Prologue
In October of 2010, I sat down with my mom, Mary, and asked her if there were any memories from her childhood that stuck out. After taking a moment to think, she began to tell the painful memory she had surrounding her brother Frank’s accident. My mom is the youngest of four. She has a sister, Judi, and two brothers, Anthony and Frank. In 1952, at the age of seven, Frank, the oldest of the four, was hit by a car. He lived, but, unfortunately, the accident was not the only trauma he suffered. I have always known about the accident; however, I didn’t know the emotional pain he endured or its affect on my mom. In between the tears my mom and I shed as she talked about her big brother, another story came to light and then another. These stories, both painful and endearing, gave me a glimpse into her childhood and a better understanding of a time that is so difficult for her to revisit. The following is a first person account created from the interviews I conducted with my mom. It will reveal the painful childhood of a young boy and the strong, loving relationship that forms between a brother and sister as a result of his unspoken pain.
In October of 2010, I sat down with my mom, Mary, and asked her if there were any memories from her childhood that stuck out. After taking a moment to think, she began to tell the painful memory she had surrounding her brother Frank’s accident. My mom is the youngest of four. She has a sister, Judi, and two brothers, Anthony and Frank. In 1952, at the age of seven, Frank, the oldest of the four, was hit by a car. He lived, but, unfortunately, the accident was not the only trauma he suffered. I have always known about the accident; however, I didn’t know the emotional pain he endured or its affect on my mom. In between the tears my mom and I shed as she talked about her big brother, another story came to light and then another. These stories, both painful and endearing, gave me a glimpse into her childhood and a better understanding of a time that is so difficult for her to revisit. The following is a first person account created from the interviews I conducted with my mom. It will reveal the painful childhood of a young boy and the strong, loving relationship that forms between a brother and sister as a result of his unspoken pain.
Big Brother
It was the Fall of 1960. My father was probably at work… my mom always talked a lot more when he was working. I remember being in the kitchen. I can still see the yellow walls, and there were two tables because it wasn’t large enough to have a big table that seated six. The “kids” table was against one wall with a window… my sister (Judi) and I sat next to each other facing the window and my brothers (Frank and Anthony) sat on either end. There was a small dinner table for two against the other wall. That’s where my parents sat. On this particular night, my mom sat with me, Judi, and Anthony at the “kids” table. I don’t recall where Frank was. She told us she wanted to talk to us about everything Frank went through regarding his accident.
When the accident happened in 1952, I wasn’t born yet; I came two years later. Frank was seven years old. My mom sent him to the Post Office to mail a letter. It was only down the street, right behind where DiBartolo’s bakery is now. There was an alley that ran directly behind the Post Office and this woman came down the alley and turned as Frank was crossing the street and hit him! I remember hearing the woman wasn’t in her right mind because her son was in the hospital dying… she never saw Frank… she drug him for two blocks under the wheel of her car! Thank God a neighbor saw the whole thing and chased after the car. Two more inches and she would have crushed his skull.
That night in the kitchen, my mom told us about Frank’s first Halloween after his accident. I think she wanted us to be aware of everything my brother Frank went through. We could see the physical outcome of the accident, but until that point, I don’t know that we understood all of what he went through emotionally. My mom, who was an excellent seamstress, was determined to make Frank a great costume that covered all of his scars. Most of the damage was done to his face, but he did have one scar on his hand. Unfortunately, she overlooked that scar and when one boy in his class spotted it on his hand he said, “I know who you are! You’re Frankie the monster!”
She told us how excited Frank was for Halloween and how hurt he must have been by this boy, although he didn’t show it. When I heard this, I became absolutely hysterical. I don’t think my mother was prepared for my reaction. I couldn’t have been any more than six years old when she told this story and it just killed me to think that someone could be so cruel to Frank who didn’t have a mean bone in his body. I don’t remember how my brother and sister reacted. If Anthony was still in the kitchen, he probably wouldn’t have reacted. The only time I saw him cry was when my father died. Knowing my sister, she was probably upset as well, but I was so upset, I blocked everyone out.
****
Frank had fourteen plastic surgeries over a period of eight years. He couldn’t make his First Holy Communion when he was supposed to because he was in the hospital. Eventually he made it- you know my parents made sure of that. He missed out on a lot because he was always in and out of the hospital. I remember he would come home looking like a mummy. All you could see were his eyes, nose, and mouth. The dressing was wrapped around his entire head. I would feel so bad for him, but I can never remember him feeling sorry for himself.
My mom told us he had a keloid condition that runs in the family; it’s when the scars keep spreading. I don’t know, she said only black people get this condition, which I found confusing since we’re Italian. I guess it’s not unlikely. Her father was Sicilian and they say because Sicily is so close to Africa that many Sicilians have African blood. The family referred to my grandfather as “the Dark One.” I learned it’s pre-dominantly found in Blacks, but some Caucasians do have this condition. Whatever the case may be, me and my sister weren’t allowed to get our ears pierced because my mom said, if we had the condition, the holes would keep getting bigger. As soon as she died, we got our ears pierced.
****
I think hearing about everything he went through made me more sensitive towards him. Frank’s birthday was exactly one month after Christmas, and I remember so vividly the year he was turning thirteen. It was a big thing in our house that Frank was becoming a teenager and there was a lot of talk about it. That Christmas my grandfather gave me a silver dollar and I was so excited! I didn’t tell anyone- which is amazing- that I was gonna save it and give it to Frank for his birthday. I was teased by my brothers and sister for not spending it; I was known for being rather tight with my money, but it was a special birthday, and I wanted to give him a present myself. I even gift wrapped it.
I can still picture Frank leaning on the dining room table as he blew out his candles. He had on a gray collared shirt with maroon, white, and black stripes. My mother was standing on one side of him and me and Anthony were on the other side. My aunts, uncles, and cousins were seated at the table. When the time came for presents, I stood up on one of the dining room chairs, wished him a Happy Birthday, and gave him the coin and a kiss on the cheek. He was really tickled. I was four, almost five, and it was the first time I think we ever showed affection towards each other. I really kind of stuck my neck out on that one because he would always tease me unmercifully. The one thing you never did when you were young was kiss your sibling- beat up, yes, kiss, no. I can still remember the time he stabbed me with the fork so he could steal food off of my plate or the time he locked me in the laundry room because there was a mouse in there and he knew I was petrified of them... my husband swear this was child abuse. But that was Frank, and I wanted to make him feel special.
Years later, after Frank died, my brother Anthony was at a birthday party for Frank’s youngest son, Christopher, which I couldn’t attend. He told me Christopher had a coin collection that belonged to his father and that Frank saved the coin with a note of when he got it and from whom. I was stunned that after all those years he had saved the coin. I became very emotional. I guess Frank was touched that I did that for him… or it was a remembrance that I wasn’t as selfish as everyone thought. Anthony didn’t think I would even remember it, so I told him my version of the story. The next time I saw Chris, I told him the story. He was amazed, but I don’t think he really understood the raw emotion behind it for me.
****
I think because of our age difference and because I’m the youngest we would have been close regardless of the accident. He was my big brother and he looked out for me and protected me. I can remember a time when I was really little and I was feeling unloved. I went to Frank and told him I was running away because nobody loved me. So, he comforted me and then went to my mother and said, "You better come and get this kid because she's leaving." I always had a turbulent relationship with my father, and I think because Frank did too, he always looked out for me when my father started on me. If my father was in a bad mood, Frank and I were always the target. When our mother died (Lung Cancer), I was only sixteen and Frank told me that I could come live with him if things got bad. He was always there for me... but as we became older, I think I was more protective of him. Frank made some poor decisions as he got older, and I think we all kind of chalked it up to Frank being Frank and using his heart instead of his head- just like Frankie [his oldest son]. I think a lot of this was us giving him a free pass because of all he had been through.
****
Looking back, there is only one time that I can remember when he gave me any indication of the emotional pain he suffered. When he was fourteen years old, something flew into his eye when he was on his bike delivering papers. He experienced a traumatic eye injury and was, again, back in the hospital. They had to suture his eye closed for a short amount of time. As a result of the injury, he lost vision in his left eye and at the end of his eye there was a piece of skin attached to the top and bottom of the eye lid making his eye opening smaller at the end. I urged him many times, right up until his death, to go back [to the hospital] and get it snipped. It was such a simple procedure, but he refused. I offered to take him and help with the dressings when he got home, but he was adamant, he wasn’t going back to the hospital. His reaction was my only insight from him of the trauma he endured through all the plastic surgery. He never talked about the accident and how it affected him.
I think because of his physical scars he became a kind, compassionate, funny person. Frank had a tremendous sense of humor… quick tempered, don’t make him mad, but very loving and just so funny. He loved to sing and dance. He was a very good dancer, but because he was a bit heavy, all the china in the china cabinet would rattle when he danced. My mother would be screaming "you're going to break something!" After all of the surgeries, he still had a lot of scarring, but it wasn’t like he was hideous, he was a good looking guy. He always had friends and never wanted for a girlfriend. It’s just so unfair that such a wonderful person had to go through such pain.
A Personal Note…
When my Uncle Frank passed away, I was only three years old. I have one vague memory of being in his apartment. I think he was sitting on the couch. I remember a smile and some fuzzy dark brown hair that was a bit longer than today’s styles. Whether that picture is accurate or not, I don’t know, but it is because of these interviews that I have been able to construct a much more vivid image of a man that I didn’t have the good fortune of knowing. If he were alive today, he would probably still be teasing his little sister Mary. He would be cracking jokes or recalling stories of his youth that would have us all laughing. He would be the one we all want to dance with at a family wedding or party. He would undoubtedly be one of my favorite people. But most of all, if my Uncle Frank were alive today, I would thank him for protecting my mom and giving her the memories that she unselfishly shared with me. I will forever hold them close to my heart.
Frank died suddenly in 1976 at the age of 31. His death was a result of cardiac arrest. The autopsy showed he had myocarditis, which is an inflammation of the heart muscle. According to the coroner, there was every indication it was from the Swine Flu vaccine he received. He left behind two sons, Frank Jr. and Christopher.
Mary is an RN and is currently working as the Supervisor and research nurse for the Department of Infectious Diseases at Cooper University Hospital. She added that when the Swine Flu re-emerged in the Fall of 2009 it was said to have a much safer vaccine than the one that preceded it; however, myocarditis was listed as a possible side effect. No one in the family received the vaccine.
