Saturday, June 20, 2020

Fathers' Day 2020: A year of challenges



     This may seem a strange post to include in this blog dedicated to the memory of men, women and children interred at the Grand Trunk Cemetery who lived and died long ago.  None-the-less, I thought during this unusual time in our history, I'd share some personal history.

     People I have met at the cemetery often ask if I'm related to the souls buried here.  No, I am not  My one relationship is to place.  Some of the souls originally, through their grandparents or through land purchases came from Cape Ann in Massachusetts.  Thomas Skillings lived near the 1st Parish Church and gave up some of his land to build the 1st Parish Burial Ground in Gloucester.

     The Sawyer brothers who came to ancient Falmouth between 1719 and 1727, came from my hometown of Gloucester.  There were others whose names appear in the Rev. Thomas Smith's jounal and in Willis's history of Portland.

     I am descended from Portuguese fisherman on both sides of my family.  I am also named for my grandmothers:  Marianna Batista, born May 5, 1894 (Marianne) and Joanna da Conceicao de Oliveira Vidal, born in 1881, (Joan)  It was common to name the first born after grandparents; in this case my grandmothers.  

     My husband, Joel was also named for his grandfather Joel. When our second granddaughter was born, her parents honored both of us by naming her Joelle Mariana.

     My dad, Joseph Richard Francis, was born to Joao Francisco Mano born 1881 and Joanna on June 3rd, 1913.  He was one of eleven chidren born to the couple.  My grandfather came to the United States, probably with his parents in 1889 at the age of eight.  He obviously went back to the old country where he married my grandmother.  Two of my Dad's siblings were born in Portugal prior to my grandmother's immigration to the US. in 1907.

     Names were Americanized and my grandfather became John Francis and my grandmother, Joanna Vidal Francis.  Here is a photo of the family gravestones in Calvary Cemetery in Gloucester.





The inscriptions read:  Francisco O. Vidal, 1848 - 1926
Maria da Conceicao, 1858 - 1921 ( I believe these may be my grandmother's parents).
Amadeu, Son, 1898 - 1934, Genivieve, 1919 - 1925 (my father's little sister)
John M. 1881 - 1965 (my grandfather) and Joanna V. 1881 - 1974 (my grandmother.)
My parents grave plot was shared through my Aunt.

     My Dad would have been 107 years old this year, but died about a month after his 82nd birthday in 1995.  My Mom followed three years later on March 15, 1998.

     During their lifetime, they lived through the Great War, the influenze pandemic, the Second World War. Korean War, racial unrest in the 60's, the assasination of a president, and lived to see their sons go off during the Vietnam War.  Of course there were many special moments that they treasured during their 53 years of marriage.

What follows next is a pictorial journal I hope readers find interesting.



     Here is a scanned photo of my Dad at the age of four, just prior to the devasting outbreak in Gloucester where between 183 and 250 deaths were recorded in the small city of about 22,000 people.  My father recalled that half the household was inflicted. The rest took care of the sick.  My grandmother was pregnant at the time with Genivieve and was terrified about losing the baby and any of her children.






     My Dad attended Gloucester High School and apparently was a good student so much so, that he was recommended to apply to the Naval Academy.  He was devoted to his family and chose instead, to apprentice with a Master Carpenter. 

    While his brothers served in the military during World War II, he served on the home-front at the Boston Naval shipyards as a foreman.  I still have his desk plaque.



    The story of how my Dad traveled from Gloucester to the shipyard is interesting.  He did not own a car, actually, he didn't own a vehicle until 1950 when my sister was born.  At this time, he must have been issued an electric scooter which he rode to Lynn where I assume crews were then transported.

     Later, when Dad was himself a Master Carpenter he rode to job sites with his workers.  There is a motel off of Bass Rocks in Gloucester that Dad built.

      I mentioned that he was devoted to his parents who owned a home at 75 Friend Street and which now belongs to a nephew.  Here are some photos of that home and of my grand parents.

House at 75 Friend Street in the heart of Portuguese Hill

My grandmother Joanna and her favorite companion.

My grandfather John with son, Anthony and his bride, Madge.

Three of my Dad's sisters: Lucille, Sylvia and Mary.

My Dad always loved to sing and play his guitar. He learned
many of the Portuguese folk songs.

Dad with his brother Anthony

The picture on the right shows Dad with Anthony
and my Godfather Frank Francis
     On April 12, 1942, my parents were married at the Church of Our Lady of Good Voyage, a national shrine of the Fisherman. 





The Wedding Picture


     My Mom was the daughter of Joaquin Luiz (Lewis) and Marianna Batista, born August 9, 1916.  My grandparents were married on April 15, 1914 and immigrated to the US in May that same year.

     For a period of between six and nine years, my grandmother returned to Portugal with three of the younger children.  Here are some photos of my Mom, Virginia Ann Lewis.

This picture was probably taken in Portugal.  The face in the corner
is my Mom's older sister Carmen.


My Mom's high school graduation photo with Dad in the corner.
Marriage Notice from 1942.




     My parents lived on Eastern Avenue in Gloucester on today's busy road to Rockport and Bearskin Neck.  My Dad purchased our home when I was two years old and was sold after my mother's death in 1998.

     I'm including a photo because my Dad built what was supposed to be a simple doll house for my kids, but what turned out to be a scale model of the house.  Shortly before his death, he took it apart and restored it.  I once loaned it to the Portland Arts and Technology School for the students.  My grandkids and visitors love it.  Some of the furniture was handhewn by my Dad and some of the coverings on the beds and other pieces were handcrafted  by my Mom.

The house at 56 Eastern Avenue dates back to 1825

The photo of Dad putting on the shingled roof.  I treasure the album
showing all his restoration of the doll house.

The Doll House sits in our dining room waiting to be played with.

  My father was an avid angler, loved getting out in his canoe with rod and flies,
some he tied himself, and always his camera.  One of my favorite pictures of Dad:



Happy Fathers Day Dad, and all the Dads out there.

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