Ghosts of Christmas Past live on in this household

Hinsdale Doings, December 21, 2000

Dad was proud that he didn't live in the past. "I never look back," he used to say.

But he did look back two years ago when he sat in the only overstuffed chair in the house and said, tearfully, "I was just thinking about all the great Christmases we had. I miss everyone. I can still hear their voices."

And now his voice is still. Dad passed away three months later at 87.

The cap he wore and the cane he carried to steady himself are in the house on the stairway, and each day we touch them on the way up.

He came from a family of 12 brothers and sisters in Riverside, and only two remain. It's great staying in touch with Aunt Liz in Santa Barbara, Calif., and Uncle Herb in Seattle. They always have something funny to say about their childhoods.

So did dad, who looked back more than he cared to admit.

His favorite story was instigating a fight with Uncle Lester when they were about 8 and 6. He kept score of all the times Lester accidentally crossed over a line down the middle of their room, even when Lester's big toe went over it in the bed where they were sleeping. When the violations reached 25, dad said, "OK, now I'm going to beat you up."

The big fight was on the big lawn in front of the big house in Riverside, and was witnessed by the entire family and neighborhood kids. They all stood on the porch cheering for the younger Lester, who wanted nothing to do with it.

The fight lasted about 10 seconds. Lester won. Dad hit him in the stomach and Lester threw up on him.

Dad told that story to Aunt Kay and their children Lynn, Mary Lou, Joanne and Curt at a family reunion shortly before he died, and their laughter was so loud that people inside cousin Bob Fleld's beautiful home in Santa Ynez, Calif., came out to ask what was so funny.

"Oh, my gosh," Mary Lou said. "Our dad never told us that. That doesn't sound like him at all."

Maybe, my dad suggested, Lester didn't want to tell it. "He was a peaceful man, first of all, and second, he threw up in front of everyone. Would you want to tell anyone that?"

Aunt Liz Field, who lived a long time on Hickory St. in Hinsdale, is 91 now and recovering in Santa Barbara from a broken pelvis when she fell. One of our prized possessions is a photo of Liz and Aunt Jaque standing in the water of a fountain in Rome, their arms outflung like the darling flapper girls they were.

Aunt Caroline was striking, too. Ring Lardner, who went on to write "Guys and Dolls," was a sports reporter for the Chicago Tribune in those days. He commuted from Riverside by train and enjoyed stopping on the way home to watch Grannie's 12 children at play in the yard.

One day, he saw Caroline skipping along the sidewalk. He was so taken by the youthful exuberance of this beautiful, small child that he wrote a short poem about her. Cousin Nancy Tonkin of Hinsdale thinks she has that poem in our grandmother's belongings. We'll find it some day.

It's the sort of thing dad looked back on at the house at 82 Nuttall, which stands to this day in Riverside. If you listen carefully, you still can hear the voices of 12 children at play.

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This site maintained by John Reagan and last updated January 06, 2008