​My family is Catholic, and we were members of Our Lady of Fatima parish. Eventually we all went to school there, taught by a mix of Presentation Sisters and lay teachers. Did the school leave an impression on me? Indeed. I can remember every teacher I had: Sister Mary Louis for first grade, Mrs. Inez Smith for second, Sister Mary Carl for third, Sister Mary Inviolata for fourth, Miss Rosalie Palmer for fifth, Sister Mary de Montfort for sixth, Sister Mary Edward Joseph for seventh, and Sister Mary Jerome for eighth. These teachers were strict but fair. Of course, they had to be strict; they were Catholic, after all. My class at Fatima had more than fifty students—only fourteen of them girls.

 

I had a lot of respect for the nuns, and realized even back then what good teachers they were. Sister Mary Carl, for instance, also led the school’s children’s choir, which sang at the nine o’clock Mass some Sundays. She was great, and she was all business. All the nuns in my early school days wore full habits, rosaries dangling at their sides. I was curious about them, and because their headdresses covered their whole heads, I innocently asked Sister Mary Carl if nuns had hair. “Yes,” she said, and promptly returned to the lesson.

 

When I was young, we would go caroling through the neighborhood at Christmastime. We often got applause from neighbors, and, even better, money from some. We took full advantage of the Magnolia Recreation Center, a magical place where a child could take tennis, knitting, ballet, tumbling, and tap dancing lessons. All of it was free. It was great fun back then, but sadly, I can’t dance a lick anymore.

 

Adding to our somewhat idyllic childhood were the abundant blackberry bushes in the neighborhood. We picked the lush berries every summer, and Susie and I made double-crusted blackberry pies following the Betty Crocker cookbook recipe. Absolutely delicious.

 

Now wait. There’s more. No story about growing up in Magnolia would be complete without talking about the Village. Everyone walked to it. There was the Magnolia Theater back in the day, and we loved going to the Saturday matinees. We got in for a quarter and got a bag of popcorn for a dime. We were living large, for sure. We saw every Disney movie that was shown. Brother Bob liked the Westerns. And they had cartoons in between double features. My mother thought the price of admission and popcorn for each of us was worth it: she got a few hours of peace and quiet while we were gone.

 

Back then, the Village had three grocery stores: Albertsons, Tradewell, and Big Bear. Albertsons was always our choice. When my mother started working downtown, she would give Susie and me five dollars to buy food on our way home from Fatima. We bought the food and often cooked dinner, having it ready when my parents got home from work. It was a great lesson in planning, understanding the value of a dollar, and working together.

 

To our great delight, the Village had three ice cream parlors. There was also Leroux Fine Apparel for Men and Women, Meredith’s Five and Dime, two drug stores, several restaurants, and much more. Little Magnolia had it all.

 

In the summer, we loved the Magnolia Seafair Parade. Great floats, great food, and great ice cream! Large crowds assembled for this event, and they still do. A huge favorite was the Kiddie Parade where kids got to march through the Village in various costumes. Oftentimes, they were accompanied by their pets.

 

The Seattle Public Library has to be one of the nation’s best. It began as a single reading room in Pioneer Square and has been growing ever since. We were thrilled when a terrific branch opened in Magnolia in 1964. The head librarian was Mrs. Pepper, who came to our classes at Fatima every quarter, sharing the titles of books we might enjoy, and encouraging us to read. I loved reading, especially the Nancy Drew and Bobbsey Twins series. My sister Susie was a voracious reader, and the library was always one of her favorite places. At home, we slept in the same room, and she would take a flashlight to bed and read for hours under the covers.

 

Like most my age, I can vividly remember major events and where I was when I learned about them. My interest was enhanced, however, because my father was a US history buff. At dinner, he would quiz us about our nation’s history, state capitals, and other facts he’d gleaned from reading the Funk & Wagnalls encyclopedia set we had on our living room shelves.

 

I was in my sixth-grade class at Fatima when an announcement came over the loudspeaker that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas. Sister Mary de Montfort cried. My sister Susie later related that she was in the church practicing for her upcoming confirmation when her class heard the news. That night, she was to go to a slumber party at her friend Maureen Gairns’s house. Our father drove her there, and I tagged along. As we got in the car, our father told us, “You kids are going to remember this day for the rest of your lives.” He was right. Susie wrote a condolence letter to Jacqueline Kennedy and got a card in response, which she has kept to this day.

 

My mother was no slouch in the brains department. She skipped the second and fifth grades and graduated from Classical High School in Providence when she was sixteen. Back in the day, it was expected that women would become nurses, teachers, or secretaries, so she took typing and shorthand classes at Bryant College in Rhode Island.

 

“But you,” she told her children, “can be anything you want to be.”

 

My mother was not only encouraging; she was hilarious. In the 1960s, she returned to work as a secretary. She worked at Sunset Sportswear, The Bon Marché, and later the Bank of California in downtown Seattle. One night over dinner, she told us her boss at the bank didn’t give her enough work to stay busy.

 

He had passed by her desk that day and said, “At least you can try to look busy!”

 

My mother told it like it was: “I’m a secretary,” she said, “not an actress.”

 

Both our parents encouraged us to work when we were teens. Susie scoured the job listings in the weekly Magnolia News and saw an ad for cashier at the Brown Bear Car Wash on 15th Avenue West. Not surprisingly, she got the job. When I turned fifteen and a half, I too went to work for Brown Bear. I cashiered after school and on weekends and full-time during the summer. Susie was promoted to a management position and hired all the cashiers as Brown Bear grew steadily and added more locations. Vic and Mary Odermat, who own what became a Brown Bear empire, were very good to the Henry family.

 

There was a constant theme to my growing up in Magnolia: we were to meet expectations. At school, at church, at home, and on the job. My parents were all about setting expectations, and in the 1970s, those were set quite high. My father’s work took him to California. I had just graduated from Holy Names Academy and had been accepted at the University of Washington, where Susie was a freshman. We were settled in Seattle and needed to stay.

 

I wasn’t keen on continuing in college. At age twenty, I was quite certain it was unnecessary. My mother did not agree. “Your father and I did not get college degrees,” she said. “You need to finish college. Do it for us.” And so I did.

 

My parents moved with my younger sisters to the San Francisco area first, then to Sacramento. Susie, brother Bob, and I stayed in Magnolia, making enough at our jobs at Brown Bear to pay the mortgage and utilities on the house on 27th Avenue West. When I tell this story today, people think it’s extraordinary that we three siblings stayed behind and took on such adult responsibilities. But we were prepared, and we made out fine. In fact, I’m certain this turn of events prepared us for our future like no degree in business could ever have.

 

It’s safe to say our upbringing in Magnolia helped launch every member of my family toward success. Brother Bob eventually moved to California to be with our parents, then returned to Seattle and got married in 1977. He had one son, James, who also attended Our Lady of Fatima and graduated from O’Dea High School and the University of Washington. James and his wife Adriana have two children, Taylor and Gavin. James is the only family member still residing in Magnolia. Sadly, Bob died at his home on 26th Avenue West in 2005.

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