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Priscilla Januskiewicz November 30, 2010 - My mother, Ona Charlton Fellows, like her father before her, always had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She had her mother’s flair for drama and wanted to be an actress, but because money was scarce she became a nurse instead. After marriage she stayed home to raise her own family of four daughters. In her widowhood, as her age advanced and her physical capabilities decreased, I began spending more and more time with Mum. At first she was still living on her own, and I would telephone or visit her every day at her apartment. When she was 85, I began jotting down the humorous things she was saying about herself and her observations of everyday life. Never a complainer, she took life as it came and bore the infirmities of old age with grace and dignity. She made fun of her fading memory and the painful osteoarthritis that slowed her down. At the age of 90, she moved in with her daughters who found her sense of humor uplifting. Three years later, on the night before she died in July of 2005, I finished putting together a booklet of her amusing comments from my notes and added photos and clip art. I named it Ona’s Funnyboners, and brought it to the funeral. Here are just a few examples from the booklet: “I don’t remember what we were just talking about. I wasn’t listening to myself!” Talking about sending greeting cards twice: “I get in double trouble. I do things over again!” When she’s tired from walking: “I feel like my own grandmother. These are my grandmother’s legs I’m walking on. My grandmother’s knees aren’t working very well!” While using a mini-walker: “If this walker was a jogger I could go a lot faster!” While driving, with the gas gauge near empty: “I’ve either got to get gas or get home quick!” “I have a car that takes me where I want to go and more. Sometimes it gets me lost!” “I have the biggest forgetterer in all outdoors.” “What day is this? I’ve lost track of the days, the year, the minutes. Even the minutes! I’m glad you’re around so I can check up on me!” “I think my brother’s birthday is tomorrow. It’d better be. I sent him a card yesterday!” Mum has been gone for five years, and my sisters and I are all senior citizens ourselves now and beginning to experience the aches and pains that come with age. Forgetfulness is setting in, too. But, every now and then, Mum’s voice comes back to us and we smile as we remember how she took life as it came, with a sense of humor and without complaint. I only hope that we can do the same. |
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Nancy A. Murdock Every so often, I decide I need to list all of our family members, I don’t want to miss out on wishing someone beloved a happy birthday. I also realized (at our 60th anniversary celebration) that we didn’t have a list of who was whose child. It’s easy enough for us to list our 5 children, but then it’s not as simple to do the next two or three steps. At the 60th, I found that I didn’t know who was whose father, son, grandson, etc. In fact, I wasn’t sure of who certain performers were - not a great thing to admit, when they were my children or grandchildren!! I also didn’t know who were the mothers of all these lovely people. Yesterday I picked up a Grandmother’s Book from my bookcase and spent some time (yesterday and today) answering lots of questions. I was okay as long as I was filling in my thoughts on my early grades in school. However, when I got into the parts about my children, I had to back off a little. Then when I reached the sections to tell about married children, etc, I was really unsure of several answers. As a result, tonight I put together, with Bob’s help, a reasonably complete chart of our descendants. We’ll try to get other parts filled in by consulting you. It wasn’t easy, but now I should be able to keep track of all the family birthdays, etc. At least we’ll be remembering to send a card! And one of these days, we’ll print out a nice, neat chart. If you know we are wrong on one of your lines, please give us the correct info. We aim to please, but our aim isn’t always perfect. I’ll tell you an embarrassing story from the 60th Anniversary party. I was noticing what a good job Ian was doing with entertaining Zachary. I mentioned to him that he was making a good connection with Zach. Then Ian said, “Why not? He’s my grandson!” I know I looked confused, which I give myself an “F” for doing. Ian said, “He’s Tim’s son!” Boy, was I embarrassed - I definitely knew that! As you can see, it was high time to write down some of what we know and also to try to track down the unknowns. So, if you have children or grandchildren, when I get the list out, I’m hoping you will check it for me. Meanwhile, if we missed your birthday in 2010, please let us know. I have decided to turn over another leaf this year, as we head into 2011. Love to you all, Nancy A. Murdock December 7, 2010 |
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Walter Eldon Murdock, born 4/4/40, was close to his sister Barbara in age. They came along several years after the first four. They were both babies when they moved to Hubbardston. Mom Murdock would push them up the hill from their house in a big tan baby carriage. Like most of his siblings, Walt had very dark brown hair and brown eyes. He tended not to say much, but Barbara, the only one of the eight with blue eyes, was a talker. She was sick a lot and therefore got more attention than her brother. Margie and Arthur were born fairly close together after another gap of several years. In the picture where four of us are sitting on the grass, Bob and I were having a picture taking session with his grandfather’s camera. Grandpa Murdock, who had formerly tried a career in photography, had a truly remarkable camera. It had a view finder the size of the finished print. All of the pictures came out perfectly, with sharp detail. After Grandpa had taken a few shots of the two of us, he left us the camera to take some more. Later he took us into his part of the house to develop and print the shots. It was a nice, lazy Sunday afternoon. I was either 17 or 18, and we were either going steady or engaged. While we were doing our photos, three of his younger siblings asked to have their pictures taken, too, and Bob said “sure.” I thought the kids should first wash up, comb their hair, and dress in their best clothes for such an auspicious photo, but Bob took them as they were. Margie was a little cranky, but we wanted to keep her from wandering in to get in her mother’s way, so I picked her up. As the oldest of seven, I’d had plenty of experience in holding younger kids. There wasn’t anything else going on, so Walt and Barb were thrilled to be in on this fun. Margie, born 12/3/45, had recently cut her own hair. Walt was about 9, and Barbara was about 10. Walt gave his usual big smile, as did Barb. My family lived about two miles from them, so we didn’t visit back and forth all that much, but we saw them at school, church, Grange, and anything else that was happening in town. Walter was my brother Doug’s age, and Barb was in my sister Polly’s grade. Lennie, a year older than I, was in my grade and one of my best friends. Walter was never, to my knowledge, a troublesome child. He tended to behave quite well, and outside of a certain daring with his bike, he never had any teenage troubles in town. He wasn’t as intelligent as most of his siblings, but that didn’t place him in the dull category. Both Bob and Barbara skipped a grade in school. Barb was a whiz at jigsaw puzzles, also. She could put one together faster than I could get the outer edge complete. I believe both Gene and Lennie also graduated from high school with honors. Walter was an easy student to teach, but not brilliant. I took the pictures of Thanksgiving 1951. These snapshots don’t show quite the whole gathering, which also included Dotty’s husband Sulo and the youngest sibling, Arthur. Gene had joined the Air Force shortly after graduation from high school. From left starting with Walter, the first picture has Bob Schlicke (Lennie’s husband), Margie, Lennie (posing with a huge turkey leg, which she put back after the shot), Aunt Erma, Barb, Dotty, and her daughter Wanda (I think). The other has Bob, Aunt Helen, Mom, Dad, with Dottie’s daughter Sally (I think) on his lap, Walt, and Barb. As can be seen, Walter was enjoying himself immensely. The Murdock family gatherings were always fun and low-keyed. The drink of choice was milk. My mother lived across the street from the common, where teens often liked to meet. One day in 1955 she told me she had seen several boys, including Walter, doing wheelies on their bikes. Her concern was that they tended to start on the common but go faster right toward the street. When they reached the road, they would make a fast turn on the bike. She was afraid one of them might get hurt doing this. A special concern was that not all of the bikes looked safe, including Walter’s. I was still young enough that I didn’t really know what I should do in this case. So I just hoped it would not result in an accident. A couple of weeks later, we got a call from the Murdocks that Walter had been in an accident with his bicycle. It was on the road by the pond, near the Murdock House. We drove down to see what was happening, and it was not good. Walt had fallen on his head! The boys he was with were saying the bike was no good and suggesting it be thrown away. No one was mentioning that the boys were doing dangerous tricks. Someone called the doctor in Gardner, who came right over. He asked a few questions, checked Walter over, and put a folded piece of gauze in the ear from which the blood was seeping. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Walter would evidently be okay, based on the doctor’s actions. Unfortunately, when I got back to my mother’s house and described the scene, she got very pale and indicated that the situation was unlikely to improve. Since she was a bleeder, she knew the routines pretty well. But I still hoped. We soon got the word from the Murdock household that Walt had not made it. That nice, clean-cut, healthy boy was gone. It still brings tears to my eyes whenever I recall the incident. It’s hard being unable to do anything to make the results of an accident better. Barb suggested that we all go to see a movie for which I can’t recall the name, which dealt with a young man who hadn’t settled down yet. I think the actor was James Dean, or some similar name. I’m not sure if her parents saw the picture, but Bob and I went with her. I didn’t find it easy to connect the movie with the reality, but I wasn’t sorry I went to the movie. When Walter died, it left a big hole that has never been forgotten. The gatherings went on, and we all continued to enjoy life, but we were always cognizant of the missing person. Barb in particular would mention him. Mom was always a little sad under her happiness when he was mentioned. When she later had dementia and was in a nursing home, she would name all eight of her children in order and look proud. No mention was ever made of Walter’s death in that context. I really don’t recall much about Walter’s funeral at the Congregational Church in Hubbardston. What I do remember is that all the kids in town around his age group were present. After the funeral, they became an honor guard and walked in front of all the vehicles from the church to the cemetery, approximately 1 ½ miles away. Sulo drove Bob and me in his truck, and he downshifted to avoid an accident on the downhill trek. I seem to remember that the town policeman and his deputy halted all traffic in both directions. In 1998 Gene’s wife died from cancer, and he asked me to do a memorial service for Chris in Hubbardston, our home town. After visiting with guests and going to the pond near the Murdock house to sprinkle ashes, he took us all out to dinner. Afterward, I bullied them all into letting me take a group picture. They lined up by age. All of the living ones were there (which is why I insisted on the picture), but we thought of Walter and his empty place in the line. I believe Barbara said she wished she’d brought a picture of Walter to hold in his place. I hope we will do this sometime in the future. Of course, we will also need a photo of Lennie now. It’s tough losing people we’ve known and loved for a long time. It has been quite a while since I wrote this article. I can no longer find some of the mentioned photos. I did find a couple of other photos of Walter, including his presence in the photo of the people who attended Bob’s and my wedding on September 16, 1950. I also found a project of several years ago which included a couple of snaps of Walter, along with photos of our grandson Ben, who committed suicide at age 16. A friend from my poetry group was involved in writing and assembling photos regarding any family members or close friends who had died by age 31. She was working on an advanced degree. She did a nice job of putting together some large pictures, etc., and I chose a couple of items from her work, to add at the end of this biographic work. The pictures and writings were displayed at a church near where we used to meet, and prayers were asked for all the families involved. The loss of someone so young is very hard to live through. I am hoping the Murdocks have some more photos and family stories to add to this memorial. Nancy A. Murdock, October 31, 2010. |
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