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Thursday, April 14, 2005
CRY UNCLE VII - Fifty Dollar Check
Despite her frequent annoyances with Uncle Don, my mother was good abut keeping her feelings from my brothers and me, and she showed him kindness, inviting him to family festivities and keeping in touch with letters or phone calls.
An Don, for his part, was a good correspondent. He wrote lengthy letters to her throughout my mother’s life. For a time in the 60s and 70s, he and I had a lively correspondence going, too. Later, we kept in touch by phone and frequent trips to Mendocino. As a child, the only negative remarks I can remember from my parents rose out of the Depression. In the early 30s, a great aunt died and Don and my mother received a small share of her estate - three or four thousand dollars, I assume.
My parents had just built a house and taken on a mortgage when the Depression hit, and soon after, my dad was forced to take a cut in pay. All this with three young children to raise. The aunt’s bequest was indeed welcome and was put to goo use.
Don, however, “squandered” his inheritance by going to Europe with a college friend. They had both just graduated from college, and I’m sure they had a great time, but my mother considered it irresponsible, extremely so. Don, I believe had trouble finding a job when he returned to California and probably got help from his parents, which would have further irked my mother.
Just the same, some years passed after these events before she mentioned them to me. And she didn’t hold back when she felt that Don deserved praise.
She was, in fact, deeply touched by his kindness after our oldest was killed in a traffic accident in 1973. Don and his wife drove down from Mendocino for the funeral and afterwards insisted on giving Jean and me a fifty dollar check. We tried to refuse it, but he was adamant.
We didn’t know what to do except send it on to Marin General Hospital to go with the other donations family and friends had made in Bert’s memory. This was back at the time when Marin General was still run as a public facility.
Some weeks later I told my mother what Don had done.
“Oh,” she said and fell silent. I could tell she was moved and asked for an explanation.
Back in the early 30s, Don’s first wife, Sarah, had died of a congenital heart defect soon after they were married. My parents at that time gave Don fifty dollars to help with expenses.
“So you see his gift to you was a way of remembering. How wonderful.” She spoke with pride.
I wished then that we had kept the check, even put it in a frame as a symbol of filial affection, but of course, it was too late by then.
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Despite her frequent annoyances with Uncle Don, my mother was good abut keeping her feelings from my brothers and me, and she showed him kindness, inviting him to family festivities and keeping in touch with letters or phone calls.
An Don, for his part, was a good correspondent. He wrote lengthy letters to her throughout my mother’s life. For a time in the 60s and 70s, he and I had a lively correspondence going, too. Later, we kept in touch by phone and frequent trips to Mendocino. As a child, the only negative remarks I can remember from my parents rose out of the Depression. In the early 30s, a great aunt died and Don and my mother received a small share of her estate - three or four thousand dollars, I assume.
My parents had just built a house and taken on a mortgage when the Depression hit, and soon after, my dad was forced to take a cut in pay. All this with three young children to raise. The aunt’s bequest was indeed welcome and was put to goo use.
Don, however, “squandered” his inheritance by going to Europe with a college friend. They had both just graduated from college, and I’m sure they had a great time, but my mother considered it irresponsible, extremely so. Don, I believe had trouble finding a job when he returned to California and probably got help from his parents, which would have further irked my mother.
Just the same, some years passed after these events before she mentioned them to me. And she didn’t hold back when she felt that Don deserved praise.
She was, in fact, deeply touched by his kindness after our oldest was killed in a traffic accident in 1973. Don and his wife drove down from Mendocino for the funeral and afterwards insisted on giving Jean and me a fifty dollar check. We tried to refuse it, but he was adamant.
We didn’t know what to do except send it on to Marin General Hospital to go with the other donations family and friends had made in Bert’s memory. This was back at the time when Marin General was still run as a public facility.
Some weeks later I told my mother what Don had done.
“Oh,” she said and fell silent. I could tell she was moved and asked for an explanation.
Back in the early 30s, Don’s first wife, Sarah, had died of a congenital heart defect soon after they were married. My parents at that time gave Don fifty dollars to help with expenses.
“So you see his gift to you was a way of remembering. How wonderful.” She spoke with pride.
I wished then that we had kept the check, even put it in a frame as a symbol of filial affection, but of course, it was too late by then.
SCROLL DOWN
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
IF ROMEO HAD LIVED TO A RIPE OLD AGE
You see the wrinkles on my brow
And know my wits have left me now,
But will you love me ‘til I die
Or run off with some other guy?
4/12/05
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You see the wrinkles on my brow
And know my wits have left me now,
But will you love me ‘til I die
Or run off with some other guy?
4/12/05
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Monday, April 11, 2005
