Post by frinspar on Oct 26, 2014 3:21:45 GMT -5
No one writes letters anymore. It's a sign of the times, nothing really worth lamenting for its loss.
But last night I grabbed a box I've had in the shed since Mom died, which had a massive stack of letters. So I started reading.
Boy, my parents were really in love. I mean, wow. So inspiring.
I mean, I knew they were, and remained so throughout, when my own wife and I compiled a scrapbook of stories and letters we, and my sister, covertly solicited from their lifelong friends and family for their 40th anniversary. But reading the letters they sent over the course of their marriage has been something remarkable to behold.
Mom was a saver, and it seems I have every letter and postcard that she and Dad sent from the beginning of their marriage.
Dad worked for a big bank for a long time, then a global equipment leasing company, both of which capitalized on his mastery of the Spanish language, and directed him to handle lots of South American business, as well as a great deal of Asian and European accounts. Suffice it to say, Dad did a lot of traveling. Which means, letters!
I have a stack of Western Union telegrams from Dad, simply telling Mom that he loves her.
All of his postcards and letters focus on how he feels about her. Yeah, he was schmoozing all kinds of people, glad-handing and wining-and-dining them, even mistakenly telling the wife of a Brazilian diplomat she had great tits, when he meant to comment on her pearls, but his letters always revolved around his wife and, eventually, his family.
My dad was an amazing dude. They shattered the mold after he came out. Yeah, my dad can beat up your dad, just in sheer awesomeness.
Through these letters I learned that he quit his position at Continental Bank so that I could be adopted.
He and my mom had lost 2 children. The first, Jennifer, was premature and lived for about 3 weeks. The second, Jeffery, was stillborn. My mom was a diabetic her whole life, like her older brother, so that made some things difficult for her.
One letter she wrote to Dad a few months after the loss of their daughter, in their 3rd year of marriage, was written simply to tell Dad how much she loved loving him. In the face of that loss, the pain still lingering, she had joy and hope and happiness overflowing inside of her. Amazing. She really was a force to be reckoned with. A ginger Catholic of Irish/English ancestry. Yeah, she was a hardened beast to the world, but had a heart that was bigger than Dallas.
Anyway, yeah, Dad quit a lucrative position he had been established in for a long time that was in process of moving him, Mom & my sister to Rio de Janeiro, and found another company that would allow him to stay in Chicago so that I could eventually be adopted. This was nearly 2 years before I was even born! That's how long the adoption process apparently was taking.
I even have a letter from his boss, and a friend of his I still know who came for his funeral, begging him to come back to the bank and head up their Latin American division.
I've gotten a lot of insight into the world of my family before I was born from these letters and postcards. It's been such an amazing journey, I only wish it hadn't ended so quickly.
Hell, I read letters where Mom included some magazine clipping about poodles to Dad in Bolivia, when they were trying to decide on what type of dog to get. Then I read all the letters where Dad sent his love to Mom, and Gigi, their poodle. That was eventually, and gratefully, closed out with a letter from my grandfather, Mom's dad, where he mentioned that Gigi's quick passing was fortunate, rather than dragging it out.
Mom's brother and father wrote some INCREDIBLE letters. Just so damn entertaining.
Gigi was before my time, and I've always known about her, but that circle being drawn for me in the letters was pretty goddamn cool to read.
But last night I grabbed a box I've had in the shed since Mom died, which had a massive stack of letters. So I started reading.
Boy, my parents were really in love. I mean, wow. So inspiring.
I mean, I knew they were, and remained so throughout, when my own wife and I compiled a scrapbook of stories and letters we, and my sister, covertly solicited from their lifelong friends and family for their 40th anniversary. But reading the letters they sent over the course of their marriage has been something remarkable to behold.
Mom was a saver, and it seems I have every letter and postcard that she and Dad sent from the beginning of their marriage.
Dad worked for a big bank for a long time, then a global equipment leasing company, both of which capitalized on his mastery of the Spanish language, and directed him to handle lots of South American business, as well as a great deal of Asian and European accounts. Suffice it to say, Dad did a lot of traveling. Which means, letters!
I have a stack of Western Union telegrams from Dad, simply telling Mom that he loves her.
All of his postcards and letters focus on how he feels about her. Yeah, he was schmoozing all kinds of people, glad-handing and wining-and-dining them, even mistakenly telling the wife of a Brazilian diplomat she had great tits, when he meant to comment on her pearls, but his letters always revolved around his wife and, eventually, his family.
My dad was an amazing dude. They shattered the mold after he came out. Yeah, my dad can beat up your dad, just in sheer awesomeness.
Through these letters I learned that he quit his position at Continental Bank so that I could be adopted.
He and my mom had lost 2 children. The first, Jennifer, was premature and lived for about 3 weeks. The second, Jeffery, was stillborn. My mom was a diabetic her whole life, like her older brother, so that made some things difficult for her.
One letter she wrote to Dad a few months after the loss of their daughter, in their 3rd year of marriage, was written simply to tell Dad how much she loved loving him. In the face of that loss, the pain still lingering, she had joy and hope and happiness overflowing inside of her. Amazing. She really was a force to be reckoned with. A ginger Catholic of Irish/English ancestry. Yeah, she was a hardened beast to the world, but had a heart that was bigger than Dallas.
Anyway, yeah, Dad quit a lucrative position he had been established in for a long time that was in process of moving him, Mom & my sister to Rio de Janeiro, and found another company that would allow him to stay in Chicago so that I could eventually be adopted. This was nearly 2 years before I was even born! That's how long the adoption process apparently was taking.
I even have a letter from his boss, and a friend of his I still know who came for his funeral, begging him to come back to the bank and head up their Latin American division.
I've gotten a lot of insight into the world of my family before I was born from these letters and postcards. It's been such an amazing journey, I only wish it hadn't ended so quickly.
Hell, I read letters where Mom included some magazine clipping about poodles to Dad in Bolivia, when they were trying to decide on what type of dog to get. Then I read all the letters where Dad sent his love to Mom, and Gigi, their poodle. That was eventually, and gratefully, closed out with a letter from my grandfather, Mom's dad, where he mentioned that Gigi's quick passing was fortunate, rather than dragging it out.
Mom's brother and father wrote some INCREDIBLE letters. Just so damn entertaining.
Gigi was before my time, and I've always known about her, but that circle being drawn for me in the letters was pretty goddamn cool to read.