will had already let his brother know that they would arrive in Rockford at 1 p.m. sharp, take the family pictures, and not even linger for a bite to eat before being on their way again. No one had ever met Uncle William’s wife, and definitely not his children, so there was great excitement in the family, even if the visit was going to be short. Grace had told Ruthie that William had been away from Rockford for a very long time.
“Well, he’s been gone long enough to get married and have three children, so I can see that it has been a long time, Grace.” Sometimes she thought that Grace was a big know-it-all.
Granny Annie, as everyone called her, was already in the kitchen fixing a huge bowl of potato salad, along with baked ham, snap beans and cornbread. Even though Frances had told her again and again that Willie would not be staying long enough for a meal, Granny just ignored her and continued working away. A comfortable woman, large, bosomy and loving, Granny Annie was Ruth Ann’s favorite person in the world. Her second favorite was her Aunt Julia, while her mother Frances somehow always wound up being last on the list, for one reason or another.
The March day was barely sunny, more overcast than anything but every once in a while a ray of sunlight would peek through the clouds and turn the neighborhood into something that promised to actually recover from winter. In just a few more weeks, Ruthie thought, it might be warm every day, and the trees and flowers would bloom. The winter had been a long one and on this early Easter day, there were signs that it really would end.
Suddenly, they could hear William’s car from several blocks away. It was a low rumbling, occasionally backfiring, engine sound that made the neighborhood children playing in the O'Connor yard pause in their game of catch and just listen, as if something terribly important were about to happen. The car from a distance, however, seemed much grander than reality when it pulled up in front of the house. It was a dark blue open-windowed affair, the paint chipped in places, and a long trail of black smoke was coming out of the back end.
No one in the yard moved as the auto finally came to rest at the curb. A woman in a billowing hat, her hand resting on its top, was seated in the front passenger side. Next to her was a man who appeared to take up more than half of the available space. In the back seat appeared three little heads, the bodies they were attached to sunk so deep in the seat that only the very tops of their blonde hair was visible.
The woman turned and smiled at the children in the yard, her face framed perfectly by the fox collar on her coat. Her nose looked red and cold, but Ruth Ann was immediately enthralled; the woman’s beaming face appeared to be a thing of great beauty. Ruthie couldn't wait to get a look at her hair under that hat.
Uncle William wedged his way out from behind the steering wheel and proceeded around to the other side in a much sprightlier manner than Ruth Ann would have imagined, given his girth. He was not smiling, however, and seemed unaware of his wife’s radiance and eagerness. William opened the door for her, and Ruth Ann watched in admiration as the beautiful woman daintily lifted her long coat and placed a pointed, delicate rose colored shoe onto the early spring grass. William then took her gloved hand, very concerned and gentlemanly, and assisted her out of the vehicle, where she stood for a moment adjusting her hat, straightening her shoulders and smoothing her hands over the front of her coat. Her smile never left her face, however, and as she turned to release the little ones from the back seat, Ruth Ann’s family also spilled forth from the house, screaming and calling “Willie!” over and over.
All of the children Ruth Ann had been playing with suddenly ran away from the yard, leaving only her and Grace to stand and watch the women of their family rush in a mad frenzy toward a man who had yet to crack even a small smile. His stoic expression seemed frozen on his face as his mother Annie got a hold of his shoulders and pressed her face into his chest. Ruth Ann suddenly realized with dismay that it was not stoicism that was causing Uncle William to appear so stern; it was emotion.
Wide, strong arms wrapped themselves around little Granny Annie until she almost disappeared, and with his chin resting atop her graying head, unabashed tears made their way over dimpled cheek and chin. To her increasing horror and shock, Ruth Ann was sure she saw his lower lip quiver somewhat, and had the immediate impression that Uncle Willie was a weak man, unable to control his emotions. She could never even imagine her own father John crying so openly and in front of everyone, especially the women in the family.
Granny Annie and William stood that way for several moments, with Fanny and John, Aunt Julia, William’s wife, Grace and Ruth Ann simply looking on until it became awkward. Julia, not a small woman herself, finally gave up waiting. With a loud “harrumph,” she walked over to her sister-in-law and with no warning at all, hugged her hard. The dainty woman was so taken by surprise that her hat finally did fall off her head, revealing lovely blonde hair, tied neatly in a small bun at the nape of her neck. Since her arms were crushed between them, she could not hug Julia back, but in a move that Ruth Ann remembered long after, she simply closed her eyes and laid her head on Julia’s shoulder. Her smile never left her face. Finally, Granny let go of William and he immediately turned toward his wife, who had also been released by the affectionate Julia.
“Everyone, this is my wife Beulah. Beulah, this is my mother Annie, my sister Julia, my brother John, and my sister-in-law Fanny.”
“I've heard so much about all of you. And these are our children,” she said, reaching behind her, “Joseph, Kathleen and Theresa.” The two girls curtsied and the boy bowed, as they had obviously been taught, and then hung behind their mother again out of shyness.
Beulah then turned and approached Grace and Ruth Ann. “And who are these very lovely girls?”
Frances spoke up before either could speak. “The dark haired girl is our Grace. The redhead with the ball is Ruth Ann.”
Ruth Ann winced inwardly, and not for the first time wondered why she hadn’t been introduced as “our” anything. She was always only the “redhead, with the ball,” or “redhead on the steps,” and once she was even the “redhead with black stockings,” as if there were other redheads in different color stockings. Beulah seemed not to notice, however, stepped forward and took both of their hands in hers, simply saying, “It’s so wonderful to meet you both.”
Granny Annie was anxious to get everyone inside, Ruth Ann could tell, but William suddenly headed back to his car, calling over his shoulder, “It will just take a minute to get the camera!”
After everyone was safely inside, there were a hundred questions to ask. The newly met O'Connor children stood in awe of the riot and could barely move, so Ruthie and Grace ushered them into the large kitchen with the other women, while John and William had a moment alone and stood in the parlor to discuss whatever brothers discussed. William had recaptured his stoic expression, which was a relief to Ruth Ann, who had dreaded an entire afternoon of trying to avoid eye contact with her weeping Uncle.
Before Granny Annie could even manage to get the snap beans out of the pot and into a bowl for the table, William swung the kitchen door in with bluster and announced he was ready to take the family picture. A new, even louder layer of excitement ensued as everyone headed toward the front yard once again in a massive cluster of women and children. Julia and Annie swept off their muslin aprons, throwing them anywhere they could be caught and then did an inventory of the little ones as they headed out. Fanny brought up the rear, but had her eye on Ruth Ann’s head; assured that the contentious bow was still in place. It was definitely visible above all the other little heads and Fanny hoped there it would stay for at least a few more minutes.
Everyone lined up outside, with the O'Connor house as the backdrop. The women circled around their children, brushing skirts, adjusting ribbons, licking thumbs to wipe off smudges on cheeks and smooth down cowlicks. Fanny and Beulah adjusted their husbands’ ties for them, which they tolerated with approving smiles. Finally, everyone was ready. A neighbor had been solicited to take the actual photo, so that everyone could be included on this very special day, the Easter Sunday that Uncle William finally came home.
It is now 2020 and this past Easter, as on every Easter since that day in 1920, the O'Connor family picture was on display. All of the people in that infamous photograph have left us and there is no one alive who can remember for themselves the Easter when Uncle William and his family came to visit. When you look at that photograph you can see that Ruthie and Grace held hands, while proud Fanny and John stood by, smiling for all time into the lens of a camera that was able to captured it all for us, those O'Connors who would follow.
We would only know these people through family stories, leaving to the imagination that March day, when the sun poked through the clouds and the neighborhood looked as if it would actually recover from a long winter, and Ruth Ann, a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and grandmother before she left us, wore a bow as big as her head the Easter she was ten.
When she had finally been able to escape and race upstairs to the bathroom, Ruthie made sure the door was locked behind her. She walked over to the sink and looked hard at her reflection in the mirror, moving so close to the glass that her nose was almost touching it. Her small, deeply set, blue eyes stared unblinkingly back. She moved her head from side to side in the dim light. Her high cheek bones bore the promise of future beauty, but at ten they just made her face look round. Her long red hair was tied high in the back with that huge bow, because her mother had insisted. Fanny always said she looked like she was hiding something when she let her hair hang loose, but the bow was a nightmare. It was as big as her head, but she couldn't think of a way to get rid of it.
“Who would want to hide such a face?” Fanny would ask in mock concern, and Ruth Ann could never tell what she meant. Was she pretty, or just funny-looking? Was she robbing the world of a good chuckle, or the advent of the next Mona Lisa? Truth be told, Ruthie didn't mind so much pulling her hair away from her face, since it was so curly and thick. What she didn't like was the fact that everyone and their Uncle Tom felt the need to remind her that her hair was that dreadful, that wild, and that much in need of taming. Grace apparently was too mature and beautiful to wear anything as foolish as the contraption Ruth Ann had in her hair, but to her relief and gratitude, her sister had at least been instrumental in convincing their mother that she should not have to wear the danged thing to Mass that morning, saying it would block people's view of the altar.
“She probably would have been too embarrassed to have a sister with a bow bigger than her head,” thought Ruthie, but that was all right. Not having to wear it was the point. Now that the bow was safely in place, however, secured with nine million hair pins, she was ready for the occasion of Uncle William’s arrival, and hopefully the massive bow would never have to worn again – at least not by one Ruthie O'Connor.
A huge sigh escaped her lips. She made kissing noises at her reflection, and then giggled. Ruth Ann could not wait to grow up.
Uncle William was due any minute from Wisconsin. He was taking his family to southern Illinois where he had recently bought a farm and planned to live, along with cows and chickens and any other type of creature that belonged on a farm. Will had already let his brother know that they would arrive in Rockford at 1 p.m. sharp, take the family pictures, and not even linger for a bite to eat before being on their way again. No one had ever met Uncle William’s wife, and definitely not his children, so there was great excitement in the family, even if the visit was going to be short. Grace had told Ruthie that William had been away from Rockford for a very long time.
“Well, he’s been gone long enough to get married and have three children, so I can see that it has been a long time, Grace.” Sometimes she thought that Grace was a big know-it-all.
Granny Annie, as everyone called her, was already in the kitchen fixing a huge bowl of potato salad, along with baked ham, snap beans and cornbread. Even though Frances had told her again and again that Willie would not be staying long enough for a meal, Granny just ignored her and continued working away. A comfortable woman, large, bosomy and loving, Granny Annie was Ruth Ann’s favorite person in the world. Her second favorite was her Aunt Julia, while her mother Frances somehow always wound up being last on the list, for one reason or another.
The March day was barely sunny, more overcast than anything but every once in a while a ray of sunlight would peek through the clouds and turn the neighborhood into something that promised to actually recover from winter. In just a few more weeks, Ruthie thought, it might be warm every day, and the trees and flowers would bloom. The winter had been a long one and on this early Easter day, there were signs that it really would end.
Suddenly, they could hear William’s car from several blocks away. It was a low rumbling, occasionally backfiring, engine sound that made the neighborhood children playing in the O'Connor yard pause in their game of catch and just listen, as if something terribly important were about to happen. The car from a distance, however, seemed much grander than reality when it pulled up in front of the house. It was a dark blue open-windowed affair, the paint chipped in places, and a long trail of black smoke was coming out of the back end.
No one in the yard moved as the auto finally came to rest at the curb. A woman in a billowing hat, her hand resting on its top, was seated in the front passenger side. Next to her was a man who appeared to take up more than half of the available space. In the back seat appeared three little heads, the bodies they were attached to sunk so deep in the seat that only the very tops of their blonde hair was visible.
The woman turned and smiled at the children in the yard, her face framed perfectly by the fox collar on her coat. Her nose looked red and cold, but Ruth Ann was immediately enthralled; the woman’s beaming face appeared to be a thing of great beauty. Ruthie couldn't wait to get a look at her hair under that hat.
Uncle William wedged his way out from behind the steering wheel and proceeded around to the other side in a much sprightlier manner than Ruth Ann would have imagined, given his girth. He was not smiling, however, and seemed unaware of his wife’s radiance and eagerness. William opened the door for her, and Ruth Ann watched in admiration as the beautiful woman daintily lifted her long coat and placed a pointed, delicate rose colored shoe onto the early spring grass. William then took her gloved hand, very concerned and gentlemanly, and assisted her out of the vehicle, where she stood for a moment adjusting her hat, straightening her shoulders and smoothing her hands over the front of her coat. Her smile never left her face, however, and as she turned to release the little ones from the back seat, Ruth Ann’s family also spilled forth from the house, screaming and calling “Willie!” over and over.
All of the children Ruth Ann had been playing with suddenly ran away from the yard, leaving only her and Grace to stand and watch the women of their family rush in a mad frenzy toward a man who had yet to crack even a small smile. His stoic expression seemed frozen on his face as his mother Annie got a hold of his shoulders and pressed her face into his chest. Ruth Ann suddenly realized with dismay that it was not stoicism that was causing Uncle William to appear so stern; it was emotion.
Wide, strong arms wrapped themselves around little Granny Annie until she almost disappeared, and with his chin resting atop her graying head, unabashed tears made their way over dimpled cheek and chin. To her increasing horror and shock, Ruth Ann was sure she saw his lower lip quiver somewhat, and had the immediate impression that Uncle Willie was a weak man, unable to control his emotions. She could never even imagine her own father John crying so openly and in front of everyone, especially the women in the family.
Granny Annie and William stood that way for several moments, with Fanny and John, Aunt Julia, William’s wife, Grace and Ruth Ann simply looking on until it became awkward. Julia, not a small woman herself, finally gave up waiting. With a loud “harrumph,” she walked over to her sister-in-law and with no warning at all, hugged her hard. The dainty woman was so taken by surprise that her hat finally did fall off her head, revealing lovely blonde hair, tied neatly in a small bun at the nape of her neck. Since her arms were crushed between them, she could not hug Julia back, but in a move that Ruth Ann remembered long after, she simply closed her eyes and laid her head on Julia’s shoulder. Her smile never left her face. Finally, Granny let go of William and he immediately turned toward his wife, who had also been released by the affectionate Julia.
“Everyone, this is my wife Beulah. Beulah, this is my mother Annie, my sister Julia, my brother John, and my sister-in-law Fanny.”
“I've heard so much about all of you. And these are our children,” she said, reaching behind her, “Joseph, Kathleen and Theresa.” The two girls curtsied and the boy bowed, as they had obviously been taught, and then hung behind their mother again out of shyness.
Beulah then turned and approached Grace and Ruth Ann. “And who are these very lovely girls?”
Frances spoke up before either could speak. “The dark haired girl is our Grace. The redhead with the ball is Ruth Ann.”
Ruth Ann winced inwardly, and not for the first time wondered why she hadn’t been introduced as “our” anything. She was always only the “redhead, with the ball,” or “redhead on the steps,” and once she was even the “redhead with black stockings,” as if there were other redheads in different color stockings. Beulah seemed not to notice, however, stepped forward and took both of their hands in hers, simply saying, “It’s so wonderful to meet you both.”
Granny Annie was anxious to get everyone inside, Ruth Ann could tell, but William suddenly headed back to his car, calling over his shoulder, “It will just take a minute to get the camera!”
After everyone was safely inside, there were a hundred questions to ask. The newly met O'Connor children stood in awe of the riot and could barely move, so Ruthie and Grace ushered them into the large kitchen with the other women, while John and William had a moment alone and stood in the parlor to discuss whatever brothers discussed. William had recaptured his stoic expression, which was a relief to Ruth Ann, who had dreaded an entire afternoon of trying to avoid eye contact with her weeping Uncle.
Before Granny Annie could even manage to get the snap beans out of the pot and into a bowl for the table, William swung the kitchen door in with bluster and announced he was ready to take the family picture. A new, even louder layer of excitement ensued as everyone headed toward the front yard once again in a massive cluster of women and children. Julia and Annie swept off their muslin aprons, throwing them anywhere they could be caught and then did an inventory of the little ones as they headed out. Fanny brought up the rear, but had her eye on Ruth Ann’s head; assured that the contentious bow was still in place. It was definitely visible above all the other little heads and Fanny hoped there it would stay for at least a few more minutes.
Everyone lined up outside, with the O'Connor house as the backdrop. The women circled around their children, brushing skirts, adjusting ribbons, licking thumbs to wipe off smudges on cheeks and smooth down cowlicks. Fanny and Beulah adjusted their husbands’ ties for them, which they tolerated with approving smiles. Finally, everyone was ready. A neighbor had been solicited to take the actual photo, so that everyone could be included on this very special day, the Easter Sunday that Uncle William finally came home.
It is now 2020 and this past Easter, as on every Easter since that day in 1920, the O'Connor family picture was on display. All of the people in that infamous photograph have left us and there is no one alive who can remember for themselves the Easter when Uncle William and his family came to visit. When you look at that photograph you can see that Ruthie and Grace held hands, while proud Fanny and John stood by, smiling for all time into the lens of a camera that was able to captured it all for us, those O'Connors who would follow.
We would only know these people through family stories, leaving to the imagination that March day, when the sun poked through the clouds and the neighborhood looked as if it would actually recover from a long winter, and Ruth Ann, a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and grandmother before she left us, wore a bow as big as her head the Easter she was ten.
