52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - Week 14

Dorothy behind the pram 1920

Maiden Aunt is the writing prompt for this week. The only aunt I had who never married was my mom’s sister, Marie. I wrote about her in Week 10, and that post can be found here. I had several maiden great-aunts, but the one that I knew the best was Dorothy Crusham. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio on 25 October 1908, Dorothy was the 9th and final child of Michael J. Crusham and Catherine (Colgan) Crusham. My maternal grandfather, Michael A. Crusham, was her oldest brother as well as the oldest child in the family.

In the 1930 census, Dorothy was 21 years old, living at home with her parents and two of her brothers, and was employed as a telephone operator. Their house was located at 4117 West Liberty St.

Sister Miriam Fidelis

On 8 September 1934, Dorothy became a member of the Religious Sisters of Mercy (R.S.M.) She resided at McAuley Convent in Cincinnati. R.S.M. was established in Dublin in 1831, but it wasn’t until 1858 that some of the sisters came to Cincinnati to teach and visit the sick in their homes. The R.S.M. nuns are “women of faith who commit our lives to God and our resources to serve, advocate and pray for those in need around the world.”

While she was busy with her life serving Christ, Aunt Dorothy (as we called her) tried to attend as many family events as she could. She particularly enjoyed coming to the Crusham family reunions, which were usually held in a local park during the summer. What I remember most about her was her smile and her infectious laugh.

Sister with nieces Marie and Margie

Although I don’t recall where we were going, one time I rode in the car with her. We were probably headed to my grandparents house after a family gathering. She was a horrific driver as she got older, and I vividly remember our drive as we headed the wrong way on a one way street. I was so frightened I got down on the floor of the back seat. We made it safe and sound to our destination, but my parents never let me ride with her again!

Aunt Dorothy was funny and kind, and I remember wishing I had nuns like her teaching at my elementary school in Des Moines. Despite the fact that she always wore a habit, she was not in the least bit intimidating.

Golden Jubilee

Her Golden Jubilee to commemorate 50 years as one of the Sisters of Mercy was held in 1984 at the Laurel Court in Cincinnati. Once the 1907 home of Peter G. Thomson, founder of The Champion Coated Paper Company, the building and its grounds were turned into an event space with multiple gardens. Many nieces and nephews attended the party, as well as her sole surviving brother, Tom. My brother flew in from Colorado, and my sister and her family along with my husband and me traveled from St. Louis to help her celebrate this momentous event.

Dorothy died on 22 August 2001 at the age of 92. She lived a long, full life and was much loved by her spiritual and blood families alike.

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - Week 10

Marie, right front, with her family

When I saw the writing prompt for this week, Strong Woman, I immediately thought of my mom’s older sister, Marie. The firstborn of eight surviving children of Michael Crusham and Mayme (Metz) Crusham, Marie was born 28 March 1912 at the family’s home on Rosemont Avenue in Cincinnati, Ohio. Michael and Mayme had purchased the home sometime after they married in 1911.

Pogue's Cincinnati

Marie dropped out of high school when she turned 16 to take a job to help support the family, which at that time numbered seven. She went to work at Pogue’s, an upscale department store located on Fourth Street in downtown Cincinnati. She would walk up the hill on Rosemont Avenue to Glenway Avenue and catch the bus each day. She never learned how to drive or got a license her entire life. She worked her way up in the business office at the store, and remained there until she retired with a nice pension. Unfortunately, that pension was later stripped away when Pogue's was purchased by another conglomerate.

Marie on the left with
sisters Stell and Catherine

Though she was an attractive, friendly and outgoing person, Marie never married and rarely dated, according to family members. My parents often wondered if a man had gotten “fresh” with her, and that’s why she stopped dating. She lived with her parents her whole life, and supported them and took care of them as they aged. Michael died in 1961 and Mayme in 1969. Their will stipulated that Marie could remain in the house on Rosemont until she no longer wanted to live there or until her death. Then the house was to be sold, with the money divided among the surviving children.

Marie’s hobbies were reading, quilting, and embroidery, and she was known to make a baby quilt for each of her new great-nieces and nephews. I still have the one that she made for my son in 1985. She also loved to travel and would take the bus to visit us in Chicago and Des Moines. After my mom and dad moved back to Cincinnati in 1984, they took her on a few road trips with them.

Unfortunately, a fall from her front porch around 1999 resulted in her being paralyzed from the neck down. She had to be placed in a nursing home, and could no longer do any of the things she loved. It was an unfair occurrence for someone who had never harmed anyone. But despite this, she never lost her easy-going manner, and never complained about what had been taken away from her. She celebrated her 90th birthday at the facility in March of 2002, and died there on 2 July 2002.

We all loved Aunt Marie, and I never doubted the love she had for me as well. She was the epitome of a good Christian, of a person who honored her mother and her father, and one who gave of herself without asking anything in return. Despite the number of years that have passed, I miss her every day. Here is the poem I wrote for her, which was displayed at her funeral.

Family Search 52 Stories Week 43

Do you have any aunts or uncles who never had any children? What impact did they have on your life?

left to right, Marie with two of her sisters
Stell in middle and my mom
Catherine on the right in the '40s

My mother was one of eight children, not counting two who did not survive childbirth. The oldest child was Marie, and she never married or had children. She was very pretty when she was younger, and used to date, according to her sisters. But my dad speculated that a guy must have gotten "fresh" with Marie, as she never had a man in her life once she became a young woman.

Aunt Marie worked in the office of a major department store in Cincinnati, a job she kept until retirement. She took the bus downtown every day, having never learned to drive. She remained living with her mom and dad, so we got to see her when we visited my grandparents. She was always sweet and loving to us, and sometimes she would take a bus and come to see us in Chicago or Des Moines for her vacation.

I never saw her in anything other than a dress. I don't believe that she owned a pair of pants and certainly not any shorts. The small, shot-gun style house that she shared with her parents had no air conditioning, and the only toilet and shower were in the basement until my grandparents were older. Then the pantry off the kitchen was converted into a half bath.

My memories of my grandparents are fairly vague, but I can vividly see my aunt lighting the huge gas stove to make coffee or a meal, and see her standing at the old sink doing dishes. Sometimes when I kept her company in the kitchen I would sit on the old Formica table just to have her scoop me off with the admonishment, "Tables are for glasses, not for little asses!" Then we would burst into laughter, and it was all the more funny to me as Marie was not one for swearing.

One summer summer I stayed with Marie by myself, and I had arrived before she got home from work. I went in the kitchen to get some pop, and I heard squeaking noises from behind the refrigerator. Thinking it was a mouse, I quickly ran out to the front porch until it was time for me to meet her at the bus stop. As soon as I saw here I told her about the noise. "Oh, that's a bat," she nonchalantly stated. I stared at her incredulously. "A ba-a-a-t?", I exclaimed! All of a sudden a mouse didn't seem like a big deal. "It escaped from the attic", she informed me. Great, I thought to myself, I'm not going to sleep in one of the beds upstairs. I'll take the couch.

At the time I had waist-length hair, and the common perception was that a bat would fly towards it and get tangled in the hair. I had to come up with a way to get the bat out of the house - or I was going to go batty with worry. That night after it got dark we turned on the back porch light, then turned off all the lights inside the house. The thought was that the bat would fly towards the porch light. My job was to slam the door shut when the bat hit the screen door. Meanwhile, Marie was outside and would open the screen door to let the bat go. It was a perfect plan, right up until the time that I slammed the door on the bat, smashing it. Marie had to take a broom and sweep it up and into a trash can.

What a memory! All of my thought of Marie are good ones (well, maybe with the exception of the bat), as she was kind and caring and never had a cross word to say. She nursed her parents as they grew old, and she made by hand baby quilts for new additions to the family tree. An unfortunate accident later in life caused her to be paralyzed from the neck down, forcing her out of her childhood home and into a nursing home. She could no longer travel, read, knit, sew or do any of the activities that she loved. But we never heard her express a word of discontent over her circumstances. She died not long after celebrating her 90th birthday. After she died, I tried to put my feelings about her into the following poem, which was displayed at her funeral. She lived a long life in a manner that many people could learn a lot from. I hope that I emulate her, at least to some extent.

poem for Marie