each of us was born. somewhere, on some day all of our lives start. for my mom, that somewhere was chestnut hill in philadelphia, pennsylvania. and that day was november 26, 1941. though the united states had yet to join world war II, our involvement was imminent, and so my grandfather, being in the navy, was living on a submarine somewhere in the atlantic ocean, waiting. he was 28. and my grandmother was living in a room on the 3rd floor of a house behind an episcopalian church (where my grandfather's mother's cousin was the bishop?), waiting to give birth to her first child. she was 19 years old.
her name is nadine. nadine was raised in norman, oklahoma, a poor farm girl. her father died when she was nine and she was soon moved to pampa, texas by her widowed mom. (side note: she never forgave her mother for this move). as i understand it, pampa was even more rural and economically depressed than norman. had it not been for the impending war and my grandfather's involvement in it, i have no doubt that my grandparents would have remained in texas to raise their family. however, the decisions made by leaders of countries half a world away set in motion a different reality for my young grandparents. and so it was that my grandmother, presumably on her way to the eastern seaboard to see my grandfather, gave birth to my mother in chestnut hill, pennsylvania. it is said that my grandfather, john henry jemison, made it to chestnut hill to meet his daughter only once. less than 2 weeks after my mom's birth the japanese bombed pearl harbor and the united states was fully involved in world war II, taking john deep undersea for years, only to see his daughter in pictures.
nadine and carol, my mom, stayed in chestnut hill for three months. after that the two travelled the country. they stayed in connecticut for a time and san diego, briefly. mostly, they lived in texas. eventually, the war ended, my grandparents were reunited, my mom finally met her dad, the three became four, the four moved to california, the four became five, and life progressed, as it so often does. for my mom, life included college, teaching, marriage, children, separation from my father, the death of my father, retirement; happiness, sadness, laughter, tears, hugs, kisses, joy, depression, loss, love, travel, music, books, culture, holidays with family, learning, building, finances, new cars, car accidents, change, stability. all the ingredients that go into making a life were there for my mom. her life took her many places, but it had not taken her back to philadelphia.
so it was when i announced that i would be driving across country and back this fall. since her retirement, my mom has done a lot of traveling. it only made sense, then, that she meet up with me somewhere along the way. we initially discussed her flying out to chicago, but the timing didn't work out. then i suggested philadelphia, she said she had been thinking the same thing, and a plan was made. wanting to see more of pennsylvania than just philadelphia, she met up with me in pittsburgh (on the west side of the state) and drove across with me to philadelphia (on the eastern side).
on the way to philadelphia we saw a town abandoned by the world. braddock, pennsylvania sits southeast of pittsburgh. once a booming mining town, it is now in shambles with, seemingly, no resources or infrastructure. the buildings are in disrepair, most of them empty, the businesses are all closed. however, it is not a ghost town. people still live there. a bus going to and from pittsburgh stops there. but it is certainly a town forgotten.
we saw fall-colored trees for miles. we saw snow. we saw harrisburg, the state capital, and marveled at its quaintness. we saw amish country and farmer's markets. we saw horse-drawn carriages and ate shoofly pie.
and then, on our third day together, we made it to philadelphia, the birthplace of our nation and the birthplace of my mom. the historical sites were interesting, in a very touristy kind of way. seeing places like betsy ross' house and independence hall begs the question, are seeing, hearing, touching, and breathing in necessary components to a complete education? can one fully understand revolutionary times without seeing the delaware river? regardless, we more fully enjoyed our visits to eastern state penitentiary and the ben franklin institute of science.
but one night, around 8:30 or 9:00, we found our way to chestnut hill. not knowing the best way to get there by car, we headed north on broad street and kept going and going and going, passing temple university and then temple university hospital. the further north we got, the sketchier the scenery. by the time we finally turned off of broad street, the buildings were mostly abandoned, with bars over windows when they weren't already broken out. but then, as we made our way northeast the houses started getting nicer and more lived-in, and cute little businesses started popping up here and there. by the time we were on germantown avenue, we were in the midst of wealth. germantown avenue winds its way uphill in the direction of chestnut hill. locally owned boutiques line the cobblestone street. large estates reside on the tree-lined streets directly off of germantown avenue. and at the top of the germantown is chestnut hill.
chestnut hill hospital, where my mom was born, was easy to find, as it was just past the shops on germantown. a small hospital still in operation, it has clearly had few modifications to its outside since my mom was born there. there was a more modern building built sometime after the war, and electric signs and lighting that no doubt did not exist in 1941. but behind the main building were a couple of small houses that now served as offices, but probably housed the doctors at one point. we got out of the car and i took a few pictures of my mom in front of the hospital sign, a document of her first visit to the place of her birth, nearly 66 years prior.
then, with the help of my sister, who was on the phone with us while also searching the internet for directions, we found the episcopalian church where my mom was baptized. and behind the church, the house where my grandmother lived in a room on the third floor. there we were, where my mom's life started. somewhere, on some day.
and at another somewhere, on another some day (this some day being two days after our visit to chestnut hill), my mom's father, john henry jemison, died. my mom and i were still in philadelphia. her sisters called and told her that it was going to be any minute. they called back about 30 minutes later and told her that he was gone. he was 94 years old. nearly sixty-six years previous he had gone to philadelphia to visit his wife and meet his daughter. his daughter was back and he was gone. life and death. somewhere, on some day.
