The Broken People of Nothingness

Having read excerpts of J.D. Vance’s book Hillbilly Elegy, I found him to be a “pretender” (or, as my Irish Mother would call him, a “phony”). But, there was some common ground. The death of J. D. Vance’s grandmother, Mamaw, is a poignant replay of… death hitting home. But, so what ??? When a man or a woman die old (as J.D.’s Mamaw did) that’s just the reality of life… burdened (as it is) with a date of death already written on the calendar the day we are born. From the moment we are born, we are going to be called on to die. It is the price of life and it’s the living of life that’s tough.

I remember the overwhelming sadness of my Mother’s family, and their attenuated grip on life. 10 kids in my Mother’s family, and 9 alcoholics (with her brother Sherwood killed in the wilds of Minnesota while “lumberjacking”– dying early at age 17… before he had the chance to turn to the drink. My Mother’s family, was not quite as destitute as my “only child” Father’s family. My Father’s family was as destitute, forlorn and malnourished as anyone during the Great Depression. My Mother’s Father, (my Grandfather) Charles Montroy, was one of the “lucky ones,” the working-class fortunates of the Great Depression… always away from home as a Stevedore and later cook on the Iron Ore Carriers of the Great Lakes. The Mariners all knew the good ship and crew were bone to be chewed… when the Gales of November came early (Gordon Lightfoot… The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald… 1975).

• My Irish Grandmother, Mary McKelvey Montroy (1878-1931)… Daughter of Irish immigrant, John McKelvey, and Mother of 10, died in 1931 (at age 53) in Detroit, with a rosary in her hand, listening to “beautiful music” that only she could hear (her eternity sealed into the moment of her last breath, but filled with beautiful music). Grandmother Montroy died in the family, rental home (at 254 Marston, Detroit) near the Boulevard and Woodward (down the street from Holy Rosary Church)… some years after the family moved from Minnesota (Hibbing, Duluth area on Lake Superior… ask Bob Dylan) to Detroit. Immediately, after my Irish Grandmother’s death, her son, my Uncle Marty Montroy bought six burial plots at Holy Sepulchre Catholic Cemetery (9 mile and Beach Daly Rd.) in Southfield, and, in his grief, buried his Mother Mary McKelvey Montroy in 1931 in the first of those six plots.
• My Grandfather, Charles Montroy (1870-1947), a Frenchman from Port Dover Ontario, wrapped up his life, living with his daughter, my Aunt Charlene (Montroy) LaTour and her husband Chuck and their ten children… in a small house on Fairview in Lansing. “Good time Charlie” as my Grandfather was known (as once a month in the Lansing area bars, on the day he cashed his small pension check) lived to be 77 and died in 1947 at St. Lawrence hospital in Lansing, Michigan. Like my Grandmother, he was buried (“along with his name” Eleanor Rigby, Beatles) in another one of the six Holy Sepulchre plots his son (my Uncle Marty Montroy) bought in 1931.
• My Grandfather’s Brother, my Great Uncle, Lafayette Montroy (1864-1934), was also buried in one of the six Holy Sepulchre plots at Age 70. Great Uncle Lafayette was hit by a car in Detroit, crossing the Boulevard in front of the Fisher Building in a snowstorm on St. Patrick’s Day. And, he ain’t even Irish. Oh, the irony of it all.
• My Aunt Catherine (Montroy) Weadock, (1900-1939) the so-called “beauty” of the family (although I don’t believe any of the Montroy girls were as good looking as my own Mother, Jean). Catherine was also buried in one of those six, Holy Sepulchre plots. Aunt Catherine was married to Attorney, Arthur Weadock (the son of the Mayor of Saginaw, Thomas Weadock… who later became a Michigan Supreme Court Justice). My Aunt Catherine’s alcoholism cost her dearly… her marriage, her home, her young children, her rank as “Socialite” and, finally, her very life. With her drinking in full bloom, Aunt Catherine fell from the grace of High of Society into the bottomless pit of helplessness, homelessness and the hopelessness of alcohol addiction (as if she had a “death wish”), dying alone at age 39 on July 4th 1939… after a severe beating from a would-be paramour who wanted more than Aunt Catherine had to offer. See the Detroit Times front page article of July 5,1939, Ex Society Beauty Slain.
• My Aunt Corrine (Montroy) Tarwood (1912-1954) died of alcoholism in 1954 at age 42 and was buried along with her name in another one of the six, Holy Sepulchre plots… as I (a dismayed 11-year-old) stood by the graveside on that very cold, wet, bone chilling, saddest of sad days, trying to figure out why life was always so tough and hauntingly depressing. Not long after Aunt Corrine’s death, her oh so sweet, alcoholic daughter, Mary Grace (who lived with us in Detroit for a couple short stays) fell from grace (like her Sister Catherine before her) and died, oh so early.
• My Uncle Kent Montroy (1909-1996), a Broadway actor, died in New York City in September, 1996 at age 87. (How did he live so long drinking and smoking ???). Kent’s last letter to my Mother Jean was postmarked June 20, 1988 (seven months before my Mother’s death). “Dear Jean, I just came from the bar. I had four shots. One was for you.” Oh the humor and irony of it all. Per my request, Uncle Kent’s ashes were flown back from New York City for burial in the last of the six Holy Sepulchre plots. I was in a two-week Manslaughter trial in St. Joseph Michigan, representing an over-the-road trucker out of Chicago (Adam Nawrocki) who crashed his rig into a stopped line of traffic on I-94, without braking, killing four (in four separate vehicles). I drove home on the weekend at mid-trial to bury Uncle Kent’s ashes in the last of the six plots purchased by my Uncle Marty Montroy in 1931 (65 years earlier). I did the best I could. I shared some memories with five mourners, and then drove back to the St. Joseph Courthouse and successfully concluded the Manslaughter trial with a “not guilty” verdict (surprising everyone…except the aforementioned, nameless dead).

The finality of life and death, finally, exhausted the available burial plots. Final resting places for broken family members, all buried along with their names. No Grave markers commemorating the lives of my Mother’s family. Their lives, deaths and names were lost to history… my Irish Grandmother Mary McKelvey, my Grandfather, “Good-time Charlie” Montroy, my Great Uncle, Lafayette Montroy, my Aunt Cathrine, my Aunt Corrine and my Uncle Kent. But, all was not lost. The names and chronology of their lives were about to rise from the ashes of their anonymity.

Uncle Kent died leaving a token savings account. I commandeered the money… under the pretext of buying a headstone for him. Instead, I threw in some of my own money, and, in 1996, bought six headstones for (as the Irish say) “The whole lot of them”… with everybody’s name, date of birth and date of death, buoyantly marking the plot above their earthly remains… in (as I say) six burial plots purchased by my Uncle Marty Montroy in 1931. Then, like my Uncle Kent before me, I went to the bar to celebrate my Courtroom victory in St. Joseph Michigan, and had a drink for “the lot of them” and saluted them with a long overdue recognition that had previously eluded them. They lived, they loved, they survived and, then, they died.

And, Uncle Marty (the original grave lot purchaser) ??? A two-time, reformed alcoholic… who then became very prosperous by my family’s, lower, Middle Class standards ??? Buried in the San Diego area in 1976… with one last visit with him in 1976, after I took the California Bar Exam. I walked away with a gift from Uncle Marty… a worn out  Book of Poetry by Robert W. Service, “A promise made is a debt unpaid” (The Cremation of Sam MaGee). Ironic, eh ??? “A promise made is a debt unpaid”… indeed. Taking the lead from my Uncle Marty, I bought four burial plots in Holy Sepulchre in 1982 when my beloved Father (1916-1982) died at age 66. Seven short years later, I buried my 74-year-old Mother Jean (1914-1989) next to my Father, hoping all is forgiven between them… as I’m sure it is.