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" Southport Belle "





"The Southport Belle" is my Mother...
  • Albina Pauline (or, Appollonia) Filanowski Backiel Smith Duffy.
  • "Albinka"
  • "Little White Flower"
  • "The Little Egg Girl"
  • "Beans"
  • "Southport Belle"
  • "Rosie the Riveter"
  • "Albina Smitski"
  • "Smitty"
  • "Motherrrrrrrrrrrrr"
  • "Grandma"
  • "Import-Export" lady
  • "Great Grandma"
  • "Albina who jogged the Golden Gate Bridge" at 65, lipreading, in pumps, perfectly-coiffed
  • annnnddd...."Albina Who Polkas"
  • "Albina who reads without glasses at 77, with laser cataract correction,
  • "Albina who drove alone to visit at Christmas, friends and family from Connecticut to Florida and back again,at 78,
  • "Albina who does Curves Fitness Center" to restore energy, at 79"
  • "Albina who scared us witless at Thanksgiving - 911, then outdid us all , after surgical corrections,at her 80th birthday, the following March
  • Albina who moved from East Coast to Seattle area newhome near Son and younger daughter
  • Albina who thrives at 85, living independently and driving still and enjoying her view of Mount Rainier.


    ...Oh, THAT Albina!

    Whatever her nickname, she is surely called "most loved".






    • Born the Year of the Tiger, ladylike Polish conservative or not, her story is remarkable!
    Her special gifts, shared to our benefit , ALWAYS, and triumphant over afflictions, burdens and setbacks. She is an example to all of us.
    She is still doing it all, and I hope, as this story evolves, that you and she are pleased!

    The Polish cheer at events is "STO LAT !", which means, "Live a hundred years ! " We are conscientious: she may have taken it as a mandate, not merely a wish!
    So there is, happily, more to come!

    She smiled and was pleased, but said, "Albina who USED to Polka", a little sadly.
    She needed a cataract correction, and so she had not danced in a while. She "hears" social chat with her eyes, hearing impaired since her twenties. I am musical and not hearing-afflicted, but delighted when Mother showed me how she "feels" music, and loves it ,too...the expression "sonic vibration" was not in our vocabularies, when she taught me that one. I thought I discovered Atlantis.
    But soon after our chat that day, she took the laser repair,and is sometimes on the dance floor again!
    Albina Who Polkas, Polkas once more !
    Still, she is ladylike in her preferences, and thought my first title gave the wrong impression. The discretion she preferred prompted the pagename change to 'Southport Belle'


    Note before beginning:
    The role of parents in preserving the family identity is very important. I was able to write "The Saga of The Little Whitehouse", about my Father's family, in one sitting because my paternal Grandparents lived nearby as did most of the siblings, so I was able to really know them and their story. They were classic, and the perspective of time and experience goads me to write about them. Their Irish souls sometimes only came to best lights when challenged, and ideals and dreams were not just for chat, but more for plans. Challenge an opportunity to come up with fun new thinking and an action plan to win over it all.

    Mother's soul was more fatalistic, and my Father's enthusiasm and bright ideas were her salvation...he would create a window for her and she would jump for it, till maturity and necessity meant she would be able to do so alone. Her options, in her twenties and thirties were not that great without him. Self-actualization for women often called a fault once past girlhood. As mothers go, she was determined, since love and money encouraged, to make up for her own orphaned status by enjoying her motherhood, and was the only one on the block with the child psychology books, to be sure she was doing it right by us, and so she hid them as though they were contraband or sexy novels.

    If "Albina Who Polkas" is a good and true story, to tell it right may take more study and rough drafts. This is because my Maternal Grandparents were not alive when I was born, and my Mother's nine surviving siblings lived at a greater distance. Because they were orphaned in childhood in the midst of the Great Depression, they amazed me in that they made such fine lives, and even fun, in the midst of days that were grim, to say the least, and their sibling bonds were intense, and sometimes as dramatically torn by their survival pressures, and little permission for comfy family chat. And so, they themselves have only learned a something of their own history, in their later years, and only with encouragement, and because of greater seniors' health and computers for the research involved.


    The Polish soul, however valiant, is as sensitive as the Irish, and as creative, and sanguine, and that duality is the source of some very wonderful things!

    This writing will be done with a lighter hand and a careful one, since it is my goal to share these words, thoughts and memories in a fashion that will communicate with a clear eye, but not fail the love that motivated them in the first place. I am ambitious to share these writings while as many as possible are still alive, and able to enjoy them and contribute to them, if they wish!

    I feel I am scoring a point in the game of life.

    We are all so busy and we never have time and then it is too late...

    well, this time, I am MAKING time,

    and there WILL be time!

    This image, which accompanied the announcement of Mother's engagement to Father, is from1946...or was is the day before yesterday?...The news item called her "The Southport Belle", and we think they said it right.

    The list of nicknames,above, is about as fine a place to start as any, to begin the word picture.
    "Albina" means "little white one" , third from the youngest, it would have been appropriate... and her affections earned the name"Albinka" at home. She was an infant when the family moved from Pennsylvania to Connecticut. Her Father , John, was widowed and remarried and prolific. Albina, "binka" was the ninth of twelve, the last dying soon after childbirth with her Mother, Appollonia "Pauline". Widowed twice now, John, inspite of his love from and for his children, did not live much longer... was struck by a moving vehicle and killed three years after Appollonia's death.

    But while he lived, however difficult those depression days, with too much work for too little money, to care for a home, property, livestock, and twelve children, there was love in the home...a puppy, games, automatic co-operation, and my Mother recalls with love, that she liked helping her Father with his shoes after work...the little devotions a person recalls with tenderness, when the times have passed.

    She also remembered harsh discipline sometimes, and "doing without". Sorrow at the loss of her parents. Once orphaned, and poor, they were sometimes discriminated against as "Pollacks", and abused children, by today's standards that were the norm for their times. But she loved Southport, and her own stories say that Southport loved her, too.

    "Little Egg Girl" was her name in the neighborhood in the 1930's...with so many children, her father's work income was not adequate to serve the family's needs, so they raised chickens and delivered the eggs to the fine ladies in the near neighborhood, who referred to her by that name: the area is one of the wealthiest in the world today.

    When her parents died, she found she had been left the heiress, but stayed with adoptive parents, in Massachusetts, till she reached her majority. Her elder siblings were happy to find their way on their own, and the military draft, in their case , was helpful, whether they will admit it or not. In speaking with them later, they all seemed very proud of their service and patriotically expressive.

    Mother was nine, her sister, Florence, eight, and youngest Tony, was five. Florence was placed in adoptive care till later. When no home for Tony could be found, Mother's guardians allowed him to come along with Mother. But they were working people, too, and so impressed Albina with the idea that Tony was her responsibility from that time on. She feels part Mother to him, even today, and so the special nickname,"Beans", that only he could use.

    She grew up well, and lovely when she reached her teens, and met my Father at work, where she was bookkeeper and he mechanic "just off to war" as flight mechanic with the new Army Air Corps. She helped in the war effort, too, with work for Remington Arms... proud patriots, and believers! They corresponded by mail while he served in Texas, England and Morocco, and married when he returned..."Southport Belle To Wed" appeared in the local papers. The Southern Belle was the most popular reference, "Gone With The Wind" having recently won its place as an American Epic. They were a romantic and popular couple, who loved one another and showed it. They made "points" for their melting-pot ethnic mix, and both their families talked about the wisdom in finding the lovely "middle ground" between the Irish and Polish energies. Being exclusively English-speaking, my Father was the more verbal, and musical, and flight was still a new concept for everyday people, and so was the US Army Air Corps, and so my Father, the flight mechanic was considered "quite the catch". till he met Mother, "he knew it", too, and though idealist, could be cavalier and a bit light with the girls...definitely "girls, plural" ; Mother was fluent in Polish and English, self-conscious and precise about her English, blushed easily in public moments, admired the sincere, and came to life in Father's company. She wore a gown of Chantilly lace with sweetheart neckline.

    The war was over , they had skills, beauty, money and property, and enjoyed success in all things. He helped her redecorate their "Tara", and on the wooden beam in the basement, carved a sweetheart, with "Albina Smitski" carved inside...fun with the ethnic mix.
    "And there upon the tree I see, I love you till I die".
    The definition got complicated between them, but they did.

    We came next, lucky children to be born into love and prosperity and so,"Motherrrrrr" needs little explanation: myself, Ellen May Bernardine Smith (later, Fagan), born a little more than a year later, and my Brother, Richard Charles Augustine Smith, two years after that. My Father was working for DuPont Industries in Fairfield, the plant his Father helped to build, and my parents built a new home nearer his family's area in town, renting out their first home, rather than selling it. My sister Lorraine Marie Smith (later, Pura and Gilbert), was born while we lived at the Redding Road house. My Mother loved it! The neighborhood was a little quieter than at the house she'd inherited...and the plantings "shone" on Greenfield Hill - rambler roses, to copy Grandma's, and some of everything else...including a vegetable patch that attracted critters as well as people, and entertained us all! The view from the kitchen widow was of the famous Greefield Hill Congregational Church...the stone wall fences just high enough for a child to climb and play. At Easter, there were real baby bunnies for pets for us, along with "Cookie" our spaniel. Organdy and Satin for dresses, and snappy suits with bow ties for our Brother, and parents,

    Albina and Charlie worked and laughed and played, too...

    but there were changes, again, in the world. Soon after the birth of my sister, Mother wore an odd corsage with a wire from it that ended in her ear, and she was not the first...half of her siblings wore hearing aids before midlife. It was felt that the sufferings they endured in diet and care in childhood during the Depression might have been the culprit, since, a generation later, with thirty grandchildren among them, only one developed hearing problems, and that one had always delicate health. Whatever the cause, I was five, and promised to be helpful and happily so, not understanding it all , really.

    The recession of the fifties added to the stress... changes to cope seemed, in the long run, only to make some things worse. Although we children thrived and grew properly and with honors, and plenty of lighthearted moments and fun, our parents health and finances took damage, until they had to divorce, and let the doctors and lawyers help them regain footing. The divorce was difficult but successful in solving the problems, and they both did very well again and both remarried. An unusually compatible family friend married my Father, and my Mother met and married her Harry Duffy, soon after. She was using her better-than-average vision to grind precision tools, in reprise to her work for Remington Arms during World War II...blushing all the way, not being inclined to factory work at this point in her life...so she changed jobs for work with a nice import/export firm, managing the filing department...but her hearty Harry would call her "Smitty" to help her maintian humor and respect for her work-ethic skills.

    Still, I think she likes the last nickname on the list the best:"Grandma"is a wonderful name!





    a few notes, just to begin.....

    The Polish-American community in my childhood home in Fairfield, Connecticut, was, and still is, very evolved and respected, and so, although I lacked maternal grandmothers, it was "my Polish aunties", many of them no blood relation, who enlightened me in understanding where my Mother's family is concerned: for example, recently passed away, at over one hundred, Julia Maciedulski (called "Mills"), a neighbor, invited me into her home, taught crochet and baking and gave me clues about Polish-American culture a generation before my Mother's...which aided day-to-day understanding of my Mother and myself, in that respect. Later, my Mother would say that she experienced Julia as a Mother-of-a -sort, especially during the "mentor" years...the time in the life of the young adult when it is typical to enjoy a special guide, one who is not a parent, but of the parent's generation. In fact, she was at least ten years younger than all the other women on the block, and more, but loved it.

    The gates between our property and that of three neighbors was opened and shut often and with care: a mixed-metal display, not pickets, but not forbidding, softened by the foliage and time. I remember thinking, when visiting, carefully opening and closing the gates, how holy, sort-of, was a gate between good friends and neighbors, a little girl learning life and manners.

    The fence between our property and Julia's bore a generous grape vine; between ours and Cornelia's, plum tree and raspberry patch; between ours and Molly's, rhubarb and bachelor's buttons and sometimes the raspberries would reach that far, as well. Molly wrote for the Post, and her homelife structured, but Julia and Cornelia would join in happy, sunny, summer afternoons making the jellies, jams and other preserves from the shared fruit ...happier food for the soul than many of life's alternatives.

    Always (sometimes maddeningly) curious, one spring morning, I was drawn to Julia's yard by a strange ritual she seemed to be performing. A frame studded with small tacks, points exposed...and some sort of fabric...as I drew closer, she, childless, gave the double hello we grew to love...if the smile was stronger than the grimace, I stayed...pointedly, wordlessly, effectively communicative,she was brunette,quick and small, so one had to pay attention to do right with her. She was very good and loved us, and her childlessness was no fault of hers, so we never criticized her guarded welcome for children. Once past it, the time with her was warm and happy, and lively! She was "light-industrial-duty", lighter than the hearty, sanguine Polish stereotype. That sanguine soul is wonderful, and the home of profound compassion, major minds and healing: that sanguine soul could end a war and bring the dead back to life. So, light and easy, she showed me how to stretch the lace curtains, fresh-washed, on the tacks protruding from the frame, and set them in the sun to dry. It was important to allow the frame to lean nearly to the grass,which must still be dewy...a natural bleach, and doing the chore early protected the lace from strong sun damage later in the day. Her garden was large and unbeatable! At our house, we did fruits flowers and berries, but would not think to bother competing with her sturdy, tidy display. She was a model work-ethic type and loved work for itself...the pace of the day was sufficient to energize her, her commitment was unconditional, and she had little patience with slackers, and though nonviolent, she could be outspoken in her criticism when shenanigans created problems in her own modest sphere. We all did, and still do, love our life ties to our church, and though full of relevant talk concerning its workings, seldom sank into negative politics concerning it. Gifts of money, work, flowers, song and arts for its enrichment were, and are, given with gratitude for the acceptance of devotion that they represented. Until her death, Julia still attended the same Polish church we attended together all those years ago, and Father brought Mass to her when she could no longer get there.





    in the basket of the little egg girl ~ list of parents and siblings


    • John Filanowski, Father, b.Jan27,1875; d.Jan.1936 ,
      ~ came to America, 1907; married twice: widower w. two eldest.
      ~ Remarried Apollonia (Pauline) in Saint Claire, Pennsylvania on Oct7,1911
    • Apollonia Tubiak Mother, Filanowski, b.Mar10,1889; d.Mar10,1931
      ~Agnes and Josephine were Albina's half-sister,
      ~but the rest on the list are full siblings, and children of John and Apollonia
      ~if no death date is listed the person is still living. (Mother....I need the information about Aunt Agnes and Josephine)
    • Agnes ~b.______, d._______widowed, children: Geraldine, Richard, Doris, Norman, Romaine, Henry(?)
    • Josephine ~ b.________d._______Husband Jerry d.______Children: Jerry, Jr, Patricia, and Bobby
    • Mary Filanowski Munro...b.Jul20.1912, still living, widowed William______Children:Bill, Edith, and Barbara
    • Frank ~ b.Nov13,1913; d.Nov7,1970;wife Joan,d._____;Chldren: Jack, Jill and Jimmy
    • Leon ~ b.Nov19,1916; d.Feb16,1995;wife,Shirley,d.______;Children: Linda
    • Louis ~ b.Nov1,1918;d.Jan8,1971;wife,_____,d._______Children:________,_________,_______
    • Michael ~ b.Sept25,1921, wife,Betty______;Children:Matty, Mary, Rebecca
    • Frances ~ b.Aug25,1923;d.Dec9,1990;Children, Betty, Marty, Joan
    • Helen ~1924; died at childbirth incompetent midwifery; hemorrage
    • Helen ~1925; died at three of pneumonia
    • Albina ~b.Mar6,1926; living; source of this information; husband,RichardCharlesd.May10,1999;
      ~ Children,Ellen(author of this page), Richard,Lorraine. A second husband, Harry, d.July17,1980
    • Florence~b.May20,1927;husband Anthony,d.107__;Children, Susan, John and Sandra
      ~ all the above were born in Saint Clair, Pennsylvania, the remaining two, listed below were born in Southport,CT
    • Anthony~b.Jan12,1930
    • Matthew(d.soon after birth)March 8, 1931 and the Mother died one March10,1931, two days later.



    The 'Albina Who Polkas' Stories

    Story of her Father's death

    Reply I sent an email asking..here is a plain copy of her reply . I made no changes, except spacing and formatting for this page

    From "Albina Duffy"
    Subject:
    Re: the oddest thing...a very old memory and a question
    Sent date: 10/11/2011 02:44:09 PM
    To: "Elle Fagan"

    Hi !! Ellen;

    In regards to my father getting killed by a big van truck, well I did tell you many times some time ago, but here it is.

    It was a winter morning with snow so high, as years ago, the snow truck did not clean the snow a space off of it, for people to walk, as the Post Rd did have people and children including me that walked it sometime three times a day, as I had to go home and was not given a lunch bag, so no matter how cold or what, I had to walk the Post Rd all my time I lived there and that was 12 years.***

    So other men walked it going to and from there work from the Aluminum large shop across the Sasco Hill Rd. but you are in another generation, as coming back to my father getting hit by the truck well my father was at that location where that famous doughnut place was that we use to go to get doughnuts every week end, and there also was a gas station after it, on the same side, going to work for the town of Fairfield, so he could not have room to keep off the part where the road already was used by the cars and truck.

    If it was one truck that would not have happened, but another big truck wanted to pass that first one, and when the first truck saw what that man was doing, he [the driver of the first truck] had to move off the road, so that he would not get hit, as I said, these were the huge trucks with stuff in them, so when he hit my father that happened in a very fast second, as the driver of the first truck when he saw in his truck's door mirror that he had to move over to the right in order not to get hit, so he did not see my father in that second, and he also being a big truck and they always were very noisy, so he did not know that not only that he hit my father.

    Being such a huge truck so my father's body flew up in the air, and as the truck kept moving my father was again somehow caught in the back section of the truck and he was dragging my father in a short distance, but when the truck driver saw people yelling and throwing their hands in the air to let that truck driver know that he hit our father, he stopped and my father's body was on the ground.

    My father's eyes were knocked out and his body severely smashed - well his heart did live, but when the ambulance came right away as there was a ambulance thing in Fairfield, but when they picked him up and put him in the ambulance, he died at that moment.

    Now this accident was not a stupid thing, the man not seeing our father as when you drive in the winter you have to look all over to be sure that your car or truck does not start to slide, so he did not see our father, it was not carelessness, but what was bad the truck that was doing the passing, he also did not see what had happened and the people also did not see how this happened, so that truck driver would have been arrested, but then there was nothing to be done for helping in this accident.

    Now Ellen please do not ask me about this again, it has been very painful for me to even think of it, so now in my old age, all I feel is that at my age, I will get to see him in some near future time.

    Keep this in your computer for a needed information, as you might need to talk about this to some body , but I do not think anyone is living from that time in Fairfield,

    Now I've got to go, I have too much to do, so have a good day, will be in touch again soon.......bye for now......................Love.........Mom

    ***NOTE: Mother mentions her walking home for lunch and back - with 10 children at the foot of the recession, the bags etc. for the lunch WERE an issue, so they went home for lunch and back again...and I suspect there was not much lunch for them sometimes, if her stories say it right. But more importantly, she reminds me of this part of the story she told me as a girl: Mother's route back to school after lunch was slightly different ( but in the same direction ) from the one her Father took that day. Other children took that route back to school after lunch - she was not the only one with a "lunchbag" issue.

    When Mother got back to school , a circle of children were obviously a bit hysterical about something and two or three of them hooted at her,

    "Albina, your Father is dead . We saw him get squashed like a bug by a truck."

    My poor Mother! She told me as a girl that the shock of getting such news so cruelly hurt her so, that she did NOT speak to those children again - not till they were all grown up and such things to be let go. And even then, She was always cool in her friendship with them till they all reached grey hairs.

    I know she forgave them, however. She loved growing her flowers and some for the altar always and she said that flowers for altars were wonderful to say "love" , but only if one purified the heart first - then bring the flowers. Since I would help her grow and cut and deliver the flowers, in loving ritual, she therefore, must have forgiven.

    And finally, here is my original note to Mother on the topic :

    On Tue, Oct 11, 2011 at 9:19 AM, Elle Fagan wrote:

    Hi, Mother

    Just wondering about something concerning your Father's passing.

    If the truck hit him, that was a thing that should have come to court. Did they just decide it was an accident and not bother, because of such dumb and poor days for people?

    You never mentioned any legal action on the part of the law at the time and I did not want to push it.

    I STILL do not want to push it but you are getting to be a senior finally :-D and it is a thing we should know before you pass away ....end of request.



    Then I followed with notes that were more fun and some entertaining pictures to cheer her after what was likely to be difficult. She got the memory easily and well at age 85. Yay Mommy! Sto Lat !

    END OF STORY





    My lively and loving Mother has had her adventures...not so much like Lucy and Ethel of Television fame, though. My Mother's Special needs and special gifts have created some special incidents, most of them proud and happy ones, and I hope you find them entertaining and heartwarming.

    September 2003
    Storm Saint     -It had been a difficult Winter with the loss of very close loved-one, and then another died in Summer, after a long illness. But the grieving from the earlier loss was the difficult one, and my Mother had been walking the grief-recovery path, delighted that, although sorrow does not respect age, healing from sorrow has little to do with it, either. Her three children provided some special healing time: first me, than my brother, and to celebrate her fine recovery, a trip to stay with my Sister who has lived in the beautiful Carribbean for many successful years, and this time special fun to celebrate my sister's "Big 5-0" birthday was included in the plans.

    This time, however, just as the plane departed, carrying her to Saint Croix, the warnings went up about Hurrricane Isabel - a level 5 - the worst there is, threatened off the coast of my sister's island home.

    Worse than that, I could not connect with them on the subject, in spite of our fine training and experience in Preparedness/Disaster Response. My Mother is 77, not 27, and just "up from grief", and Redcrosslady or not, I became concerned. But on Sunday the 14th, The Feast of the Island's Patron, Holy Cross/Saint Croix, Isabel gave in, gracefully, her hard round weather satellite image mellowed, and little doves of cloud formations spun off in all directions. But God's grace had help...or so I e-mailed to my Brother, quoted here:


    Subject: do not fail to enjoy this relevant funny story.......it's not too long!

    From: "Ellen Smith Fagan"

    Date: Tue, September 16, 2003 1:45 pm

    To: bu@humancraft.com

    Priority: Normal

    hi,

    in the sixties, Alan Arkin starred in a movie called "the Russians are Coming! the Russians are coming!"............it was a socially popular comedy about displaced socialists in sub, accidentally ending up in a quiet new england town............

    it was done "Sandra Dee" bow-in-the-hair style, since our nerdy little minds could not take the concepts, otherwise.........it was a boxoffice smashit........and still airs on tv.....

    a few years ago, someone was ambitious that I view the film, "The Hunt for Red October"...... I was in traction at the time, and couldn't find it, and it isssssssss a bit of a guyfilm for my "threw-away-the-shoulderpads" self............my own little straight shoulders were once, and now again, sufficient.

    But "the Hunt for Red October" just leapt into my "I love my library bag" this weekend............it is the same story as the film mentioned above, but with Sean Connery as the Russian Captain, and a script that reflects our loss of innocence and disaster-aware courage and high-tech evolution a little bit, but the ends on the same note of inspired international co-operation..........and a teddy bear.

    There is a point to this background:

    ............at the thrilling climax of the film, torpedoes are aimed at our hero's sub...............evasive tactics are not possible, due to their position in a narrow undersea roadway........soooooooooo our hero gives the order to "about" and travel at top speed TOWARD the torpedo........ the move confuses the torpedo's safety mechanism and it veers off and self-destructs.............

    I smiled to myself later, thinking that my Mother was a better torpedo of a sort this week.....since, On September 12, the Mother of the Daughter of Albina Who Polkas, flew into Hurricane Isabel.................and confused her and won the calm!

    Wachootinkondat???????

    I have a list at my site about patron saints against storms at my Spiritsite..... ...should I add our Mother to the list of souls to invoke against hurricanes?

    Love and fun, to celebrate my Sister's 50th birthday and deliverance from the storm!

    Elle