Ginny Reilly Bauer
A Chosen Family Bond
In the genealogy world, the FAN (Friends, Associates, and Neighbors) Club is just one important research method for finding those elusive ancestors. If you aren't familiar with this group, it consists of people who aren't related to you but are still important to your family. I've been thinking a lot about Ginny Bauer, Mom's pen pal and family friend.
Ginny Bauer (Genevieve Reilly) was born in 1916 in Harrison, New York. She graduated with a bachelor's degree in education and a master's in English. She worked as an elementary school teacher at the Harrison Central School District for 32 years before retiring in 1973.
Mom and Ginny began writing to each other in the early 1930s when both were in high school—Mom in Evansville, Indiana, and Ginny in Harrison, New York. They connected through the "Penpals Wanted" column in St. Anthony’s Messenger when friendships were often formed across long distances through letters. Ginny recalled in a letter that the names and addresses of those requesting penpals were listed in that magazine section. She responded to several of those listed. "Your mom and I just hit it off. We really kept the mailman weighed down."
For years, their letters were the lifeblood of their relationship. Ginny commented how their letters were long and were often written over several days. They never lost touch. Their first in-person meeting happened around 1951, and Ginny later wrote that it was "an outstanding event" in her life. Dad and Ginny's husband, Bill, hit it off immediately, strengthening the friendship even further. Their family visited us several times, and Mom and Dad traveled to New York to see them.
Even with the distance, Ginny was always a part of our lives. When Mom died, I was the one to call her. Just hearing her voice was comforting. But that wasn't the end of our story; Ginny and I started to write to each other. My letters to her were usually only at Christmas, although I did send her Mother's Day cards, as she referred to me as her "other daughter." She'd send me long handwritten letters keeping me up-to-date on what was happening in her world and asking me about my life. In one letter from 1996, she wrote, "Your mom was—and is—my closest and dearest friend. Mildred was always first in line."
She remembered how when Mom made dresses for my sister and me, she always included a smocked dress for Ginny's daughter, Janet, and a robe for Ginny. "Your mom was a very talented girl, always sharing her ability," she wrote. She revealed that Dad insisted on choosing my name when I was born. "Mildred told me that he was really smitten with you."
When my father passed, I was again the one to call Ginny to give her the sad news. And years later, when a tornado hit our city, she couldn't reach me and became deeply worried. Without my phone number, she called the number on her TV screen, which put her in touch with a local hospital. I wasn't listed, so she tried the Red Cross but couldn't get through their busy lines. She enlisted her son to find me, and he turned to the Internet. She reached me by phone and then followed up with a lovely letter about how she was so worried about me.
When her beloved Bill died, I received that sad letter. Over the next couple of years, she would refer to Bill and their long love story and how she still missed him.
Then, in December 2009, I didn't hear from her. My Christmas card came back with no forwarding address. I kept meaning to call, but life got in the way. Months passed. I tried calling her old number, only to hear a stranger's voice on the answering machine. My heart sank.
But then I remembered—I had saved all of Ginny's letters. During a reorganization of my office/studio, I wasn't sure where I had put them. After some searches, I found them. From her return address and a few clues in her writing, I remembered her son Jack lived in a nearby state—and that he had a daughter.
With some sleuthing, I found her granddaughter on Facebook. From there, everything opened up. I learned Ginny was alive and well, living with Jack. I spoke to both of them on the phone, and it was a beautiful reunion. I now had her new address and phone number, and our connection was restored.
Ginny passed away in 2014. In our last conversation, her voice was quieter and worn from a long life. She spent her final years with her son and his family in the warmth of their home, surrounded by love. I miss our connection. A space in my heart still longs for her letters and kindness. But I carry her memory with me, and I'm grateful for the friendship that passed from Mom to me.
Ginny was more than a friend to my mother—she was family to all of us. She showed me what it means to love and care across years and miles. With each letter and every act of kindness, she showed me that family isn't only about blood—it's also about the people we choose, and those who choose us in return.
A lovely story. We used to have pen pals at school but never seemed to keep them up. I love the fabric card you made for Ginny’s 95th birthday.
Friends are often the family we choose. Thanks for sharing your lovely relationship with Ginny.