moved together through their shared
grieving, the commitment they had
made so many years ago and lived so
faithfully since then, began to draw
their attention back to the plans of
the long-awaiting marriage. And so it
would finally be!
Now, this is certainly the kind
of story to which you have probably
already projected a “lived happily
ever after” ending. And it does; but
not necessarily as the big screen
would have it. My Uncle died before
the wedding plans could be set into
motion.
The discipline and fidelity
that Uncle Bernard had instilled in
his nephew-students lives on in the
music that my brothers continue
to play and which his neighbors
would now be happy to hear. I
have to confess, though, that the
clarinet disappeared from my life
early on—my own contribution to the
advancement of good music.
But much more profound and
enduring than the practical things
we learned from Uncle Bernard in
his living room, is the great lesson of
loving fidelity built upon generous
sacrifice—how to live the sacrifices
we choose to accept. He learned it
from his mother, lived it with Julia
and passed it on to us—and now lives
on happily ever after in the family and
friends who knew him.
Congregation of Holy Cross,
UnitedStatesProvinceofPriestsandBrothers
Monthly Reflection Series
September 2011
Bernard and Julia:
A Story of
Fidelity
by Fr. Don Fetters, C.S.C.
Uncle Bernard, left, Mom
Fetters, foreground, GreatGrandma, right, and a Great
Aunt, behind Mom Fetters.
Fr. Don Fetters, C.S.C., is a native of
South Bend, Indiana. He was ordained
in 1976 and has served in Phoenix,
Arizona, Berkeley, California, the University of Notre Dame, Santiago, Chile,
and most recently in Lima, Peru. Fr. Don
is the novice director for Holy Cross in
Latin America, and vocation director for
Peru.
A publication of the Congregation of Holy Cross,
United States Province of Priests and Brothers
Office of Development
P.O. Box 765, Notre Dame, Indiana 46556
www.holycrossusa.org
[email protected]
My two brothers and I used
to head off on Saturday mornings
to Uncle Bernard’s house for music
rehearsal. Actually it was my great
grandmother’s house where my
grand uncle lived. My Dad had
insisted that his boys learn to play a
musical instrument. So, with cornet,
trombone and clarinet in hand we
trekked across town to meet up with
Uncle Bernard at the impeccably
kept electric organ console in the
living room of his home. Years later I
heard that the neighbors thoroughly
enjoyed the music they could hear
emanating from that little house—
except on Saturdays.
My uncle worked in an office
where he was expected to wear a
white shirt, dress slacks and tie every
workday of the week. On Saturdays,
as I recall he relaxed enough to
remove his tie. He was as impeccable
as the polished mahogany organ
console where he used to spend most
of his free time and from where, with
apparent pleasure, he accompanied,
taught and directed his fledgling
grand-nephew musicians, and as
disciplined as the metronome he sat
on the console in an attempt to keep
us tooting together.
Of course it never occurred to
any of the three of us, not yet teenagers, to ask why Uncle Bernard lived
with great-grandma. Where was his
wife? Where were his children? The
answer to that unasked question
would come years later, perhaps
when we could understand it better.
When Uncle Bernard was
much younger, he was engaged to
Julia whom he had known in the
city where she lived and from where
he had moved. Not too long after
their engagement, Uncle Bernard’s
father died, leaving great-grandma
alone in a new town she hardly
knew and with little family and
few friends to accompany her. As a
result, Bernard and Julia agreed that
they would postpone their wedding,
so that Bernard could take care of
his widowed mother in her grief
and Julia could take care of her only
brother who was out of work due to a
debilitating long-term illness.
From that moment on, and
during the next 30 years, the loving
relationship between the two of
them was carried on primarily
through regular (pre-electronic)
mail, phone calls, and an occasional
visit back to the city where they had
grown up.
Never did any of the rag-tag
musical trio suspect at that time
what was beneath Uncle Bernard’s
impeccable, disciplined and pleasant
demeanor. We didn’t know to ask
and he didn’t say.
Great grandma died at 94
having just pulled out of the oven
her very last loaf of the supply of
“German bread” she would bake
each week for the whole family, to
sit down and say her rosary. Uncle
Bernard had recently retired and
at nearly the same time, Julia’s
brother died. As the two of them