Joan was very popular in her high school years, playing the clarinet in the school band, singing in the church choir, winning the title of Prom Queen, being designated as the Belle of the Class of 1957, and hanging out with her close girl friends at our house and down on Main Avenue. And she was very pretty with a wonderful smile and laugh. Yet she did not date many boys. There may have been more, but I can only remember four, three of which were brief encounters, actually. The first was a handsome lad (Barry McAndrew) in her class. I remember she had a crush on him when they were in their freshman year. Then there was another classmate, Howie Miller, who later went on to fame as Jason Miller, a movie actor and playwright. They dated a few times during their senior year and I know he took her to the Senior Prom. I was in awe of Howie because he was the quarterback of St. Patrick’s football team and the star on St. Patrick’s basketball team. But, alas, he left Scranton for first Washington and then Hollywood, and married Jackie Gleason’s daughter. The third suitor was a young man with red hair from Wilkes-Barre whose name was Mike English. How coincidental was that – another English in her life. Joan dated him maybe three times at most while Joe English was in the Air Force, and she made me promise that I would never tell Joe about his namesake. I honored that confidence, but I am certain nothing would have changed if he had known. Joan and Joe first dated in 1956 and married in 1962. For part of the intervening years he served in the Air Force and she attended nursing school. I liked Joe from the beginning because he was a starting offensive lineman on the West Scranton High School football team. As I matured, of course, I came to regard and appreciate him as a brother I never had.

In regard to my relationship with Joan it was always special, mostly because of how special she was. Our age difference was 5 years, but she never pulled rank on me. While to her I was never the “little brother”, I did from as far back as I can remember always look up to her.

All who knew Joan would agree that she was a caregiver extraordinaire. I don’t think anyone realizes, though, that from a very young age I provided her earliest opportunities to be a caregiver. The training she received from me included being with me at West Side Hospital when I had my tonsils removed and also comforting hospital visits on two other occasions when I was hospitalized as a result of running a high fever and experiencing convulsions. I was often sick at home in my early years and Joan’s presence and company as I recuperated from a bedridden illness was so gratifying. This was in an era when the only television in the house was downstairs, so Joan would spend hours with me as we together worked and played with other forms of enjoyment and distractions, such as reading, coloring, doing puzzles, playing cards and word games, and connecting dot-to-dot. The polio virus was rampant in the early 1950’s (before the vaccine was developed) and a girl in my first grade class was infected. Our teacher took us to the hospital to visit her. She was in an iron lung. I was horrified and scared. To this day I vividly remember crying that evening and Joan stood at the foot of my bed and promised me that I wouldn’t contact polio. There was no basis for that promise, of course, but to a 7-year old boy her assurance meant everything. 

Her caregiving continued throughout her life both publicly in her career as a registered nurse and privately for family members who were in need of extended care (e.g., my Dad, my Aunt Ann, my cousin Jackie, her grandson Austin, and her Joe, the love of her life). Always that required her sacrifice and compassion. I will never forget, of course, the extensive and meaningful care, support, and comfort she provided to my wife as she endured treatment over a number of years for multiple myeloma. It has been a joy for me to know that not only I had a special relationship with Joan but so also did Claudia. They often referred to each other as “sister”. Their fondness for each other was evident to me from the start. I first brought Claudia to meet Joan in October, 1971. The memory from that visit of my sister standing on the landing of the stairs in her home and looking at me at the bottom of the stairs and mouthing “I love her” is indelibly etched in my mind. Again, her approval was special assurance to me.

The times Joan and I shared were so special to me – sad occasions such as when we together kept an all-night vigil over our grandmother’s body during her Irish wake in our house, the stressful occasions such as when we stayed in Philadelphia the week my father had open heart surgery, the celebratory occasions such as her wedding reception and my college graduation party which she and my father hosted, and the happy travel occasions such as our trip to Ireland, our California excursion, our Pocono weekends to attend Tony Kenny’s performances, and every trip to her home in Binghamton, Johnson City and Scranton. There have been numerous other events in my life which I regard as special because Joan was there with me. For example, while I previously viewed cowboy flicks on a Saturday afternoon at the old and rundown West Side Theater she took me to my first “nonwestern” movie – From Here To Eternity in 1953 at the majestic Comerford Theater in downtown Scranton. At a later age she drove me “down the line” towards Wilkes-Barre for my driving test. That was on a Wednesday. I failed because I backed into a fence. I was depressed, but on the way home she told me not to worry because we would go back on Friday to take the test again. On Thursday we practiced the art of backing up a car without making any impact. On Friday I passed the test. I was grateful for her help, but truth be known Wednesday was just a fluke; I could actually back up better than her. It was also special to me that when Joe and her settled in their apartment after their marriage I was their first dinner guest. Another occasion was when my Dad and Joan flew down to Washington to attend my bar admission ceremony. After that was over she took it upon herself to go to the local Sears in Washington and buy some necessary furnishings and household items for my sparsely equipped apartment. Thanks, Sis! 

I can honestly remember only one instance where my big sister scolded me. That occurred one Christmas season when I came to suspect that my Christmas gifts from Santa were being kept in the attic of our house. I decided to see for myself so I went up to the cold attic in search of my bounty. From her bedroom Joan heard me moving about and came to the bottom of the attic stairs shouting quite sternly “Bobby, come down from there immediately! You know that you are not allowed to go to the attic”. This rebuke was so unlike her and I quickly obeyed.

People say that Joan was angelic or saintly. I fully agree. The lasting impact of my relationship to Joan is that she always made me feel that she was proud of me. That is priceless. To me our relationship was a treasure.