2-14-2023 4:20am

Barney and Jackie -- A Lovely Story Redux

Lesley Misko Editor

by Philip E. Repko*

Jacqueline Anne Mary Paula Heil fell from the top of the stage at the VFW teen dance. She wore a white dress and held a sheet of paper torn from a copy book. In impeccable Saint Catherine Elementary School cursive, Jackie had written the titles of five songs she hoped to hear at this late summer cotillion. The artist for all five was Elvis Presley.

Raymond Michael “Barney” Repko had been returned to Pottstown after a mostly voluntary stint in the Air Force. In early summer he had been in Tripoli. Here he lounged with friends in jeans and t-shirts, just below the deejay table on stage. He heard a cry above him and turned.

Jackie landed in Barney’s arms. More accurately, Barney protected himself from injury by catching the girl who fell from the stage. They danced the jitterbug to Presley songs before the night was over.

In December of 1957, 18 months later, they were married in Saint Aloysius Church.

For Barney and Jackie, the 1960s were like the space race through social turmoil. The mismatched couple welcomed nine children in eight years, beginning in 1957. Faith, Hope, and Charity arrived within minutes of one another in April of 1965. By the time the triplets were of kindergarten age, the decade had delivered a Presidential assassination, the murder of two Civil Rights leaders, and the killing of the former President’s brother, a candidate for office. In June of 1969, to remind everyone of reasons for hope, Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.

The 1970s were a bipolar trip, almost psychedelic. Jackie adopted as her own, the friends of her children, all of whom graduated between 1975 and 1983. Barney opted to quit the workforce for the most part, despite having nine mouths to feed. He did, however, continue to work on his poker skills while earning pocket money via the card table, flea market, or barkeep trade. The family was kept afloat by relatives, most notably Big Grammy, sole proprietor of the Gladwyne Café on South and Charlotte in Pottstown.

Somehow, during the years from 1975-1982, the rural setting of the Farmhouse, but especially the Barn, became almost an historic landmark. After the pickup basketball games on the small court in front of the garage, there might be games of quoits next to the wheatfield beside the barn, or ping-pong games in the pole barn Barney nicknamed The Lumber House.

But the penultimate events were the keg parties. In this distant age, teenagers managed to gather for music and fun on sweaty summer nights, unencumbered by rules, morals, or local law enforcement. In fact, the police often phoned in the afternoon to ask that the cars park far enough into the field to allow for two lanes of traffic on Wagner Road.

Jackie loved the parties because she grew to know the friends of her children, who invariably wandered in to use the bathroom, but often stayed for conversation, and sometimes for a cup of tea. Barney crashed the parties late at night, entertaining the young guests with his stories, and always carrying a plastic cup to have a beer or two himself.

Both parents would announce the next morning that that the parties had to stop, while not-so-slyly enabling the same series of events to occur, and hosting more gatherings later on. The parties ended in the mid-80s, only because the children moved away.

In all, Jackie and Barney pushed and pulled their way through 46 years of wedded consternation. Barney’s rejection of the provider’s role kept uncertainty at elbow’s length at all times. Jackie’s chronic sense of disappointment guaranteed a cloudy sentiment was stalking each sunny moment. Despite these patterns, the older children, now with children of their own, turned Sunday afternoons and evenings into family reunions of the greatest sort. From Barney, the gang had learned a sense of adventure and fun to be found in even the most oppressive of circumstances. From Jackie, the group had learned that devotion and self-sacrifice could still nurture resentment and sadness. And yet laughter always had a seat at the table.

My mother’s manic-depression hung about the home like an extra household dependent. Similarly, my father’s keen intelligence lived in the upper rooms, but would not chase away his demons. Thus, these finger-crossed lovers lingered without prevailing - until my father’s just desserts were served earlier than expected by an indifferent god.

Barney passed in 2002, at the ripe age of 69. A lifetime of smoking and drinking tapped him on the shoulder, and bestowed upon him one of the only prizes he ever really won, a case of congestive heart failure. Surgery eradicated much of the organ damage, but the underlying causes were unaffected: stubbornness and recklessness remained, and took shape in Barney’s conviction that medicine and rehab were not the pillars of his recovery. He was mistaken.

Jackie neither celebrated nor overtly mourned Barney’s passing. Their romantic dysfunction was offset by a level of codependence that grew stronger and more ubiquitous over time. Without Barney, Jackie had a less apparent scapegoat. She did not say she missed him, but after his death, she was essentially unable to live in the house they shared from 1964 to 2002. So, she moved in with her daughter and her daughter’s family. During that stretch of life, Jackie embarked on a self-improvement program that included giving up cigarettes after more than 40 years of smoking. She also lost weight, kept moving, and improved her general health. For a generous portion of a decade, she saw happiness right around the corner.

The final five years of Jackie’s life were largely intolerable for her. She developed dementia, survived colon cancer, laughed at COVID, generally announced her profound disappointment that her nine children would not drop what they were doing to provide her with support and care, 24/7. She also survived two relocations to Florida, the second of which probably prolonged her life be a year.

When it came to pass that Jackie passed, we turned our thoughts to the bright side that had been always out of reach in the mortal lives of the tenuous Barney and Jackie. The snippets of joy that we recalled were often connected to song and dance, most especially to jitterbugging to the preferred songs of Elvis. At her funeral, when someone played “Can’t Help Falling in Love With You,” on the sound system or perhaps a Bluetooth speaker, I pictured Barney in a powder blue suit, a scotch in his hand, as he beckoned his bride to the dance floor.

Jackie demurred, even while the dance floor summoned her, much as the next life ordered her to appear. She waved Barney off, told him he was full of it, while she walked indirectly to the very spot he stood. Barney wore the same goofy smirk he always wore on the dance floor, a West Side Story Jet, with greased back hair, exuding cool through every pore.

And as the vision faded, Elvis’ “Hound Dog” rocked the place, and the jitterbugging began

*A 1979 graduate of Boyertown Area Senior High, Philip Repko returned to BASH to teach English for many years. In 2007, he left to become an assistant principal in the Daniel Boone School District. He is currently the principal of Saint Mary Catholic School in Schwenksville.

The Boyertown Area Expression invited YOU to share your Love Story …leading up to today..

Some of our readers shared stories expressing their love for a spouse or partner, a grandchild, a puppy or kitten...whatever it is that they have loved or reflecting on what love has meant to them. We were inspired by the NYC project that asked for stories in 100 or less, but, eager to share their messages, we weren't counting words!