Early Years 1957-1963 |
I was born at Boston Lying-In Hospital on July 2, 1957 just following my father's graduation from Harvard Business School. I was taken home from the hospital to 234 Beacon St., about four blocks from my current home on Marlborough St. Despite many wanderings, perhaps they put a homing chip in me. My father's first job was in Norwich, England. Judging from the letters from my mother at that time, she was quite unhappy in the small northern British town. After a year in England they returned the US where we lived with our Grandparents in their large home in Sandy Hook CT. My sister Corinne was born 21 months after me and by then my Dad had secured a position in Buenos Aires, so we set sail for Argentina.
I believe my parents years in Argentina were some their happiest. As I reflect on my life, the early days with young children and a career on the rise are pleasurable times: one never has to wonder about what one is doing during the day and in those times, the American dollar ruled. My grandfather insisted on Swiss maids to help my mother with the children and our first nanny was Regula Mole. We had a house with a pool and servants. I believe my parents made many good friends in Argentina, such as the Danforth family and the Smiths, that we would know for our lives. |
Argentina from Mark Corrigan MD on Vimeo.
After three years in BA during which my father contracted and recovered from Hepatitis A, we returned to the US. We moved in again with my grandparents and I attended Sandy Hook elementary school, later the scene of the horrific murders of schoolchildren. It is impossible to consider something happening like that in the early 60's . While the country was beginning to struggle with the Civil Rights movement and early involvement in Viet Nam, school shootings were never heard of. One of the blessings of my mother's passing away before the incident occurred in 2014 is that she never had to hear of it. It would have broken her heart. My grandparents had a large estate: swimming pool, gardens, tennis court, swiss chalet, orchard. I remember playing there as a child and my early birthdays there.
After a year in Sandy Hook, my Dad got a job back in Boston and we moved to Cohasset, Mass. Here many of my early memories are crystallized: the birth of Durelle (in the same room, same hospital and delivered by the same Doctor). My mother was superstitious and felt that I had turned out alright, so she bet on the same number. Vreni Rusterholz and her friend Esther arrived from Switzerland to help my mother with the child care. Vreni spent the following twenty years with us and became part of our family. I remember taking the bus with Dumbo the elephant on it to first grade and my best friend was Chip Reardon. The Reardons lived down the street and were friends with my parents. We lived there for a year and I think they thought it was going to be permanent, but a better job arose in New York, so with baby Durelle, Vreni, our collie Cider we transplanted to Fairfield, CT. It would remain hometown for my parents for the rest of their lives with sojourns to Paris, Zurich and London in between, but always with a sense of home there. Thinking about it now, I believe that it was also closer for my mother to her parents who were regularly in New York City and Newtown before retiring to Rapperswil at the end of the 60's.
Fairfield 1963-1968. 2027 Hillside Rd.
Our move to Fairfield would forever pose a conundrum for me; to say, "I am from Fairfield" was to invite a cavalcade of questions about whom one knew. I did not really know anybody. After second grade with Miss Sorkiyati, third with Miss Mccracken ("Cracker Brain"), and fourth with Miss "Mark can do no wrong" Coble, Timothy Dwight elementary school on idyllic Greenfield Hill did an admirable job. I befriended Stan Allison, youngest of six kids, and thus, a different world of siblings.
Stan had mini bikes and go carts and guns so his family home differed so much from mine. They ate dinner at 6 (unconscionable to our European eight pm start at 2027 Hillside Road), held hands in prayer before the meal and had a stack of sliced white bread on the table without bread plates. It was different. These were lovely days of walking on stone walls, wandering through the woods behind the house and hours by the stream on the side of my parents property at 2027 Hillside Rd. I loved to read and in the summer would win the Fairfield Library summer reading contests for numbers of books consumed. It was usually about 4-5 a week. I was mesmerized by the Tom Swift Jr. series, stories of an adventuring science driven inventor. I began to listen to music and had my first record player on which I painted a peace sign. The 60's were happening on our TV every evening as Dad would watch the news and I started buying the Doors Hello I love You, and Lady Madonna as 45's. Later would graduate to the Beach Boys Surfin' Safari, St. Pepper and Simon and Garfunkel.
Stan had mini bikes and go carts and guns so his family home differed so much from mine. They ate dinner at 6 (unconscionable to our European eight pm start at 2027 Hillside Road), held hands in prayer before the meal and had a stack of sliced white bread on the table without bread plates. It was different. These were lovely days of walking on stone walls, wandering through the woods behind the house and hours by the stream on the side of my parents property at 2027 Hillside Rd. I loved to read and in the summer would win the Fairfield Library summer reading contests for numbers of books consumed. It was usually about 4-5 a week. I was mesmerized by the Tom Swift Jr. series, stories of an adventuring science driven inventor. I began to listen to music and had my first record player on which I painted a peace sign. The 60's were happening on our TV every evening as Dad would watch the news and I started buying the Doors Hello I love You, and Lady Madonna as 45's. Later would graduate to the Beach Boys Surfin' Safari, St. Pepper and Simon and Garfunkel.
A Year in Paris 1968 |
Paris in 1968 was a difficult year. We moved in the late summer, crossing the Atlantic on the SS France a luxury liner. It was the end of an era; we had a tremendous send off party on the mighty ship while on the dock in New York City. Friends of my parents came aboard for champagne and then all had to clear and watch from dockside as we departed, hurling streamers from the decks. Mom and Dad, Corinne and I made the crossing, I believe Durelle and Steven followed by air. We were always dressing up and they had a fantastic children's area on one of the decks.
5 days later we made it to Le Havre and from there overland to St. Germain-en-Laye where Dad's company, Singer sewing machines, had rented rooms for us at a swanky hotel on a bluff overlooking Paris called the Pavillon Henri IV. I was fascinated by the elegance of it all; the carefully curled butter served with the breakfast croissants and the secret garden that led to the immense park outside the gate. We would be ensconced in that hotel to start school, the American School of Paris in St. Cloud while we waited to move into our house in Le Vesinet at the base of the hill. On the first day of school, Corinne and I got off the bus a stop too early and had to hike up the hill from the Seine to the hotel- what seemed like a million steps. I was fortunate to have Corinne, for although we did not always get along, we could explore together finding the chestnuts to make into "knockers" and experiencing the Paris environs.
Vreni and my my mother were very happy. Both could speak French and they delighted in each other's company, often sharing moule (mussels) and drinking wine when my father left on travels. My mother ambitiously joined American Women's Club and the American church in Paris and we dutifully attended. I found it more difficult to make friends and struggled with the language. It was a long bus ride to school and the school was a rather imposing converted Army barracks, so very different than the warmth of Timothy Dwight elementary school in Fairfield and the local friends I had there. Nevertheless I made one friend, Sean Garber, and he and I would wander along the tracks looking for brightly colored pieces of colored glass that we would collect and trade.
In our village of Le Vesinet, there was a small patisserie where I discovered the french treat of flan. I loved it. Around the corner was a small toy store that carried "Algerian Bombs" - small sacks of black power wrapped in red paper that would explode when thrown against hard surfaces. Sean and I would stage large battles with miniature armies and then stand back and hurl the algerian bombs into the fray, later reviewing the damage to see which side had the most men survive. We recapitulated Waterloo, Trafalgar, the Zulu wars, etc. Of course unbeknownst to us was the real struggle underway for the French in North Africa. The student movement at the time came home to us as a cobblestone was thrown through our windshield while at church one Sunday. I still have the stone from the May uprisings where the students allied with the striking workers.
My father took up horseback riding seriously, spending weekends at the Foret de Romboullet. I remember going to see him ride in a ring and after there being a feast around the stables and I stuffed my pockets with treats as my belly could not take any more. I can remember closing my eyes on the drives there and watching the patterns on my eyelids as the filtered sun flickered through the leaves. Dad would dutifully shine his leather boots and took real pleasure in an almost military preparation for his rides.
Steven and Durelle were very young. There was an incident at Christmas where amidst the holiday gaiety, the dining room table caught fire. I believe it was little Durelle that noticed and let everyone know. We toured the sites and the next spring took a family holiday to the Normandy coast. I had just read "The Longest Day" about the D day invasion, so I was the perfect age to immerse myself in the history. The rows of crosses of the dead made a powerful impression on my and tempered my enthusiasm for the stories of the battles. We had gotten a collie- Cider was her name. We had had a Cocker Spaniel in Fairfield named Brandy, but the Cider was really our first dog. She was the best collie we had as we went on to have increasingly less intelligent examples of the breed. The naming convention represented the importance of drinking as the next dog was Whiskey. After Whiskey we moved onto to a Shakespearean mode with MacDuff (the last of the collies) and white labs
Introduce Kusnacht/Klosters.
In 2018, I had a chance to revisit St. Germain, stay at the Pavilion Henri IV and visit Le Vesinet and was astonished at how lovely both places were. While my memories are suffused with random images of watching the local canals teem with tadpoles that morphed into frogs, initial games of strip poker with Corinne's friends, struggling with the language; what I saw on return was nothing less than idyllic. It's interesting to think how in my own life with my wife we have striven to provide similarly bucolic environs for our kids, first in Raleigh and later in Kalamazoo and Bernardsville, their memories too are not of the gentle stream next to the house or the barn and endless hills that ranged behind our homes, but of the immediate and seemingly small efforts to grow up, pass puberty and fit socially.
Vreni and my my mother were very happy. Both could speak French and they delighted in each other's company, often sharing moule (mussels) and drinking wine when my father left on travels. My mother ambitiously joined American Women's Club and the American church in Paris and we dutifully attended. I found it more difficult to make friends and struggled with the language. It was a long bus ride to school and the school was a rather imposing converted Army barracks, so very different than the warmth of Timothy Dwight elementary school in Fairfield and the local friends I had there. Nevertheless I made one friend, Sean Garber, and he and I would wander along the tracks looking for brightly colored pieces of colored glass that we would collect and trade.
In our village of Le Vesinet, there was a small patisserie where I discovered the french treat of flan. I loved it. Around the corner was a small toy store that carried "Algerian Bombs" - small sacks of black power wrapped in red paper that would explode when thrown against hard surfaces. Sean and I would stage large battles with miniature armies and then stand back and hurl the algerian bombs into the fray, later reviewing the damage to see which side had the most men survive. We recapitulated Waterloo, Trafalgar, the Zulu wars, etc. Of course unbeknownst to us was the real struggle underway for the French in North Africa. The student movement at the time came home to us as a cobblestone was thrown through our windshield while at church one Sunday. I still have the stone from the May uprisings where the students allied with the striking workers.
My father took up horseback riding seriously, spending weekends at the Foret de Romboullet. I remember going to see him ride in a ring and after there being a feast around the stables and I stuffed my pockets with treats as my belly could not take any more. I can remember closing my eyes on the drives there and watching the patterns on my eyelids as the filtered sun flickered through the leaves. Dad would dutifully shine his leather boots and took real pleasure in an almost military preparation for his rides.
Steven and Durelle were very young. There was an incident at Christmas where amidst the holiday gaiety, the dining room table caught fire. I believe it was little Durelle that noticed and let everyone know. We toured the sites and the next spring took a family holiday to the Normandy coast. I had just read "The Longest Day" about the D day invasion, so I was the perfect age to immerse myself in the history. The rows of crosses of the dead made a powerful impression on my and tempered my enthusiasm for the stories of the battles. We had gotten a collie- Cider was her name. We had had a Cocker Spaniel in Fairfield named Brandy, but the Cider was really our first dog. She was the best collie we had as we went on to have increasingly less intelligent examples of the breed. The naming convention represented the importance of drinking as the next dog was Whiskey. After Whiskey we moved onto to a Shakespearean mode with MacDuff (the last of the collies) and white labs
Introduce Kusnacht/Klosters.
In 2018, I had a chance to revisit St. Germain, stay at the Pavilion Henri IV and visit Le Vesinet and was astonished at how lovely both places were. While my memories are suffused with random images of watching the local canals teem with tadpoles that morphed into frogs, initial games of strip poker with Corinne's friends, struggling with the language; what I saw on return was nothing less than idyllic. It's interesting to think how in my own life with my wife we have striven to provide similarly bucolic environs for our kids, first in Raleigh and later in Kalamazoo and Bernardsville, their memories too are not of the gentle stream next to the house or the barn and endless hills that ranged behind our homes, but of the immediate and seemingly small efforts to grow up, pass puberty and fit socially.
Back to Fairfield. The move to Homestead Farm.
In 1970 we returned to Fairfield, but not to our home at 2027 Hillside Rd, but to a home that had been rebuilt. John Bracket was a builder who was building a spec home and ran short of funds and my father purchased his building and funded the remaining work while we were in Paris. It was a complete rebuild of the Morehouse farm on Congress St not far from our first house, but with more property and several early 19th century barns on the grounds. At the time, the home was surrounded by fields traversed by stone walls. It was Connecticut in all it's glory.
I was happy to be back and my parents enrolled me in the 6th grade at Fairfield Country Day School. In many ways this was one of the happiest years of my life. I made good friends with John Blawie and Stan was also enrolled. As we were new boys we started in 6B. The boys who had been there before were in 6A. In the fall we would have rumbles where 6A would take on 6B at recess trying to throw each other down the steep hill that led to the football field. Despite being out numbered, we often prevailed. Being all boys and with jackets and ties, the social order was easily understood and did not have to worry about. We watched the World Series on a small TV set up in the auditorium. At a time in my life where I wanted rules, they abounded. I excelled academically achieving the rank of highest ranking scholar competing with my friends Stan and John (pretty tough!). I loved Science and math and like history as well.
Sixth grade melted into Seventh after a summer of tennis on the clay courts of the Hunt Club where Dad had taken his riding to Fox Hunting and it was an easy drop off for Mom and Vreni. I swam on the team for the club where my meager skills occasionally landed me a second or third place in the backstroke. Corinne was at the club too and Vreni would watch as the little ones, Durelle and Steve played in the baby pool. We all hit the snack bar in a marvelous haze of suburban summer well to do pleasure.
Unfortunately that summer I developed Osgood-Schlater's disease in my knees. It's a painful costochondritis of the patellar tendon and was treated by immobilization, so that fall I had one leg in a cast for 6 weeks followed by the other for 6 weeks. It was lousy and I could obviously not play football as I had in 6th grade. I did read voraciously and won the Fairfield Public Library prize for most books checked out and read over the fall. I loved mythology and especially the Tom Swift Young Inventor/Scientist series. My Dad got me a subscription to Scientific American, which was generally over my head, but I sometimes wonder if small rocks thrown in streams near their origins change the courses of rivers, and whether such influences have led me to my career in Medicine and Science.
5460 was a pubertal boy's dream to grow up in. Barns to explore and my parents were very social throwing a big Christmas Party where Jimmy the bartender from the Hunt Club would bartend, 4th of July parties with the flag proudly flying from the side porch and in the summer two other signature events- my birthday invariably where a lobster feast ensued and my mother's birthday- the Ursuliad first coined in the Olympic year of 1968 and featuring competitions, prizes, medals, etc. It would always have my godparents Aunt Joyce and Uncle Bob Brown with their daughter Elesse. Most summers we would make a trip to Nantucket where my parents would rent a house and we would hang out with the Danforths. That was a time when Nantucket was remote and far from the chi-chi location it now is. These were very happy years for me and I think for my parents and siblings as well. I now know that the year in France was a lousy job for my father as he was sent in to fire and downside the company as Singer failed to reinvent itself. I believe he had secured the job with Morton-Norwich by now. We were into ties then and he would proudly wear his tie with the Morton Salt girl on it. I similarly had my lucky exam tie - small crabs representing my horoscope sign Cancer that was only worn during exams. He was still a man on the rise. Mom was active in her Garden Club and despite exuding a worldly sophistication, was very down to earth and real with everyone, traits that made her popular and she had good buddies. Vreni was like having a second mother, or actually a first mother to Steven as she was essential to our lives and allowed for the spectacular series of elegant dinners and dinner parties in the dining room. Fires blazing, candles lit, wine flowing, conversation rocking. Then Dad broke the news- "We are moving to London".
I was happy to be back and my parents enrolled me in the 6th grade at Fairfield Country Day School. In many ways this was one of the happiest years of my life. I made good friends with John Blawie and Stan was also enrolled. As we were new boys we started in 6B. The boys who had been there before were in 6A. In the fall we would have rumbles where 6A would take on 6B at recess trying to throw each other down the steep hill that led to the football field. Despite being out numbered, we often prevailed. Being all boys and with jackets and ties, the social order was easily understood and did not have to worry about. We watched the World Series on a small TV set up in the auditorium. At a time in my life where I wanted rules, they abounded. I excelled academically achieving the rank of highest ranking scholar competing with my friends Stan and John (pretty tough!). I loved Science and math and like history as well.
Sixth grade melted into Seventh after a summer of tennis on the clay courts of the Hunt Club where Dad had taken his riding to Fox Hunting and it was an easy drop off for Mom and Vreni. I swam on the team for the club where my meager skills occasionally landed me a second or third place in the backstroke. Corinne was at the club too and Vreni would watch as the little ones, Durelle and Steve played in the baby pool. We all hit the snack bar in a marvelous haze of suburban summer well to do pleasure.
Unfortunately that summer I developed Osgood-Schlater's disease in my knees. It's a painful costochondritis of the patellar tendon and was treated by immobilization, so that fall I had one leg in a cast for 6 weeks followed by the other for 6 weeks. It was lousy and I could obviously not play football as I had in 6th grade. I did read voraciously and won the Fairfield Public Library prize for most books checked out and read over the fall. I loved mythology and especially the Tom Swift Young Inventor/Scientist series. My Dad got me a subscription to Scientific American, which was generally over my head, but I sometimes wonder if small rocks thrown in streams near their origins change the courses of rivers, and whether such influences have led me to my career in Medicine and Science.
5460 was a pubertal boy's dream to grow up in. Barns to explore and my parents were very social throwing a big Christmas Party where Jimmy the bartender from the Hunt Club would bartend, 4th of July parties with the flag proudly flying from the side porch and in the summer two other signature events- my birthday invariably where a lobster feast ensued and my mother's birthday- the Ursuliad first coined in the Olympic year of 1968 and featuring competitions, prizes, medals, etc. It would always have my godparents Aunt Joyce and Uncle Bob Brown with their daughter Elesse. Most summers we would make a trip to Nantucket where my parents would rent a house and we would hang out with the Danforths. That was a time when Nantucket was remote and far from the chi-chi location it now is. These were very happy years for me and I think for my parents and siblings as well. I now know that the year in France was a lousy job for my father as he was sent in to fire and downside the company as Singer failed to reinvent itself. I believe he had secured the job with Morton-Norwich by now. We were into ties then and he would proudly wear his tie with the Morton Salt girl on it. I similarly had my lucky exam tie - small crabs representing my horoscope sign Cancer that was only worn during exams. He was still a man on the rise. Mom was active in her Garden Club and despite exuding a worldly sophistication, was very down to earth and real with everyone, traits that made her popular and she had good buddies. Vreni was like having a second mother, or actually a first mother to Steven as she was essential to our lives and allowed for the spectacular series of elegant dinners and dinner parties in the dining room. Fires blazing, candles lit, wine flowing, conversation rocking. Then Dad broke the news- "We are moving to London".
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