March Family Matters
All this underdog talk brings me to another reason to celebrate March Madness. Besides Hooly's birthday, St. Patrick's Day, and basketball – it’s a time to pay tribute to my dad. Born on March 19 and Grandma Farley. Born on March 24.
Bill's high school career was undistinguished. That's his yearbook photo, Cretin High School, class of 1936. Few accomplishments. Did not excel academically or on the athletic field. He was tall and skinny and had size 14 feet. His ambition was noted as: "to go on a good tear."
Like many of his grandsons who came much later, high school was legislated detention. Something to be endured until you were set free to start living. But he was a natural salesman, a superb organizer and had great social connections. He knew everyone and knew how to have a good time. I'm told he rented halls, booked bands and threw great parties. Which is how he came to meet my mother.
Dad booked the Bob Farley band for a party and started hanging out with Bob and his friends at Dutch Lake. That's dad in the back, Bob in the middle and my mom, Mary, Bob's sister, in front. Apparently, Bob's mother took a shine to young Bill and decided that he would be perfect for Mary. Some matchmaking ensued and later marriage.
Gramma – Mary Gleason – wasn’t the most gorgeous young woman in Bayfield, Wisconsin, but, she was definitely the most vivacious. Like her future son-in-law, socializing was her milieu. At a big lumberyard fire one night, she met the young newcomer, E.T. Farley. A schoolteacher from Oswego, New York. Sparks flew. A wedding resulted. 9 children followed.
If you assessed my dad or my grandma when they were young, you probably wouldn’t vote them most likely to succeed. Looks, money, athletic prowess, and academic honors. Who cares. Work with what you’ve got. Enjoy the moment. Five years after high school graduation, no one’s going to remember that someone else got the volleyball award senior year and you didn’t.
Bill Nagan barely made rank in a military high school but he got the girl and had a great life. Mary Gleason wasn’t valedictorian, couldn’t cook, could barely sew but she lived to be 98. And she must have had a great time along the way. Because every book she gave me was inscribed with her flowery script: “. . . from her grandmother, Mary E. D. Farley. Pray for me.”
Bill's high school career was undistinguished. That's his yearbook photo, Cretin High School, class of 1936. Few accomplishments. Did not excel academically or on the athletic field. He was tall and skinny and had size 14 feet. His ambition was noted as: "to go on a good tear." Like many of his grandsons who came much later, high school was legislated detention. Something to be endured until you were set free to start living. But he was a natural salesman, a superb organizer and had great social connections. He knew everyone and knew how to have a good time. I'm told he rented halls, booked bands and threw great parties. Which is how he came to meet my mother.
Dad booked the Bob Farley band for a party and started hanging out with Bob and his friends at Dutch Lake. That's dad in the back, Bob in the middle and my mom, Mary, Bob's sister, in front. Apparently, Bob's mother took a shine to young Bill and decided that he would be perfect for Mary. Some matchmaking ensued and later marriage. Gramma – Mary Gleason – wasn’t the most gorgeous young woman in Bayfield, Wisconsin, but, she was definitely the most vivacious. Like her future son-in-law, socializing was her milieu. At a big lumberyard fire one night, she met the young newcomer, E.T. Farley. A schoolteacher from Oswego, New York. Sparks flew. A wedding resulted. 9 children followed.
If you assessed my dad or my grandma when they were young, you probably wouldn’t vote them most likely to succeed. Looks, money, athletic prowess, and academic honors. Who cares. Work with what you’ve got. Enjoy the moment. Five years after high school graduation, no one’s going to remember that someone else got the volleyball award senior year and you didn’t.
Bill Nagan barely made rank in a military high school but he got the girl and had a great life. Mary Gleason wasn’t valedictorian, couldn’t cook, could barely sew but she lived to be 98. And she must have had a great time along the way. Because every book she gave me was inscribed with her flowery script: “. . . from her grandmother, Mary E. D. Farley. Pray for me.”
posted by MadgeMc at 10:30 PM
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