I was a little surprised that Monday moved along like a regular day. My family had some posts noting that Mom had passed away twenty years ago on that day, but we still went to work and enjoyed meals and did regular Monday stuff. Certainly, I thought about Mom frequently, but not in the teary-eyed, miss her sort of way. It was more about appreciating the people around me and how they contributed to the happiness in my life. Because Mom enjoyed people, I thought that perhaps I could use that part of her spitfire personality to enjoy the little things. 

So, Monday came and Monday went and twenty years without Mom’s physical presence passed by in a blur of regularity. But let’s get back to the past. We left the story with the birth of Tom, child number four, but somehow an only child (if only in his eyes). 

Here, Mom is clearly pregnant with child number five, Teresa. Dad is still wondering what is going on. 

And now, Teresa is on the scene. Just so you can keep up, here is the order of people in the picture: Dad, Tom, Jeanne, John, Mom, Teresa, and Debbie. In this grouping, there are two sets of Irish twins (kiddos born in less than a year). Jeannie and John (numbers two and three) are Irish twins by two days. Tom and Teresa (numbers four and five) are Irish twins by a month, as Teresa jumped the September birthday train and was born August 28. Just to cover the timeline, Mom and Dad were married in September 1955. Debbie, Jeannie, John, and Tom were each born in successive Septembers. Teresa was born in August 1960, before their fifth wedding anniversary. 

I included this picture for a couple of reasons. First, it’s the biggest break between kids in the top seven. Between Teresa and Sharon (numbers five and six), Mom must have paused to take a breath, because they are about twenty months apart. Also, Dad is smoking, a habit he quit sometime before I was even on the scene. Finally, I find it infinitely interesting that barbed wire is used on a fence surrounding a pool. Maybe everyone in this Philadelphia neighborhood had bunches of kids, so they had to keep them in the pool area. Both my parents were born and raised in Philadelphia, so at this point, they live there. 

I have no idea if this park is near the pool in the earlier photo, but the barbed wire is back, now facing out. Earlier versions of security around children were definitely different than now. This is a Murray family reunion. Murray is Mom’s maiden name. The numbers were still building, but there would eventually be 52 grandkids from the original seven siblings in Mom’s family. Uncle Francis is a Catholic monk, so those 52 came from six siblings. 

Finally, Sharon arrived on the scene in early May 1962. And then there were six, with Debbie being just five years old. Well, five and a half. 

I thought I would just move along to number seven, since Mom decided to make up for the lost time, having Larry just nine months and three weeks after Sharon. Family lore says that Mom tried to say that Larry was premature. Apparently, her doctor thought it was funny that Mom was trying to pass a seven pound baby off as premature. Poor Dad looks super confused at this point. So, now there are three sets of Irish twins: Jeannie (2) to John (3), Tom (4) to Teresa (5), and Sharon (6) to Larry (7). In fact, only Debbie is not a part of Irish twins. 

The super seven are here: Debbie, Jeannie, John, Tom, Teresa, Sharon, and Larry. Just making sure all of them actually had pajamas to wear was an impressive feat. 

I would like to close with a mention of my Uncle Gerard. He passed away last Wednesday, losing his battle with Leukemia, the same cancer that took Mom. In my memories, Uncle Gerard is larger than life. He was full of energy. As an avid tennis player, he was frequently on the courts at Sea Isle City in New Jersey where we would vacation every year. We didn’t see his family often, but I will always remember his vitality and zest for life (and all things tennis). I am closing with some photos of Mom with Gerard. My deepest condolences to my cousins and Aunt Betty as they work through their loss.