Bobbing Along

Old fashioned. Hand-written. On paper. In ink. Still creased from mailing and lovingly saved for decades. These are messages from someone long gone, written during times of great difficulty.

The writer was my grandmother. The recipient was my great grandmother. They lived quite far from each other in an age when most families lived in close proximity.

I never knew either of them. My grandmother died of breast cancer not long after the last letter shared here. Her husband, my grandfather, had succumbed to colon cancer only months earlier. And her mother, having lived through her own tragedies, died before I was born.

As I hold the papers and read my grandmother’s words, I am given many gifts. I witness her struggles and her efforts to manage, if not overcome, them. I see her spirited nature, in spite of her declining health. I hear concern for her children even as she glows with pride when speaking of them. I can see her love for those whom she knows she will not see again. And I know the path she paved for her children to move forward when she was no more.

I am blessed to be the custodian of these treasures. Her words teach me how to be resilient. I see the virtue of patience. I am shown the importance of planning, and praying. I learn to be grateful for the little things, as well as the big. She gives me hope. I sense her strength. I feel her indomitable spirit. I yearn for her courage.

The greatest gift, however, is this: I now have a far deeper appreciation for my mother, the “Mary” of the letters. She was, after all, a young girl, merely fifteen, at the time these were written. She had already lost her father and was about to lose her mother. The fortitude that my mother showed even at that young age will forever amaze me. I believe the three of them are together at this moment, probably giggling at me as I struggle to write this opening. Laugh on, ladies! It is, after all, my blog.

Nov. 2, 1937

My Dear Mother,

Please do not go into hysterics or pack to come up here immediately. I have been here in the hospital three weeks tomorrow, but expect to be able to go home by the latter part of the week. I am to get up in a chair tomorrow. I thought it best not to tell you until I could truthfully say that I was getting better. What I thought was asthma was a severe inflammation of my right lung, with a fluid in the pleural cavity. The doctor has tapped the lung five times in all and altogether has removed nearly three quarts of fluid. The fluid is lessening, and I’ll go home & until the lung is able to absorb the fluid, I come back to the hospital for one day each week for the lung to be tapped. It’s to be tapped again tomorrow. It may also be the last time. One never knows. I’ve had every care, have not wanted for anything. Doctors, nurses, heads of the hospital, friends, children have all been marvellous. I feel unworthy of all that has been done. There has not been any treatment for this condition [breast cancer] that has not been tried out on me. I will not be able to do much work for the remainder of the winter. Donald has sold the goats and the chickens are going today. When I get well it will be time enough to think about more chickens. The only thing I can say is don’t think that you must come up to me. It will frankly be all I can do with all this added expense to get through the winter. Sybil is the only one who has known that I was in hospital again, so pass this letter around. I have so little strength for writing. The least exertion up until now has been too much for me. I’ll write you again in a few days. And then I will be able to say what day I will be leaving. Send the next letter to R.R.4 [part of postal address for her home in Elgin IL]. I know I’ll be there. Now please do not worry. I am in God’s hands and He alone has power to give an added lease of life. Yesterday, being All Saints Day, the Rector brought the sacrament from the altar of the church to my room. Donald and Mary were here with me. Naturally, being All Saints Day, there was a special prayer for Frank. You would have been sorry for Don. It’s a thing unknown for him to cry but yesterday he was almost dissolved in tears. I told the Rector that I thought that the memory of that Communion service would remain with Donald until his dying day. I think the Communion service will in future mean much more to him. Mary is much more stolid, very rarely if ever shows what she feels. They both are wonderful children, little [birds?].

I am somewhat tired now, will write again in a few days. Remember you will have to pass my letters around. I just cannot write much.

All my love to one & all

Lovingly your child

Agnes

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R.R.4 Box 323

Elgin, Ill.

Nov. 23, 1937

My Dear Mother,

I came home from hospital last Friday night, very weak of course, but so happy to be home again. I am gaining just a little more strength every day, my progress, though, will be very, very slow. The Roentenologist (Xray doctor) wants to give me one x ray treatment each week until the lung shows signs of healing. And of course, for a little while yet, there will be an occasional aspiration of the chest. I have every faith and confidence that I will eventually come through and am considering everything. Fairly cheerful, I lie perfectly flat for the greater part of each day. My bed is in the library. I have a couch in the living room and another in the kitchen so I do not need anyone to cart meals to me. I come out in the kitchen and lie down to eat. I have [a] woman in for three hours each day. She washes dishes & cleans. Mary gets meals. I lie on the couch and help her by peeling potatoes, veg, etc. Last night they brought all the things to me and I cleaned the celery, peeled and cut up the apples and made a nice Waldorf salad for dinner. I know that I have to keep pretty quiet as there is nothing much now to be done. It’s simply a question of sufficient nourishment and plenty of rest. I am going to church on Thanksgiving Day which is Thursday. Someone from the church will come for me with a heated car and they will have a wheelchair ready there for me, lift me from the car to the chair and wheel me in. Then wheel me forward to the chancel step and the Rector will bring the Communion down to me. It’s the only thing that I want for my Thanksgiving Day. I shall send the children to a movie in the afternoon and that will make them happy. They are such good kids. Mrs. Egelston is taking them to Chicago on Friday, it’s their last holiday until Christmas Eve. I am giving them the money to go in and do their own Christmas shopping. Poor kids, it’s them I am sorry for to have to spend the greater part of their time for the next two or three months waiting on an invalid mother. It will be a happy day when I can get on my knees again and scrub the kitchen floor. Mary says, “Mother! What an ambition!!” I said, “Well, it’s some ambition when one has been ill for three months!” Send this to all the family. They will at least know that I think of them. Tell Faith I will write her next.

Love to all,

Agnes

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R.R.4 Box 323

Elgin, Ill.

Jan. 2, 1938

My Dear Mother,

There is little (if anything) new to report about my condition. I make a slight improvement all the time, some days feeling pretty fair, the next not quite so good, then the following day a further surge ahead. My food tastes a little better but my appetite still needs coaxing along. I can now move around with sufficient ease that I can make little custards, junkets, jellies, and such. I have had quite a lot of gastric trouble and can only take the lighter meats. The doctor says that everything will all iron out together. He tells me that I am impatient, that every time he sees me or even talks to me on the telephone that he can notice a great change. I am stronger. It’s now nearly five months since I was taken sick, quite a long enough rest. I had intended going to church yesterday but it was biting cold and such a high wind, so I made no attempt to go out. This morning it’s a long service and that would unnecessarily tire me. I do nothing that I know will tire me for I only suffer for it afterwards.

The children go back to school tomorrow. I’ll be terribly lonely without them. It’s been just lovely having them around these last ten days. We have also been very lazy and slept late every morning. Now we shall have to get up early again. I never did like getting up early and never will. I wish that it were financially possible for me to come to Newfoundland this summer. There is nothing that would do me quite so much good, and not only me but the children as well. I suppose now that they are fifteen, I will soon have to stop calling them children. They are so grown up. My sickness has helped make that. They have had to assume so much responsibility. Mary has had to attend to all the banking, visit the safe deposit box, enter coupons for collection and do things that most girls her age hardly know exist. I have reached the stage now whereby I sit at my desk and write letters. I have written one other this morning so will stop and go rest a bit.

All our love and every good wish for 1938

Lovingly, your child,

Agnes

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R.R.4, Box 323

Elgin, Ill.

Jan. 26 [1938]

My Dear Mother,

Please excuse the writing paper. this being some of Mary’s last years’ notebook paper. This year they do not use this type in High School. The twins today are much occupied with their semester finals. They both to date have done well. I feel that I have nothing to worry over with their studies. It’s a couple of weeks since I have written. The reason being that the last three Xray treatments used me up to the point that I was anything but cheerful. All I could do was lie down and wonder how soon I’d feel better. The last treatment was last Monday and it was the worst of all. Until Sunday, I was violently nauseated the whole time and so tired and full of aches. That I hope is now a thing of the past and I can go ahead with a whoop and a bang. At times I have quite a little rheumatism in my right arm & hand, but that will pass away. Last night I finished a sweater for Mary that I started early in Dec. She looks awfully well in it and has gone to her exam this morning in great glee. Her worst exam comes this afternoon when she has her Latin. Donald has for him two easy exams today—wood shop this morning and English this afternoon. I was surprised at the extent of their studies in wood shop. Unfortunately Donald can only get one semester of wood shop in. Next semester and for two years he had mechanical drawing in its place. His final three semesters he’ll have machine shop. You see, the school year is divided into two semesters. They are only allowed (for the first year) to take four full time subjects. If their marks are above 76 each term (and each semester is divided into three terms) they get one full credit. They must have 32 full credits to graduate from high school. If they both do as well this term they’ll both have 1/10 (D[on]) and 2/10 (M[ary]) respectively over the full 4 that they should have this semester. I hope this is not too confusing. Their last two years they can take an extra subject, thereby bringing up their credits. The more credits they have the higher their standing in college. Anyway, at all colleges worth while demand their students have over 77% all through their high school. Some colleges go as far as only to admit students in the upper 10%. For the past two months, Donald and Mary leave home for school at 7:45 a.m. and except for meals and an hour or so recreation [they] study straight through to 9:30 p.m. when they go to bed. Donald has been forced to temporarily drop his Boy Scout work. Send this on to Faith. All this about the high school work might interest her.

It was a good thing that Dr. Pistor persuaded me to drop the idea of the school nurse job. I would not have been up to it and would have done myself injury in the end. I could have I know forced the issue, using influence to get the job. Secondly it eventually would have been imperative to have taken the university course and my early education would have disqualified me. When I got the application blank from the Supt. of Education I found so many points I could not qualify on, chiefly early education and secondly, age. Thirdly, health. Then when I inquired into the salary I found on a year around basis I only received $100.00 per month. The substitute receives $150.00 but she gets no pay for any school holidays or any off duty time. Then when I began to add up all the extras I’d need, woman for the housework and she’d never manage on what I do. I’d have to give up goats, chickens, and garden, lose that income and buy all that food. I’d need more expensive clothes, and last but not least, my eventual year or nine months at the university would cost maybe $2000.00 and I’d have to charge[?] off $100.00 yearly off my income. All in all I’d be no better off. Again, I guess I sound complicated—everything revolves around the fact I’ll get through ok if this thing does not break out elsewhere. I’m naturally very optimistic. Mary is just in from her English exam in great glee, to her it was so easy. Thank God, owing to Frank’s careful training they both excel in English.

All our love,

Your loving daughter,

Agnes

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