Kinder, Küche, Kirche

This Fall we attended the funerals of two more friends, whose company we had enjoyed for over four decades. Their services were packed, and many of the same people attended both, since we had all been in the same circle since the 60’s.

When we arrived in Detroit in 1966, we knew no-one and had only been married for a couple of months, so neither of us had more than a nodding acquaintance with cooking, mending, fixing or any of the practical aspects of life not found within the covers of a Greek or Latin text. And almost before we could unpack our meagre belongings, we knew we soon would be facing the challenges of parenthood. Enter Fr. Ruedeseli, who welcomed us to our parish and introduced us to a group which he oversaw. It was called The Christian Family movement, a title which about says it all. Couples met in groups of about ten or twelve at each other’s homes. I think we met about every two weeks. I remember a guide book which set up suggestions for our meetings (not always adhered to as closely as the authors would have advocated), together with a prayer component and a discussion of our reading material. I think snacks were involved, I’m certain wine was. We usually set a concrete service goal for the next meeting and then the group got on with what I think was the main purpose of the whole movement. We just talked. The groups were cunningly set up so that neophytes like us met with experienced older couples and learned what real life was all about.

That is how we met Leona and Beverly. They both had immigrant backgrounds: Bev’s family was Lebanese, Lee’s was Polish. They did not have the ambitions or influence of the last two women I wrote about, but these two embellished the derogatory phrase "Kinder, Küche, Kirche” and made it something to be truly proud of, in an era when former values were becoming up-ended. Bev and her husband Don had eight children, Lee and Joe were the parents of ten, a goodly number of whom became our children’s babysitters. They, and the other members of our groups, were on hand to help when we moved, they were at our front door with dinners when I came home from the hospital after our children were born.

Bev was a beautiful woman all her life. When our parish instituted a successful theatre group (well, we put on plays and some unexpected talent was unearthed), Bev  lent her lovely singing voice to the choruses of Oklahoma and The Sound of Music. Her son Dennis joined her in the latter and played a dreamy Rolfe. He told me at her funeral that the last music they shared was his shaky rendition of “Danny Boy” at her bedside the night she died. She was the natural choice to take our eleven month son for a couple of nights when we went to New York for College Bowl, and there is no-one else I would have trusted. For Bev, it was just another baby to love.

Lee was one of those larger than life women who was always cheerful (though not to be crossed) and who loved a good party. Like Bev she took the unheard of step of going to work, but only when her children were self-sufficient. We actually worked in the same office, and I saw her giving her sage advice to many of her co-workers, just as she had to us. She and Joe left Michigan to live in Florida, where she loved getting up and watching the sunrise over the ocean. After Joe died and her health began to fail she returned to Detroit and the love and care of her family. It was her nature to feed everyone and at her funeral the priest remarked that Lee had faithfully followed the Polish custom of bringing a basketful of food destined for Easter dinner to be blessed at a noon ceremony on Easter Saturday, and that she always brought along a loaf of bread for him, still warm from the oven.

Their lives did not always go smoothly, but faith and their strong characters pulled them through. Beverly and Leona, two more women I honor and whose memory I cherish.