MORE OLD LETTERS TO SHARE
I set out to do this mostly with my family in mind, but also anyone who is viewing life from today and wondering,”how did things get so different?”
Again, it would be nice if these letters had dates on them, so they will not be in chronological order, however they cover the years between early and late fifties.
For my readers who don’t know, my mother died of cancer in April 1959 . I am including several of just everyday happenings.
Here is one with a date, January 4, 1955, describing some of the activities of the “roast” as we called our family celebrations. I think it is the Christmas that Arlene probably, about 4, was excited to tell everyone she got a doll for Christmas with hair that was “blackish” like Kathryn’s. (Just a little off with the colour Arlene) Cute as anything.
I have a single page from Dad Carl, that I will include. There are quite a few pages missing.
The next letter I will attempt to share is one written by Mom from the hospital, having had the diagnosis of cancer. I had to think what a rather calm and serene letter for someone who had always lived on the farm. How she enjoyed the Toronto skyline, and would look out the window to see her daughter Evelyn who was thick into her nurses training at the prestigious Wellesly hospital, perchance walk by. I do recall the phone call from my Dad, telling me Mom might only have 6 weeks to live.It is was the same cold chill that came over me when he told me about Ken’s accident in Aug 55.
Mom did live until April 1960, at home with us, by now Nancy was married and Evelyn was close to graduation. She felt the weight of me being there alone on the farm . I don’t remember a whole lot about that time. But I suspect my whole young life was a lesson in “carrying on” with no railing against circumstances. So much of my upbringing, was preparing us for making life work, and never did I think it was God’s doing or my parents either. (now, the government might get blamed somehow!!)
Mom died in her bed, with all of us who lived in the area around her . Apparently, earlier when she was a still a little conscious, when Ken approached her bed, with that little wry smirk she asked him how are”the cows and the chickens and the apple trees baby?’ I think my siblings may know where those lyrics came from. I can sing it but don’t know it’s origin. She did know a lot of ditties.
I was sixteen, and although most of this is a blur, I do recall one blurb that came out of my mouth that was probably inappropriate , but the strangest thing, now at 75, I have found myself saying often in recent years.
We walked away from shock of the death bed, and we found places to sit around the long dinning table, and I said , “well at least she won’t ever need to go to a nursing home.” I immediately saw kind of questioning look of disapproval from my much older siblings. She was way too young in our opinions, just 59.
I am going to include one more letter that was after Mom’s death.
Well that is enough for today. I hope James Reesor can see this. Hope you got the story about the gingerale.!!