Memories of Mom: They Called Her ''Dutch''

By Mary Hilaire Tavenner Ph.D.

Memories of Mom: They Called Her Dutch


All of us have something in common. We all have parents. No child comes into this world without the union of two cells: one from a mother and one from a father.
Not every Mother, not every Father do a good job of parenting. One of the main reasons I never chose to have a child is because, even as a youngster, I could clearly see how much work, devotion, suffering, time, energy, and resources go into raising a happy, healthy person. Parenting is not a job for the feint of heart!
Memories of Mom is a true story of a mother who made her family her lifes work. Mother raised seven children, sometimes single-handedly. My father was an alcoholic, and couldnt always provide his share of responsibility or relationship. Still, together, they tried.
Memories of Mom: They Called Her Dutch is the life of a woman who preferred privacy to notoriety. When you read the life story of Mary Catherine Dutch Montgomery Tavenner, you will pause to reflect upon your own life story, your parents, your parenting skills, your family life---but you will absolutely be inspired, motivated and emotionally charged by the singular courage of the one woman, I called Mother.
Most all of us would love to write a book. We say that wed like to produce a book about our own travails and adventures, or about someone elses life journey, someone we may have admired or abhorred. I have had the desire, opportunity, resources, self-discipline and privilege to prepare for you, the reader, the journey of my mother, and in my opinion, the centerpiece of the Montgomery/Tavenner Clan. Mother loved her city of Lorain, Ohio, and always embraced life in her hometown, as well as those most dear to her. In writing Moms story, I have decided to include those who were so much a part of her formation, her heritage and ours.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 13, 2006
• ISBN: 9781465320162

Mary Hilaire Tavenner Ph.D.

Dr. Mary Hilaire (Sally) Tavenner of Dutch Ink Publishing is an educator, public speaker, and author of six books; (seven, including her dissertation.) She has consulted for a 3 million docudrama on the life of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, attended Mother Seton’s Canonization in 1974 and Mother Marianne Cope’s Beatification in 2005. Tavenner taught several thousand children and adults during her career as an educator in New York, Ohio, Florida and Puerto Rico. She has served as an adjunct for the University of South Florida, Tiffin University, Cleveland State, Ashland University and Lorain County Community College. Dr. Tavenner is the President of the Friends of Helen Steiner Rice, a world-famous poet from her hometown of Lorain, Ohio. Dr. Tavenner is currently self-employed, working for “Dutch Ink”, a publishing business named in honor of her mother “Dutch”. “Dr. T” also teaches ESOL, part-time for Lorain City Schools Adult Education. Dr. Hilaire (Sally) Tavenner can be contacted via her website: www.dutchink.com and her books are available from her website as well as every bookstore in America, upon request.

Book preview

Other books by

Dr. Mary Hilaire (aka Sally Lynne) Tavenner:

Nun of This and Nun of That: Book One, Beginnings

(Convent Life in the 1960’s)

Nun of This and Nun of That: Book Two, Making Vows

(Convent Life in the 1960’s … the sequel.)

A Portrait of Helen Steiner Rice: A Lorain Version

France, 1996

(Fifteen short stories about Dr. Tavenner’s visit to France in 1996)

Peru, 2002: Memoirs of a Writer in Peru

MEMORIES OF MOM:

THEY CALLED HER "DUTCH’’

MARY HlLAIRE (SALLY) TAVENNER, PH.D.

Copyright © 2006 by Mary Hilaire (Sally) Tavenner, Ph.D..

Library of Congress Control Number:     2006903191

ISBN 10: Hardcover     1-4257-1306-8

Softcover     1-4257-1305-X

ISBN 13: Hardcover     978-1-4257-1306-5

Softcover     978-1-4257-1305-8

ISBN:     ebk      978-1-4653-2016-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Let this be published, to the Glory of God.

Dutch Ink

www.Dutchlnk.com

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com,www.dutchink.com,[e-mail]

[e-mail]

22129

Contents

FAMILY PHOTOGRAPHS

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

APPENDIX

FAMILY PHOTOGRAPHS

Mary Catherine Montgomery Tavenner. Taken by Sally Lynne in the living room of 304 Alexander Ave, Lorain, OH 12/24/1989.

Dutch at the age of six years. (Mary Catherine Montgomery)

Dutch at the age of 13; her Solemn Holy Communion. (Mary Catherine Montgomery)

Dutch at Lorain High School. (Mary Catherine Montgomery)

Maa and Baa and Aunt Cats on Maa’s wedding day. (Mary Alice Grady, Frank Leo Montgomery and Catherine Francesca Grady)

Maa, in her 60’s. (Mary Alice Grady Montgomery)

Bones, Lorain High School All Star basketball player. (Robert Henderson Tavenner)

Mom and Dad’s Church Wedding Day, August 28, 1939. (Mary Catherine Montgomery and Robert Henderson Tavenner)

Mom’s husband, Bob and their son, Bobbie, taken about 1944. This photo was kept near Mom’s bedside for 40 years. (RHT Sr. and RHT Jr.)

Robert Henderson Tavenner, taken about 1936.

Mom and Dad’s Seven Children: Robert (13), Kathleen (15), Patrick (6), Sally (7) (in center of television) Garth (11), Michele (<1), in front and Christopher, (6 years in insert), bottom right. Approximate ages in 1956. Photo taken by Aunt Cats and Uncle Tom in 304 living room.

Mom and Dad’s seven children: Left to right—Patrick Francis, Robert Henderson, Garth Montgomery, Christopher Ned, Sally Lynne, Mother, Kathleen Ena and Michele Elise. Taken about 1979.

Captain Robert Lester Tavenner and Ena Imelda Henderson Tavenner, parents of Robert Henderson Tavenner, paternal grandparents of the Lorain Seven. Taken about 1920.

Aunt Arlene Marie Tavenner Todd and her four children: right to left, Linda, Becky, Aunt Arlene, Nancy and Bill Jr. Taken on October 13, 1993, Aunt Arlene’s 80th birthday.

Montgomery/Tavenner Clan circa 1979 … First row in back: Garth, Ansel, Patrick, Gerrie Ann, Bobbie, Becky, Robert, Christopher. Second row: Sr. Mary Hilaire/Sally, Sadie, Kayleen, Kathleen, Krystal, Kathy, Bonnie, Michele, Kevin. Third row: Elton, Quentin, Mother holding Jeremy, Gram Jordan, Kevin, and Beth.

Mary Catherine Tavenner, Katy, Mother’s namesake, with her parents Krista Lee Daily Tavenner and Jeremy Lee Tavenner, Christmas, 2005.

Tillie Matilda Elizabeth Storm O’Connor Grady—Maa’s mother and Dutch’s maternal Grandmother.

Dutchie’s Grandchildren photographed in Westerville, OH, at Gerrie Ann’s 40th surprise birthday party. First row in back: Elton, Frank, (Garth’s son’s) Kayleen, (Kathleen’s daughter) Alice Dionne, (Garth’s son) Beth, Bobbie (Robert’s daughter and son). Second row: Nichole, (Garth’s daughter) Krystal, ( Patrick’s daughter) Jeremy, (Christopher’s son) Quentin, (Garth’s son) Rebecca, (Robert’s daughter.) Zorro, my brother Robert’s dog, is looking at the grandchildren.

Dutch on her 80th birthday, September 4, 1996 in her Alexander Avenue living room by her daughter, Sally.

The Lorain Lighthouse, symbol of the city of Lorain, OH. Picture by Romayne Bennet. Mother loved her city.

DEDICATION

To: Yimkushdamkushizzykusheen (Pinchie), Inky, Jocko,

Sootie, Muffy, Lord Geoff, Kim, Ber, and Lee, Baby, Pierre, Goldie, Zorro, Mario, Cocoa, Wookie, Nana, Bud, Harry, Gizmo, Midge, Lucky,

Banditt,

Dee Cee, PITA, Rosie FuFu, Liverachee; to all the family pets, and

to all of God’s creatures, including the:

finneybums, spritzes, bushies, putties, horseydoovers, etc. (Maybe not the spinklows.)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My Parents, Grandparents and Ancestors

My Brothers and Sisters, and their Descendants

Special Thanks to:

Anne Somplack

Kathy and Skip Skibniewski

Kayleen Mary Miller Garcia

Jeremy Lee Tavenner

Robert Henderson Tavenner II

Bobby Rhodes

Linda Veroni Mathewson

INTRODUCTION

March 17, 2006

Dear Reader,

If you knew my mother, you would also know that more than likely, less than just about anything else, she would want a book written about her. My mother was many things, and clearly embraced discernable philosophies and values. She often quoted her dad as saying, Foolish names and foolish faces often show in public places. In many ways, I am like my mother; in other ways, I am like my father; but like all children, I am unique.

I know Mom was mystified by my ability to speak to large groups. It was never something she would ever want to do. Several years before she died, a popular local newspaper columnist, Darlene Brown, wanted to interview my mother. Mom was not interested in being interviewed. When Tom Quinn from the Cleveland Plain Dealer interviewed me in 1997, Mom was not real keen about even being quoted, but a bit out of character, Mom did give Tom permission to print something she said to him about me.

One day, Mom told me, Sally, I’ve decided to ask Kathleen (my older sister) to write my obituary. I was surprised, and curiously asked why. After all, I was the writer in the family. Mother replied, Because you would write a full page story! Mom knew me. She knew I loved to write about the people and things I love, and what I find of interest.

She was a tad amused one day when I discovered a photo of my Mother as an infant, and asked, Mom, you are cuter than the ‘Gerber Baby’; may I use your baby image for my business and writing logo? She told me that I could. I wonder what she would think to see her face on the six books I have published, and prominently displayed on business cards, my flyers and website. Because she gave me this permission, Mother’s baby image is now available for viewing from anywhere on planet Earth!

You need to understand, my mother was a very private person. She had her shy bones, but if you knew her, you also knew her persistent, enormous sense of humor, her honesty and humility. Which brings me back to the idea … would Mom want a book written about her when she specifically expressed that she didn’t even want a full length story? For a very long time, I battled over the pros and cons of writing a book about Mom. More often than anyone can imagine, I have prayed over this question and often asked Mom in prayer, Could I, should I, can I, may I attempt to write your biography? It is likely that if I didn’t, no one else ever would. I’m very sure she never entertained the thought that anyone would take the pains of time and discipline to write about her life.

Good books require good reading material. A book needs substance to hold the reader’s interest. I have never known anyone with the character, kindness, or sheer magnitude of loving concern for Creator, creation and creatures that I found in my mother. Please don’t think me utterly prejudice, though understandably, I am somewhat.

Some people may discover the greatest of all human bonding with a spouse, child, parent, grandparent, partner, or best friend. I found true unconditional love from Mom, though I know she did expect me to do good things. I believe all of us are loved greatly by someone in our lives. (I hear the lyrics and melody of a song sung by Dean Martin, Everybody loves somebody sometime.) I’m 57 years old now and Mom died 7 years ago. With a lifetime of perspective, I gratefully and forthrightly confess, the greatest love of my life was my mother.

I remember the day I told her that she and Dad taught me two of the most important lessons in all of my life. I definitely had her attention. She remarked, Really? Then she inquired, And what would they be?

Not intending to be a wisecracker, I replied. Dad taught me not to drink and you taught me not to smoke. (Dad had been an alcoholic and Mom contracted emphysema from smoking.) I could tell she was hurt by my reply. With a wounded tone, she gave a follow-up question, Was that all we taught you?

I was very quick to reply, "Of course not, Mom! But those were really important lessons for me to learn! You and Dad taught me all of the really important lessons! I have learned more from you than all of my teachers combined! (The word teacher means to show, to rear, to demonstrate. Today, we might use the words role model".) Mom was a teacher in the best sense of the word.

As much as I want to share the memories of my mother with the world, I also want to keep them locked in my heart, where they are always and forever treasured and savored. If she were still living, I’m thinking Mom would not want to have a book written about her. I am taking a leap of faith, believing now, that she is home with my Dad, her parents, her son, Garth, and other beloved family and friends, that she understands my need to write stories about the most important influence in all my life.

I think, in many respects, we are all so similar. We want to proclaim what we find beautiful, inspiring and meaningful in life. When we love someone, it isn’t enough to keep that feeling locked secretly inside.

This book (like every other book any writer may produce) will be the author’s perception. My slant. My take on Mom. Mom and Dad had seven children. We all have different perspectives; we all have different and unique recollections. A truer portrait of our parents would be fashioned only with the testimony and stories from all seven of us. Even with the additional testimony of grandchildren, neighbors, friends and acquaintances, we could never capture their authentic essence. Mom and Dad’s children are an expression of their love, their union, their unique rearings, life experiences, personalities and genetics; all seven of their offspring are equally unique in character, mystery, and adventure.

If you know the seven of us, you will inevitably experience some aspects of our parents. We are each fiercely independent and ambitious in our own right. We are, for the most part, intelligent men and women who are as determined to meet the challenges of our lives as intensely, honestly, and humorously as the parents from which we came.

I have asked my brothers and sisters to submit stories, memories, etc. to this biography, but they are not writers. They, more than likely, will not recall our childhoods, parents, and upbringing the way I have recorded it for you, the reader. There are twenty years between the firstborn, Kathleen Ena, and the youngest, Christopher Ned. Twenty years is an entire generation!

Most psychologists believe that birth order greatly affects our character and formation within a family. Parents evolve naturally, and significantly during twenty-years of child rearing, so the same Mom and Dad who raised Kathleen were not exactly the same Mom and Dad who raised Christopher. It only makes sense that all seven of us experienced our parents uniquely, at a different point in time of their respective and shared lives—consequently all seven of us will tell a different story, write a different book.

Several years ago, at a family gathering, I was discussing this book with my brothers and one of my sisters. While talking about our childhood, I found my siblings equally passionate about what they recalled. We naturally disagreed on what really happened in our family home.

I finally blurted, Wasn’t I raised in the same house with the same parents as each of you? when I could no longer identify with their perspectives. My brother Bob, put it about as directly as anyone could, Yes, but you were in your own little world.

It certainly made me think. Bob was right. I have always been in my own world. I still am. I live in the world I create for me; my reality. One in which I try to focus on the good stuff; where I want to believe that people are worthy of my trust and respect. Oh, I’m a character. I’ll admit it, but I wish everyone would admit that we each have our own take on reality. Mine may be different than another’s, but it’s just as legitimate. And in my opinion, God alone has the true perspective.

This is my story. These are the thoughts, events, and people as I remember them.

When I was a little girl, I watched a black and white television serial about a daughter recalling her childhood with her mother. It was called, I Remember Mama. It was about an ethnic, first-generation woman who was raising her family, always wanting to give them her tender best.

My mother was not first-generation. She was very Irish. I will always maintain that she absolutely did her best in raising us, given her limited resources and options. This book, again I re-iterate, is my opinion, and I am entitled to it. Yes, perfect or not, this is my recollection, my perspective, my Memories ofMom .

Sincerely,

Mom and Dad’s middle child, and second daughter,

Sally Lynne Tavenner

(aka Mary Hilaire Tavenner, Ph.D.)

Image383.JPG

Dutch at the age of six years.

(Mary Catherine Montgomery)

CHAPTER ONE

ALL IS FORGIVEN FOR A DOUGHNUT

I’m writing this book in the room where Mother had hoped to die. Her mother, Mary Alice Grady Montgomery, did die in this very room on December 2, 1969. (I share that same ambition my mother once had: to one day, die in this house.) I vividly remember December 2, 1969, the day her mother returned to God. I was a Franciscan sister and first-year teacher at Assumption Academy in Syracuse, New York.

I remember seeing my mother cry on only four different occasions. This was one of the four. On the phone that second day of December, as she told me her mother had just died, Mom spoke in a flood of inconsolable tears. I found it impossible to find any words that might bring her the comfort I so wanted for her.

I might have been a nun, but I was also her daughter, and I knew my mother knew everything I knew, believed everything I believed and hoped everything I hoped. I felt I could only share in her sorrow; there were no words.

Mom was an only child. Her mother and father were the first two most unconditional loves of her life. Mom’s dad died August 15, 1947, a year before I was born. Her parents were on vacation in New York City and her father had a heart attack. My grandfather had retired early from the Lake Terminal Railroad because of health concerns related to his heart.

I always believed he was the Yardmaster, but one of his former employees, Mr. Richard Zutavern, told me he was the Superintendent! Maybe in railroad terms they mean the same thing, but Mr. Zutavern said he was the boss; very well-liked and hugely respected among everyone working for the railroad.

We called Mom’s parents Maa and Baa. They were Mary Alice Grady Montgomery and Frank (Francis) Leo Montgomery. My older sister, Kathleen, the firstborn, is credited with giving them their nicknames of Baa and Maa. I am surmising, as a little girl, she could not pronounce Grandpa.

Her word sounded like Baa. If Grandpa was Baa, it was decided that our Grandma would be Maa. (Baa and Maa rhyme, and sound like baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?)

There is a commonly held stereotype about only children. Some believe they grow up self-centered and selfish; this was not at all true of Mom. My mother was the most generous person I ever knew. She loved to share whatever little or much she had.

One of her former neighbors, and co-incidentally an LHS classmate of mine, Natalie Swartz, told me she wanted to go play Bingo, but didn’t have the money. Mom didn’t have much money back then either, but thought nothing of giving Natalie some money so that Natalie could go play bingo. Natalie said that my mother did this several times and that Natalie would win!

Once I mentioned to Mom about a divorced friend of mine who had three children, but hardly any money for Christmas gifts. Mom opened up her checkbook and wrote a check for $100.00 for me to send her. When Mom died, I had to (and, often, repeatedly) write to forty-plus different charities to ask them to stop asking her for money. We all knew she was an easy target. Mom just loved to give. There was absolutely nothing selfish about my mother.

Mom was an only child and Dad had only one sister. True, Mom was an Irish Catholic, and in her day, large families were expected of Irish Catholics, but Mom told me both she and Dad intended that their children would have lots of brothers and sisters.

As a child, Mom always wanted to share with siblings, but there weren’t any. (Maa, Mom’s mom, told me that she wasn’t able to have any more than one child.) Mom’s cousin, Jack Andrews, became her younger brother during childhood, and throughout her life, very close girl friends became her sisters. Mom said, much as she would have liked, this was never the same as having real blood brothers and sisters. Even in adulthood, Mom’s closest friends were women who became our aunts. (Aunt Helen, Aunt Corrine, Aunt Betty, etc.)

Dad and his only sister were never very close. They were too different. Dad was the favored child of the two. He could do no wrong, and his sister, Aunt Arlene, could do very little right in the eyes of their mother, our Grandma Ena. Mom and Dad both enjoyed a comfortable economic rearing, but when they married and had children, finances changed dramatically. Money-wise, resources withered.

One of my favorite stories about Mom happened when I was around nine or ten. It was a Saturday and I was sitting on our front porch. In those days, we had milk men and bread men who drove through the neighborhood, making deliveries and selling products from their trucks. The bread man stopped and

I ran inside to ask Mom for a dime. A dime could buy us both a donut. Mom worked nights