In Remembrance: 011120

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Greetings dear ST, Simonettes, and Simonsieurs!

At our gracious host’s kind invitation, I’m marking a personal red-letter day here: Five years ago, my Mom Panjandrum entered into eternal life. She and Dad P. made the DeNanda you know today possible. I thought you might enjoy knowing a bit about them….I appreciate your indulgence of a grateful daughter.

They were both children of the Depression. Mom (youngest of seven) was born in 1932. Dad (third of four with lots of space between all of them) was born 1n 1935. Mom’s hometown was about an hour away from Dad’s. She grew up in a tight-knit neighborhood. He lived in a more rural setting. Not far from where I am now.

Mom’s Dad – the love of her young life – died when she was 13. Her Mom hired out as a seamstress and domestic to keep things going, while her working-age sons pitched in…During this time, two of my uncles were in the Marines and Navy, serving in WWII. (My sailor uncle was given a hardship discharge.)

Dad’s parents were teachers: My Grandpa Panjandrum’s area of specialty was all levels of music education. (Although he did head the one-room schoolhouse on his homestead, too.) Grandma P. taught sixth grade – with home economics for the girls – added on.

After high school, my Dad fudged about his age and entered the Korean War-era Army. He was attached to the Air Force, as well, in a couple of non-combat overseas assignments building airstrips and landing-fields. My Mom (with assurances from her pastor that singing in the parish choir had familiarized her with Latin) entered a big-city Catholic hospital’s 3 -year RN training program. She almost became a nurse-cadet, but the national program to enlist nurses ended just before her graduation from training in 1953. She worked in her hometown hospital’s emergency and surgical departments while living at home.

Dad Panjandrum
Mom Panjandrum

When Dad Panjandrum’s enlistment ended, he came home to various jobs while earning a degree in Math (and his teaching credentials) at a “Teachers’ College” – now University – in his home state’s academic system on the then just-passed G. I. Bill. He described living in Quonset-hut ‘dorms’ with other student-vets as “an experience”.

While he was still pursuing his degree/credentials, a friend invited him to go on a double-date with her. Her co-worker from the hospital [my future Mom] would be along with another gentleman. Not quite love-at-first sight (Dad P. was almost painfully shy.) but he persisted over the next 2 years or so – and they were married on March 2, 1957.

The Folks

An important aside, I might be thought of as ‘Cathoterian’ (My Mom – whose faith I share – was an observant, non-doctrinaire Catholic; my Dad was a baptized, non-practicing Presbyterian.) They obtained dispensation for an ‘interfaith’ marriage. Dad participated in catechism classes. Their marriage was witnessed in Mom’s home church privately by Mom’s pastor and family members on both sides. The reception was at Mom’s family home. Dad never entered the Church, but always supported our being raised as Catholic. A hiero-monk friend described Dad at his death – in the summer of 2014 – as “surrounded by a protective reef of Catholicism”. That about covers it.

My folks’ early married life was probably typical of many in the late 1950s-early 1960s: Mom helping type papers, Dad cramming for exams; Mom supporting them ’til he got his Master’s and found a teaching job…Until I arrived – prematurely – 5 months or so later. (Six siblings would follow over the next 13 years.)

And DeNanda makes three

I won the parental lottery, no doubt in my mind: My Mom’s nursing/medical background and take-no-prisoners attitude when it came to meeting my needs/actualizing my potential was second-to-none. (I did say “ligeress”, didn’t I?) The strength of her faith was remarkable. (She lost one son to stillbirth in 1962 and another to a car crash in 1986.) Her response to these, and other tragedies and challenges was summed up in a favorite quote, attributed to St. Pio of Pietrelcina: “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.” My Mom’s “PHD-W”, you might say.

MyDad’s flexibility/openness to change (eight family moves – and accompanying job changes [several of which made use of the materials-engineering training and experience from his military days] over 26 of my 62 years) in support of their goals for me, is a tiger-trait that makes my jaw drop now. His insistence on persistence in pursuit of perfection – defined as one’s ‘personal best’ was one of his tiger’s stripes, too (aggravating then, but essential now).

My folks were amicably civilly-divorced in 1983. By 1996, they were loving friends and neighbors who shared one another’s final journeys less than 6 months apart. My Mom and I made a home together here “to the right of Nowhere” for almost 18 years…a joy and blessing. May we all be as blessed as I have been – and continue to be – in the interweaving of intent, choice, and accident that some call “luck” and others “Divine Providence”.

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Published by D’Nanda Panda

Retired hospital chaplain, Theo-Geek, Honorary Marine, bookworm, crossword addict, and lover of intelligent conversation, well-brewed tea and/or occasional distilled spirits - as appropriate.

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29 thoughts on “In Remembrance: 011120”

    1. No disrespect detected, Liz….I agree that the ‘blue-eyed handsome man’ and his ‘brown-eyed girl’ were two of the best-looking parents on the planet. -grin-.

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  2. Parental-lottery-winner here as well. I marvel at their sacrifice & miss them often.
    When Dad was in his 80s and 90s I often drove him & Mom to doctor’s appointments. The routine with any new nurse was the same for Dad: they’d ask the usual barrage of check-up questions and come to ‘Have you had any falls?’ He’d answer ‘Only one.’ They’d say ‘and when was that?’ He’d say ‘When I first saw my wife. I fell for her & never looked back.’

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    1. Oh, but you’re mentioned with gratitude, ST; and there *is* ample material, it must be said, for *other* OPs. Good morning and Blessed Sunday, querido hermano!

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  5. Since I was mentioned with gratitude I will let it slide this one time, but just one more like this and you will be banned (the first time) for life!

    Do you hear me, young lady?

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    1. “Since I was mentioned with gratitude I will let it slide this one time, but just one more like this and you will be banned (the first time) for life!

      Do you hear me, young lady?”

      Solid copy, (gulp), sir!

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  9. Your dad seems to have had some issues to say the least about “the church.” Do you think that was all, a little or nothing at all about you? As a father of a daughter born with Down syndrome, I must admit sometimes having taken my case to our Lord in ways and words that should have gotten me struck down by lightning.

    And if nothing at all about you, what gives?

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    1. First of all, is it okay if I say thank you to you and your family for saying “yes” to the arrival of your daughter – and all that brings into the life of a family? That’s truly awesome! My folks made a courageous decision to have more kids – and to decide that I’d be raised *by them* at home. (Which wasn’t the usual setting at that time.) True courage, honor, and commitment.

      I don’t think my Dad’s lack of comfort with church was entirely about my disability; I’m sure it contributed, I certainly had plenty of encounters with the Lord as a teen that were firestorm-worthy, before He and I made it through to the other side. In my Dad’s case, his nuclear family didn’t attend services regularly. His maternal grandmother was a joyful, committed believer, by all accounts, and his personal link to living in faith. She died unexpectedly when he was quite young. He found her unresponsive, actually. I don’t think he ever recovered from that. (He did participate in my youngest brother’s baptism, surprisingly.) He was an avid outdoorsman; hunting season was an almost ‘sacred’ time. Probably way more than you wanted to know…

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      2. I am not sure but it is possible that Nanda already knew. Regardless in case my question appeared to be too blunt, I wanted all to understand where I was coming from. Furthermore, we do not have to agree on everything. What there is little if any need for is to go at each other’s throats on those few areas where we cannot find common ground.

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    3. I meant, ST, that you present yourself on our blog here as wanting the entire conversation to be All About YOU (witness your “rebuke”😜 to Nanda above. But now,,we learn something about you that we didn’t know: a daughter! And a disabled (if that’s ok, no offense intended) daughter, to boot. And your feelings about it. That’s the “revelation“ (to me at least; if I’m the only ‘ette who didn’t know this, it wouldn’t be the first time!)
      …..But I”m not sure what you mean by Invoking our being able to disagree amicably. Tru dat! but in this context, what’s to disagree on? Your emotions do you credit.

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      1. Disabled is fine. Handicapped is okay also. I don’t, however, much like it when I hear ‘retardo’ or references to the short bus, although 99.9999% of the time I let it go in one ear and out the other.

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  10. Finally and first of all, I want to thank you for introducing me to Mr. & Mrs. DeNanda. Additionally thanks for giving me a new word – hiero. Obviously, I had to look up its meaning. How do you mean it here? At the risk of offending (which is not my intent), it seems a bit redundant in this context.

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  11. In my friend’s case, being designated a ‘hieromonk’, means he’s a priest and abbot, as well as a monk. Just a bit of honor given to a wise friend and spiritual guide. He’s put up with me for about 35 years now, so, props for him. -grin-.

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  12. Since the Lord gives to his beloved while they slumber, it’s time for “Lights out” here. Thanks so much for a truly peaceful, beautiful day. Enjoy the afternoon, ST! G’night to everyone Stateside. Peace be in and with us all! Volveré más tarde. Chao for now….Hasta entonces!

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  13. “Disabled is fine. Handicapped is okay also.”

    Ditto, here, ST…But, that description comes *after* someone mentions my name: “DeNanda, who lives with/has Cerebral Palsy/uses a wheelchair.” My physical limits *describe* but don’t *define* me, or anyone else. As a young adult, I was really language-sensitive – now, not so much. (Developmentally Disabled makes me gag – a verbal pat on the head.)

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  14. Hyp, I didn’t perceive ST’s question re: my Dad’s faith practice and my disability as “blunt”…Friend to friend, I saw truth and a gift of disclosure in it. Disagreement here? None. I am awed by ST’s family’s welcome of – and commitment to – a daughter whose personhood / right to be alive on the planet are currently denied by entire nations. (I’m looking at you, Iceland.) I’ll take the ramp down to ground-level now; that soapbox is too narrow to park on for very long. -grin-

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