Since I’ve written reflections on my paternal relatives, it’s only fair I do the same for my mother’s side of the family. Born in 1907, she was the eldest of the Moranskys. The next in line was Aunt Sophia (1909). Among my mother’s siblings, she is the one I recall the least. She married Gilbert Tipper and they had five children, whom I seldom met before they all moved to California and completely disappeared from family interactions. I do remember that Maryann, their eldest daughter, who was only a year younger than I, had Down Syndrome, although, back then, the term “Mongolism” was commonly used for this genetic anomaly. During the time when there was contact among the cousins, she was usually protected by her sister Rosalie and younger siblings: Marcella, Gilbert and Oswald. Among them, I interacted primarily with Rosalie; I scarcely knew the others.
My mother’s next sister, Violet (1911) was my favorite aunt. The two of them remained very close during their entire lives. She was my mother’s matron-of-honor; her husband, Charles Weida (also known as Uncle Chike, seldom Chuck), the best-man. My Aunt Vi was my godmother, Uncle Chike, my godfather. She was almost a second mother to me. For several years during my early childhood, her family lived across from us on Cedar Street. I have very fond memories of those years spent there with Rosemary, my favorite cousin, and her sister, Donna. The three of us played together daily. They were my sisters and best friends. I have so many thoughts about them (and other cousins) that they deserve their own essays: Weida Girls and Cousins by the Dozens.
Aunt Vi’s home, whether across the street, on Main Street in Mineral Ridge, or on the other side of Niles, was a place of joy and noisy tranquility. It was constantly filled with her own children (Rosemary, Donna, Wanda, Charles, Bill, Althea, and Michael), other Moransky cousins, and hordes of kids from their own neighborhood, if not much of Mineral Ridge or Niles. Their dining room became a hub of hubbub during the day and into the evening. Laughter over milk and cookies of the early years grew into pleasant conversations over coffee and pastries in later years. If I needed, as I often did during my adolescence, to escape from Seneca to sanity, my retreat was to Aunt Vi’s, which was a long walk across town.
William Moransky, Uncle Bill, was next in line (1913). As Aunt Vi was my favorite aunt, Bill was my favorite uncle. She was my mother substitute; he was my father-figure, the model of what the perfect father would be. As the years moved on, he was the first adult who treated me as a fellow adult; I enjoyed merely being in his presence. Fortunately, there was a long period when he and his wife, Ada, provided my parents assistance in travel. It was not uncommon for them to drive us to different places to visit on a weekend. Trips to Lake Meander and to other nature-parks in northeastern Ohio introduced me to the idea that it is possible to travel and to experience new surroundings. We would also visit their home in Mineral Ridge. I spent minimal time with their son, my cousin Billy, Jr. I preferred to sit nearby and listen to the four adults talk. Besides, Uncle Bill allowed me to sit in his recliner – the seat he would otherwise occupy as his personal site, and the first such piece of furniture I had ever seen.
The other traveling companions for my own parents, since my father refused to own a car, were Aunt Rose, my mother’s youngest sister (1916), and her husband Frank Borecki. Being the youngest in the family, Rose maintained, for her entire life, a position of being fashionable. It always appeared that her attire and her own home were based on a television setting for a sitcom of the fifties. Their favorite places to visit were various shrines spread throughout northeastern Ohio. They favored them along with parish festivals and dinners. Aunt Rose, a very devout woman, was the one who persuaded all of my relatives not to attend, under pain of moral sin, my non-Catholic wedding with Karen in the Congregational church in Sandusky. I admit I was amused when years later, her son, my cousin Frankie Jr., was not married in the Church, either.
During my early days, I greatly enjoyed my trips with Uncle Frank and Aunt Rose, since he drove a Nash American convertible that had a rumble seat. There was no greater fun than being allowed to ride with the wind blowing my hair while the rest of me resided warmly concealed in this special place. It was also during one of those early adventures, I discovered that Uncle Frank was not quite as devout as Aunt Rose. While waiting alone in the front seat of the convertible for the return of the four adults, I discovered, in the car’s glove box, a small pornographic comic book, the first and only one I had ever seen.
Following Aunt Rose, came Uncle Frank, the youngest of my mother’s siblings, who was born late in the same year as Aunt Rose. Throughout my life, a distinction has always been made between “Uncle Frank” and “Frank Borecki.” When I was sacramentally confirmed, as a teenager, this Uncle Frank was my sponsor. I would have liked to have had Uncle Bill as my second godfather at the celebration of my Confirmation, but since he and Aunt Ada had not been married in the Catholic Church, he had suffered the same excommunication later promised by Aunt Rose when I was married “outside the Church.” At the time, his younger brother, Frank, was the best alternative for this sacramental responsibility. He had married Aunt Betty within the Church and so was an acceptable relative for the role, even if we seldom interacted before or after this event. I did not see either of them or their daughters, Carolyn and Diane, very often.
Almost every Sunday during my childhood, my parents and I would go to my paternal grandparents’ house on Vienna Avenue for dinner. During my adolescence, we went “up-the-hill” for the same purpose. Since we had to walk to either location, the visits did not occur during winter snows and spring rains. A similar regimen did not exist for the other side of the family. The Moransky relatives gathered on rare occasions, probably only for special events, the meanings of which I no longer recall – except for those Christmas Eve gatherings. Blurry black-and-white photos suggest there were special events in the very early years, before elementary school, when these relatives would gather for beer and card-games on a Sunday afternoon. These events, probably, involved the baptism of one of the cousins, although I do not remember any church service associated with them.
I do, however, recall one family reunion which occurred during my years at Kent State. There is a collection of Kodachrome photographs of a picnic attended by almost all of the aunts, uncles and cousins from the Moransky clan. It might have been part of a visit by Sophia and the Tipper family, since there are photos of them, as well as the families of Aunt Vi, Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose.
Later in life, when I no longer lived in Niles, my parents continued a close association with Uncle Bill, Aunt Ada, Aunt Rose and Uncle Frank Borecki. According to notations in my mother’s diary for those years, there are numerous Sunday dinners taken at local restaurants. Arthur Treacher seems to be among their favorites. I think the pleasure drives also continued for regional parks and religious sites, depending upon who the driver might be: Bill or Frank. I’m pleased they had the opportunity. It suggests that Karen and I can still enjoy local travel and dining, once COVID-19 is well past. My only concern is that we are out-of-practice, and it might take us an added effort to return to our own Arthur Treacher.