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Uncle Bill was, by far, the most gentle of the “Dodge Boys” (Fran, Bill, Ed, Earl, Cart, Addie, harry, Ned & Paul) even though he was a semi-pro boxer. He was the smallest & Grampa’s favourite. They were best friends and drinking buddies. Per Miss Addie, Bill was the only one who never felt Grampa’s hand. All of the cousins loved him very much. He died at 58 when I was in college.

 
This time of year (St. Patrick’s Day), I am so reminded of my Mother’s mother, my gramma, Adelaide McCabe Dodge. Her parents came from Ireland and landed in Auburn, NY in the mid-1800s. They were Roman Catholics from County Cork, I believe. Every so often, I would hear Gram refer to the “Black Irish.” As a child, I presumed that she was speaking about me … half-irish, half-West Indian. there was nothing negative in the manner in which gramma spoke … now, I think she was simply referencing the Protestants in Northern Ireland. I am glad that it didn’t sound as if she didn’t like the Black Irish because I loved her a lot and might have been hurt otherwise.

My older cousins are invited to make corrections to any of this.

This one is Miss Addie’s memory … her sister, Frances Gordon (Fannie Dodge), was a book unto herself. Probably the brightest of all the family, past and present, she lived 87 years of life to the fullest. During the 1920’s, there was a time when they all (Grandma, Grammpa and the nine children) lived “out to Otisco” … at the Ryder Farm on Otisco Lake in CNY. There came a day when a gentleman arrived by automobile to the farm. He was in search of Miss Fannie Dodge. Ever vigilant, Grammpa Charlie went on alert. He wanted to know just what this man wanted with his daughter. He was told that she had had a marvelous story accepted for publication in a magazine and he wished to meet the lady. Apparently the story was a bit of a steamy romance and very well-written. You may be familiar with the phrase “hi-tailed it outta there.” That was exactly what that man did when Grammpa informed him that he was NOT going to meet his fifteen year old child. Somehow, Aunt Fran lived beyond that fateful day and became a wonderful story teller and the most interesting soul that anyone would wish to meet. Incidentally, doors opened for me … literally, doors opened for me because I wear her face … whenever I would visit her at her Senior residence, I never had to ring the bell. The old folk would usher me in and say, “We know you. You are Frances’ daughter.” I never corrected them. It was an honour for me to have them think so.

I look very much like my beloved Aunt Fran. That often led to people saying or doing strange things. At one wedding, the people who lived above my aunt for decades said to me, “Roberta, how are your children?” Roberta was my aunt’s daughter. I was thirteen! When my aunt was in Senior Housing, I never had to use the bell to enter. The other residents opened the door with, “You are Frances’ daughter, come in.” When my aunt died, one of my friends came to the wake and nearly fainted to see someone who looked so much like me laid out. When my aunt’s granddaughter came to a gathering at her father’s long after her g’mother had died, she saw me, took a couple of steps back and said, “Nana.” And, when a friend had lunch with my aunt’s son and me, she walked into his living room, picked up an 8×10 photo of his mother and said, “I’ve never seen this photo of you, Kath.” David had to convince her it was Aunt Fran and not me. Looking like our relatives comforts me in some way. My cousin Bevy looks like my mother and I love seeing those expressions and mannerisms again. Our Willard is the image of my father in virtually every way. It is so much like being with my dad every time he comes here or I am in Toronto. It provides history … a connection to those gone and a link to the future. I loved and respected Frances Dodge Gordon and I do my best to keep her spirit alive in my face.

 
Everyone, regardless of whether raised in affluence or poverty, holds memories that are priceless. None of the Dodge Family had much financially but every one had personality … it was requisite for survival in such a huge family … without it we would have been sucked down the vortex of anonimity. Uncle Bill was second oldest of the original nine and he and Aunt Alice had ten children. “Poor” wouldn’t begin to describe their lives but “rich” would most certainly describe their spirit. All Dodges were instilled with the belief that when anyone came to the door that, immediately after the greeting, food and drink was presented. We all knew to lose our appetites to make certain guests were fed. They all knew how to make a meal out of vapor. I recall having a sleepover with my cousins. Uncle Bill, declaring that dinner would be “slim pickin’s,” took out the flour and oil and created our supper. My older cousins will have to verify whether or not that this particular meal was known by all family as “lickdob.” Whatever it was called, it was made with love and we relished it. Half of those cousins have joined the ancestors but all would agree that being poor made us all very rich, indeed!

As I read aloud the First Lesson on Sunday from Leviticus … the one where God lays down commandments, it was impossible not to reflect on our upbringing as members of the Dodge Family. It was the “turn the other cheek” stuff that we were NEVER taught.

It began with Grandpa and was drilled into the original nine to be passed on to my generation by our parent. There are four generations after mine and I wonder if it is now in the genetic code. Any sign of weakness, any hint that we would not stand up for ourselves and each other was met with what we knew would be a “swift kick” somewhere. As I delivered the eulogy for Uncle Harry and 25+ years later for Little Harry, this tenet was a piece of the whole. We knew that we could pretty much say and do what we needed to stay strong among the siblings & 33 cousins but only God could interfere if someone outside threatened to hurt one of us … physically or mentally. If I ever let harm come to Harry, Donnie or Sue then my mother would have come down on me like thunder … and no matter how big a pain I might have been (and I was) the Gordons, Barbara, Roberta, David & Judy, were charged with my safety. While none of us was safe from the other, we knew our jobs within the family unit. Most of us learned how to deflect others, to show something that said, “Be careful of this one …” even if there was no need. This was a basic survival skill to ward off the necessity of having to take more uncomfortable measures. The thing was that besides our own Dodge parent we were dealt with by an aunt and seven uncles when deviating from the Rule of Dodge. There was no real escape. We knew we were loved but there were behavior parameters.

Oddly, in-laws were not part of all of this. Married into the family for decades made no difference. To this day, Aunt Rose & Aunt Dorothy (both 90 this year) will tell you that when it came to “family business” that they might as well have been up street neighbours as members of the family. I know that this thinking is not quite right but I was just short of 60 when my mother passed … and I was in my 50’s and she 75 the day she took hold of my arm and put me to the ground laughing and saying, “I brought you into this world and I will take you out.” While she was kidding, something within me knew that, if necessary, that threat could swiftly become a promise.

 
As the repository of my mother’s memories, I have promised to share them as they come to mind. Remember there were nine of them, collectively known as “The Dodge Boys”, the two girls included. The three youngest and Miss Addie were the hell raisers (insofar as being Charlie Dodge’s kids was concerned). Aunt Fran, the eldest, was a tad tough on the young ones so she was often the target of their foolishness. Once, out to the Ryder Farm, Fran made a dish of fudge. She was quite firm with Addie, Harry, Ned and Paul. They were not to get near the fudge … the fudge so carefully placed on a window sill to cool. well that wouldn’t do. The little devils had at that fudge leaving just a few pieces … but how were they to survive this breach of sibling etiquette? Ah, the livestock! A chicken was impressed into service. Claws were placed on the last remnants of the fudge. Fran, furious, never learned the true fate of her dessert … Thus, the story of the Fudge Escapade!!! is now revealed. As an aside, Aunt Fran made the best fudge ever!