I don’t know where Aunt Anna met Uncle Percy. Probably down along Printers Row. The bookbindery where she worked as a forelady was on Plymouth Court near Harrison. And he was a printer.
“Anne. I saw her in Saint Finbarr’s, walking down the aisle.”
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He said, “So you married him?” She admitted it. “Well, dammit, go live with the man. You don’t have to stay here.”
My father gave him the name Percy. This man was very tall and skinny, about six foot three inches. You’d think you could knock him over with a feather. My father would say, “He doesn’t drink, smoke, or chew.” This was intended as an insult.
They weren’t in the house six months and he got sick. She had ultraviolet-ray machines, and nurses day and night, and all that sort of stuff for him. But he wasn’t getting any better.
She was always tough like that. But she was a very responsible person. She worked and took care of people all her life.
