Married on November 12, 1960 St. Louis, Mo.
Anna Marie Morgan and Thomas J. Krupinski
Although dancing has never been one of my strong points, the thought of dancing always brings a smile to my
face.  Maybe it reminds me of young love, family celebrations, and happy occasions … but, I think mostly, it
reminds me of Mother.   Oh, how she loved to dance “The Charleston” as a young woman.  She told me stories
of how her older sisters would sew dresses just for her to wear to dances, and how much fun she would have
dancing the night away.  “The Charleston” is quite a workout, and maybe that was Mother’s fitness secret.  Even
though her knees needed mending in her 70s, Mother was really quite physically active in her advanced years.  
The thought of Mother dancing “The Charleston” around our kitchen made me laugh as a child, and still brings a
smile to my face today.  
As I look back on the 72 years of my life, there are many pleasant memories, and this
sentimental journey back in time to write my chapter has been a heartwarming experience.

I’ll start at the beginning … the birth of Floyd and Bertha’s second child, Anna, took place at
home on a Monday, July 2, 1934.  Of the eleven children, I’m probably considered the most
“serious” one in the bunch.  My first moments after delivery; however, were anything but
serious, as Mother said that she and Dad had a good laugh after they got a look at me with a
head-full of dark hair and a natural part that looked quite similar to the intern’s hair who had
just delivered me.

My first family home that I remember was a rented duplex on Garnier Street.  There were two
front doors, one for each family, and we shared a large front porch.  The door led into a
spacious front room, next a middle room, and the kitchen in back.  The second floor
consisted of two bedrooms and one bathroom.  I remember it took many steps down off the
small back porch in order to play in the yard.

We were members of Holy Family Parish, about a mile away from our home … quite a long
walk for young children.  But, in search of saving a few measured steps, we found a short-cut
over the railroad tracks.  Life in the Morgan household revolved around family, church, and
school.  Sundays consisted of morning Mass and afternoon Benedictions.

In 1941, when I was almost seven years old, the Morgan children were sent to St. Vincent
Orphanage.  It was just a brief period, as Mother was under doctor’s orders to rest.  Dad had
to work, and no one was available to care for the kids.  The nuns at the orphanage were strict
but kind, and I especially remember an occasional piece of hard Christmas candy kept in a
large tin in the classroom that Tom and I attended.  The children were required to pitch in,
and I became quite fast at peeling hot potatoes stuck on a fork.  We slept in a large dormitory
room, with a small enclosure for the nun who stayed at night.  She would peek through the
window blinds in her tiny sleeping area to make sure we were all in our beds.  Although we
were pleased to go home and get back to our daily hopscotch and pursuit of lightening
bugs,   our time at the orphanage was actually a positive experience
Mother, in her humble but faithful ways, made it known to our Parish priest that holidays were difficult financially,
and I believe some generous parishioners helped out at times.  A used doll house appeared one Christmas …
and, I believe some new items were donated as well.  At seven, I remember being sleepy-eyed in my bed, and two
women and a man crept into our bedroom and showed us a large Easter basket.  My eyes lit up, and I reached for
a piece of candy.  Of course, the treats could not be touched until Easter Sunday, and I was scolded.  It’s funny the
things that are remembered in life … I don’t remember anything about the contents of the basket the next morning,
just the scolding the night before.

One Christmas, in our home on Garnier Street, I remember Mother saying that Margie and I were too old for dolls
… it was a disappointing Christmas morning.  Dad must have seen the looks on our faces and made a quick trip
down to the corner dry goods store where the owner lived upstairs.  He picked out two dolls, and the owner agreed
to let Dad purchase on credit … what a precious Christmas memory.

Although gifts were few, and our meals may have not always consisted of the four basic food groups, there was
always plenty of soap in the Morgan home.  Mother would say, “No excuse for not being clean.”  In the summertime,
each child took a bath and put on clean clothes every night.  Mother was meticulous about clean clothes, clean
diapers, and a clean home … this South Side “Scrubby Dutch” mentality required intense manual labor and a
strong work ethic, and Mother worked very hard to keep up with these household tasks.  This attitude certainly
rubbed off on me, and I’m sure my siblings as well.

Recreational activities were far and few between, but I remember trips to visit Mother’s family near Jerseyville,
Illinois; visiting the Zoo, wading in a pool at Tower Grove Park, and an occasional visit to the ice cream store on
Sunday.  Money was scarce, especially for something frivolous, but on rare occasions we would go to the theater to
see a movie for a cost of 10 cents per ticket.  Mostly, we created our own fun.  The sound of a train whistle still
reminds me of a ritual created by the Morgan kids.  Our home was situated a half of a block from the train tracks,
and once we heard the whistle blow, the children would rush to the back porch, wait for the train, and wave to the
servicemen as they were passing through.

Mother and Dad rarely went out as a couple, instead they enjoyed time together at home.  One evening a woman
stopped by with her record player, and she played the same song over and over again, and everyone sang:

Lay that pistol down Babe,
Lay that pistol down.
Pistol Packing Mama,
Lay that pistol down.

Although it wasn’t quite the Church music we were accustomed to, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, even
Mother.  This song was popular on the radio around 1945.
In the ‘40s it was common for people to have blocks of ice delivered.  Neighbors would leave a card in
their window specifying the quantity of ice for the “ice man” to chip off the large ice block.  There was also
a “rag man” who traveled down the alley in a horse-drawn buggy, calling out for used clothes and rags.  
Although we had a refrigerator and didn’t need ice, all the children joined the “ice man” in hopes that he
would chip off a piece of ice for each of us on a hot summer St. Louis day.

The clinic at Alexian Brothers Hospital is where we would go for medical care.  Dr. Igle was a fine
physician and took good care of us … especially Tom and me after we were both diagnosed with
Rheumatic Heart.  There are moments in life that are as clear as the day it happened.  I was around
eight years old and another doctor was performing a physical exam in order for us to go to summer
camp.  After my examination, the doctor looked at the social worker and said, “This is the worst case I’ve
seen.”  She asked if I could still go to camp … he hesitated and said, “Let her go …” And so I did …
Margie and I stayed in the Sherwood Forest section of the open cabins which slept 12, and upon our
arrival, I stood there in astonishment as the other girls openly changed their clothes, and I began to cry.  
Although timid and modest, I did adjust to this new environment, and truly enjoyed the daily camp
activities, the swimming pool, and the outdoor theater.  

As for the Rheumatic Heart, the year after I was diagnosed, I had difficulty keeping up in school and
ended up repeating the third grade.  Tom and I were then in the same grade and ended up graduating
from grade school together in 1949.  Here is what the 8th Grade Memory Book said about us:

Favorite Pastime
Tom – “Forgetting”
Ann – “Taking Care of Tom”                                                                                                                       

Class Analysis
Tom – “Gentleness is his most prized possession”
Ann – “Attractive in personality and appearance”

Both Tom and I outgrew the condition known as Rheumatic Heart … although, like many of the Morgan
offspring, high blood pressure developed at a relatively young age, and we both began a regimen of daily
medication to keep it in control.
Our home on Michigan Avenue was grand and located in a wonderful neighborhood … and
important to Mother, just one block away from our parish, SS Mary & Joseph.  Parish picnics
and soccer games were always fun; there was ice skating on the pond at Carondelet Park;
and as the kids got older, we were able to take the street car to places like the roller rink at St.
Anthony’s Church.

In the late ‘40s a swimming pool opened to the public in Jefferson Barracks.  One day there
was a swim and dive performance at the pool by two children who were featured in an Esther
Williams movie.  As we were leaving the pool, the father of these children offered to drive us to
the bus stop in his convertible.  The two young athletes were blond and tan, but did not have
much to say to us as we took the man up on his offer and hopped in for a ride.

My high school years were spent at Rosati Kain High School on Lindell, just across from the
New Cathedral.  For 50 cents a week I purchased a bus pass, but to get there required
several bus routes … three buses in all to get to school each day.  Cherished memories,
wonderful friends … some of whom I still keep in touch with over 50 years after graduation.

My classmates and I did manage to take a couple of road trips.  Rosie Feldt hosted a girls’
weekend at her family-owned home in a rural town called St. Libore, Illinois, in 1952 and
1953.  We would take a bus from St. Louis and check in with the local tavern to let the people
in town know that we were staying for the weekend.  Since it was such a small town, Rosie’s
parents wanted us to check-in for our own safety, but we would laugh that the local Mothers
would lock-up their boys to keep them away from those St. Louis girls.  The weekend would
consist of a dance on Saturday night, Mass on Sunday, and lots of laughter, especially when
we had to shake out the blankets to make sure there were no mice cuddled up inside.  

Other travels that I remember growing up …
•        As a young child … a week-long visit with Aunt Theresa, and another week that Berni and
I spent with Aunt Frieda and Uncle Francis.
•        After my Junior year in high school … a train ride to Kansas City to visit a classmate,
Mary Bock, and her mother.
•        After my Senior year in high school … a train trip to Asbury Park, New Jersey, where I
saw the ocean for the very first time and discovered salt water taffy.  Marie Maurer and I took a
side trip to New York City and journeyed to the top of the Empire State Building.
My first official employer was Miss Hullings Cafeteria located downtown on 11th &
Locust.  I took a bus straight from school, and the restaurant provided uniforms and a
meal before work.  I started as a bus girl and later became a waitress.  For three years
this is how I earned money for tuition and made several new friends.  We would spend
time together as a group, and on one summer day I joined my co-workers to go
swimming in the Mississippi River.  I took the Broadway streetcar to North Broadway,
and then took a ferry boat across the river.  There was a swimming area called
Mosentine Island, and I joined the group in the water.  My swimming skills were lacking,
and I found myself in a precarious situation as the current dragged me down the river.  
My friends were screaming, and a young man swam toward me and pulled me ashore.  
I never did get the name of my rescuer that day.

In my senior year of high school I started working as a waitress at La Verne Park
restaurant and banquet facility located at 6303 Michigan (next door to our home).  The
building was originally constructed in 1873 as a school and actually was the first school
to have a Kindergarten class.  Years later the building was converted to become the
Carondelet Historical Society.

Dad passed away on March 10, 1953 … his 44th birthday would have been April 6 of
that year.  I was a Senior in high school, and this was a sad time in our lives.  Mother
became a single parent of eleven children ranging in age from 3 to 19.  I’m not quite
sure how we all got through this difficult time, but I’m certain the principles that Mother
and Dad had instilled over the years … family, church, and school … helped us find the
comfort, strength, and courage to keep going and make Dad proud.  Our home at the
time of Dad’s death was located at 6331 Michigan Avenue.  All of our homes were on
the South Side of St. Louis City, and this one was my favorite … the architecture … the
neighborhood … the memories … I loved that home.  

Another special memory that same year was being crowned May Queen and
representing Rosati Kain at a special Benediction at the St. Louis Cathedral.
After graduation, I pursued various employment opportunities … too many to mention,
from office work to teaching … definitely good experience through the years.  

As an employee of Von Hoffman Printing Company in 1955, I entered the Miss St. Louis
Advertising Contest and was introduced, along with the other contestants, on a local
daytime TV show hosted by Ed Wilson, as my co-workers watched on TV in the boss’s
office.  The crowning was at a country club, and although I wasn’t crowned Miss St.
Louis Advertising, it sure was fun … my five seconds of fame.
Mother decided to move in 1954, and our next home was a much smaller bungalow located off of South Grand
on Grace Avenue.  Shortly after the move, I left home to become a nun.  My goal was to be assigned missionary
work to help those less fortunate.  I entered Notre Dame Convent in the Lemay area of St. Louis, and from 1955
to 1959 I lived the strict life of the School Sisters of Notre Dame religious order, and also attended college
located at the Convent.  
After two years of college, I began teaching Second Grade at St. Gabriel Catholic School in St. Louis, while
attending college during the summer months.  

I then went to Ridgeway, Illinois, to teach Fifth Grade at St. Joseph School.  There were three nuns sharing a
small home.  As we were surrounded by farm fields, mice were ever-present.  Although I would set traps, a
braver nun would be responsible for emptying the traps.  The children were kind, and it was a peaceful
community. Whether the kids attended Public or Catholic school, they all rode the buses together.  Other than the
mice that would jump out of the desk or be trapped in the trash can in my classroom, my memories of Ridgeway
are pleasant ones.  

As a nun, I felt a sense of peace and contentment, although deep inside, I struggled with feelings that my
decision may have not been the right one for me … that this lifestyle would be one that I couldn’t master in the
years ahead.  So, after four years in the Convent, I left before taking my final vows.  Years later, I reconciled with
my decision after a conversation with Father James Holland.  He gave me a new perspective … comparing my
years in the Convent with years in Military Service.  He said to look back on my four-year term as time devoted to
help others under the direction of the Lord Jesus Christ.    

The most valuable gift I received in the Convent was a way of thinking about everyday life ... an attitude that has
remained with me through the years.  I have shared these principles of mankind with my children and
grandchildren:

Courage to do what is right.

Treasure each day and remember simplicity enriches your life.

Material things get in the way and clutter your life.
In the Fall of 1959, my friends, Ed and Dodie Zeman, reintroduced me to a young man whom I
had met years before … Tom Krupinski.  I had first met Tom in 1952, as we were both in the
wedding of Chris and Gene Patrick.  My cousin, Chris, and I both worked at Miss Hullings on
Locust Street.  Tom and Gene both worked at the other Miss Hullings location on Olive Street.   
We dated briefly in 1953, but went separate ways … Tom served our country as a U.S. Marine,
and I had joined the School Sisters of Notre Dame.  

Tom was working in the printing business as a typesetter and I was teaching Second Grade at
Our Lady of Sorrows in South St. Louis.  Approximately a year later, I married Thomas Joseph
Krupinski on November 12, 1960.  We started out in a modest apartment, which was in the
basement of a couple’s home on Lemay Ferry Road in South County, and I continued to teach
until the birth of our first child in 1961.

By 1967 we had four children:

Belinda Ann (8/9/61)
Christopher Thomas (10/10/62)
Anthony Joseph (11/3/63)
Michelle Marie (5/22/67)
We moved in to our one and only home at 605 Aqua Ridge Drive in 1961, where we still live to this day.  I
think back on how difficult it must have been for Mother to move so many times in her life … to leave a
comfortable, secure home filled with many wonderful traditions and memories.  

After twelve years of marriage, we were able to purchase a second car, and I began volunteer work at the
library of my children’s school, Bernard Elementary.  Also, I began teaching again at our parish, St. Margaret
Mary Aloquoque, in the PSR evening program.  With three years of college under my belt, I was so close to a
Bachelor’s Degree, but put my education on the back burner.  Looking back, I wish I’d completed my
Bachelor’s Degree, but at the time, being a Mother was my number one priority.

Like my parents, Tom and I raised our children with modest means and humble values.  We made every
effort to stretch a dollar as far as possible, but realized that sometimes it was better to invest in an
experience, rather than a new piece of furniture.  

In 1973 we came up with an idea of something we could enjoy in our own backyard … something I truly
enjoyed when I was growing up … we built a large ice skating rink out of 2x12 boards and a plastic liner.  For
four years we had hockey games and mock-Olympics,
enjoyed by the entire family and many neighbors. We even left the rink in place one year through the Spring
so that the live Easter ducklings we purchased would have a place to swim.  The only problem was those
cute little ducklings grew into big ducks that were laying eggs and tearing up the yard … we ended up finding
a real lake for them to live out their years, and the ice skating rink became a fond memory.

Our kids would tell us years later how big our backyard seemed in their eyes as they were growing up;
although in reality it was a standard subdivision yard.  Through the years, within the boundaries of the
fenced yard, we raised dogs, rabbits, ducks, as well as several other critters that the boys would bring
home.  Tony developed a passion for plants at a young age, and he and his Dad built a greenhouse in the
backyard as an educational tool, and it was a joy to see the beautiful results of Tony’s green thumb.  

Both Chris and Tony enjoyed the outdoors and learned to use bows and arrows and rifles in their teens.  
Hunting turkey and deer became a way of life for the boys every Fall, and Tom also enjoyed these male
bonding weekends.  As for the girls, we enjoyed the peace and quiet.  Through the years the boys picked up
venison recipes and taught me how to prepare their specialties.

The girls enjoyed dance lessons and cheerleading, and I encouraged both of them to correspond with
foreign pen pals.  Through school, Belinda corresponded with a French pen pal, and Michelle wrote to a girl
who lived in Japan.  The girls enjoyed exchanging letters and gifts, but I think I was the most enthusiastic …
getting a kick out of translating the French letters, using a dictionary and listening to French records.

For the most part, I was a stay-at-home Mom, but I enjoyed earning a little spending money when the kids
were in school with a variety of part-time retail jobs … DeBasio Furniture, Tucker’s Shoes, Nanci’s Hallmark,
and an 11-year tenure at JC Penney as a shoes salesperson.  When Belinda returned to work after her son,
Kevin, was born, I stayed at home to care for him during the day for his first four years of life.

Although Tom and I were unable to take the kids on trips every year, we have fond memories of camping
with our friends from Miss Hullings and their families.  A few other road trips included Branson, Missouri, to
see Shepherd of the Hills; Springfield, Illinois; and Ottumwa, Iowa, to visit Jack and Kay and their family.  I’m
sure the kids would say that the most memorable vacation was a very long drive in an Oldsmobile from our
home in St. Louis to visit Frank and Mary in Santa Monica, California.  Tom plotted out the trip to include
many stops along the way to break up the long journey, and once we arrived at our final destination and
finally got out of the car, a fun time was had by all … I especially remember the picnic on the beach that
Frank and Mary planned, and we were joined by Mary’s parents and younger sister, as they happened to be
visiting at the same time.

Visits to my siblings who moved away from St. Louis were always special, and I experienced my first plane
trip in 1990 to visit Larry and Flora in Philadelphia.  The city of Philadelphia has so much history, and
besides getting to spend time with my brother and his wife, it was quite an educational trip.  We went to see
the Liberty Bell and other historical sites in Philadelphia, then traveled by train to Washington, DC, to visit the
Smithsonian Museum, and then on the Virginia to see a Dutch Bell Display and the Arlington National
Cemetery.  Next, we took a train to New York and then a ferry to Staten Island to see the Statue of Liberty.  
Larry and Flora’s daughters, Esi and Narissa, were in New York at the time studying at Columbia University,
so we enjoyed a Chinese dinner with the girls and spent the night in their apartment, returning to
Philadelphia the next morning.  It was a whirlwind trip, and Larry and Flora were such gracious hosts.  

In 2000 I flew to Orange County, California, to visit Kay.  Although she was sick, she wanted me to enjoy the
beauty of her surroundings.  She fought so hard to beat her cancer and completely trusted in God.  I’m sure
she knew her time here was coming to an end … little did I know that Kay would only be with us another
eight weeks after my visit.  I left California knowing she was in good hands and how deeply she was loved
by Jack and Catherine.
What has family meant to me over the years?  My
family has given me strength, has made me laugh
and cry, and reminded me through their goodness
to thank the Lord for the gift of each day.  Tom and I
have been blessed with wonderful children and
their families.  In our retirement years, our kids
have been good to us … helping with home
improvement projects, taking us on trips, and
entertaining us in their homes.  
I feel that the teachings of my parents to
always value family first will continue on
through the generations.
Mother was close to her siblings, Bob, Mary, and
Theresa, and I enjoyed being close to them as
well.  Cousins, Chris and Darlene, have also
remained close through the years and bring to the
family lots of fond memories.  Thanks to Aunt
Edna’s daughter-in-law, Julia Daniels, we also
have received some wonderful photos of Dad’s
family.
Uncle Erbine Daniels told me that he was of Polish ancestry, and he always enjoyed
talking about his heritage with my husband, Tom, whose grandparents were born in
Poland.  For the past 15 years, Tom and I have enjoyed participating in the Polish
Polka Masses at St. Stanislaus Kostka Roman Catholic Church.  On November 12,
2006, we celebrated our 46th wedding anniversary by attending a Polka Mass,
enjoying a wonderful concert by three gifted Polish musicians in the Church, and a
delicious dinner in the Polish Heritage Building at St. Stanislaus.  Years ago, Tom
and I took Mother to St. Stanislaus for Mother’s Day, and she admired the beauty of
the Church and enjoyed the special attention she received from the Pastor as he
presented her with a white carnation.  Often, we will run into old friends at Polka
Masses from our days working at Miss Hullings.



St. Stanislaus is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever visited, and the
people are so cheerful and kind.  For special occasions, costumes are worn by
several of the parishioners, and it is especially a joy to see the young children
dressed in authentic Polish attire.  Songs are sung in Polish and English, and this is
one of my favorites:

St. Stanislaus Anniversary Song
Now we are celebrating
One Hundred Twenty-Five years.
We thank God for all of his blessings
And for answering all of our prayers.
We gather here from far and near
To celebrate our anniversary year.
There have been trying times for us
We’re praying to God and St. Stanislaus.
We continue to show our faith in you
We show solidarity in all we do.
Continue to make our dreams come true
St. Stanislaus, St. Stanislaus we love you.
One day as a teenager I got on the Carondelet bus, and
there was Dad sitting in a seat on the bus with a small
bouquet of flowers to take to a Legion of Mary meeting at
Church.  Dad was such a humble man and lived a life of
faith in God and love for his family.  He would call me
Gracie Allen to make me smile, and I loved him dearly.

Mother continued to be a big part of my life until she
passed away in 1998.  I couldn’t help but respect and
admire her for all that she had accomplished in her life.  
Even when she would test my patience, just a touch of
her hand had a rather calming effect.  
In the words of Desmond Tutu:

“You don’t choose your family.  They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.”

In closing, time has a way of showing us what is most important.  When you look at your
life, happiness comes from family.  May good memories hold the generations together.

              Anna Marie Krupinski