I was blessed by being born into a family of faith

A child of the 1930s,   I was born in August, 1930 at my family’s home on Edmunds Street.  Our house was about 200 feet from the west side of the  busiest main thoroughfare, Massachusetts Avenue  in North Cambridge. Because of the hot and humid  days and nights  in August  folks  described  the weather muggy, or  “dog days.” A doctor came to the house to perform the delivery. A close relative--possibly a great-aunt—Minise Perreault assisted the doctor in a kind of midwife role.  My brother and sisters were discreetly sent to visit a nearby relative, and when they returned, they discovered a new baby brother.

I was born into a bilingual Catholic family. I was the fourth child of Adelard Daniel (Al) Poirier and Regina LeBlanc Poirier.  They were devout French-Canadian-American Catholics.  My father loved music and sang in the church choir.   My parents  were faithful members of Our Lady of Pity Catholic Church on Rindge Avenue.  To its parishioners, it was L’eglise de Notre Dame de Pitie.  To others it was called “the French church” in North Cambridge. Both of my parents spoke English and French in the Canadian dialect, fluently.   The Irish and other English-speaking families were members of nearby St. John’s Catholic Church with a much larger parish, on Massachusetts Avenue. 

           

When I was an infant, my parents named me.  Then, as now, it is a Catholic custom to name a child with a saint’s name. Since I was born so close to August 10^th -- the feast of St. Lawrence, a deacon and martyr -- my parents gave me that name when I was baptized  at Notre Dame Church late in August.  My mother’s youngest sister was a nun, Mother Madeleine LeBlanc.  She was my godmother.  The middle nam Alfred was given to me in recognition of my father’s cousin and friend, Alfred (Benoit) Bennett, who was my godfather.   Being the youngest of the family, my sister Anita was ten years older.  My  brother Gerard (Jerry) was eight years older, and sister Germaine (Gerry) was six years older.  It was good to have two older sisters.  They loved to hold their little baby brother, I was told in later years.  They probably spoiled me but I imagine they were a big help to our mother when I was an infant.  I grew to love them both. Anita died of a heart attack at a young age in 1949, and Germaine died in 1979 after suffering many years with the complications of multiple sclerosis.  I have greatly missed both of them in this earthly life, and I look forward to seeing them again in the eternal life to come, God willing.