Patty

 REFLECTIONS FROM #3 - PATTY

It's usually a picture that comes to mind when I reflect on the memories and stories that have sculpted my life as a RINGWOOD... not words necessarily but the symbols, the sounds, the colors! That's why I see a flowing line that slightly spirals when I ponder over the Ringwood-hood.....that awesome warp and weft that weaves us all together as one! And I suppose that this is why teaching art has come so naturally to me because how I think and how I feel I always presents itself as picture.  The early nineteenth century artist Paul Klee once said that "A line is a dot that goes for a walk." He helps me to clarify my vision as I fondly look back in time and see and hear and feel what it was like growing up a Ringwood.

A dot that goes for a walk.....Can you all see it?      It is the blessed beginning of Mom and Dad's love.....the very first dot and the love that united them in marriage and spiraled into today's three generations of loving family! When you think of a line and all of its connected dots, one dependent on the next, it is as if looking at our family in the simplest way. Each child, each grandchild and great grandchild is connected to the next; inseparable! Connection is the key and that has been a standard of the Ringwood family; a connection of hearts so strong and so committed that not distance, disagreement or even death could ever truly separate us from one another.

So....how does the picture of a line come to me so quickly when I think of our family? Easy! We grew up in lines! Let's be honest. We were raised Catholic and of course that alone meant walking the straight line 24/7 but it also meant that there was no other way.

Did one of our teachers ever give us the option of walking in the hallways differently? How funny it is now to realize that they were also capable of convincing us also that those lines had first name too:   QUIET. We walked in Quiet Catholic Lines all day long even - to recess (or should I say parking lot time?)

As our family grew and friends came to the house how often were we asked the question "And where in line are YOU?" I was always quite pleased to announce my spot (or is it a dot?) in the high end of the line. Do you see this line picture of mine better now?

Whether third or tenth we were the "dots" in a long, loving line, all walking together as family! One of my earliest memories at 58 Steele Street is of the parades we marched in on the way up to bed. Mom and Dad had invented an ingenious motivator and rather than be "told" to go to bed we "celebrated" with a parade through the downstairs. Picture it - Dad leading the parade, proud and true and I imagine Mom at the tail end scurrying the smallest along and more than likely humming a happy tune! On an exceptionally good night it would loop through the kitchen and we were allowed to grab a quick piece of candy! Christmas time was the best....I can still taste that ribbon candy!

Lining up was always a big deal; especially the good-bye line! David has always commented on this time-consuming Ringwood phenomena that became the signature so-long after a visit back home. Year after year that line got longer and Bernie seemed to get shorter. One in particular will remain uppermost in my mind. It was an Easter Sunday on Owasco Street when Matthew was a toddler. David, Paul, Pete and Bob had been horrified at finding out that I had put bananas and fruit roll ups in his basket instead of the traditional chocolates, so as we said our good-byes "t heir " portion of the line was swiftly shoving their candy into Matt's pockets to take home.  Matthew was saved in that line!

Lining up for dinner remains my nearest and dearest vision first of all because we spent a lot of time there. In a sense, we became savvy and grew up there! If you craved mashed potatoes you knew you had to be in line early or be at risk of a small portion. If you were at the end of the line you didn't have to rush (or experience the feeling of being sandwiched-in.) That was always my preference! I can still recall the numerous conversations I had in those dinner lines with a sibling I hadn't seen all day as well as the secrets and plans we made for later on! Want was second nature to us initiated great interest from friends that often stayed for dinner. How easily they always fell into our routine and became part of a tradition.

There have been significant lines of sadness too that I choose not to omit because they too represent a piece of the Ringwood history. I can still see the dark lines of our grand parents' funeral services and the tears that streamed from our faces. And as painful as it is to return to Dad's death I can honestly say I will NEVER forget the endless line of friends and family that   came through our home to mourn and comfort us at our most pivotal Ringwood moment!   They literally spiraled around us and protected us.

When you think about it, line was a physical trait of the Ringwood’s too! As a family, we were a LONG line. Didn't we take up an entire pew at mass each week?  Our "Ringwood-noses were distinctively short CURVES. And how about those hairstyles that WAVED and curled across Tom and Jack's heads? They looked great on them but of course I wanted STRAIGHT and thanks to Tom and his quick hand on the iron I got the line I wanted.  We were tall VERTICLE lines by height, surpassing both Mom's and Dad's in what seemed to be the blink of an eye.

Precious GROWING UP lines present themselves too as I can still see us sledding on snow covered hills or sliding down the long Owasco Street driveway in our slippery boots after dinner. How many remember the eight-seat toboggan? Do they really make them that long or was it custom ordered like our front door(s) and that extra-long wooden kitchen table? And how about the beautiful

lines we drew in the fourth of July sky with our sparklers and the worn-out path of bases stolen and runs scored in the side yard? I remember INDIRECT lines of walking home from Holy Family that often took me behind Kathleen McEvoy's to gather slightly used flowers for Mom or the ZIG ZAGS of walking up and down and over the snow banks at the Grand Union.  I remember the TUMBLI NG line of Ringwood’s and Hogan’s spilling out of the La Sabre yet joyously running to our day camp groups! One of the most touching for me was the Gold Medal FLOUR line of footprints that two -year old Bobby created after playing in it early one morning? (Mom and Dad were in St . Croix and I was taking care of the family!) We are a line, the dots that continue to walk together!

Nancy, you are my VERTICLE line. Being the firstborn has naturally placed you in the position of example and direction for all of us! In a private way, you were my first teacher! I always watched and learned from you and held on to every "new, sensational idea " you had!   I loved that you taught me things before I had to figure them out for myself because you saved me the pain of being in left field most of the time. You put makeup on me for the first time, tipped me off on where to get the best deal on 45's and showed me how to be a real Mt . Carmel girl! But more importantly you've taught me how to toe the line! No matter how effortless or how tumultuous a challenge has been for you your head is always gracefully high and gently confident .  You tr us t, you ask for little and you believe that the world is good. Nancy, you are my mentor of clear and confident direct ion.

Mike, you are my HORIZONTAL line, the elder brother and the steady foundation under our feet. When I was little I use to pretend that I was you because I admired the talents you had! Do you remember how you use to draw blueprints for houses? I'd sit in my bedroom for hours doing the same after I'd seen yours but they never had the same balance or vision. I tried to drum on your practice board but just couldn't get the smooth rhythm you had.  And boy did I ever want to dive like you did!  I remember watching you at Donovan's camp.....not a splash.....not a sound! Maybe I should have gotten out of the inner tube I floated around in so much and practiced like you. But I especially hold on to the conversations we had together as we transitioned into the "big" high school.   We took walks in the rain after I’d cried to you over some disappointment and often, you'd sit on my bed and counsel me over choices I was making. You still do and continue to with all of your family. Think of the foundations (house closings) you've helped us all plant as son, as brother, as lawyer of our family!  Michael,  you are the horizon!

Tom, you are my JUMP line! Like Tigger you have the energy and the passion, the stamina and the pursuit to climb and climb and climb. How f itting it's been that Mr. Scherrer and Lew Alcindor were the heroes of your youth and the basketbalI was your means of travel! Tower-like people, personalities to look up to and a simple leather ball that moved and dunked and focused you completely. Yet within this spirit to climb you have remained grounded in family and home. You've always return from the "jump" no matter where it has led you and spr ing right back up again BECAUSE of those that you love! Except ONCE! How could we ever forget the day I had to "spring" you from captivity in Tommy Carter 's car! I suppose it must have been a day you'd worn yourself out from too much basketball because you had no interest in walking yourself home even if the prospects of a "stranger" were impending. I guess this was our moment of hidden agreement to watch out for each other. You've always li fted me right up with you Tom and t hat is why so long ago I started calling you my scarecrow (Wizard of OZ.) Like him you have always been with a heart so dear and INSIDE of mine, reminding me that "there's no place like home!"

Jack, you are my CURVE line, the simple, gentle, soothing curve. Yet I never see you so stretched (by the miles between us or your many responsibilities) that it takes you apart from any of us. You are the curve that pulls in like a hug - warm, surrounding, patient, ever-present. This image started for me when you were the youngest and Mom and Dad took us to have our portrait taken. We were arranged in two rows and you and I were in the front. As the photographer was about to snap the picture, you leaned to your right and your arm rested against mine. As clear as day I can remember thinking how warm you were and how close I felt to you as your "big " sister. That is the same feeling I treasure t oday. Your gentle side is the warm curve that keeps us all close at heart .

Teresa, you are my SPIRAL.....not the random spin or rapid twirl of thoughtless round and round rotation but the penetrating spiral that aims directly at each of our heart s. You, my baby sister, moved directly into my heart the day you were born. I remember your very first days at home and although it was right in the midst of Christ mas anticipation, I cared about nothing more than standing next to you in the bassinette, watching you move, wanting to hold you like my own. I even tried to get you to suck your thumb like me! You have grown into the sibling among us (you're right in the center there with Jack, aren't you?) that carries each of our joys and sorrows deep within you and at every opportunity travels within us as companion and soul-mate. You spiral because that symbol demonstrates your reach...... not only to brothers and sisters but to all of your nieces and nephews as well. You are the sweet spiral.

Paul, you are my ZIG-ZAG, both vertical and horizontal. Do you know that when you were little and we'd go to visit Aunt Helly and Uncle Bob in their antique showcase of a home Mom was in a cold sweat most of the time? You were perpetual motion wherever we were, moving back and forth, up and down, in and out. Yoweren't necessarily bad, just curious.  And as I put  it  together now I realize that you were just practicing the moves and character traits that have brought you your great success and have becomeyour trademark.  Take note that a zig-zag takes time and awareness to be made well.  The lines have to be clear and straight and the tips sharp and specific. Aren't these also the signs of a strong salesman as well as wonderful father and husband? You, Paul James Ringwood Jr. are the zig-zag.

Is there a teacher/educator line?  We all know that teachers are constantly encouraging their students to think outside of the box and so I have to with this next line that actually has no designated name.  David, you are   my MAZE line; the kind whose  path is never lost but completely in the state of exploration. You are the line diverting at every corner, retracing steps, turning 'round about and realizing that there probably is a better (or funnier) way and most importantly, leaving no small opportunity uncovered. This is exactly how I've seen you grow.....with insight and inquisitiveness. You didn't just go to college you went to MOM'S college and traveled to Ireland as well. You didn't simply find a teaching job you accepted an inner - city challenge and painted it into a classroom of mutual respect and hope. You are the ultimate teacher in my mind. May I take a little credit for this? We always played school and games on the front steps together but let's be honest here. I must have sold you on the concept that teachers can directly influence their students when you (and Paul) agreed to be my dancing students that beautiful summer day on Owasco Street . Wasn't I able to show you how enlightening it was to dress in a tu tu and to demonstrate the perfect fifth position? Where is that picture anyway? All jokes aside, knowledge is power, no matter what "fashion" it comes in.  David, you are the brilliance of the maze line.

Pet e r ,  you are my WAVY line, gently surprising, and soft, like poetic mot ion . I don't really remember your voice as a child....it was your water blue eyes and complimentary smile that spoke to me. I don't remember you crying or angry. It was always, and still is , your laughter that sets a seal of approval on the  simplest of  moments and rests deep in my heart. I'm sure that's why I "adopted'' you as my own around the time we went to Flor ida.  You sat with me on the plane, I sang to you, I was just so proud to be connected with you. Have you ever heard the story about Dad's and my argument over a haircut of yours?  This, of course took place at that "adopted” time. I thought Dad was cutting it too short, making you look took grown up and I relentlessly continued to express my o pinion. Oops!  It ended quickly with a "Lis ten young lady....!" And I realized how possessive I had become. So often people will ask me in conversation how my brother Peter is and I always say "Nice!" It's a word carefully chosen rather than thoughtlessly spoken because honestly Pete it says it all. You are so unimpressed with yourself yet continually and totally impressed with everyone else in your life. You my brother are the impressive ocean wave!

Bob, you are not the shape of a particular line in my mind but rather a COLOR line and without question, the vibrant RED. You are the passionate red line of our family that has studied each of your siblings' particular paths. And through that study of vertical, horizontal, curved etc. you have melted them into your very own pattern. Red.....not only because of your hair and the perfect link it forever creates for us with Dad but also because of the imagery it casts on your life. As the tenth you once observed that you were fortunate to have "made it" into the family! What an emotional (red) response for such a young child. You were also the one who, despite two club feet clamped to a metal bar figured out a way to get OUT of your crib and DOWN stairs in one piece. What a powerful (red) thought! You hunkered down at the young age ofnine, just days after losing your father, only to tell David and I that your goal   was to become a good citizen. What a patriotic (red) thought   that was! And you were independent enough to leave the love of your life temporarily to advance your education regardless of the sadness it presented. What a brave (red) thought that was! Brother Bob, you are the RED line, real, righteous and resplendent!

And when all of these linear pictures are woven together they become the CONTOUR line; the line that an artist draws, sometimes without looking at it at all.  It is drawn meticulously and completely so that all details are included, even the slightest and insignificant.  End result?  Exquisite harmony!  We, as Ringwood’s, brothers and sisters, nieces, nephews and cousins have become the contour line with one another  "drawn" by the impeccable love of Joan and Paul. All the details are in place with the understanding that without one of them the line is not complete....is not perfect .

We are the dot that continues to walk daily with one another!