Snippets

Tonight is a sad night. I can’t tell you exactly why, but I feel sad. I will be going back to

WV on Tuesday. It is time for me to go but I still feel very sad. I will miss K very much. I miss my son, too. It’s a funny hollow kind of feeling that I have whenever I think of the people I love being so far away. Some how it seems that the meaningless minutia of life takes on greater importance. Feeling connected is definitely strengthened by sharing of these little things. I know that K doesn’t get that. Sometimes I call her just to hear what she’s up to or tell her what I’m doing. Unfortunately, what I’m doing in my life is often just ordinary things. She shakes her head and wonders why I call ‘just because’ and talk about stupid things like doing laundry, or dishes. I admit, that there are times I have absolutely nothing to say except, I miss you. Of course, these feelings are not limited to my kids. I miss everyone. WV seems so far away and so isolated. Not even my husband really cares about my minutia. You know, the simple things like why I hate that TV commercial or why I liked that movie. Nobody wants to hear a quote from a book they haven’t read, and probably never will read, just because it tickled me. I guess those things are now relegated to the blog. My nameless ancestors will hear all the simple things that I care to dump on them without complaint.

Tonight I was just thinking about the tiny still frames in my mind. The cherished memories that have no significance other than their meaning to me. The sweet sound of K’s voice when she was 2 and the expressions on her face when she told me epic stories. T falling asleep in my arms with his little hand clutching mine. The wonderful relaxation of having a cigarette and watching the horses with a friend. Some of my snippets go back to my own childhood. Laughing with my mom at 2 in the morning over some silly thing and sharing a snack. Sleeping in the back of the car with the murmuring of my parents voices in the front. A collage of images, feelings and senses that I wish I could frame and hang on my wall.

Howard and Bernadean - The continuing drama 2

Frank Howard Sexton was born April 10, 1911 to Julia Peterson and Frank A Sexton in Chicago, IL. Frank was a young architect and Julia came from a wealthy family of Swedish immigrants. Her father owned three barbershops in Chicago. He as the first grandchild for the Peterson's and an only child of Julia and Frank. Looking at his early photographs one could easily imagine him as a bit spoiled. He was a happy, easy going child with an apparent love for cats.

By the time Howard was in High School, Julia and Frank had built their own home in Evanston. He attended Evanston Township High School. In 1929 the Evanston Township High School took a trip to Baltimore and Washington, D.C. Howie was popular with the young ladies and from the letters he received from many of them I believe he was a good friend and confidante. In December 1929 I also found a curious receipt from the Evanston Cradle (adoption agency) thanking Howard and a young lady named Morrell for their donation. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that on his High School trip he and Morrell became familiar with each other. (a little too familiar)

Following his graduation from Evanston Township, Howard enrolled in Kemper Military School in Booneville, MO. Howard's father wished for him to study architecture and indeed he did but did not wish to make this his career. He instead, developed a deep love for the Arts. He was enamored of all things concerning theater and the new theater - movies. So after a short course of study at Kemper he graduated in 1930.

Following Kemper, he enrolled at N.U. (Northwestern University) in Chicago. During his University days he studied writing and decided to go into the advertising field. Upon his graduation he pursued a career in Theater. Initially he worked at a small theater in Chicago, a job he procured through his grandfather - Charles Peterson. During those early adult years he also worked at the Chicago World's Fair in 1933. It was during this time that he met a young woman, Bernadean Jones, who he would later marry. It was also during this time that his parents divorced. It was an ugly, drawn out divorce. Frank was a womanizer who met a younger woman (secretary at his office) with whom he had an affair. Of course, Julia divorced him leaving her destitute. Frank in turn, promptly moved away without a forwarding address and refused to pay any alimony.

Back to Howard and Bernadean. They met and began a long distance relationship. She had come into Chicago to attend the World's fair and met a dashing cashier named Howard. Alas, she live in Oklahoma and after returning to her home there she wrote to Howard.

"I hope that you write back, I wanted assure you that I am not in the habit of meeting strange men for lunch." Howard does write back and thus begins a new chapter of his life.

Waiting for the future

Sometimes I find myself buried in the past, looking at old photos and documents. It's easy to forget the present when you are reading letters about life and death and heartache. It's also safe. These people are in the distant past and I feel their pain but it is still remote, muffled by time. Then, something happens to bring me back to the here and now. When the here and now is fills up my mind completely, then, my world narrows, focuses in on the issues at hand. The rest of the world is a blur. There I am hanging on by a thread waiting for the future. Waiting to see if what comes tomorrow will release me or throttle me. I know that I will wake up, breathe, eat, and do all the things I must do. Yet, I will still be waiting. When I look at these photos from 1900 & 1920 etc. I realize that when they took each photo, they did not know what was coming. Howard with his precious baby had know idea that in 9 short months she would be gone. He had now idea that he would lose all 3 of his baby girls before they reached one year of age. Looking back one realizes how precious & short life can be. We never know how long we have or how long those we love will be here. So, while I wait I intend to seize every moment I can to enjoy being here, breathing, eating, listening and connecting with others who are doing the same.

Blue Christmas

I am having a very strange Christmas. I feel trapped between complete and utter chaos and calm contentment. One minute I feel that I am on track and making headway and the next, I feel like I am plummeting down a steep hill with no way to stop. A couple of days ago I felt buried by the myriad of things I needed to accomplish before Christmas. I turned the corner onto a steady course and actually felt happy, contented and glad that I will have so much time to spend with my husband. Then, K called to tell me about her problems. I felt helpless and useless in the face of them. That phone call was followed by a call from my sister - more huge problems with no answers. Still, I just felt restless. Then I began work on my scanning project. 1000's of photos to scan. I began posting them on photobucket and notifying family to go and have a look. Everyone loves looking at the photos (me included). I feel warm and fuzzy. Back to contentment. But then I began to miss my family terribly. I wish I could be with some of them at Christmas. I was soon cured of that notion by a series of phone calls, during which I recalled that some of my family cause a lot of my frustrations. I began to look forward to spending time with friends on Christmas. Then I got the phone call that K was in the hospital. Instant anxiety, frustration and uselessness. I still can't help her. She began to get better and I began to feel less stressed. On with the scanning project! Photos and letters. Letters and photos. Back in a time when communication was limited to letters, I find the most heart felt emotions and happenings. Families torn by the fact that they are separated by an ocean when wonderful or terrible things happen. How sad it is to read the out pouring of pain when someone - father, mother, sister or brother, - has died and you can not be there to say good bye or get and receive comfort. One letter I read was written by a young sailor in the British Navy. He was just searching for a pen pal to relieve his loneliness and boredom at sea during the Korean War. He had no living relatives and no permanent home. He just wanted someone out there to send pictures to, to be connected to. Isn't that what we all need sometimes? Someone outside of our own situation to connect with and talk to. Tonight is Christmas Eve and I have put scanning aside. Yet, I feel unconnected. "Is there anybody out there?" I feel frozen and practically ice encrusted. Friends will be coming over tomorrow, we will eat good food, sit by the fire, snuggle with the cats but I just feel like crying. I think I should just go to bed and let go of the over dramatic melancholia.

The Road not Taken

I have been delving into the genealogy like a miner digging for the mother lode. Sometimes, I admit I slip into the role of a child making mud cakes and often I feel like I am digging a hole in sand. So many lives to sift through to find the one you want to know about. It is with regret that I set aside some of those, perhaps to come back to someday. As I read about the 'mark' that others have left behind, I wonder what mark I will leave, if any.

Today I am looking deeper at Cousin Howard. He was my mother-in-laws cousin and so related only through marriage. Yet in some ways I feel he was a kindred spirit. It is so sad that I have met him only through his photos, letters and dry facts. In 1933 he met a girl at the Chicago World's Fair. They spent one day together before she went back to Oklahoma. But, she wrote to him and he wrote back. They wrote to each other for at least 3 years before they were married and living in the same house. Howard saved every one of Bernadean's letters. I am transcribing them slowly and pondering the choices each of them made.

Letter number 1

August 28, 1933 from Bernadean

Dear Howard,

Have you forgotten me yet? From Oklahoma - you know. We’ve been gone almost 48 hours which is after all quite some time.

Quite obviously, we arrived alright. So far as I know only lost two things on the trip - my National Honor Society Pin and a pair of gloves. Had a nice trip home. Slept most of the way to St. Louis. Ate dinner as soon as we got on the Tulsa train and then slept on in. My sister was at the station which I certainly didn’t expect at 6:30 a.m. She is leaving tomorrow. Going to St. Louis. Will stay if she can get a job. Already I can tell my family are going to object to my staying alone all winter. My sister had all my books and things cleaned up and stacked out of sight so that I scarcely recognized the place.

I have lots to do, honey, since this is cleaning time but do hope I shall hear from you very soon. If I don’t why of course I shall not write again.

Sincerely

Bernadean Jones

I also have contrast this letter with another he saved from a different young lady. These two women were worlds apart.

August 24, 1933 from K.R. Cady 1098 Spring Atlanta, GA

Dear Howie,

I’m writing under difficulties - a very juicy pear in one hand, and a very talkative Annie Laurie (the dumbest nigger in the world) making much disturbance while making my bed & hanging up my clothes. I don’t know which is worse. They’ll both be gone soon, though.

I feel very much ashamed of myself for not writing before since you were sweet enough to write me that nice letter. But you see, Howie, I was up in the mountains and I had a guest with me. Being the perfect hostess, I had to turn into the non-perfect (infact, awful) correspondent. The guest, invited for a week, stayed the entire month I was there. My Aunt kept renewing the invitation. Well, I just got back into civilization a couple of days ago.

Oh Howie, I hate to think my summer is most over. I looked forward to it for so long. The mountains were grand. I lived in shorts, anklets and muleskin moccasins.

Interruption - my cousin just brought down a few chapters of her newest novel for me to read back to her, and to comment on. It’s well - Loving for Luck - you’ll have to read it when it comes out. There’s a lot of me in it, and she threatens to dedicate it to me - isn’t that exciting!

As I was saying about the mountains. You would have loved the life. One night I slept out under the full moon, on top of a mountain. Many mornings we got up in the dark, and set out over the ridge to see the sun rise and cook breakfast up in the clouds. We took all day canoe trips and explored caves with lovely waterfalls. And, I could go on forever.

But now it’s Atlanta again, and that means society. Thats kinda fun too. Two formal dances at the clubs every week, and then buffet suppers, teas, and swimming-parties. And meeting prominent people. My authoress cousin is giving a formal dinner at the club tonite for a lovely debutante who is now in the movies - hot dog!

And people wonder why I like the South. You don’t, do you, Howie? But I’ll be back soon, with this household of cousins in tow.They’ll be with me two weeks - It’ll help my home sickness. but you’ll have to help too.

As Always

Kay

I know a few facts about Howard and somehow it feels like a teaser, a preview of coming attractions. I can't wait to see how this all works out.

Giving Thanks for my family

It's Thanksgiving and I am spending it with my daughter, her husband, my son and my husband. We have done a lot of different kinds of things. The best of days and the worst of days all crammed into a short visit. Doesn't it seem, at times, like we are as mute as the lost relatives in the photos. Here I am with some of the people I love them most in the world but I feel battered by unspoken resentments, expectations and anger. Each one trying to share bits of our unconnected lives and somehow come together as a family again. What is important to one of us may not be fully understood and appreciated by the others. As a Mom I find myself cast in the role of peacemaker and arbitrator. But these are adults with complex lives and I am lost. I look at the pictures that we have taken and see the full range of emotions. Here I see excitement and happiness. There I see contentment. Over there I see disappointment and anger. To try and write what's really going on in these photos would take a novella. I love each one so much it hurts and just like when they were little they come to me with their disappointments and hurt, but I can't fix it. I can't make it good again. There is no where I would rather spend my holiday. The times when I can see my family grows shorter and harder to come by the older we all get. So I'll take each minute, good or bad that I can get with those I love.