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Mary Ethna Egan Hand (1933-2004)
Oct. 16th, 2004 10:36 amWord from NY that my aunt Ethna died this morning, after many years of deteriorating health related to Type II diabetes. She was the oldest of Nanny and Pop's 8 children, and Da's only older sibling. She had been widowed several years ago and had no children.
Da and his siblings, as the children of immigrants often do, strove to assimilate into American culture. For Da and Ethna that included using the anglicized versions of their Irish names outside the family: thus Padraic (Paw-rig) became Patrick, while Ethna used her saint's name, Mary (Aunt Una wisely decided Una was better than the hideous Winnifred). As youngsters we found this duality of identities very confusing (particularly with Ethna), since folks would ask "how's your Aunt Mary doing?" Aunt Mary? We aint' got no Aunt Mary. By the time we were teens we joked she was "Ethna-slash Mary", Ethna/Mary. Regardless of what she was called, Ethna was always a big personality (standard for Egans) and a maverick (much less the norm).
Ethna was the prodigal daugther, of a sort. She was the only Egan child to willingly move away from greater New York--a revolutionary thing for a young Irish-Catholic-American woman to do in the 1950s. She also married an older man who had previously been married; they eventually divorced but remarried each other a few years on. it wasn't unusual for the mention of Ethna to be accompanied by hushed whispers, particularly around Nanny. There was always the air of something exotic, even dangerous about her.
Ethna worked many years for Eastern Airlines (and later BA), and thoroughly exploited her travel benefits to experience the world. For about a dozen years she lived in Seattle Washington, and maintained friendships there throughout her life--including, it turns out, a gay man who owned a leather bar, which she frequented on occasion. Her love of flouting convention, of living life robustly (and on her own terms), of travelling and the Pacific Northwest gave Ethna and me an unique bond, albeit later in life.
In 1992 I'd partnered with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toneyvr and settled into Vancouver--two things my parents didn't exactly embrace. But Ethna sure did. On her next trip to Seattle she hired a car, drove 3 hours to Vancouver (and brought us cheese!), had tea with us, bought us a kettle, and drove back--all as if this was a normal thing to do, no biggie. It was toneyvr's first exposure to the family (a good one); Ethna always asked after him from then onward. And too querrelle once he was in my life. Classy.
A few years ago Ethna moved into the upstairs apartment at Nanny's, ostensibly to help out though her own illness (pretty much every nasty aspect of diabetes affected her except blindness). It was fascinating to watch how she and her siblings seemingly reverted to their teens years: imagine 5 teenagers dressed as senior citizens bitching and kvetching at each other, as their elderly mother unplugs her hearing aid. For some peace. Career woman Ethna, nun Eileen and Det. Sgt Paddy gave us a sense of just how nuts their household was with 8 kids. At times funny, at others not.
I last saw Ethna at Christmas last year. She wasn't well, and clearly felt the isolation of her illness--she was always an extrovert who loved being the social butterfly. As a couple of Egans who didn't colour inside the lines our family traced for us, in my adulthood we found it easy to cut the crap, shoot from the hip, and really just be friends.
Ethna could be a right proper bitch, asserted her right to live her life on her own terms, and priorized honesty sometimes at the cost of tact. But she was loyal, supportive and gorged herself on life. And at several times in my life, when I felt my ties to the family become rather tenuous, she was there to keep my connection strong--perhaps because she felt something of a disconnect from the clan during her years Away.
On Monday morning,querrelle and I sat in our hotel suite and read through the cards from our wedding. Ethna had sent a card and gift, even though she'd not been invited to the wedding (we decided to avoid causing any drama in the family for Nanny's sake, and only invited my generation). I was moved to tears. Classy.
It's too far and too expensive to make it to her funeral--which sucks. But she'd not have been offended by my absence; in fact, she'd probably argue I instead hit a tropical beach or have a nice dinner.
God bless.
Da and his siblings, as the children of immigrants often do, strove to assimilate into American culture. For Da and Ethna that included using the anglicized versions of their Irish names outside the family: thus Padraic (Paw-rig) became Patrick, while Ethna used her saint's name, Mary (Aunt Una wisely decided Una was better than the hideous Winnifred). As youngsters we found this duality of identities very confusing (particularly with Ethna), since folks would ask "how's your Aunt Mary doing?" Aunt Mary? We aint' got no Aunt Mary. By the time we were teens we joked she was "Ethna-slash Mary", Ethna/Mary. Regardless of what she was called, Ethna was always a big personality (standard for Egans) and a maverick (much less the norm).
Ethna was the prodigal daugther, of a sort. She was the only Egan child to willingly move away from greater New York--a revolutionary thing for a young Irish-Catholic-American woman to do in the 1950s. She also married an older man who had previously been married; they eventually divorced but remarried each other a few years on. it wasn't unusual for the mention of Ethna to be accompanied by hushed whispers, particularly around Nanny. There was always the air of something exotic, even dangerous about her.
Ethna worked many years for Eastern Airlines (and later BA), and thoroughly exploited her travel benefits to experience the world. For about a dozen years she lived in Seattle Washington, and maintained friendships there throughout her life--including, it turns out, a gay man who owned a leather bar, which she frequented on occasion. Her love of flouting convention, of living life robustly (and on her own terms), of travelling and the Pacific Northwest gave Ethna and me an unique bond, albeit later in life.
In 1992 I'd partnered with
toneyvr and settled into Vancouver--two things my parents didn't exactly embrace. But Ethna sure did. On her next trip to Seattle she hired a car, drove 3 hours to Vancouver (and brought us cheese!), had tea with us, bought us a kettle, and drove back--all as if this was a normal thing to do, no biggie. It was toneyvr's first exposure to the family (a good one); Ethna always asked after him from then onward. And too querrelle once he was in my life. Classy.A few years ago Ethna moved into the upstairs apartment at Nanny's, ostensibly to help out though her own illness (pretty much every nasty aspect of diabetes affected her except blindness). It was fascinating to watch how she and her siblings seemingly reverted to their teens years: imagine 5 teenagers dressed as senior citizens bitching and kvetching at each other, as their elderly mother unplugs her hearing aid. For some peace. Career woman Ethna, nun Eileen and Det. Sgt Paddy gave us a sense of just how nuts their household was with 8 kids. At times funny, at others not.
I last saw Ethna at Christmas last year. She wasn't well, and clearly felt the isolation of her illness--she was always an extrovert who loved being the social butterfly. As a couple of Egans who didn't colour inside the lines our family traced for us, in my adulthood we found it easy to cut the crap, shoot from the hip, and really just be friends.
Ethna could be a right proper bitch, asserted her right to live her life on her own terms, and priorized honesty sometimes at the cost of tact. But she was loyal, supportive and gorged herself on life. And at several times in my life, when I felt my ties to the family become rather tenuous, she was there to keep my connection strong--perhaps because she felt something of a disconnect from the clan during her years Away.
On Monday morning,
querrelle and I sat in our hotel suite and read through the cards from our wedding. Ethna had sent a card and gift, even though she'd not been invited to the wedding (we decided to avoid causing any drama in the family for Nanny's sake, and only invited my generation). I was moved to tears. Classy.It's too far and too expensive to make it to her funeral--which sucks. But she'd not have been offended by my absence; in fact, she'd probably argue I instead hit a tropical beach or have a nice dinner.
God bless.
