Dear Editor:
I am writing to you (Tony Callaio) after recently reading your column in the Sunday Dispatch.
I have read the paper since my childhood – probably since I first learned to read in the late 1960s (ouch!). My grandmother, Ruth Marriott, always sent the Dispatch home with me on Sunday evenings to read and would then call later in the week to discuss a few articles. What a great way to encourage a new reader! While back in those days and for a good number of years after, I enjoyed the actual printed copy, I now read articles of interest via the internet.
I read your column with interest and sadness. While some of the names of the Pittston area folks who had passed throughout the year were familiar to me, some were not. I ate many hot dogs and hamburgs at The Majestic – even had a great uncle who was a cook there long ago.
We always went to see the Anzalone Christmas display in West Pittston. My aunt had her bridal luncheon at Fox Hill Country Club, close family friend’s are related to Joseph Cosgrove and, lastly, my uncle was a dear friend of Tom Tigue, whom I also had the pleasure of meeting a few years ago. Yes, I could definitely identify with the losses their families have endured and enjoyed reading about the impact the people made on the community.
You see, my parents were both from Pittston. In some ways, Pittston is now the only “home” I know.
My mom, Betty Ann Marriott Riley, spent a good portion of her childhood living on Tedrick Street in the Cork Lane Section of Pittston. In her early teen years, my grandparents, moved to Race Street in West Pittston. Mom was a graduate of St. John’s High School and still proudly spoke of her youthful days performing with the band. After marrying my dad, they moved away to NJ and eventually to Easton, PA but, in my childhood, we spent nearly every weekend in Pittston with family.
My dad, Eddie Riley, hailed from the Oregon Section of Pittston, but had spent his early years growing up on Market Street. He told the most fantastic stories about “The Sandy Bank” and his adolescent antics with friends from James Street. After returning to Pittston from a stint in the US Navy, my dad worked for Joe Schiffman at the Boston Shoe Store on Main Street. That store was integral in my parents meeting and eventually marrying.
Now that I’ve given you a brief “history lesson” of my family, I wanted to share with you how touched I was by your article. Reading about the impact people made has such resonance for me. I lost my beloved mother, after a heroic battle against cancer, on July 21. Just 33 days later, I lost my beloved father, as well. Dad passed away on Aug. 24. I am sharing all of this with you because I wanted you to know that they were the most important people in my life. To say I was a devoted daughter is probably an understatement. Anyone who knows me knew the magnitude of my love for my parents. In many ways, I am lost without them.
The silver lining to to my story is what happened at their memorial masses at St. John’s. I was amazed to discover people who knew my parents back in the 50s and 60s not only remembered them, but came to the mass to pay their respects to me and my family. Some were older women, in their late 80s, childhood friends of my father’s whom he hadn’t seen in decades, a high school friend of mom’s. It was absolutely amazing.
That’s what I love about Pittston (well, the whole area). It’s the people, the love, the memories. What a great, great little town.
Donna Riley Garrett
The Woodlands, Texas
