Dancing In a Jar (19 page)

Dorothy and Bill were here over the weekend. Edward is walking, talking, and into everything. He is a charming little boy although he looks like Bill.

We commented that we hadn’t heard much from you for the past six weeks. Dorothy mentioned something about headaches that I did not know you were experiencing. Your father will send something up to you to help as I imagine you have no access to drugs. I hope Donald is taking good care of you.

I am not sure what you are referring to when you say you left your scarf here. There is nothing in your room, but I will let you know if something turns up.

We are heading into the city on the weekend to hear the symphony and have dinner out.
Porgy and Bess
has just started its run on
Broadway, but I can’t get your father interested in anything but orchestral music. At least he did not mention bringing Granny Crammond, so it should be a real treat.

Write soon with some news from your end. I do hope the headaches have subsided.

Love,
Mother

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

October 30, 1935

Dear Mother and Dad,

Your letter arrived in good time, Mother. I hope you both enjoyed your concert and dinner in the city. I miss large orchestral works although I have surprised myself at how well the accordion sounds with the violin.

I don’t remember asking you to look for my scarf, but maybe my handwriting was sloppy. You must remember all those poor marks on my report cards!

We have already had a light dusting of snow, so winter may well be coming early to us this year. Last week we dug the last of potatoes, carrots, and turnip from the Poynter garden! I’m so pleased with the fruits of our labors.

This week I attended my first “wake.” There is no funeral home in town, so the dead are kept in their own home and everyone comes to pay their respects. This is no quiet reserved affair! There is music and laughter and storytelling with lots to eat, and more importantly, drink. Every now and then a group will fall to their knees and everyone recites prayers together, usually working their prayer beads like knitting needles. Children run about, except right around the deceased, and it feels very much like a celebration. Sometimes a two or three day celebration! Then the priest comes and the body is taken
to the church for a final mass and burial.

I have to admit that at first I was shocked by the lack of solemnity. But before I knew it I had a drink in my hand, listening to a story about the deceased. Before long this kind of send-off felt very appropriate. Even though this person had spent his life in a small community with a small circle of friends doing very small things, this kind of a raucous send-off means his life did not look small in the end. I think it is a very beautiful way to leave this world.

My love to you both,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 5, 1935

Dear Ivah,

I was waiting for the
Argyle
yesterday. When it rounded the Cape, I almost burst with anticipation of your visit—your first visit to our corner of the world.

I fell into a heap when everything and everyone was unloaded and you weren’t there. You couldn’t have missed the boat, but what happened to you? You told me you would be here.

I have so many plans for us when you come. The boat arrives in the early afternoon, so I thought we would immediately head for the church to light a candle in thanks for your safe passage. School isn’t out yet, so we can go watch the oldest students prepare for the upcoming concert. They are performing “Julius Caesar.” The Sisters will be busy teaching, so you will have to wait to meet them. From there, we will hurry to catch the post office before it closes. Miss. Fewer will be anxious to put a face to your handwriting and I’ve already told her you would be visiting.

Then we have to hurry along and catch Mr. Louis before he eats
an early dinner. We will have a glass of his homemade blueberry wine and hear a couple of stories before we pop into the telephone office to say hello to Kathleen or Florence. We won’t stay long because Mrs. G won’t hear tell of us not stopping in for tea and partridgeberry duff.

Then it’s only two doors to our house where Don and Barbara will be waiting. He will likely be standing proudly next to his partridge stew.

Oh Ivah, I’ve been waiting for the
Argyle
to come around the Cape.

Love,
Urla

St. Lawrence Corporation Ltd.
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 9, 1935

Dear Walter,

I trust you received my monthly report sent out last week.

I am requesting leave from the mine for about a month. I am concerned about Urla’s health and would like to bring her to the U.S. for medical attention.

I have full confidence in Celestine Giovannini to oversee operations at the mine, and Louis Etchegary has good control on the mill. There should be no interruption in filling orders.

Please advise as soon as possible and I will make travel arrangements. I must mention I received my latest statement from the Wayne Bank. I see the raise we agreed to effective July 1 has not been put into effect. My expenses may well be increased now and I would appreciate it if you could rectify this.

Best regards,
Donald

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 11, 1935

Dear Ivah,

Don won’t let me go to greet the boat anymore. I am so worried that you will arrive without me here to guide you through the town. I don’t want you to start your visit without your compass set properly. You see, dear Sis, that’s what happened to me. Nothing looks it, but it’s a very big town.

Don’t be fooled by the obvious. In truth, I am ashamed of my apprehensions when we first arrived in St. Lawrence. How could my view of isolation be so distorted? How could I not have known that you can be poor and rich at the same time?

You see, behind the door of every small house is such an enormous amount of life. Every room holds legions of stories. Every person is twice their size when they pick up an instrument. At first, their talents will seem humble. And then it is you that is humbled. Every mother has raised ten million children. And outside, every path has been worn by a few hundred years of feet and hooves. When you are on the top of the Cape, it doesn’t seem possible that the ocean can be that blue and that vast.

You will need my help to see this. It’s a funny thing. You think you are in a small, isolated place. I felt like I had been placed inside a glass jar. Then I learned to take a step back so I could truly observe—observe and endure. Oh it was a glass jar all right, but somehow I found room to dance in there.

Please promise me you will go right to the church and have Father Thorne call for me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being here in my place without me.

Love,
Urla

245 Hillside Avenue
Nutley, New Jersey

November 9, 1935

Dear Donald,

Mrs. Crammond and I are quite concerned about Urla’s health. We understand she’s been suffering for quite some time and we would encourage you to bring her back to the United States for assessment. To be fair, we are not just encouraging.

We will leave it to you to arrange passage. Advise us as soon as this is done and I will make the necessary medical appointments.

Naturally we all hope this is nothing, but better to be safe. In any event, we will enjoy the company of the three of you for an unforeseen visit.

I await a timely response.

Best regards,
James Crammond

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

November 22, 1935

Dear Mom and Pop,

All arrangements have been made and we will arrive in Brooklyn on December 4th early in the afternoon. You can follow the Furniss Line schedule as before.

I’m sorry you had a brusque encounter with the Crammonds. Urla’s symptoms have been very vague and it was hard to know whether to make a big deal of them or not. Urla herself did not want anything said to worry her parents.

But things have been going downhill in the last couple of weeks. Yesterday I came home to find her crying and wondering why Barbara wasn’t dressed for school. Her friends here have been wonderful support and someone is with her most of the time. She is frustrated, too, so we are all at a loss.

Siebert is not too pleased for me to be away, but we will definitely leave on the first. We will stay with the Crammonds.

I’m anxious to see you all.

Donald

1936

245 Hillside Avenue
Nutley, New Jersey

January 6, 1936

Dear Mrs. G,

Happy New Year to you and the whole Giovannini family. It was a delight to receive your Christmas card, as well as cards from the Etchegarys and Farrells, among others.

Urla and I are both quite touched by your concern.

Events went very quickly once we arrived in New York. Urla’s headaches were getting much worse and she became unsettled and agitated that we were not going to be back to St. Lawrence in time for Christmas. The Crammonds had arranged for her to see a doctor here in Nutley, but he was not comfortable with any diagnosis so referred her to a neurologist in New York City. He, in turn, sent us to see an infectious disease specialist. Just before Christmas, we received a diagnosis of tubercular meningitis, or TB meningitis.

We are still adjusting to the news and there is much uncertainty over the outcome. It is a form of TB, not that common, that affects the brain more than the lungs. Unfortunately, it is hard to say when she became infected. Of course everyone here says this happened in
Newfoundland, and I really don’t have the energy or enough of a case to argue anything else.

Tomorrow Urla will be admitted to a sanatorium about twenty minutes north of here. They specialize in the treatment of latent TB. It’s a private affair, and costly, but has a good reputation and excellent care. At this stage they have no idea how long a stay will be required. I find it difficult to read between the lines and I’m not sure I can let myself be optimistic given the grim faces that seem to greet us everywhere.

We have decided that Barbara will stay here in the care of Urla’s parents, with mine helping as they can. I will be returning to Newfoundland after Urla is settled in. Our hope is that after a few months, I will come back to get Urla and Barbara and bring them home to St. Lawrence.

The doctor says we will know more in a few weeks, so I will leave it there for now.

Christmas here was rather subdued as you might imagine, although Barbara kept us all in the Christmas spirit. She is a walking, talking rascal. You would smile to know that every time there was a knock on the door, Urla would shout out “mummers!” At first it was amusing, but her look of disappointment was heart breaking.

I’m anxious to get back as soon as I’m comfortable with Urla’s arrangements. She feels I should be in St. Lawrence too. Of course she feels this is much ado about nothing. Then on other days she is so confused that she looks happy to rest and get away from us all.

I will send news of my travel plans and I hope I can stay with you until my family returns.

Best regards,
Don

Montclair, New Jersey

January 30, 1936

Dear Don,

I had a wonderful dream about us last night and it comforted me all morning. You were fishing and I was filling my arms with buttercups, wild daisies, and blue flag iris. Your broad smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds.

I am so tired of being here when I know you need me. I think Sister Mary Borgia might come to pick me up and bring me back to St. Lawrence with her. She knows how it feels to be confined and has promised to come get me.

You will be pleased to know that I am practicing some new songs for our next party. There is a wonderful radio program on in the afternoon. It’s called
The Kate Smith Matinee
. She is a wonderful songstress and I particularly love “When the Moon Comes over the Mountain, Every Beam Brings a Dream, Dear, of You.”

I love her voice and I can’t wait for you to hear her.

I really don’t like the food here, but Mother says I must clean my plate. I’m not sure I really like Mother either, but she is trying very hard to be nice.

The mail boat is coming, so I will get this off to you.

My love always,
Urla

Montclair, New Jersey

February 13, 1936

Dear Don,

I woke this morning feeling full of energy. It’s a very pleasant day outside and the nurses say we will all be out for some fresh air. Some days they tell you that, but it never happens. Some days they say I slept through dinner and you know I would never do that, so I’m not always sure they are telling the truth.

I keep a packet of nasturtium seeds under my pillow and they are often missing. Someone has promised to take me to see
Porgy and Bess
, but no one has ever picked me up. Methinks that morals might be quite flexible in this upstanding Methodist institution.

I have decided that confinement is not at all like isolation. Confinement is always empty no matter what they do to fill it. Someone mentioned the possibility of me engaging in a craft afternoon. I can’t imagine anything worse than sitting around with people I have nothing in common with making things that no one wants. Thankfully, reading is the only thing that takes my mind off my confinement, at least for a few hours.

Are you coming by today? Please bring me the crossword, a handkerchief, and some blueberry jam.

Love,
Urla

Montclair, New Jersey

February 20, 1936

Dear Don,

I’m hoping you will write soon and tell me if there is a war on. I hear people whispering, but it seems the news is not to be shared with us.
They finally moved me away from an older lady from Newark who is so dark and moody I couldn’t stand it. She used to call me Pollyanna, which I don’t think was meant as a compliment.