The
series addressed “Dear Kiddy” continues the “you never write” theme that
dominates the letters that Will kept until his death. These are dated 1914,
which would be about four or five years before I think Will’s son would have
been born. “Kiddy” is a nickname obviously. It seems that during our
grandparents’ time, people just took on other names in a rather permanent
fashion. My grandpa, who we called “Pete” for years, was actually named
Russell. For years I thought his middle name must have been Peter, but no, it
was Louis. No idea why he was called Pete. Grandma never left anything in her
scrapbooks about it. Apparently it was no big deal to just change your name
into something else that everyone henceforth calls you without question. For
the record, if this again becomes convention, I want my new name to be Scout.
That or Pearl.
But
I digress. The individual writing to Kiddy seems to be his mother, who once
again lays on the guilt about his neglect. What’s going on in these early
letters is very sad, and the implication is that Will is not well. Is he not
well? Is he actually “so sort of mournful” as the writer implies? Or is crazy
momma just projecting? It may not be that odd for a mother to have a giant ink
hissy fit about not receiving letters. This was how people communicated from
afar before phones. You are, therefore, a bit of a bad offspring if you don’t
fire one of these off every week. Was Will too depressed to write? Or angry
about something.
…sometimes it takes a big bump, you know,
to make people see things in a different light. I was in Los A(ngeles?)
yesterday and passed a young man, looked so much like you I could scarcely
resist speaking to him (here “him” is written over “you”)and only wish it might
have been you. only thing he wore a gray suit, and I know you don’t often wear
gray, do you.
I
can’t write dialogue like this, and I am pretty decent at dialogue. Question:
didn’t children take penmanship as a subject is these bygone days? Momma must
have been sick that day. Another page:
…and general bad luck and I felt it
keenly, as you sort of intimated that your (indecipherable to me) might have
been the cause of it, (three dashes – what for? For pause?) but you know if
boys don’t sow their wild oats when young, they sometimes do when they grow older,
now don’t have any hard feelings for my saying this, for you know I feel just
as kindly to you as a mother could and pity you from the bottom of my heart (the
rest is smudged and I can’t read it.)
What
the hell? Again, hint that this could be his mother, but may not be his real mother,
in which case – how did this come about? And what is the indecipherable cause
of Will’s misery? A father’s infidelity? A spurned girlfriend of Will’s?
Herpes? Either Will has had some sexual indiscretion that is for the best so he
gets it out of the way…or someone didn’t get there oats out of the way and has
now screwed something up as a grown man.
My dear kiddie,
Your welcome letter reached us, as a sort
of surprise, because I really had quite given up on you as one of us. That as I
told you once, and then they are soon forgotten, not so with me, my dear, for I
don’t think a day has ever passed that my thoughts haven’t wandered back to you
and the delightful 6 months you spent with us, wish they were to be all over
again. Your letter sounded so sort of mournful, hope you didn’t feel as you
wrote, for I cannot see why you are not happy. I suppose John wrote you of some
of our summer pleasures. We sure have had a delightful and a busy summer,
taking such a delightful trip to San Diego and up in the mountains with the
(Sweets?) in this big touring car. I wished many times you were with us. I know
you would have raved about them.
What
does she mean by “as one of us?” There is ongoing suggestion that Will is
somehow adopted into this family, and yet isn’t maintaining the relationship to
the adopted family’s satisfaction. No mention of a father either…I can’t
imagine she would refer to a father by his first name, so “John” must exist in
another capacity. (He does have a father, who is mentioned in previous letters
by this ‘mother adopted’ who I think wrote these as well.)
Here’s
the thing. Will has a mother already. Before these letters were written, he
spent some time in Cali with the adopted mother, and then left, presumably to
live or stay with his actual parents. Adopted mom was not pleased at the
circumstances.
Dearest Will,
Imagine my surprise on hearing of your
departure for the east, without even a line or a good by, to the one who would
do anything in this world for you. I certainly thot we would see you again, ere
you left us for your home. I am glad for your mothers and your sisters sake,
for I know their great joy in having you with them, while it is my ill luck to
loose you.
I had looked forward with so much pleasure
to our Christmas holidays, knowing I should have you with us again, and now the
pleasure is all gone for me, I shall do my best to make the others happy – but
you know the rest –
I simply cannot give you up. I came home
from Los last night heart sick, feeling worse than when I went down. Knowing I
should not see you, for a while at least, but expecting you to be with us at
holiday time.
It seemed to me the last week you were
with us, the hardest week I ever put in, in all my life, (of heartache) the
many things that had come up both from your side and mine – was almost more
than I could bear and I nearly broke down under the strain, the one thought of
losing you soul and body – was too much for me. I know you will laugh at this
and think what a _________ I am.
I simply cannot content myself at home, I
get out all I can, as the house seems so empty. No smiling sweet countenance to
cheer me while I feel blue – but I hope your homecoming will be a happy one,
and I’m sure it will be, for you certainly deserve it. Tell your mother for me,
there are others who think she has a dear sweet boy – and I think her a grand
mother to bring a boy to manhood – as grand a young man as you are.
The
characterization of Will and the relationship here is so bizarre to me. He’s
staying with this woman, calling her a mother figure, then decides to go home
to his real parents, at which time he and the mother figure “Mae” have an
argument during which “things come out.” The abandoned Mae in the meantime
practically has a breakdown over it. But here’s the thing: I gather from her
letters that this “you don’t love me enough” whining comes from Will as much as
it does her. I almost get the sense that this woman has to stress her
lamentation at his loss, or he will somehow deem her unworthy and cast her off.
I feel that he is manipulating this woman into this drama somehow. He’s always
mournful and unhappy. He accuses her of not being sufficiently overjoyed at
seeing him (see an earlier post.)
I
should note too that Will did not have, or did not keep, as many correspondence
from his real mother (and none at all from father.) Later, he gets more letters
to Michigan from Cali, these from a woman named Eleanor who is clearly a type
of love interest. Sadly, I don’t know if this is his wife for sure, but her
letters provide a clue into how love worked in our grandparents’ time. Weird
city. Next post, her letter plus some clippings sent by unnamed busybody and
shared with Eleanor.
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