At Spring Training, I asked Dan what it's been like getting to know Mom—as Pat Sweeney, as herself, Mom unfiltered, as a person and not just a mother of thirteen. Dan hesitated then suggested that I might know parts of Mom she might have only shared in a letter. Maybe yes, maybe no. These last few days I dug out my correspondence with Mom going back 40 years and heard a voice you will all recognize, and yet a voice I might not have heard so clearly all those many years ago. Here are a few excerpts that will bring tears of recognition as well as outbursts of laughter. Mom wrote often about her children (and grandchildren) and the love she shared with me she shared with us all. This is a private link for family.
This seems like a boring letter. But since I’m new at this form of communication I knew it wouldn’t be so great. I think of you all a great deal. Especially when I go by the back fence and look over the lake and the city in the distance. It’s so beautiful and inspiring of contemplative thoughts and when I’m into thinking of things and people I love to think about I dwell on thoughts and prayers of you. I guess that’s what they mean that having a large family helps keep you sane. Anyway, I’m very happy on my lake-front home and watching the scene of the ever-changing lake. I always think of you. Why I don’t know. Maybe it’s because It’s my way of sharing it with you.
— A chain-letter written to her children living outside of Cleveland, 9/21/78
I’m sitting in an all white beach house right on the ocean or I should say the Bay. White sands, rippling waters and more birds than people at this spot. It’s been chilly and wet from dew in the morning so we haven’t played tennis yet. Dad is a real sun worshiper in the afternoon. We’re going at a very slow delicious pace. Quite a contrast from home.
Letter: 3/2/78; on a business trip with Dad in Tampa
Children are OK but they’re pretty much all the same—they are messy, cry a lot, have temper tantrums and are somewhat spoiled.
Letter: 5/22/95
I got the picture of the family reunion. It was wonderful. Every one of us looked beautiful. I guess it was the most perfect vacation I ever had. Probably because everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves and each other. The family picture is my favorite—how could I have such a wonderful time with my family at my age. I’m thankful to you all for being there and for giving me the picture to constantly bring a smile to my face and warmth to my heart! I’m so lucky.
Letter: 9/3/04
My adult children are fascinating to me—only to me, I’m sure. I guess that’s why I think abortion is a waste.
Letter: 5/22/95
When you have so many kids you feel bad that they don’t get as much attention as you would love to give them. You just hope they find a mate and work that gives them happiness.
Letter: 1/19/95
I work at school from 9:30 to 1:15 which is good because my eyes are not yet tired. In the evening I watch PBS Lear-McNeil News Hour but can’t watch much after that—my eyes tire and I fall asleep—wake up read a little, fall asleep—wake up and read again. Challenging—but then I could be blind. So, I’m grateful—when I sleep on the couch upstairs I wake up to see the moon and stars! And I thank God!
Letter: 9/3/04
My electricity is off—the illuminating company is doing some maintenance which they warned about yesterday. No big deal. Before that happened, I baked a banana bread and vacuumed my downstairs. Just in time I guess because when I went to go grocery shopping I couldn’t open the garage door. Again no big deal—there’s always tomorrow.
Letter: 9/3/04
I’m not good on the phone because I’m not good in expressing my real interests over the phone. I miss Mary Brigid because she was a good sounding board and gave insightful feedback. I miss Emma and Paul because those kids would pick-up on anything new or different in the house. When I did anything or many things I had them in mind.
Letter: 1/19/95
Did I tell you the story of my 69th birthday in ’93? We celebrated on a Sunday with Eddie and Dan as always. It was hot and I was dressed in a nice pair of shorts etc. Well, Emy came and when she saw me she said, “Grandma, do you think you're appropriately dressed for your birthday party?” Well, I went in, put on the long dress I wore at M.B.’s wedding, some jewelry and a tiara I bought when I visited Catherine in New Orleans. She made my birthday fun!
Letter: 1/19/95
Eddie is growing out of his pants every few months. I think he’s about as tall as I am now. He’s still obnoxious at the table and elsewhere—fighting with his sisters all the time and always questioning my request to do this or that. His favorite occupation is still playing with matches—either lighting them or lighting candles or using the sulfur from the tips to make small bombs with loud booms. I keep telling myself it's an indication of a scientific talent but I don’t know how proud I’ll be of a son who can make a bigger or better bomb!
— Letter: 4/19/78
Eileen and I are getting closer. I sometimes go to her school to help out with some of the mothers for special occasions. She’s over a lot. We use the tool room on artistic projects for holidays for decorating here or her house or school. She’s quite artistic and its fun working together.
Letter: 1/19/95
I read a review of “The Betsy” starring Laurence Olivier and it raved about what a great picture it was. So when I saw that it was showing here I took Dad. I thought it was supposed to have something to do with subtle intrigue—something Dad likes. It was more like corporate and rich-family decadence with ruthlessness, free sexual encounters and almost explicit photography of intercourse. All this with beautiful, sophisticated people. It’s all a casual lifestyle that anyone with wealth is entitled too and who can blame the rest of the poorer class for envying and copying it!
Letter: 3/2/78; on a business trip with Dad in Tampa
“To love one who loves you, to admire one who admires you, in a word, to be the idol of one’s idol, is exceeding the limit of human joy: it is stealing fire from heaven!” I felt that kind of love once and I am forever grateful. It is true—better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all. And when I loved I felt very close to God. God is love. Don’t shut him out.
Card: with quote from Madame de Girardin, 3/12/82
A couple of weeks ago Jim and I took our bikes on the trail through the “Emerald Necklace.” It was still warm out—even the Baptist having a baptism in the river. Our parks are a wonderful investment of past politicians in a dream of bringing nature’s beauty and peace to all the people. See—I know the value of politics.
Letter: 10/22/82
I am sometimes overwhelmed with sadness. But I am 63 years old and have had much joy…I’ve lived long enough that I know life goes in cycles—and I will have fun times again. For instance, I’m looking forward to visiting you in California. Even now as I sit on the bench by the back fence absorbing the lake and the Cleveland skyline I experience the wonder of beauty. I’m a very lucky Mother.
Letter: 9/87
"Life has loveliness to sell ¶ Buy it and never count the cost. ¶ For one white singing hour of peace ¶ Count many an hour of strife well lost ¶ And for a breath of ecstasy ¶ Give all you have been or could be." ¶ The rest of the poem is equally as beautiful. I know it by heart and it comes to my mind often. It’s kind of like a creed of mine. It gives life and aura of excitement.
Card with quote from "Barter" by Sarah Teasdale: 6/13/84:
Marty, enclosed is $300. Hopefully that will go toward a suit and shoes. Tennis shoes are out! It’s not like you're eighteen and going to a prom. You’re twenty-eight and getting married.
Letter: 5/28/82
It’s my friendship with God that makes bearable the hard times, especially these last few years. Although now that I think of it even the early years when I was raising the family. I always felt if I tried my best, lived up to my ideals, and shared with God my discouragement, my failures, and my joys, I had a mighty friend.
Letter: 5/288/82
Marty, actually I did write but I tore up all my efforts. I can’t adequately express how I feel about that most perfect time you and I had together. California is beautiful and exciting. I would never had experienced that without you. All those growing pains you and I shared shaped you into a very interesting young man. God loves you and so does your Mom.
Card: Shortly after driving up Rt. 1 along the Pacific Coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco
I must tell you about Halloween. The three youngest all dressed up and went out of course. Alice took the biggest box you left behind and made a hole in the top. She put the patio table cloth with a hole in the middle over the box. Then she decorated her hand weirdly with an eye, etc. We put the box table in the front foyer with a shoe box, with a hole in the bottom, on top. When the Trick-or-Treaters came I was there telling them to open the box. When they did hesitantly out snaked “The Thing” with an apple—really Alice’s hand. Many of the little ones were scared—even Johnny Jeffers.
Letter: 11/11/77
Nothing much doing here this Memorial Day. It’s overcast, warm, with some gentle sprinkles of rain. I’m in the dining room while the girls and a friend of Mary’s, Dave, are in the kitchen making brunch. Benny’s on the chain, barking at the neighbors. The rhododendrons, the azaleas, the Lilies of the Valley are in bloom. The birds, the squirrels, the rabbits, the chipmunks are inhabiting our backyard taking care of their domestic chores. It’s real a trip to sit on the porch in the early evening when no one is around as they busily fly, hop and sing. Come to think of it they are noisily doing their thing now, too. I wish the humans were as busily and happily living their days out—especially while they’re at home with me.
Birthday Letter: Year Unknown
He is your father—a product of his background. He had the charisma to make me love him more than any other man. He’s a good man and an interesting one in many ways. I’m still glad he’s the father of my children. And after this particularly challenging time of our lives I hope he and his children will relax and look at each other with humility and charity and enjoyment. We expect so much of each other. We have to learn to expect more of ourselves.
Birthday Letter: Year Unknown
It's 7 a.m. and I'm at the back fence sitting in a beach chair doing what I do most hot summer mornings. That is watching the sunrise…I never tire of the sunrise over the lake (or for that matter the full moon between the trees last night). To me it's proof of a God and I can understand why earlier cultures considered the sun and moon gods.
Letter: 6/19/92
I know I’ll see a lot of Billy Davis. He started piano lessons from our piano teacher here at the house and he’ll have to practice here. Patty Ann informed him that he’d have a rougher time learning than she because the teacher said adults find it harder. Bill says “We’ll see!” He might pick up the gauntlet and prove us disbelievers wrong!
Letter: 10/3/79
I remember when Dad was away to Washington as a congressman and you began to give me a hard time about being home on time and you were caught pilfering from Sells. Your father took after you and I wasn’t too controlled as I yelled, “Kill him!” I’m still ashamed of that. It keeps me humble to remember I was far from being the perfect parent. But I always was confident that God wouldn’t give me you children if he wasn’t concerned with helping us raise you.
Birthday Letter: 6/16/91
Patty Ann’s a brat! Eileen’s a hard guy! Catherine’s a sweetie sometimes and rebellious sometimes. Oh, why do they have to grow up. Patty Ann’s into Magnificat, Eileen’s into volleyball and cheerleading, and Catherine’s into volleyball and keeping her friends from fighting—who’s going to walk home with her, who’s going to stay overnight and who’s going to play with her.
Letter: 10/3/79
My faith is why I am who I am today. I wish I were much better, even different. But I know I would have been much much worse without my belief in God’s love for me. It’s the source of my faith, hope and charity. I’m filled with the love of natural beauty which is always around us, and the love for my children. They fascinate me and keep me involved in this changing world. There is no room for bitterness. There are episodes of sadness, and experience of joy and always peace. That’s what I want for you. Happy 40th.
Birthday Letter: 6/29/94
Nobody knows what to buy me. I have my health, my children, and enough money to survive in the style I’ve become accustomed. Thanks to your father—got to give credit to whom credit is due.
Letter: 1/19/95
Eddie is the sole boy around here at night and it’s affecting him. Every time I’ve called Alice or one of the others, he answers in a falsetto voice and it sounds just like whoever it’s supposed to be. What talent! What talent!
Letter: 10/3/79
Took a break to give Benny some hot packs on three bite wounds he has. There are three dogs living next door that don’t appreciate Benny on their turf. Those city dogs are a lot tougher than Benny met up with in Bay Village.
Letter: 6/29/78
I hear Metzger is getting married, Lenny Supp is tying the knot in September and, of course, Arnie. At least some of your friends will have established homes you can visit. That’s a good way to look at it.
Letter: 6/29/78
You mention inadequacies. I think the most talented or successful people feel their inadequacy. I think your Dad felt pain because he wasn’t what he wanted to be. He is not an introspective man and he never appreciated his own self. He tried to be somebody else. I would love to have his energy, intelligence and social ability. We are all different—viva la difference. Having 13 children is hard—but knowing you are all different makes it interesting and exciting!
Letter: 1/19/95
Marty, It’s a long letter I wrote. It wasn’t all upbeat. I shared some of my thoughts with you. I think that’s what makes friends and relationships. Sometimes it seems like asking for pity—or asking for a taking of sides. But life is a continuous growing process—I hope—and parents are growing and evolving as well as children. Interesting?
Letter: Undated
Happy Birthday Marty. Would you believe I’ve had this card addressed and stamped since last year—but not written in. Your present—a book I think you will like—I haven’t purchased yet…Oh well, I gave you birth—that’s the most important gift for you and me both. You may be far away across the country but you’re always in my thoughts and prayers.
Card: 6/18/93
I’ve only time to mention the good things. Maybe it’s like remembrance past—we only remember the joys. The bad or hurts are remembered too—but they soften as we realize we learn from them—and we come more in empathy with the human race. I’m rambling on because I’m at the beauty parlor under a hair drier.
Letter: 5/28/82
I didn’t mean to go on like this—but there you have it. Some shared thoughts from a mother who is very blessed to be your mother and who is looking forward to becoming friends with a very interesting daughter-in-law.
Letter: 5/28/82
Deena, how do I address a letter to a married couple with different last names? Of course, I could write them out separately but it seems so superfluous. Also, I’ve been puzzled how to address someone whose sex you don’t know when writing to a company or organization. It used to be “Dear Sir.” Do you ever have such problems?
Note to Deena
I’ve seen “Safe Passage” twice and I want to take Sister Mary Jane (Regina’s sister who writes plays) to see it. I don’t know what I would have done if I had to go through worrying about losing a son in war. It was interesting to see the different personalities of these sons in one family. I do know I would have killed that dog.
Letter: 1/19/95
I’m so excited! I saw the Easter Bunny this morning about 7:45 a.m. while I was walking to my car. He was all brown with a white tail. Usually bunnies don’t show till twilight and never that close. And then at 4:30 p.m. while I was folding linen in the guest room I looked out over the pool and saw two mallard ducks swimming. This is the fourth year—always in April. I hadn’t seen them yet and thought I might not. But there they were! The day is one of the cloudiest and rainiest—fog actually. But spring is in my heart.
Easter Card: Year unknown
There are times when you will hurt for Eva. Like in “Safe Passage” being a mother or father instills emotions you never dwelled on before. Again, it adds a dimension to your life. It’s why I want more for my children. But what I want and what will be is not for me to say. Why do you think I go to church each morning? It’s my way of loving all of you.
Letter: 1/19/95
You two sound great over the phone. Keep the love enthusiasm forever. You can if you accept every experience as a challenge instead of a disappointment.
Letter: 10/22/82
I drove Eileen’s volleyball team to St. Joe’s—my alma mater. I don’t know if you were ever back on the grounds which overlooks the valley. Well—while the team was doing their warm-ups to blasting rock I took a stroll down memory lane. It looks just the same—which is much like our back yard only much bigger without swimming pool and buildings. Halfway between the school and my walk to the cliff I came upon something I never remembered—a small herd of deer about five or six. They raised their heads from grazing on some crab apples and I quietly observed them then we both continued our activity. ¶ Then I decided to search out the grotto of Our Lady and St. Bernadette which had been abandoned after a rape took place there when the drug scene and violence culture escalated some 20 years or so ago. At one time there was a well-worn path half-way down the valley to this lovely life size replica. We had our May Crownings there, our October Rosaries and our retreats plus just plain walks on our own. It was never a short walk and it was well hidden so it was a real escape from the noise and activity above. Now there is a snow fence discouraging any casual traveler from the street. But the fallen limbs and the over grown foliage did not completely obliterate the path I knew had been there. And I found it! The grotto is still there sans the statues of course. The masonry is intact and it seems as mystifying in its spiritual direction as any religious experience. I sat on a rotting log, my feet in wet multi-colored leaves and I prayed. I was very happy there. I thought of the past, the present, and the future. Then I left a plastic rosary in the well where the statue of Our Lady had stood. I admit I felt foolish—like some naive pagan yet irresistibly I wanted to share some of the present with the past with an offering for the future. Some crow will probably use it for his nest in spring. ¶ When I reached the cliff again the sun was beginning to set, the trees blazed in accompanying color, the river was a silver ribbon way below and I loved God. ¶ The deer were still munching but as the sun dipped lower in the sky the one with the antlers looked up and as if on cue loped off to the valley followed a second later by the others with two little ones kind of holding back as if they couldn’t understand why they had to go home so soon.
Letter: 10/22/82
That’s death—that you will feel an emotional emptiness in your heart. And hope that when life is through with all of us we will meet again in the light of love and eternity.
Sympathy Card to Deena after her father’s death