NEW ORLEANS (LA)
The Advocate
November 6, 2018
By Dan Fagan
My paternal grandmother was born in 1903 in Swinford, Ireland, into a family of 11. At 16, her parents, because of poverty, put her on a ship to America to live with her older sister, knowing they’d probably never see her again.
My grandmother’s impoverished beginnings and living through the Great Depression caused her to be singularly frugal. I’m convinced she had the same ketchup bottle for years. Each time she’d add just a little more water to it. While frugal with material things, she was richly generous with her love.
My grandmother spent her final years living in the Wynhoven Apartments, a retirement high-rise run by the Catholic Church in Marrero. As a kid I loved spending the night with Grandma because she adored me. She made me feel loved, peaceful and safe.
Her apartment was at the end of the hall on the eighth floor. To her immediate right was a door leading to a balcony overlooking the Hope Haven-Madonna Manor orphanage. The view was spectacular with the Spanish-colonial architecture. It was like going back in time. We would often watch kids play at sunset from that balcony. I also remember thinking how sad it was the kids didn’t have parents or someone like my grandmother to make them feel wanted and loved.
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