Happy Birthday to Jimmy Fenton Coughlin!

My brother Jim chose to be born in the absolute depths of winter 54 years ago today. I can't locate the weather data for that day--but it probably was brutally cold. Cleveland's record cold temperature was on Jim's birthday in 1994, -20 degrees (the high was -3!). When Jim was days over 4 years old, January 24, 1963, Denny and I took him and his 7-year-old brother Kevin for a long long walk, down East 272nd in Euclid, then over the I-90-Rt. 2 Wickliffe spur (which was still under construction), to Fairway Discount Depatrment Store--a cheap-ass department store on Lakeland Boulevard in Euclid. At that point we got scared that we were going to kill Jimmy (and Kevin too!) if we walked them back home. So we begged a dime and called my Dad and asked him to pick us up. That day 50 years ago, the low temperature was -19 and the high was 1. In 1985 on January 20th, the high was -5 and the low was -18.

To sum up, Jim's birthday is usually the darkest  snowiest, most miserable day of the year. And Jim always brings his great humor, kindness, and goodness to light up and warm up the day!

Pictures of Mom, from 1940 to about 2000

Today would be my Mom's 88th birthday. My brother Kevin sent me these photos of Mom spanning almost 60 years. At the top, Mom and Kevin's visit to Ireland in the late 1990s; then Mom with Mary Ellen and Jimmy in the early 1960s in Euclid; next is Mom and Dad on their wedding day, August of 1947, in Willoughby; and finally, Mom with her brothers Skip (Fenton) and Don Fitzpatrick, circa 1940 in Cleveland (probably at Tarrymore Drive, off of Neff Road, near Lake Erie).

Baseball, Family, and Jesus: Coughlin's of 1960's

The above photo, scanned and sent to me by my brother Kevin, shows what life was like in my house and in my neighborhood in the early 1960's. Top left and clockwise, Buster Zylowski, Denny Coughlin, Kevin Coughlin, Jackie Zylowski, Mary Ellen Coughlin, and fine baseball player, Bobby Coughlin. The Sacred Heart of Jesus looks over it all. Tag-team wrestling probably broke out right after this photo was taken.

Strawberry Lane Adventure, 1963

The cold winter of 1962-63 was a great one for misadventures. In late January, on the coldest day in Cleveland history, Denny and I took our little brothers, Kev, about 6 years old at the time, and Jim, about 4, on a long walk that took us over the I-90/ Rt.2 "Euclid Spur," which was then under construction, over to a cheap-arse discount store called "Fairway Discount Department Store," on Lakeland Boulevard. Well we discovered that you shouldn't be taking out a four-year-old and a six-year-old on such a long walk when it's 18 below zero. Dad had to rescue his little ones, Jim and Kev, and the older brothers, Bobby and Denny, who should have known better.

Not long after that, Denny, Buster Zylowski, Kenny Z, and I walked the new freeway-under-construction from behind Forest Park Junior High up to SOM Center Road, then south on SOM to North Chagrin Reservation, Strawberry Lake Pond to be exact. The route we took was about 7 to 9 miles in length, and we walked that distance through the ice and snow. When we got to Strawberry Lane we skated on the pond and when tired of that went over to the shelter house. It must have been Buster's idea (with help from Denny!) to build a fire--a big fire. We set our rubberized shoe-boots near the fire to dry out. It wasn't long before we could smell the rubber burning and melting. The shoes were pretty much ruined by the tremendous heat of the roaring fire. A guy in the shelter house offered to drive us back to Euclid, saving us from a 2 1/2 hour walk in melted boots.

When we finally got home, Dad wasn't there. When it got dark he jumped into his car and headed to Strawberry Lane to find us. When he got there, the Willoughby Hills Fire Department seemed to be working at the pond around a hole in the ice. My Dad's heart sunk as he thought the firemen were retrieving his sons' bodies from under the ice. Dad approached the firemen and asked them what was going on. No, they were not there to retrieve bodies that had fallen through the ice. They were adding a layer of fresh water on top of the ice to smoothe it out. Relieved, Dad jumped back into his car and headed home--hoping his boys had made it back.

When he got home, Dad was both happy and angry at the same time. Happy to see us alive; angry that we had caused him so much grief. Such was my dad's life with four boys!

Jack Pendergast's Funeral at Arlington National Cemetery

[Photos: top, the piper who played a slow tune after the military burial ceremony; middle, a view of the graves at Arlington National Cemetery; bottom, the caisson, pulled by 6 white horses in the procession from the chapel to the burial site.]

This past Wednesday, my daughter Carolan, my brother Kevin, and I drove down from the Cleveland area to Washington, D.C. for the funeral of my cousin Jack Pendergast at Arlington National Cemetery. Jack died in early August, but there is a long delay for burial at our nation's most famous cemetery.

The ride on the Ohio and Pennsylvania turnpikes was beautiful. We exited the Pennsy Pike at Breezewood, and drove through the beautiful hills and mountains of northern Maryland--the hills dressed in their peak fall glory--to our motel in Alexandria, Virginia. I'm pretty sure my old Notre Dame-St. Mary's friend Rene Mirro lives in Alexandria; and I believe my new friend, Jim Sell, lives near there too. Jim is working on a memorial at Gonzaga High School for Steve Shields, my Notre Dame-Innsbruck buddy shot down in Vietnam in 1972. Unfortunately there was no time to visit with Rene or Jim.

We did get to wander around the old town and the Potomac riverside area of Alexandria Wednesday night. Everything there is so different from Cleveland. The area is very busy, very prosperous. Hundreds of people were out and about that night. Stores, boutiques, and restaurants were all busy. The city is dense, traffic is heavy, and there's an air of excitement in the air. All of this contrasts with current-day Cleveland!

In the morning we drove to Arlington National Cemetery and had quite an adventure just trying to get to the Old Post Chapel at Fort Myer--just outside the gates to the Cemetery. The problem apparently involved security clearance and we were forced to drive several miles to a special gate where we and our vehicle could be searched. The delay made us almost late for the funeral mass.

The chapel is quite simple and is certainly used for many different faiths. This would be a funeral mass, celebrated by Fr. O'Brien (I think that was his name), probably a family friend of Vicki and Jack Pendergast. I did recognize some faces in the congregation--Vicki Pendergast; and two Hogan relatives who had come from San Diego (Nancy Hogan Acevedo and Kay Hogan Love). I had seen their photos previously, sent to me by my brother Denny and his wife Sher. I'm sure Den and Sher wish they could have attended this funeral!

When the mass was over, the military procession to the burial site began. There was a military band, a caisson pulled by 6 white horses, and a number of soldiers or airmen in the procession. The march to the burial site was quite long, through the winding roads of this incredibly beautiful and holy place.

The burial involved Catholic prayers, songs played by the military band, taps, a 21-gun salute, and the folding of the flag draping the coffin and handing it to Vicki Pendergast. Everything was done with utmost care and respect. The ceremony was very beautiful, very moving. When this part of the ceremony was done, a piper dressed in kilts played a slow tune ("Going Home," I believe).

Three important aspects of Jack's life were honored at the burial: his Catholic religious heritage; his military career of 27 years in the Air Force; and his commitment to his Irish heritage.

After the burial I introduced myself to Vicki and she remembered me from my visit of 4 years ago or so when I met her and Jack for lunch in Baltimore. I then met Dan and Kay, the children of Jack and Vicki. I also said hello to Nancy and met Dan's wife.

Following the burial there was to be a kind of reception/Irish wake at the Dubliner Pub in Washington, D.C. It took Kevin, Carolan, and me a long time to get to the pub because of our inexperience in navigating the Metro subway system. So unfortunately we were late in arriving and I think we missed some eulogies. I'm very sorry that we missed that. We did arrive in time for some Guinness and food and to meet many of Jack's friends and relatives.

At the wake I was able to talk a bit with Dan and Kay Pendergast. Dan and I discovered we attended Ohio State University the same years. In fact, Linda worked at the Horticulture College when Dan was a student there! And Kay attended Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, where my daughter Julia also went to college. I also discovered Vicki was from Reynoldsburg, Ohio, just outside Columbus, and Jack was stationed for a while in Ohio.

We met so many people at the wake my head was spinning and I couldn't keep all the names and relationships straight. We met a Mr. Smith from outside Dayton (Springboro, I think). I found out he is a professional golfer; I told him I was the worst golfer in the world! He attended Ohio University and lived in Reed Hall (and his son is currently at OU and in Reed Hall). My daughters Carolan and Emily both attended OU, and Carolan lived in Reed, and Emily, who's still at OU, lived right next door to Reed.

I also met two other Hogan men. One lives in Aurora or Auburn, New York, where the Coughlin family settled after emigrating from West County Cork, Ireland. This Hogan was surprised the way I pronounced "Coughlin" --as /COG-lin/. He said he pronounced it /COCK-lin/, which is much closer to the Irish pronunciation and the pronunciation of my father and grandfather. I also met another Hogan man, who, I think, lived in the South. I believe his name is Ed. I'm sorry I couldn't keep all these names straight!

After the wake ended at the Dubliner Pub, Carolan, Kevin, and I walked up to the Capitol and then the length of the Mall, stopping at the World War II memorial (which I think of as a memorial to my Dad, my uncles, and to my father-in-law, Art Sanders). Then on to the Vietnam Memorial. We found the etchings of Tommy Fitzpatrick, my cousin, who died there in 1969; Ray ("Buddy") Chasser, St. William's and St. Joe's classmate, who died there in 1967; and my Notre Dame/Innsbruck classmate, Steve Shields, who died in Vietnam in 1972. We rubbed our hands over the etchings of their names and said a prayer for them and for us.

All in all, the funeral and the events surrounding it were moving experiences that we will never forget.

Welcome to a New Coughlin! Ryan and Nellie's Baby Girl

My brother Kevin's son Ryan, and Ryan's wife Nellie, have brought a new baby into the world: Margaret (Maggie) Jean Coughlin, a 7 lb. 6 ounce beauty. "Margaret" was the name of my mother (Ryan's grandmother). My mother helped take care of Kev's boys, Ryan, Tommy, and Cody, the last years of her life (a great blessing both for my Mom and for Kev's boys). What a wonderful thing that Ryan and Nellie named their baby after Mom. I hope Baby Maggie has the spirit of her Great Grandmother!

May 20th, 1956: First Communion

On my wedding day, I told Linda, "This is the second happiest day of my life!" Linda was a bit startled by that remark, to say the least. "What was the happiest?" she asked.

The happiest day of my life was my First Holy Communion, which took place at St. William's Church, Euclid, Ohio, on May 20th, 1956. I was at the end of second grade. We had huge classes at St. William's, almost 60 kids per class. There were two second-grade classes at St. William's and probably another 100 kids from Upson School, the nearby public school, all making their First Communion that day. The boys and the girls were in line separately, and since I was one of the shorter boys, I was near the front, fourth in line. Randy Wohlgemuth was my partner that day. The boys were dressed very smartly, but nothing like the girls. They were dressed in beautiful white gowns, with white veils, and white gloves on their hands. They looked like little brides.

I think Sister Ruth Marie Behrend and probably my second grade teacher, Mrs. Bartrum, among others, helped prepare us for First Communion. And an entire convent of Ursuline nuns prayed that we would have a fine May day for the event. My cousin Tommy Fitzpatrick also made his First Communion that day at St. William's (Tommy would die in another springtime, thirteen years later and 12,000 miles away in Vietnam).

Father John Flemming celebrated the mass (the ancient and beautiful Tridentine Mass, almost totally in Latin). At the Preface, he sang out, in Gregorian Chant, the ancient prayers: "Per omnia saecula saeculorum . . . . Dominus vobiscum." And then proceeded with the Preface chanted in Fr. Flemming's beautiful Irish tenor. A little later, Fr. Flemming sang the Pater Noster and then moved on to the "Domine non sum dignus . . . ." and we would strike our breast as we said, "O Lord I am not worthy," three times, in Latin. And then it was time. Lines of boys on the rights side of the church and girls on the left proceeded to the communion rail. And Fr. Flemming proceeded to give us the transformed bread, the Body of Chirst, as we stuck out our tongues, the golden patent placed under our chins by the altar boy, and a sentence of Latin spoken very quickly by the priest.

I was in stark terror as I awaited the reception of the Creator of the Universe. My heartbeat was surely visible through my white shirt. My hands sweated. I was almost swooning from vertigo. And then the host was on my tongue. Following Sr. Ruth Marie's instructions, I silently said, "My Lord and My God," then proceeded back to my pew. I closed my eyes as I knelt down and wept for this wondrous gift.


My First Communion took place 10 days after the birth of my brother, Kevin Gerard. That middle name came from the patron saint of difficult births (and difficult kids!). Kev almost spoiled my First Communion party by being the star of the show! But we still had a great time. All the neighbors, aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. Denny and Mary Ellen were there (only Jimmy didn't show up! He was born a couple years later). My Gramma and Grampa Coughlin were there. The grownups drank beer, laughed, and told stories, and we kids drank "Little Toms" and played tag, keep-away, and baseball--a perfect party in Euclid in the halcyon days of being a kid!

And that was the happiest day of my life!