A deeply personal history lesson

Mr. Conley’s history assignment was simple and straight forward. My daughter Brooke was to research three generations of her ancestry and to report her findings as part of a senior-class project. The assignment sparked not only the interest of Brooke but also that of my youngest daughter, Bridget. Together, they would learn of the untimely death of a young child named Rosemary, and they would come to appreciate the immeasurable worth of a single life.

Rosemary revealed herself in an old and worn photograph boxed away with family records. She is pictured as a young child in a white dress, dark shoes, and with a frown upon her face. Long curls of hair fall gently to her shoulders. My father explained that Rosemary was his sister and that she had died at a young age years before his own birth. My daughters acquired a copy of Rosemary’s death certificate to learn more.

The Certificate of Death indicates that Rosemary came under the care of Dr. David Phillips on Dec. 14, 1922. She died at home eight days later from diphtheria. She was 3 years old. Brooke learned that diphtheria is caused from a bacterial infection of the pharynx. It was a significant cause of death of children in the U.S. in the 1920s. My grandmother was only 26 at the time. My father expounded that Rosemary’s death was not often discussed in his childhood as the onset of the Great Depression forced his parents to focus on the care and welfare of their seven remaining children. I recognized Rosemary’s photograph as one similar to that which held a special place on my grandparents’ living room wall throughout her life.

FINDING GRAVESITE

As my daughters pieced together the circumstances of Rosemary’s death, a decision was made to find and visit her grave. A search of the burial records at the Calvary Cemetery office revealed its location. It was soon discovered that although Rosemary’s gravesite was not identified by any headstone, its boundaries could be confirmed by the plot numbers engraved on adjacent markers. Bridget inquired if a gravestone could be placed for the identification of Rosemary’s burial location. The cemetery staff displayed a number of different bronze markers that were permitted for such use. Soon, we will arrange to drive my father to view Rosemary’s resting place, and to have him select, as Rosemary’s last surviving sibling, a bronze memorial marker for its identification.

When that day arrives, my daughters will hold the arms of my elderly father as he carefully walks the small incline to Rosemary’s grave. Sunlight will filter through the leaves of the silver maple trees that shadow section 10 of Calvary Cemetery. Together, we will once again locate the small patch of unmarked earth where, nearly 94 years ago, a child was buried on a cold and sorrowful December day. My father’s thoughts will drift back through the decades to a time when the voices of his brothers, sisters, and parents filled a small concrete home on the West Side of Youngstown. And, in stillness, he will remember.

Our Catholic faith professes that life is a gift from God, a gift to be held precious. In finding Rosemary, we honor that belief. In finding Rosemary, we reaffirm the bonds that bind all generations to one common humanity, and in so doing, we discover a part of ourselves as well.

Before summer’s end, the cemetery clerk will receive our order for the bronze memorial to be placed at Rosemary’s gravesite. Then, in six weeks, it will be set in place, and her grave will be unmarked no longer. And, come this December, when the snow settles softly upon the cold and hard earth, Rosemary will remain in peace beneath the dormant silver maple trees – somehow knowing that her brief life has been acknowledged; somehow knowing that she remains beloved. And my daughters will be fulfilled.

Yes, Mr. Conley’s history assignment was simple and straightforward. Yet, in a world where the value of life is increasingly forgotten, Mr. Conley’s lesson taught so much.

David Bobovnyik,a lawyer from Youngstown, writes for The Vindicator from time to time,