A Chronicle, Too
Edwin and Myra Buckley
In keeping with the spirit of the A Chronicle contained herein are the remembrances of Dennis and Eva Buckley as well as their children and spouses by the surviving first cousins. The Buckley Family has grown with succeeding generations and, of course, has been diminished with the passage of time. But for all that, we are still family with a common bond that will remembered and cherished for a long time to come.
As I write this part of A Chronicle, Too, keep in mind that as one of the youngest first cousins and son of one of the youngest uncles, I have very little first hand knowledge of Grandpa and Grandma Buckley. In fact, the only memory I have of Grandpa Buckley is when he was very ill and staying with Aunt Marguerite in Lowville. I distinctly remember that during the visit he told us (I assume Nancy and me) we could have all the change that was on the dresser. I believe it was shortly after he passed away.
It’s as an adult that I have come to realize the importance of family and the value of maintaining ties with all branches of the extended Buckley family. I regret that as a child, I did not fully appreciate the interesting, unique, and loving Aunts and Uncles and cousins in my family.
I remember an incident that happened to brother Tom as a young teen. One morning, he, Dan and Dad were cutting wood at a woodlot we owned. As Tom was chopping wood, the axe went through the wood and into his boot slicing his big toe. Dad brought Tom home. When the boot was removed I remember blood everywhere. Dad told my mother, who was dressed in a housecoat, to take him to Doc Smith’s in Boonville. Dressed as she was and not wanting to take time to change she emphatically told Dad to take Tom to the doctor’s himself. The reason Dad was reluctant to take Tom to the doctor’s office himself is that he was very squeamish, the same way Grandpa Buckley was. If you’ve read the A Chronicle you know of the story at the lumber camp. In someways both Tom and Dad have similarities with Grandpa Buckley, except brother Tom really did hurt himself and Dad was as squeamish as Grandpa. Fortunately, Tom’s injury wasn’t too serious, no bones broken or flesh sliced through completely.
Aunt Marion Wainwright was always kind and considerate, although I really didn’t know her very well until after I started teaching in Mohawk. I remember being invited over to her house on Warren Road for family gatherings and even a dinner or two. Whenever we reminisced about family she would always have kind words about my mother. She would get tearful remembering, because we lost Mom and Uncle Lew the same year. One could easily see the deep, abiding love she had for Uncle Lew. Because of that love she once told me that she would never consider marrying again.
I know that Dad had enormous respect and affection for Uncle Lew. He was an older brother figure to whom my father could look up to. Dad took his passing hard.
Unfortunately, I never got to know Aunt Harriet and family that well. She sent me a gift upon my graduation from high school, for which I was grateful knowing she was retired and living on a fixed income. I do remember her keen wit even when she was in the nursing home in Ilion.
Aunt Marguerite I did know a bit better as she lived closer. She possessed a lively personality and that quick Buckley wit. She was sweet, warm and kind. You can see a bit of the twinkle in her eyes in the photo I took of her at my sister Joanne’s wedding. Unfortunately, I have no memories of Uncle Gibb Morse.
The aunt and uncle I knew best were Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Morris. Dad would frequently stop-by when he was out running errands. They would catch up and reminisce a bit. Aunt Eleanor would get us involved in the conversations as well asking us questions and sharing stories. Uncle Morris generally was content to listen. I always felt there was great understanding and patience under that quiet exterior. After twenty minutes or so Dad would say it was time to leave. Aunt Eleanor was never very pleased with these abrupt departures as she wanted to visit longer. However, I feel that she greatly appreciated those quick visits.
One cannot discus the Buckley family without mentioning the numerous reunions held at Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Morris’ in Turin. It was at those gatherings that I discovered how large our family was. Most everyone was there, even those who did not live locally. I remember following Mark Spencer and David Wainwright around as they led many of the games we played.
Uncle Maurice and Aunt Mary would usually stop-by once a year. He possessed that Buckley wit and she a sincere sweetness. No wonder she was Bob Wainwright’s first crush. The day fifth grade ended I cut my leg open and had to be hospitalized at St. Luke’s in Utica. Aunt Mary stopped in to visit me and brought a gift. I’ve always been grateful to her for that consideration. Many years later I happened to share a flight with Aunt Mary from Syracuse to Washington, I think. She was on her way to visit her son Joe in Florida and I was one my way to visit my sister Nancy in California. As we flew, we had a chance to catch up.
Aunt Norma was a “clip”, definitely the most outrageous sibling of the Dennis Buckley clan. Outrageous though she may have been, there was always a generosity and sweetness to everything she did. One summer she lined up a job for me working for the Oneida County Highway department. When you drive over the East Road coming out of Boonville heading north, the first mile or so has a lot of my sweat in it thanks to Aunt Norma.
When my mother worked in Boonville she would frequently see Norma while she was working at the restaurant across the street. Mom always came away laughing. All too many times Aunt Norma would insist on paying for whatever Mom ordered. My mother always felt guilty about this but Aunt Norma would not be denied. She would deflect any gratitude for her generosity with a wave of her hand or saying it’s no big deal. Yes, it was.
Aunt Monica and Uncle Vincent were a favorite of Mom’s and Dad’s, I think because Monnie and Dad were close in age growing up. Aunt Monnie possessed a sense of humor as outrageous as Aunt Norma. I’m not sure of the details but there is a story that involved a bigoted police officer in the South and Monnie, who had a very deep tan at the time, implying that she was African American, much to the officer’s chagrin. Uncle Vince was a very sweet, generous and understanding man with that same quiet strength Uncle Morris had. I enjoyed their all too infrequent visits greatly.
Regretfully, I never really knew Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Francis Chapman. I knew who they were, of course, but never closely. I know their children only a bit better.
Family Updates: Tom And Maureen Buckley, Ballston Spa, New York
Jennifer and husband Jeff
Chris and granddaughters Abby and Mickey
Dan and Mary Buckley, Wilton, Maine
Andrew and wife Kathryn
Nancy and Bruce Hulse, Westford, Massachusetts
Kevin and Brian
David Buckley, Frankfort, New York
Joanne and Tom Eisinger, Sauquoit, New York
Michael, Lauren, and Lindsay