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Listener Essay - Grandest Lady Suit

  Kathleen McCabe is retired from St. Peter's Hospital, where she was a Nursing Supervisor in Home Care. She lives in Guilderland.

Grandest Lady Suit

I have few pictures from my childhood, but a particular one that I do possess is one of me at age three and a half, dressed in my little red suit. I am standing on the front stoop of the home in which I grew up, located in central Troy. I know my age in the photo because written on the back, in my father’s very neat script is: Kit, Easter 1947.

It looks somewhat posed as I stand with my hands at waist level, one resting on top of the other. My hair was fine and there is a small ribbon in it, which Mom may have placed to go with the grandeur of the holy day. I am smiling brightly and look quite happy. My suit has a pleated skirt and trim jacket revealing at its neckline the ruffled collar of my blouse beneath. Though the photograph is black and white, I remember the outfit and its red color quite well. Perhaps, because my father called this my grandest lady suit and seeing his neat handwriting on the back of the picture are among the reasons that I cherish this particular photo.

Studying this image sets a stream of memories flowing. The house, the old neighborhood, amazement at Mom’s energy and ability to do so many things, among them her pride at dressing us nicely and Dad’s working in such unison with her-these are among the happy moments recalled.

I was the fourth child born to Mom and Dad and it would have been close to the date that this picture was taken when their next child, another daughter was born. My parents named her Sheila. I can remember riding in the car with Dad to St. Joseph’s Maternity Hospital in South Troy on the day he went to take Mom and my new sister home. I see myself as I stood on the front seat looking into the back seat where my mother was sitting, cradling Sheila gently in her arms. Fascinated at the tiny features of this newly arrived creature I can recall being awe struck and saying “she has such an iddy biddy nose.” This may actually be one of my first clear childhood memories.

Over the five years that followed, four more daughters were born, with the last birth bringing fraternal twins. And since I already had three older siblings, the twins rounded off the number of children to nine, seven girls and two boys. Needless to say, my parents were devout Irish Catholics who believed that they were following God’s plan. They were both fully committed and joyful in the work of parenting.

The girls born after Sheila were Sarah and Susan and over the years this trio was often referred to as the three S’s. Mary and Margaret were the twins. Since Sheila was actually the middle child, I cannot claim any trauma for being in that position in birth order. Nor can she, as she is a happily functioning adult. I credit all nine of our evolutions to the values instilled in us by Mom and Dad.

It seems remarkable to me that studying a photograph can bring about so many memories. Perhaps the most precious of these is that of my father, who had the ability to make each one of his children feel special. He had no favorites, and loved us equally. Yet he possessed a gift where when he was engaged with you, whether it be while Tobogganing in Frear Park, or saying good night at bedtime, you felt like you were unequalled. I am sure that it was he who took this photo, and lovingly wrote its inscription on the back, thus capturing the joy of that Easter day so many years ago.

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