Mary, my Go-fer angel

My sister-in-law, Mary Pozdro, would have been 100 years old on May 4th. At the luncheon following her memorial in 2017, I told this story, and thought it’d be nice to share again on her centennial:

The first time my folks heard of Mary Kosec was very early one morning, when my brother Herb came home from a date with Mary, woke them up, and announced he was engaged.

Mom said he was excited and happy.  He was going to be married.  Mom and Pop went into shock.

I was nine years old when I met Mary.  She had blonde, shoulder-length hair, and bright red lipstick and matching nails.  She was very pretty.  I thought she could have been a movie star.

Herb and Mary were married in 1940 and settled in a 4-room apartment at 1703 Vine Street, just two blocks from where my family lived.  Herb worked for the Tribune, and Mary was a keypunch operator at Montgomery Ward.  In July of 1942 Herb, Jr was born.

In 1943, during World War II, Herb enlisted in the Navy.  After basic training he was stationed in the South Pacific until the end of the war.  Mary continued to live on Vine Street with Herbie.  They joined us for dinner every day.  We were happy to have them.  We all needed each other.

In August of 1944 I became very ill, and required round-the-clock care.  Mom couldn’t leave the house, and my dad was working a 12-hour shift at a defense plant.  We desperately needed someone to run errands, shop for groceries and prescriptions, and sometimes stand in long lines waiting to buy scarce items.  Mary willingly took over for us.

For eight months she carried our ration books, made the purchases, and lugged home tons of groceries, and whatever else we needed.  While Mary ran the errands, Herb Jr stayed with us.  He brought his toys and puzzles onto my bed, and sometimes napped beside me.  He was a distraction we all needed.

Now, fast-forward to the Saturday before Mary died.  Herb and I visited her that day.  She was seated with a group of women, and when she saw us she smiled.  I said, "Mary, it’s Bernice."  She said, "I know," as if I’d been there just a few minutes before.

Herb and I looked at each other and noted she was having a better day than usual.  She was connecting.  She was "with us."

This was the perfect time to remind her of 1944— tell her how important she was in our lives.  She heard this from me before, but it was most important for her to hear it again, that day, that moment.

I wanted Mary to know that we appreciated her shopping and managing the ration books, buying everything we needed, and lugging it home in all kinds of weather.  This was the opportune time for her to hear how grateful we were to have her in our lives, and that we loved her.

When I got to the end of my story, I asked Mary, "Do you know what I called you then?"  No, she said.  I called you our "Go-fer angel."  "Mary, would you Go-fer groceries tomorrow?  Mary, would you Go-fer this; Go-fer that; whatever?"  Mary Go-ferred for many months, until things got better, and Mom could leave the house.

Before Herb and I left that day, I kissed Mary and said, "I love you."  She answered me the same as always, "Me, too."

Mary died four days later.

I wonder.  When Saint Peter opened the gates for Mary, did he say "Welcome, Mary Pozdro.  Please sign the register."  

Or, then again, he may have said, "Welcome, Go-fer Angel.  We heard about you in 1944."

"We always have room for another angel here."

I love and miss you, Mary!

Put it on tick

When I was five or six years old, Mom began to let me cross Burling Street on my own, while she made sure no cars were coming. 

I wanted to go to Mr. Diener’s grocery store across the street.  Sometimes I bought a large-scoop ice cream cone, or a small serving of three-flavor sherbet, at two cents.  It came in a paper cup with a small wooden paddle, and it melted before you needed the paddle.  While I waited in line for my cone, Mr. Diener gave a bag of groceries to a lady in front of me, and she asked, “Can I put it on tick?”  He nodded yes and took a small black book from a drawer and wrote down some numbers.

What did “put it on tick” mean?  I had no idea.  Maybe she got her groceries free.  Outside, I asked Mom, and she said that sometimes folks don’t have enough money to pay for their groceries when they buy them, so Mr. Diener writes down what they owe, and when they have money, they pay their bill.  It made sense to me, and then I just forgot about it.

My family was fortunate.  My Dad had a full-time job during the great depression, and I wasn’t aware of money problems that other families may have had.  Instead of “put it on tick,” today we have “charge it” with our credit cards.

Just one of God's miracles

April 6th: My hummingbirds will be here any day now, so this morning I made a quart of nectar for their feeding station. They visit here from early April to the first week or so of October, usually. They’re my very favorite birds to watch, especially when they hover. They’re territorial — non-family-members fight for the right to sip from the station.

I hope they still know my address!

Lemonade stands

Dave knew, after some 50 years of marriage, that if some kids had a lemonade stand set up on a hot summer day, we had to stop and make a purchase. It was in my genes, and he knew it. You bet he knew it! To see the happy faces as the car slowed, and the windows rolled down, and the kids realized there may be a sale… that made it worth stopping. We usually bought two drinks and told the kids to keep the change.

Back in the 30's, I was that little kid selling Mom’s lemonade — lemons, sugar, water, and ice — real lemonade. My biggest thrill was Chris Oeser, our neighbor (who’s in the book), buying two drinks and slugging them down as fast as he could.

FYI, Dave and I never drank a lemonade we bought from the kids; after a short drive, we poured it out. Never knew where those little hands had been…

New online store for Burling Street Girl purchases

Hi, everyone—

We’re glad to announce that we finally have our Burling Street Girl online store up and running!

Amazon we ain’t, but if you like the convenience of shopping online, you can now order BSG quickly and securely with your credit card, and your order will be automatically confirmed and tracked by email. Of course, you can still pay by check if you prefer — just use Bernice’s Contact page to write a note letting us know your order and shipping address. We’ll respond with the amount and the mailing address for your check.

Either way, we’re delighted to have your orders and grateful for so many kind words. Thank you!

Warm wishes,

Bernice and John

Amy's dream

A few days ago, Amy, a dear lady of a certain age, dropped in for a short visit. She came to buy a copy of BURLING STREET GIRL, a gift for her hairdresser, who feels she may want to write a book. Amy thought BSG might spur her on.

As ladies will do, we talked about what’s happening in our lives, things we’d like to accomplish, and at one point she said, “You’ll think I’m crazy when I tell what I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl. I've always wanted to take dancing lessons.” We both laughed. In no way did I think she was crazy, not this lady. I thought, why not? Well, as we talked, Amy told me she was enrolled in a dance studio and had already taken two lessons. Probably had lesson #3 by now. I think it’s great that Amy’s finally following a dream that began when she was a kid.

Amy, whether you stop at two lessons or go on for lots more, you’ve opened a door and let another chapter of life come in. Go, girl!

By the way, Amy is 91 years old.

In the beginning...

When I began writing stories about my early childhood, I had no idea they would end up in book form. Originally, I intended to print out a dozen or so stories, staple them in a folder, and give them to family and close friends; a sampling of my life during the 1930’s and 1940’s. I began writing in 2015, my stories accumulated beyond my wildest imagination, and became a book: BURLING STREET GIRL.

Since we published BSG, I’ve heard “I’ve been thinking of writing a book” many times. I’m not an expert, not a teacher, and have no background in writing. Once the idea of a book began, I did a little background reading. While I was writing every day, I checked out articles on the internet and purchased an e-book on how to write a memoir, and I believed that helped me a great deal.

I altered my writing just a bit, and began describing a scene for each story and the people involved, in more detail. I used the old standby— who, what, when, where, and why— as a guide. A thesaurus was always within hand’s reach. I needed all the help I could get.

I hoped the reader would become the “fly on the wall,” a witness to what was taking place in my life and those around me. If I succeeded in that, I’m a happy camper.

There will be more blog entries to come on how I wrote the book.