Happy Birthday O Carolan!

Carolan giving Linda a birthday present. Brian Homan on left (July 6, 2013).

Our wonderful daughter Carolan Ruth turned 28 yesterday. That hardly seems possible because Linda and I hold the memories of her birth and her childhood so fresh in our hearts.

The story of her birth seems almost mythological in our family (I am admittedly one of the chief mythologizers). It was July 14th and we were ready for this baby to be born. I love names and had been thinking about all sorts of possibilities. If the baby were to be a boy, I thought about "Giovanni Francesco," which was the name of St. Francis of Assisi, my favorite saint. The English version of that would be "John Francis," the name of my Grampa FitzPatrick, who died when I was one year old in 1949. I didn't think we would have another girl, but if we did I thought about the name "Carmen." To me it was a great name for a dark-featured beauty (our first child, Julia, had dark complexion, dark brown hair, and brown eyes--"Black Irish," we figured). Also, this baby was due around the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, July 16th. "Carmen" was close to "Carmel." Also in mind was an Irish singer I had heard on television years before, Carmel Quinn. I always liked her name. So this baby might get the moniker "Carmen."

When Linda started into labor on July 14th, we headed to Central Baptist Hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, some 45 miles from our home in Berea, KY. To our astonishment (after our first child we felt like old pros!), the labor didn't progress and the doctors sent us home. This was a little discouraging. The next evening, the labor began again and this time we were pretty sure so we packed up and headed to Central Baptist again. We arrived there around midnight. Linda was in serious labor quickly. Somewhere around 4 in the morning, the doctors spotted meconium and they went into what seemed to us a panic. Their seriousness--the sudden change from relaxed joking and talk to serious work--scared us. They wheeled Linda in her hospital birthing room bed directly into what seemed to be an operating room. Then things happened fast! And a little baby girl was born around 4:30 in the morning on July 16th, the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. But as we looked at this new baby, we knew right away this was no "Carmen." This kid had pale skin and red hair (that stuck straight up!). You couldn't find a kid who looked less like her older sister. We would have to rethink this baby's name.

The next day someone congratulated us on the birth of "Carmen." I had to tell her that this new person's name was not going to be Carmen. Her name would be "Carolan Ruth Sanders Coughlin." "Ruth" was her maternal grandmother's name. "Sanders" was her mother's surname. And "Carolan" was the name of the great Irish harp player and composer who lived from 1670 to 1738. O'Carolan was a blind harper and composer of some of the greatest, most timeless tunes ever created (my favorite being "Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór").

Very shortly after Carolan was born, she was put into Linda's arms. Linda, who had no medicine, no anesthetic for the birth, was wide awake and full of energy. Linda wanted to call her family and friends and tell of the wonderful news. I had to tell her that no one else in the world was awake yet and that we'd have to wait a couple hours before spreading the word.#


Carolan is a happy kid, very bright, a hell of a lot of fun. She shares her joy with everyone, family and friends alike. She reminds me of Kenny Przybylski in that regard. We thank the Lord for Carolan!

Shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes in Euclid, Ohio

On Chardon Road (US Route 6) hill, just south of Euclid Avenue (US Route 20), in the City of Euclid, Ohio, there is a most holy place--the Shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes. I attend mass there in the summer, and today was the opening mass of the season. The mass begins at 9:30 sharp (sometimes even a couple minutes early!) at the bluestone grotto, a replica of the grotto cave in Lourdes, France. The cave (or grotto) is made from Euclid bluestone, quarried about a mile from the shrine by Irish, Hungarian, Slovenian, and other immigrants--including my own great grandfather, Fenton Fitzpatrick. There is a similar replica grotto at the University of Notre Dame--another very holy place. A priest-professor from Borromeo Seminary said the mass as a couple hundred lay people joined in the celebration. The world's strangest choir led the singing, as usual. Today the temperature was in the mid 60's and the sky was overcast, windy, and threatened rain. I think these conditions hurried the celebrant along a bit. It was a typical yet beautiful mass in this holy place. Lake Erie can be seen a few miles to the north of the Shrine, and the street noise and sometimes sirens and train whistles of busy Euclid, Ohio can often be heard. But the beauty, sanctity, and absolute specialness of this place is clear to everyone in attendance.

After mass, Linda, Emily, and I lit some candles and especially remembered Ruth Hoffman Sanders, my mother-in-law who died 2 years ago yesterday. Ruth was a tremendous person, a force of nature. Intelligent, passionate, a great mother, housewife, cook, family manager, motivator. She lived intensely right up to her sudden passing. We still haven't quite gotten over it. May she rest in peace and be brought into Heaven. And may she pray for all of us! We also prayed for my father-in-law, Ruth's husband Art Sanders. A sweet and kind man, great father and provider. Art died in April of 1996. Like my own Dad, he spent 4 years in the US Navy in the South Pacific during World War II. Ruth and Art had 5 children--and I married their first child (and prettiest)--Linda Rose.

We also lit candles for my Mom and Dad. Dad (Robert P. Coughlin) would turn 87 years old this coming Tuesday if he were still alive. Dad was the discoverer of the Shrine, and he and I used to help out there many years ago (I remember when we helped cut down a gigantic tree on the Shrine property in the early 1960's). A funny memory: Dad truly believed that the Shrine's spring water was a healing force. He drank as much of it as he could. Mom would save some of this water to sprinkle around the house when storms threatened

We also said prayers and lit candles for our immediate family and for our extended family, especially for those who are ill, like Jack Pendergast.

The Good Lord will bring safety, peace, health, and protection to those we prayed for. Prayers do not go unanswered.

Farewell to the Christmas Season; Baptism of Carolan

Yesterday, with the celebration of the Baptism of Jesus, the official Christmas Season of the Catholic Church ended. The theme of baptism makes me think of something humorous that happened at the baptism of my daughter Carolan (who is now 23 years old). A few weeks before Carolan was baptized, she had a severe cold and was having some trouble breathing. It probably was no big deal, but it frightened me and I thought about my early religious training about Baptism and Original Sin. I thought to myself: What if Carolan dies before she's baptized? She would spend eternity in Limbo, unable to ever get into Heaven.

You'd think I would know better. These thoughts went against my basic belief in the goodness of God. Anyway, here is what I did. Remembering that any Christian could baptize, I took a cup of water, poured it over Carolan's head, and said, "Carolan, I baptize thee, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." No one saw this baptism: it was between me and Carolan and God.

Weeks later we came to the church baptism of Carolan. We had this wonderful priest at St. Clare's in Berea, Kentucky. His name escapes me right now, but I remember he was 6 foot 10 inches tall, probably one of the tallest priests in the world. Oddly, before the ceremony, Father asked me if Carolan had ever been baptized. I have no idea why he asked that; I've never seen that question posed before. I gulped, and fessed up my story about worrying about Carolan's health and surreptitiously baptizing her myself. So when it came time for the public church baptism, the priest said, in an aside whisper, "If you are not already baptized . . ." And then the priest continued in his loud, public voice, "I baptize you, Carolan Ruth, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

Another wonderful feature of that baptism is that my friend (and former priest) Guy Patrick, one of the world's great human beings, sang with me a beautiful song from Fiddler on the Roof during the ceremony, "May the Lord Protect and Defend You." (Here's a link to the lyrics: http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/fiddlerontheroof/sabbathprayer.htm). One great line from that song is "May you be like Ruth and like Esther." This line was especially poignant, because Carolan's Grandmother, Ruth Sanders, was in the congregation. We deeply miss Grandma Sanders, who died so suddenly in the spring of 2007.

Here is a poem for Christmas, which we now say goodbye to. The poem was written by a great Notre Dame professor (and renowned drunk, alas), Frank O'Malley--a man so graced and so flawed:


Let the Christbrand Burst!

Let the Christbrand burst!
Let the Christbrand blazon!
Dartle whitely under the hearth-fire,
Unwind the wind, turn the thunderer,
And never, never thinning,
Forfend fear.
Flare up smartly, fix, flex, bless, inspire,
Instar the time, sear the sorcerer,
And never, never sparing,
Save all year.

Let the Christbrand Burst!
Let the Christbrand blazon!

Frank O’Malley
University of Notre Dame

November: Mine Field of the Heart

"I don't think there's any point in being Irish if you don't know the world is going to break your heart eventually." These words have been attributed to John F. Kennedy. Another possibility is that they were the words of Daniel Patrick Moynihan, after Jack Kennedy was murdered. Whatever the origin, the words are true enough. And it's not just the Irish whose hearts are broken by the world (it's just that maybe we have written about it more poetically, more eloquently). November is a month that will break the heart in my family, break it from joy and from sorrow.

November 10th marks the birthday of my mother, Margaret Ann Fitzpatrick Coughlin--born in Cleveland in 1923. Come December 8th, she will be gone five years, and we her children still mourn her passing.

November 13th is the birthday of my sister, Mary Ellen Coughlin Zaremba. Born on Friday the 13th in 1953--a lucky day indeed for her large family and many friends.

November 14th is the birthday of my mother-in-law, Ruth Hoffman Sanders, born in Cincinnati in 1924. Gone a year-and-a-half now, this force of nature is deeply missed.

And November 14th is also the birthday of my Uncle Bill Coughlin, born the same year as my Mom, 1923. Uncle Bill and Aunt Kay are two of the great people on the face of the earth. Bill was probably my Dad's best friend. He is vital, fun, and a tremendous loving parent and grandparent. Aunt Kay is his partner in crime (for probably the past 60 years!). An amazing woman, full of spunk and energy, the original multi-tasker. Aunt Kay can crochet an afghan, talk on the phone, and organize her family matters all at the same time, blindfolded, with one hand tied behind her back!

Happy Birthday, Mom, Mary Ellen, Ruth, and Bill!

Ruth Sanders, Requiescat in Pace

Tomorrow is the first anniversary of the death of Ruth Sanders, my mother-in-law. The death certificate and other documents say she died on May 24, 2007, but we know that her death happened on May 23, but wasn't officially certified till early in the morning on May 24th. Ruth apparently had a sudden and massive stroke and died very quickly. Linda and Marianne had been calling her all evening, and we grew ever more worried that something was wrong. Finally, Marianne and Todd went over to her house late on Wednesday, May 23rd, and found her deceased.

Everyone given the precious gift of life has to die. But sometimes the death is stunningly sudden and unexpected. The odd thing is that you can be 100 years old, and yet your death will be perceived by some of your family and friends as unexpected. Ruth was 82 years old, with some minor physical complaints, but still very sharp and very vigorous. In fact, she was indefatigable, a force of nature.

Ruth had been married for about 46 years to Art Sanders, who died in April of 1996. They had 5 children, Linda, Steve, Bruce, Marianne, and Paul. She devoted most of her adult life to homemaking and raising her children. Who was better at this than Ruth Sanders? Her five children and thirteen grandchildren are all extraordinary, productive, loving people, and that is to no small extent the fruit of Ruth's (and Art's!) efforts.

Ruth was extremely intelligent, disciplined, and hard-working. You might say she was a bit stubborn, too. But stubbornness is often a virtue that the best and most accomplished people possess (I think of Maurice McCrackin, Ernest Bromley, Marion Bromley, James Ricalton, Daniel Berrigan--the likes of them!).

When you lose your father and then your mother (or your father-in-law and your mother-in-law), you feel like an orphan. And it doesn't matter how old you are. We felt orphaned when Ruth Sanders died a year ago.

Ruth Sanders: An amazing person, a force of nature, one who took the vocation of homemaker and motherhood to the highest levels, to the level of Art. Requiescat in Pace.

[The photos above were taken in the park at Put-in-Bay, Ohio (South Bass Island), in June 2002 and show Ruth, Linda, and Emily. Ruth accompanied us often to Lakeside and Put-in-Bay.]

Where Are They? People In and Out of Our Lives

People move in and out of our lives all the time, and sometimes it is very painful. Think about the huge losses when family members and friends die! I think about my Mom, my Dad, my mother-in-law, Ruth Sanders, my father-in-law, Art Sanders, my Gramma, Cora Bowers Coughlin, and so many uncles and aunts. Then there are my cousins, Tommy Fitzpatrick, killed in Vietnam in 1969; and his brother Jack, murdered while waiting in line with his children to see Santa Claus in 1971; and Tim Coughlin, dying early from brain cancer. And there have been friends: Kenny Przybylski, Jack Shereda, Chuck Matthei, Ernest and Marion Bromley, Maurice McCrackin, Steve Shields (Vietnam 1972), and others.

My Gramma Coughlin and her sister Edna Bowers Rosenfelder lived into their nineties, and by the end had lost so many people. Gramma even buried 2 of her own children: Fran ("Connie") and Jack. Mom lost her own mother when she was 16, and then lost her twin brothers, Dick and Don Fitzpatrick, when she was in her 30's. My family has accepted death, and they have never been destroyed by it--but that doesn't mean it isn't always hard! [Next blog entry will be on people still living who have moved in and out of our lives.]