A Letter Just

We haven’t met, my Great Granddaughter, and I. For a variety of reasons, all too personal to discuss, I doubt if we ever will.

I know her name, and I’ve seen her picture. She is quite lovely, and I wonder if in the years long after I have gone if she might wonder about me.

I suppose I think about that because I inquired so often about the two women who were my Grandmothers, and departed this world early in my life.

When I was a sophomore, I had an assignment to write about family. It was the first time I tried to gather information about them. Oh, not the statistics, that would have been easy, but some actual memories.

I recall asking, “Did they laugh often? Were they kind? Does anyone remember songs they sang or food they liked? Were they pretty? What colors did they wear? Did they like music? Did you see them cry?”

I was totally unsuccessful. It seemed odd the year I was 15, but now I believe I finally understand. Both women had difficult lives due not only to illness but because they were plagued also with serious financial and marital problems. Those they left behind, children and husbands, chose not to remember their pain. We all learn eventually that it is less painful to forget.

I have been far more blessed financially and in life than either Nellie King or Mary Donlon. Nellie had 12 difficult pregnancies, I had 4. Mary was divorced, but eventually reconciled with Matt, her chastened husband, an experience I never knew.

While I have always wished I had known both of them, I never fantasized that one day I would feel the same way about a great Granddaughter. Life is full of surprises, both good and bad.

However, If at some point in future time, my female descendent might inquire, I hope someone will tell her about the world I once shared, not only with her paternal Grandad, but also, his Father and three siblings. I fear by the time she is mature enough to inquire, I may be long gone. So this letter will leave a few memories now.

Dear child, it was a wonderful world full of men who were gallant and chivalrous. Your Great grandfather opened car doors and brought me flowers. We attended a formal dance in the fabled Plaza Hotel shortly after we met. I wore a red lace gown and carried violets. We danced together in the shadows of candlelight until dawn. I will never forget how his strong arms held me tightly as we swayed to the music of Lester Lanin..

My husband was a man who never hesitated to pay compliments nor did I ever feel threatened by his masculinity. I never stopped being delighted with his admiration in my appearance, nor took it for granted. I loved being his wife, and until the day he died, I remained thrilled to share each day with him. He expected me to be beautiful in his eyes, and I never stopped trying.

He was secure enough in his own abilities to allow me to pursue dreams of being a writer and never once complained about the time I spent at my computer while he watched television alone.

His three sons were all taught to be courteous and kind and honest. They learned to respect all who crossed their paths in life because that is how their Father behaved.

It was a time when not only my daughter and I, but both her elderly Grandmothers, were pleased if compliments were paid and bouquets of fragrant flowers were delivered. All the women I knew took pleasure in male admiration and cultivated it without any unease.

Kisses were given easily as a mark of friendship between both sexes not only on New Years Eve, but as a sign of welcome when visiting. I never cringed if a male offered to assist me with packages or crossing an icy patch nor did I ever decline their help.

Oh it was quite a different time. I understand you have read about the abuses inflicted on women during those decades, and undoubtedly there is some truth in the reports. However, many true stories of love, romance, and sexual beauty seem to have been eliminated. There was an honest joy and beauty in the sexual attraction that for many of us lasted throughout long marriages. I doubt if any women I knew would ever deny that.

It sounds quite different, I admit. Women were able to have careers and still have a happy family life. It wasn’t easy, but most succeeded because both husband and wife worked together to keep families intact.

So I suppose if I wanted you to know anything about me, it is that your Great Grandmother loved all the men who were part of her life. My Dad, aka The Magician, was my first hero, and I also had three bachelor uncles who quietly taught me about generosity by providing the comfort of financial security with a weekly allowance of $2.00 until I finished school.

On a dark subway station one miraculous winter’s night, I met the incredible man, your Great Grandfather, who I married, and who shared my world for 57 years.

So if you ever ask questions, this is all that matters.

I was a lucky women. I was loved and cared for and cherished and blessed with all those who touched my days. I hope your world still allows the same joy.