Remembrance

Often throughout my life I have been asked the question, "What was your childhood like, Maria?"  It never ceases that my answer is always preceded by a wistful smile, a teary twinge in my heart and an inexplicable longing.  In an instant I enter a frameless time capsule and immediately I'm transported to a time and place many years ago.
 
It's October 1959, I'm just starting 7th grade and fate has brought me to St. Agatha Home for Children along with my younger brothers Wilfredo and Rudy.  I don't know what I'm doing here except that I see my father, sister and a neighbor walking away and I soon realize we are being left in this strange room with these strange people.  I don't see my brothers Willie or Julio.  Where are they?  I think the word "shock" and "trauma" is what I am experiencing and I cling to my sister's legs for dear life and beg her not to leave me here.  I don't remember much else about this day and I don't think I really want to - I'd rather look somewhere else.

It's still 1959 but I'm now a 53 year old spectator from the year 2000 looking over Little Flower, Magnificat and Goretti - it's much easier to look at things from the distance of a lifetime.  I'm by the water tower watching a group of little girls playing in the courtyard, and the shy one with the long brown hair and big blue eyes looks awfully familiar.  I want to hug her and tell her I love her and that everything's going to be okay - that little girl is ME!  As I scan the courtyard with my adult eyes I notice that from this view I have peripheral vision and can see fine details I could not remember, see or understand before.

I see that there are hundreds of other scared little boys and girls of various ages living in units and cottages throughout the property.  They are just as perplexed as I am about why we are here.  For some reason the adults don't think it's necessary to explain - they really mean well.  The question foremost in our minds, "When am I going home?" never gets answered, so we play, we forget and after a while we no longer ask.

Blessed routine sets in, time goes by, and it looks like things will be alright after all.  I see the nuns in black and white habits with the cute little bonnets on their heads, the large rosary with the crucifix dangling at the end.  I even see Sister Barbara's short clean fingernails and the neat little bow just under her chin.  I realize now how young some of these Sisters are and how much work they have before them tending to the needs of so many needy children.

I see my hero, my anchor, Fr. Oliverio and the sweet gentle smile always available for each and every one of us.  The word "tender" is the love I feel from him.  He has a way of remembering all our names and birthdays and has a perpetual supply of milk and cookies for anyone who cares to stop by.  He is the closest to a true father figure many of us children will ever know.  St. Agatha is Father's first assignment and he's only 26 years old when he first comes here.

I see the chapel where I make my Confirmation, kiss the ring on the Bishop's hand, receive Holy Communion every Sunday, confess all my venial sins every Saturday and feel pretty confident I'm going to heaven someday (if I don't kiss any boys, that is!).  I hear the choir singing "kyrie eleison" with the harmonious blend of Alto and Soprano voices of Nidia Cancel and Patricia Newton raised above the rest.

I hear echoes of laughter and I see us taking trips to Rye Beach, Bear Mountain, Palisades Park, Radio City Music Hall, the World's Fair - the "coolest" of us always sit in the back of the bus and we truly believe we're the "in crowd." I see Ralph Cortez and I holding hands; Robert Hicks and Nidia Cancel dancing the Mash Potato at Seton Hall.  I can hear and see Olga Andino, Emily Morales, Vanessa Hicks, Carol Hetherington and myself harmonizing to “Chains, my baby's got me locked up in chains ...” we sound like angels.

I can hear Sr. Alexander saying, "Leave room for the Holy Ghost!" whenever we get together for dances at Seton Hall and how on New Year's she turns off the lights for just half a minute so we can sneak a hug or a peck from whoever we have a crush on at the time.  (Thank you, Sr. Alexander!)  I see my brother Willie riding his bike full speed down the path from Seton Hall and DePaul to the handball courts, at the risk of breaking his neck, just to impress the pretty girls, especially Carmen Sandoval who looks as beautiful as Sophia Loren.

I see my brother Wilfredo visiting me, his "big sister," at the high school girls building for Sunday lunch.  I feel very important when he visits.  I see my brother, Julio, dressed as John  the Baptist; Nolan Roman as Joseph; Gloria Tirado as the Angel Gabriel, and me as the Virgin Mary at the Christmas pageant.  I still know my lines!  "But how shall this be done when I know not man?"

A million more pictures and memories start racing before me, and my heart is filled with both joy and longing - to see you all again, to laugh and share stories, to meet each other's children and grandchildren, and most of all to know that you're all healthy and happy.  And to those of you who may not be happy or are going through changes, to let you know that we are here in spirit, we haven't forgotten you and that you will always be special to all of us.

Sadly we have lost several of our Agatha brothers and sisters and it's too late to say to them the things we are sharing in this newsletter.  We're all in our 40's, 50's and some already at or approaching our 60's - what better time in our lives to get together and reminisce, to look back and reflect, and let our children know what a huge and wonderful family we had and still have.

May this be a new beginning with new memories for each and every one of us, our children, grandchildren and significant others.  God bless you always and I hope to see you real soon!

MARIA AGOSTO (AgaLinks 2000)