An Honorable Man

Two weeks ago, John Patrick Stanton was buried privately after a very well-attended funeral mass held at the Immaculate Conception Church in Jenkintown (Philadelphia). He was 86 when he died and is survived by his wife, 12 children, 46 grandchildren and 15 great-grandchildren.

At John's evening wake the evening before, roughly 1100 people filed past his casket to view him one last time. On the morning of the mass and burial, another 400 were in attendance. Included in the attendees were 16 priests, the Stanton Family Singers and a Marine Honor Guard staffed entirely by his grandchildren (Stanton was a Navy veteran).

One particular attendee deserves a special note. Her name is Brianna and she came because her birth took place because of John Patrick Stanton. You see, Mr. Stanton was the founder of the Pro-Life Union of Greater Philadelphia. He took a stand against abortion. For 30 years, he would stand in front of an abortion clinic three days a week praying for those who were going in. One of those clinics saw him in attendance for 12 years before it was shut down due to the atrocities taking place within - and by that I mean patients who died through malpractice and babies whose spinal cords were severed if they were born alive.

In no case, though, did John Patrick Stanton ever scream at the women entering these clinics to call them murderers. He never belittled them. He did speak to them on occasion, saying to them, "You're a beautiful mother." Mr. Stanton did suffer abuse at the hands of some who saw him as a trouble maker, being maced or hit in the face by something or someone who left bruises. Yet, he retained the "utmost respect" for the women he reached out to. He didn't see evil in them.

Once, after being charged with contempt of court for violating an injunction by picketing, he went to jail rather than pay the legal fees of the clinic because he couldn't bear the thought of paying money to a company that profited from abortion. He was there for 90 days and never did pay the fees before he died.

John Patrick Stanton was an honorable man. I may not share his convictions (don't misunderstand my meaning - it's not as black and white as it seems), but I admire his devotion to them. I also admire that he did it all with love, which can't be said for many who are opposed to abortion. He simply prayed for and conversed with the pregnant women entering the clinics. He was a peaceful, loving and caring man who I would have loved to have met.

Photo is from the news article I read that triggered this post.

The news article I read: goo.gl/d6w299.

Marriage - GBE2 Picture Prompt

WEEK #12 (8-7-11 to 8-13-11): Picture Prompt

We had until Saturday (8-13-11) to post this week’s blog and leave our url as a comment on the GBE2 thread. Obviously, I'm late.

For those of us who use Twitter, the hashtag for the group's posts is #GBE2, so we can increase readership if we all tweet early and tweet often. ;O)

Happy blogging!
Beth (our illustrious leader)

Marriage

I can’t say I’ve had many positive images of marriage and wasn’t sure I wanted to write on this particular prompt. But, just as I was explaining my not having participated, a memory came to me and changed my mind.

As you may all know, I am divorced. It wasn’t a good marriage, and to be honest, it was very abusive; although I get along with my ex just fine at this point some 22 years later. My parents were married 55 years, but they were pretty miserable because of my father and his apparent jealousy (according to Mom) of me. I have always believed it was because I was a girl. He made it pretty clear over the years. That and he didn’t have the ability to admit when he was wrong, and he always had to be right. Mom stuck it out for three reasons – me, their property had been given to them by her father and this was her second marriage. Her first husband got himself a girlfriend while she was caring for her dying mother a year after they’d married. Mom was a pillar of strength in the midst of stormy seas. I don’t know how she did it, although I remember her crying because of Dad when I was little. And, I hated him for it.

As you can see, I had reason to not want to write this. But, then I remembered my grandparents. My father had a level of animosity towards them like he had towards me. I've come to believe it was because he was an only child until age 17 when his sister came along. Her relationship with her parents was entirely different than my dad’s. And, he seethed over it for years. When I came along, it was just history repeating itself. But, all that aside, my grandparents had an almost idyllic marriage. 

That’s not to say it was very traditional for their time. My grandmother was very independent, didn’t want anyone telling her what to do, didn’t want to be tied to the house, and so, she was a career woman. First of all, she got pregnant. She wasn’t married. But, she didn’t want anyone being forced to marry her just for that reason as she knew she was equally to blame. So, she “ran away”. She didn’t want my grandfather feeling obligated to marry her, so she simply picked up and moved out of her parents’ house and ended up somewhere near Washington, DC. I don’t have all the details because I only know this because my aunt told me. This was in the 20s, so you KNOW it wasn’t going to be easy for her, but she was determined to not marry because she “had” to. Her grandmother hadn't and, two years after her daughter was born, married a man who raised her as his own. Nana believed that you do what’s best for yourself and did it.

Well, Poppop was upset when she left without any word. He kept at her parents until they finally told him what was up and where she was. He could have disappeared right then and there, but he didn’t. He drove down to where she was (this was before interstates, people, and it’s a four hour drive WITH them) and convinced her that he loved her and wanted to marry her and would marry her no matter what. So, in December 1922, they were married. In July 1923, my father was born.

In the 60s after they were both retired, Poppop from Federal service and Nana from AT&T, they drove across country seeing everything they could, riding mules into the Grand Canyon, visiting the old Las Vegas and bringing home the obligatory casino souvenirs (ashtrays from Sands, etc.) and showing off hundreds of photos of their trip. I was fascinated with it all, especially the Petrified Forest.

As I said, my grandmother was very independent. When my family moved to Venezuela because of Dad’s job, Nana wanted to come visit. Poppop said he wasn’t about to get on any plane, so she told him, fine – I’ll go without you. She took a girlfriend with her and we had a grand time with her.

Poppop died in September 1971 after a gall bladder operation the night before he was to be discharged. A blood clot dislodged and went into his lungs. Nana remained stoic and expressed little emotion. I never really saw affection between them, but never thought there wasn’t love. But, one day while at her house, I was helping her in the bedroom while she made her bed (they slept in twin beds) and she started saying that she missed him. She almost broke into tears when she mentioned how she missed when he’d leave his bed to come “visit” her in her bed. Of course, I was embarrassed as innocent as I still was at the time – and yet, I was in awe. I had never seen her express her love for him before, even though I accepted it as fact. I mentioned it to my mother once and she told me how my grandmother simply adored my grandfather. She told my mother that she’d “eat shit” if he asked her to. You’d have to know my grandmother to realize that she had a tendency to be rather earthy in her speech. Despite her independent spirit, she was a full-blown traditionalist when it came to loving her husband. And, the fact that he accepted her for who she was despite society’s traditional perspectives made their relationship one that I have to say I envy.

You know, I’m glad now I wrote this. It has brought back some really nice memories. 

TGIBBF Book Blurb Friday, July 22 - Stone Angel

As always, Lisa Ricard Claro hosts Book Blurb Friday in which we are to do the following:

Write a book jacket blurb (150 words or less) so enticing that potential readers would feel compelled to buy the book.

This week our "book cover" for Book Blurb Friday #21 has been provided by Sioux Roslawski. 

If you want to join us, please feel free to share your creativity. What story do you see in this potential book cover?

Andy Stone laid the flower by her grave. He missed her so much these days. She was always able to see him through the difficult times, to help him see the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. She knew how to comfort him. But, ever since that fateful day in March, he felt so alone and helpless. How would he go on? No one knew him like she did. “Why did you leave me, Terri? What am I going to do?”

The voice came softly, gently, almost whispering: “You’ll be fine, Cuddlebug. Remember my words always. They were true then, they’re true now.”

No one called him Cuddlebug but Terri. He had to be imagining it. “Remember, Cuds. The strength is within you.” Andy looked all around him. All could see was a stone statue of a woman. A woman who looked amazingly likeTerri. Like Terri Stone.