June 8th - Mom & Dad

June 8th
I was so excited about today. One of the major catalysts for this trip was my burning desire to visit Lowell, my mom’s hometown. There are a couple reasons for this. I’ve always been fascinated by my mother’s life, both because it was fascinating (rather wealthy, private schools, Brown, extensive travel…and the clothes/style of the 1950s & 60s) and the fact that unfortunately, most of what I know is from pictures, faint memories and stuff I’ve discovered in long-ago packed boxes. Also, I spent time in Lowell when I was younger, visiting my grandfather…the only grandparent I’d ever know. Also, last summer I read a book that was set in Lowell that mirrored many event of my mother’s life. It really sparked my curiosity.
But before I get to Lowell, we visited Newton in the morning (or rather Newtonville), where my dad had grown up. I’d visited Newton once, in 1984, with my dad. It was a quick trip and I really don’t remember very much. Ironically, doing the math, my dad was that same age as me when he took us there…coincidence? Some midlife crisis that spurs a desire to revisit our roots?
Fortunately Ginny was with me to be a tour guide. I saw where they went to school, the house they grew up in and where my McGrath grandparents are buried. Funny, or sad, is it was not that big a deal for me. Their house was beautiful…but I felt no emotion. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel much of a connection to the McGrath family history. My dad never talked about his parents. Never. As, for his siblings, I have, or have had, a personal relationship with all of them. I think of them as contemporaries….not figures from my past. I’ve known each of them independent of my dad. I almost feel as though my lack of knowledge concerning my dad’s childhood means he didn’t have much of one. That makes me sad. Most of what Ginny has told me does little to alter this opinion.
After lunch we headed north for Lowell. Yeah! I insisted on driving (Gin is not a good driver and her breaking and talking to herself about the annoyances of traffic and the lack of logic concerning street signs was driving me batty). Anyway, once I got off the interstate…I tossed the directions aside and let memories and instinct take over.
Remember…it had been 31 years since I’d been to Lowell. Would you believe I got myself to the very street where my grandfather lived? I drove super slow, purposefully NOT looking at house numbers. Too soon, I got to a break in the road where there was a little triangle median, with a road branching off. I knew I’d driven too far. Impossible, I thought….the road seemed too short and I didn’t recognize the house. I turned around and drove past….still missed it. On the third try I cheated with the house numbers. I couldn’t freaking believe it! I truly didn’t recognize it.
For starters, the mammoth pine trees which were in front of the house for 50 years(!!!)....gone. Second…it was no longer the classic white with black shutters and the green and white awnings. Now it was green with red trim, shutters and awnings. It looked sooo different. Also, the huge vacant side lot that was my grandfather’s had been sold (I’d been warned about this). Now the field where my brother and I played was the host of a very large home…a home larger than my grandpa’s. Just not right.
That was the other surprising thing…the house seemed so small. The house I live in is bigger…maybe much bigger. This is so shocking to me. When I was a kid…my grandpa’s house was the ultimate…it was a mansion in my little mind. This house that stood before me simply wouldn’t do. I was afraid to see the inside. I really was. I’d written the owners to let them know I was coming and believe it or not, they’d called me and said I could come in! It was so unexpected and generous. I was blown away. But, they wouldn’t be home till after 5 – so I had more exploring to do.
Next, I went in search of my mother’s high school...Rogers Hall. Rogers Hall, in its day, was an exclusive, girl’s boarding school. The pictures I’d seen were so cool and retro. I’ve done extensive research and even joined the school’s alumni group on Face Book. I think my mom really enjoyed her time there, because she talked about it a lot. Her mother also went to the school and my mom returned after college to teach for a couple years.
I recently found her yearbooks from when she was both a student and a teacher. They’re so cool. I also have the school catalogue (circa 1962), which promises to:
“…give its students a sound education while surrounding them with a healthy, happy and stimulating atmosphere which helps develop the individual abilities of each to the fullest extent…every girl develops a sense of civic responsibility which promotes good citizenship and effective leadership.”
Wow! Well fifty years later, the main building and dormitory are an assistant living facility for elderly people, in a not so nice area of town. In fact, when we pulled up, there was this woman in a wheel chair, out in front of the main house. The poor thing had had stoke. It was sort of symbolic of how time had passed. The two other buildings on the campus, the principal’s house and the gymnasium, were both abandoned (although apparently at some time, after the school closed in the early 1970’s, the two buildings had been a YMCA. A sign still hung on the house.).
You could see that one day it had all been grand. The main house still was, but the grounds at the back of the original campus were now littered with low-end, run-down condos. The Gym and Principal’s House stood exclusive of the original campus, as ghosts to a time long past, with rotting wood and over grown landscape slowing swallowing them up. All the buildings were also very close to what was a busy road that led into downtown…I wonder if the road was always well traveled? There was a beautiful park across the street…as documented in the school literature…but I very much doubt that there still an exclusive golf course where the girls could take lessons.
I was glad to finally see the campus…but it was bittersweet.
Next stop…the Lowell cemetery. No one was in the cemetery’s office, so I decided to go off in search of my grandparents, myself. I had flowers and I was damn well going to lay them on their grave. I’d left the documentation for their gravesite back at home in GA, but remembered that the “street” they were on had four letters. That’s it. I also had a photograph from my grandfather’s funeral…so I knew the color of the head stone. I’d said as much to Ginny….45 seconds into our adventure, when I pointed out the color to her on a grave site. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t actually their grave! Seriously. Mission easily accomplished.
There were five family members buried there, as listed in the tombstone: my great grandparents, my grandparents, and their son (my uncle who died at 14). However, there were only 4 grave markers (with initials)…which really had me curious, because my grandfather’s grave wasn’t marked. He died in 1979 and my mother basically handled the funeral. Why wouldn’t she do that?!?!
So I went back to the cemetery’s office and someone was finally there. I made them dig out the records and here’s the scoop. There are actually 10 spots at the grave site, which I now apparently own jointly, with my bother. There are actually 6 people buried there…someone named Henry Hagar (never heard of him) who is not listed on the tomb, but who is indeed there. His internment is signed by my grandmother. Interesting…. And my grandfather’s grave marker was never ordered by my mother…again, interesting. I feel compelled to order this for him. Yet, I am wondering why my mom didn’t? Too cheap? Forgot? Mad at him? I do not know.
But, I guess Rich and I have a place to reside one day, if we wish…
I still had time to kill before going back to my grandfather’s house….so I went downtown. It really didn’t ring any bells…although it did prove to me that all the rumors I’d heard over the years, from various sources, were true. Lowell had been taken over by some unseemly elements.
On a whim…I’d decided to find my grandpa’s country club. I’d loved going there as a kid because it was the fanciest place I’d ever been. I will spare you the silly story of how it happened….but I’ll be damned! I found it! It was kind of like how I’d remembered it too. I snuck in the clubhouse to be sure…and I am certain I stuck gold.
Finally, back to G-pa’s house. The current owner’s name is Renee’. Her husband is a physician and they have six kids. They did not buy the house from my mom, the Flannigan’s did in the summer of 1979. They, IMMEDIATELY (after promising my mom they wouldn’t) sold the adjacent lot to some jerk who’d tried to hustle my mom for it. They left in 1981 and sold it to the Romanowski’s. The lot thing was a big issue…both with my parents and with the current owners. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, because the big house is there now….on top of my first dog, Peaches, who is buried there.
Anyway, Renee’ was so nice. She told me to go for it….I could look around at anything I wanted. A quick side bar here…Barrett had had it and was being a royal pain-in-the-ass. It was one of the few times I just let him be a jerk - I was gonna see the house, no matter what.
It was surreal. Some things were exactly the same, mostly architectural things, and others…not so much. My grandfather kept the house like a museum. It was meticulous and grandly decorated with antiques. Everything had a place. The house now was most definitely a well-lived-in house (and kind of messy). It was a home, someone else’s. It was just weird for me.

The same:
The bathrooms….exactly the same! Exactly…same as 1935 (don’t make things like they used to.)
The basement
Ironing board/liquor cabinet
Buzzer on the dining room floor, for the maid
Glass door handles
All the doors
Built-ins throughout (D.R., L.R., Linen closet upstairs)
Kitchen cabinets
Wood window valances

Different:
Paint instead of wall paper
A pool
Closed in the screened porch and expanded kitchen
“Finished” the attic
The over-all look – for sure!

Some of their kids (all adults now) were there – in & out…it was very busy. She filled me in on some of the neighbors that I’d remember (a boy I’d had a crush on and played with had died of cancer…at 30). But I started to feel a little panicked. I wanted to get out before her home replaced my mom’s home in my memory. I was also sad because it was such an, obviously, crazy & happy home….and when I knew it, it was so…still. I was jealous for my mom. (Yet my mom probably would have hated it.)
I thanked Renee’ profusely and promised to come back, and maybe will. I want to show Rich. Bear escaped to their backyard and was stripping down to take a swim in their pool. One of their daughters was out there with a deer –in-the-headlights look. I got there just as he was dropping his drawers. Oh boy….

Lodging: Still in Dedham/Fairfield
Silly Band Award: Ginny (kids fell apart at dinner).
Quote of the day: Audrey, ”No Cammy, you were still up in heaven…banging on the closet door, to come down and live with us.” – when Camden insisted he’d lived in the Maryland house (he saw a picture in our travel notebook).