My “decluttering for the holidays” was stymied today by the discovery of scan-able scraps that directly pertain to my previous post. And so, as is often the case with my reorganization efforts, I am at the keyboard rather than behind the vacuum.
The photograph of James A. Corrigan was dated in the upper left corner–1912. During this morning’s work, I found his medical school year book, Jefferson’s The Clinician, among the boxes I was sorting. Inside the black leather cover were a few scraps of paper.
Dead stop. Flip Pal out.
What a hoot!! No letter of “Congratulations! You have been admitted to the class of 1915!” Just a notice of matriculation, number 386, confirming that James Corrigan had satisfactorily completed preparatory classes in 1911. His family certainly counted it as an important document, and carefully preserved the scrap as proof that Jim had been admitted to Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia beginning with the 1911-1912 session.
Another valuable piece of paper was this stationary, remarkable for its header.Being asked to serve as President of the school’s pathology society as a second year student (1912-1913) must have been quite an honor.
The scraps add dimension to the image in front of the flowering shrub. It is more than a photo of a thirty-something Jim Corrigan. It is a snapshot of the Hazleton native’s transition from scholar to doctor and community leader.
Always the remnant
Of wind and fire and time
I took another box of mixed media from the house, the house my father last lived in. Most of the holiday cards I threw out, their messages meaningful only to Norman. Many of the photographs were ones I had sent him, or copies of pictures he had snapped and sent to me years ago. Several letters from my uncle I sent on to my cousin, sure that she would appreciate the insight into her father. Letters from my grandmother, Florette, I saved for a rainy day read.
Methodically I sorted the box’s contents, pausing now and again to hold a memory tight. And then, just as I thought there was really nothing new here, I came upon an envelope postmarked 1985. Pearl Freeman had shared a few photographs with my father. Without annotations or a note of explanation, I don’t know the relationship but apparently this stranger was sharing adolescent memories.
To date the photographs I pulled out a few key details that my father had shared about his high school years.
If Pearl Freeman, or a descendant/friend, is reading this post, I hope you will leave a memory in the comments!!!