Hank and Terri Doktorski: Update (November 2021)
Thanksgiving 2021: Hank and Terri, daughter Eileen, son Henry and Henry’s girlfriend, Cindy Fuchser, at Eileen’s house, Temecula, California.
Well, a lot has happened in the twenty-two years since these webpages went online in 1999. Some happy events have transpired, and some unhappy events. First, I am sad to report that my brother John passed away on January 19, 2008. He had been in a coma for some time. He had a brain tumor, which was diagnosed in August 2007. I last saw him during Thanksgiving at Mom and Dad’s house in East Brunswick. He was suffering from radiation treatment. He put on a lot of weight and was practically bald. John joked, “I look like Uncle Fester from The Addams Family. If you put a light bulb in my mouth, it would probably light up from all the radiation in my body.”
In addition, my grandfather, Frank L. Chadwick, passed away on February 15, 2002. It was an honor for me to play the pipe organ at his funeral at Saint Mary’s Ostrobrama Roman Catholic Church on February 19th. His obituary can be found at Newspapers.com.
On a more joyful note, my sister Eileen gave birth to a lovely daughter, Paisley Trent, on June 14, 2001. Paisley has grown into a mature woman and is currently working toward her Master Degree in Journalism at Columbia University in New York City.
Mom and Dad also have two great-grandchildren: (1) Nunzio Peter Pagano, III (b. November 23, 2018), and (2) Soleil Pagano (b. August 2020), the son and daughter of their granddaughter Sunita and her husband Nunzio Peter Pagano, II. They live in Asheville, North Carolina, and we try to visit them a couple times a year.
My sister Cindy has retired from the National Park Service, along with her husband Donald Micheli (married since 2000), and now lives in Gardnerville, Nevada. Eileen moved from Washington to California where she accepted a position as Art Instructor at Mt. San Jacinto College in the town of San Jacinto. Since then she has become chairman of the Art Department, moved to the Menifee campus, and is working on her Ph.D. in Philosophy of Art.
I’ve been busy myself, and moved from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (where I lived for twenty-two years) to California in January 2016. I currently serve as organist at House of Prayer Lutheran Church in Escondido, and I also teach Chess4Kidz to about 120 students per week. I have become known as a Hare Krishna historian and have completed nine nonfiction books about the cult/religion.
We also learned of a surprising twist in our family history. As noted earlier, Dad’s paternal grandfather died unexpectedly and tragically in New London, Connecticut, in 1905. That is what the family believed for over one hundred years. But the actual truth is very different.
Around 2005, I got an email from a lady in Chicago. She asked if we might be related. She said her grandfather, Henry Doktorsky (spelled with a Y) lived in New London, Connecticut, but in 1905 he divorced his wife and moved to Chicago where he changed the spelling of his last name and started a new family. This was fascinating information to me, and I spoke about it soon after while visiting my Uncle John’s home in East Brunswick, New Jersey. My father was present, as well as my aunt Joan Chadwick (all were grandchildren of this man). When I told them the new information about the discovery of their grandfather, they appeared shocked. Nobody spoke a word, and the conversation changed direction. They ignored it. However, a few weeks later, I overheard my father telling the same story to another relative. Since then, I have lost touch with the Doktorsky lady in Chicago, but it makes perfect sense. My great-grandmother, who had one daughter and an unborn child (my grandfather) when her husband divorced her in 1905, knew that she could not find another husband unless she lied about her history. At that time, getting a divorce was scandalous. She moved to New Jersey and told everyone that her husband had died by drowning in Long Island Sound. It was perfectly plausible, and she married again. She had several more children and lived a long and (I think) happy life. She knew what she had to do to survive in a patriarchal world.
Regarding Mom and Dad, they moved from New Jersey to California in September 2015. About a year earlier during one of my visits to see them in New Jersey, Dad told me, “I’m going to sell this place while it still looks good. I’m getting too old to maintain the gardens and lawn and house.” After moving to California, at first Mom and Dad lived with my sister Eileen in Temecula, then purchased a house in a nearby retirement community. Dad turned 92 years of age two months ago (September 2021). It’s getting more difficult for him to get around, and he has mostly retired from gardening. It’s just too difficult for him to kneel down and get back up on his own. He enjoys reading and doing Sudoku puzzles. In the evenings we watch the news on TV and then a Netflix show. Mom will be 90 next January (2022), but she still likes to walk a mile a day around the neighborhood. She still drives their car to run errands and shop for groceries, but she no longer likes to drive on the freeway. Mom prepares breakfast, lunch and dinners, except on Friday, which is my day to prepare dinner. We do enjoy visiting Eileen and going on occasional Sunday drives in the sunny Southern California weather. Cindy comes from Nevada a few times a year to visit. She and Don say they’ll come Christmastime. So everything is good. We all get along remarkably well and we enjoy each other’s company. I’m grateful for the opportunity to live with Mom and Dad and I help out with menial chores. Following are some thoughts about Mom and Dad from Cindy and Eileen and some more recent photos of Mom and Dad in New Jersey and California.
There are basics any parent tries to teach their children—brush your teeth, say “please” and “thank you”—but then there are much more valuable lessons we learn from the example of their lives. These are some of the things I learned from my parents.
There is a sense of wholeness and belonging in our connection with nature. My father is a lifelong learner about the ways of nature, observant and curious. He enjoyed hiking, camping and backpacking, and planting seeds and watching them grow into plants that provided beauty, shade or bountiful harvests. He took delight in seeing the deer and turkey on his land (the marauding rodents, not so much). His love of nature influenced my career choice.
Serving others is an act of love. I remember going with my mom to provide physical therapy for a baby girl and to recreational activities for young people with disabilities. Well into her 80s, she volunteered at a mission church gift shop. She made a difference in many people’s lives, cheerfully giving of her time and talents. She showed me that in giving to others, we benefit ourselves as well, because we realize how fortunate and blessed we are.
I learned from my dad that quiet tenacity, hard work and perseverance can take extreme courage. If you can tuck in and plow through a rough patch at work, you can emerge a better, wiser person for it. My dad knows this. During my own bad work days, I remembered how he didn’t cut and run; he stuck to it and made it through, becoming a stronger person for it and knowing the satisfaction of providing security for his family.
Mom taught me to take care of myself, stand up for myself, and not be reluctant to say “no.” These are especially difficult skills in a culture where women are expected to be compliant and submissive, yet I watched as my mom repeatedly struggled and succeeded in breaking free of those social constraints. A deeply spiritual woman, my mom spent time on improving herself by expanding her knowledge and her horizons. She showed me how to think for myself and to cultivate self-respect, even when it seemed that no one else was respecting you.
My dad knows that insights come with time spent alone. Understanding oneself and how to enhance our relationships with others isn’t always intuitive; it requires reflection and contemplation. Dad found those in his gardening. I think of him when I’m up to my elbows in weeds or in the thick of a sewing project—how busy hands free the mind to recognize issues and formulate solutions, giving ourselves a clearer perspective and the opportunity for deeper happiness.
Mom showed me that an encouraging smile, gently applying band-aids, and steady guidance are expressions of love. I always felt a strong sense of love from my mom when I was growing up, equally as warm if I was darling or if I didn’t meet expectations. My mother’s love never wavers. That love gives me the heart to keep trying to be my best. I know that she feels the strength of my love and caring for her.
I see in both my parents how creative pursuits can provide a sense of identity and self-worth. Dad designed and built two houses and made hundreds of gallons of wine. Mom still enjoys her lifelong passion for cooking and reading. But perhaps their greatest accomplishment is having raised, side by side, a fine bunch of kids who grew into adventurous, productive, creative, spiritual and loving adults, whom I believe are a credit to them both.
Cynthia Louise Micheli
Terri and Henry Doktorski have touched many lives in their combined 181 years of life (89 and 92 respectively). Their shared role as parents however remains paramount. They had four children between 1956 and 1961. Despite having jobs outside the home, and doing required house chores: gardening and canning and home building and maintenance, they not only provided basic care, but put constant effort into what has been collectively their most important responsibility, parenting. It has been without a doubt their toughest job and at times resulted in great suffering, joy and challenges and required that they work together, even when they disagreed about the process. It was the job they did with great love, so great that after 65 years they have not yet submitted their letter of resignation. They earned their first gray hairs parenting and grew old in the process and at the same time they grew young with the giggles of each grandchild that surrounded them. It is incredible to look appreciatively into the eyes of one’s parents at such an advanced age and know that they look back into your eyes and can still remember you, as a baby on their lap, a bundle of possibility, needing protection and love.
Eileen Marie Doktorski
Canoeing with Mom on Davidson’s Mill Pond, South Brunswick, New Jersey (August 22, 2012)
Group family photo during my Aunt Joan and Uncle Frank Chadwick’s 60th wedding anniversary party in Monroe Township, New Jersey (June 28, 2015).
Mother’s Day brunch on Eileen’s backyard patio (May 8, 2016)
Granddaughter Sunita, Dad and Mom, and son Henry at Joshua Tree National Park on Mother’s Day (May 14, 2017).
Dad, Henry, Cindy and Eileen celebrate mother’s birthday at Palumbo’s Ristorante, Temecula, California (January 27, 2018).
Dad and Mom, with daughter Cindy, son Henry, and Henry’s friend Veronica, at Asao Restaurant, Tecate, Mexico (June 9, 2018)
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