Photo Essay Part Three: A Figure of a Mother

The first time I rummaged through the mysterious box left to me by my grandmother, which contained Will’s letters and paraphernalia, I was living in Ypsilanti. My friend and I were bored late at night, and the box had just been sitting there collecting dust for a few weeks. We never expected anything interesting, but were soon surprised at the relationships implied by the content therein – especially with women, and in particular, his mother. Part of the mystery is that this mother figure calls herself his “adopted” mother. Furthermore, it seems their relationship was rather imperfect. And by imperfect I mean to say that this was one needy and entitled lady (if the letters you see here are any indication.)

One letter you’ve seen already, and that’s dated 1915, at which time Will would have been married with at least one small child. One of the below is a valentine without an envelope, and since the card says “for a dear little daughter,” I can only guess this wasn’t a valentine for Will. Was it a valentine for his sister? I’d say no, because if Will had siblings, they probably weren’t little. It’s almost as if the valentine was used as note paper. Perhaps she couldn’t find any, and it seems that she was ill. She certainly describes herself as being “crippled up” and having limited mobility. Before that though, she makes clear her beef with her neglectful children:

“Dear Children, Sure have looked for a letter, but none (space but no punctuation and the thought ends) Guess you have forgot I exist….”

Perhaps Will and his siblings did ignore her. If she didn’t have a phone, and that is a possibility since not everyone had phones until well after WWII, a letter would have been the only way to really keep in touch from a distance. Apparently they never wrote her, or didn’t write her enough. Maybe it was around Valentine’s Day and she was expecting something. I know my mom always sent me a valentine long after I was an adult, and I called her often. I wrote letters to my grandmother too after she moved to California and become mostly bedridden. It was tough to find time, though. Writing letters isn’t like texting. It’s a real commitment. Postage costs money too. Was Mother being unreasonable? Or did Will and the others really abandon her? And if they cut themselves off from her, why?

The text of the letter below, unaddressed, heightens the stakes of this somehow maybe troubled relationship. It’s not addressed, just labeled “Will-“ on the envelope, so was it dropped off? Placed in his hands by a third party? Why not send it through the mail? Perhaps she wasn’t even given his address, or perhaps he was living with her:

“Dearest Will, It completely breaks me all up, after having you with us six months – and having such faith in you, doing everything in my strength & power, as far as kindness & money can do. That you should might regain your health & strength – and the last week you …are with us, to shake my faith in you, by trying to deceive me, (merly (sic) over a girl) when the truth would have answered much better. Don’t think me angry with you for I’m not, but it makes my heart ache, for that is the way the ones I loved most have served me, and my faith is completely gone. Don’t be angry with me Will, for if you knew how it made me feel you would pity me instead. Please don’t carry the contents of this note any further & burn in the fireplace when read. Good night. Mother.”

What the hell. What did Will lie about that has Mother in such a tizzy? What illness kept Will with this woman for six months? Why did he feel the need to lie in regards to this girl? What does money have to do with anything? And why did Will keep this of all letters for so long when it expressly asks him to destroy it?

I (along with my buddy who read this stuff with me that night) can draw numerous conclusions, none of which are based on anything but conjecture arising from mere conventional knowledge. I don’t think Will was sick with flu or respiratory issues alone. I think he was depressed – which can lead to physical weakness and poor health. It’s the kind of illness that relatives “have faith” that you can get over.

Money is always a part of this equation – maybe he saw expensive doctors. Or maybe the depression made him unable to pay his own bills. Either way, it’s interesting that she mentions it. There’s definitely something going on with this family in terms of making children beholden to the money spent on them. Maybe it’s a class distinction. I just know my upper middle class parents never shoved the money they spent on me in my face. (And it was a lot.)

I think Mother is jealous of this girl. I think Will knew she would be, and that’s why he lied. I think Will was still living with her when he got this letter. Perhaps she slid it under a door. She says “good night,” so she knew the time he received it, and she knew there was a fireplace in which to burn it. I think Will wasn’t speaking to Mother at this point. I think she’s manipulative and needy, and that their relationship was unhealthy.

An earlier letter (from 1914) also mentions Will’s health, and blames these issues on his work, which he seems to be in the process of changing. I don’t know for sure if this is the veterinary work, or if the emphasis on slaughter has to do with his illness, but this letters confirms that depression is probably the issue. She spends quite a few lines on having shed tears of joy at having Will visit – makes a little narrative of it even. For an “adopted” mother, she seems extremely emotional over him. My mom was a sensitive woman – definitely shared her emotions. But in a healthy way. A muted, German way. This woman I’m guessing was not German.

If the “Ann” mentioned as refusing to come over for holidays, is a sibling, it might makes sense. The letter is sent in January, following Christmas, and there’s some lament over their not being there:

“…but you know the disappointment of your not being here, & that letter from her, just broke me all up. I am just beginning to feel a little better – more like myself, but for a whole month I wasn’t much account to anyone. I was all broke up over a few things you know. What did your father say when you got home and going to college again? You know I’m so interested in you that I don’t hesitate to ask such questions. You may think me curious, but not so, only as I know him (thru?) you. Now my dear, do write whenever you can, for your letters are a great comfort to me. I know you will be busy & have other interests, but don’t forget the one who helped to make it possible for some of your happiness. With much love & the best of wishes for your success in life, I sincerely am your mother adopted. Mae.”

It sounds to me as though this woman also suffered from depression – that these disappointments she mentions, which “break her up,” plunge her into deep illness. In some ways, depression does fragment you, rend you to pieces, so it makes sense. The question about the father is curious. I didn’t find any letters from Will’s dad. My guess is that relationship was strained at best.

Again, Mother dangles the guilt noose. Even his happiness was all thanks to her! As if happiness is not a choice for most people. If anything, I think this relationship might have been somewhat toxic to Will. I know nothing of his actual biological mother – whether she was alive or dead. I want to guess deceased, based on the presence of the adopted “Mae.” Which would make a strained relationship with the father all the more reason for Will to be permanently affected as a man later on.

Perhaps in some of these random photos, like the ones above, we see Mae. Or Ann. Or Will’s deceased mother or other relative. Very few men, except the one above, who looks young. Is it Will's father at a young age? Will himself? Handsome dude anyway. I can see an obsessed mother figure. Lovers were an issue too...as you'll see in further posts. 

Curious. Curious indeed.

We're Leaving Milwaukee

Tomorrow will be my last day as a resident in the city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. As of mid-July, I assumed I would be returning to my post as an adjunct at UWM, but did things ever change quickly! In a matter of days, I did a campus visit, got an offer, and accepted a faculty position in English at Des Moines Area Community College in Iowa. At long last, and just when I was thinking of bringing my search to an end, I’ll be faculty. Obviously that means something different than what it does at the large public university, but I’m looking forward to returning to the community college environment. At any rate, I’ll be guaranteed a full schedule…no more worrying about whether I’ll have work, and far less worrying about whether I can pay my bills. It’s the right move for my family and for me, and I’m pretty darned excited. I’ll miss Milwaukee, though. I’ll never forget the places and faces I’ve come to know here.

Iron Maiden at Summerfest

Summerfest

I came to MKE to work on my doctorate in creative writing at UWM. My dear friend Kerry, who I roomed with while getting my MA at Miami of Ohio, lived and worked here and recommended the program. We became roommates again, shacking up like Virginia Woolf and Vita in a spacious flat on Newhall right near campus. I met a community of wonderful people, most of them either great writers or teachers or both, at UWM. But because I had Kerry, I was able to meet folks outside of academia as well. Kerry was a great influence on me in terms of extending yourself into community. I’ve discovered not only that it’s important, but that I have a knack for it. Being part of a community and giving back to a community makes me happy.

Milwaukee River in fall

Lincoln Memorial Drive

Every year, I’ve run the annual Panther Prowl, a 5K run that was very important to my first fiction prof, Liam Callanan. Liam soon became a mentor to me and has always been a cheerleader for my writing. He also cobbled together one of the school’s largest teams, called the Run-Ons out of the English department. Then in November, there’s the Rak-a-Thon, which traditionally consists of winterizing the lawns of elderly and other shut-ins, often in some of Milwaukee’s most depressed neighborhoods. Similar in April is the Hunger Clean-Up, which sends volunteers out to clean up parks and neighborhoods in the area. Both those events tended to be loosely defined, and Kerry and I had the pleasure through that event of spending some time working for Growing Power, an urban organic farm facility. All of these were great workouts for the mind and body, which we followed by tacos at Conejitos and/or bloody marys at Trocadero. The weather was often soggy and cold, and the mud and muck abundant, but that somehow made it more satisfying.

The Panther Prowl in particular started me running. I never thought I would be a runner. But I discovered the joy of running around the East Side neighborhoods in the spring, when all the local gardens would be popping: phlox and hyacinth first, then daffodils and tulips, then iris and columbine and poppies and daisies and all kinds of annuals. I’ve seen some gorgeous urban gardens on those runs. Milwaukee’s parks make running a joy – the Oak Leaf Trail that runs down the East Side along the Milwaukee River and down the lakeshore was always peaceful and lovely. In June, Kerry and I would do the Beer Run in Riverwest, stopping along the 3K jaunt at three local watering holes for a swig of beer. Nothing like ending a run with a little buzz on. Then a margarita and a brat or some corn on the cob at the Locust Street Fest and sweet unconsciousness at home.

Cambridge Woods neighborhood

Von Trier

As a member of the English department at UWM I got a front seat to the active poetry scene in Milwaukee. Harry Schwartz’s books, which later became Boswell, was host to a number of writers, including Salman Rushdie and Sherman Alexie. But they also hosted me and my colleagues. I grew to be comfortable with that part of the writing life – the public reading. We’d gather at Boswell or at the divine poetry bookstore Woodland Pattern, and occasionally at local bars like Von Trier on Farwell, whose back room is decorated with what might be a hundred deer heads. I also formed groups of my colleagues for the purposes of generating and sharing our writing in a more intimate way. Some colleagues of mine got together to write flash once a month at Alterra, now Colectivo, producing some of my best work. My friend Christi Clancy hosted a group of us at her cabin on Lake Beulah every summer, where we ate potluck food and wrote poetry often inspired by our conversations together or by the Wisconsin summer and the lake air. We called ourselves the poe-hoes at one time I believe. Of course I was part of a novel group, or G-group as we called it for some reason, with some friends also muddling through their dissertations. It’s solely because of those people: Dave Yost, Mike Clark, Molly Magestro, Christi Clancy, and Craig Medvecky, that I was able to accomplish the impossible. I, Ann Stewart, wrote a novel.

Joe

Cinco de Mayo

Superbowl 2010

Lake Buelah

Kerry and I continued to party like young girls, at least for a while. We hosted an annual Super Bowl Party, including the year the Packers won. We set off firecrackers that 2010, which in a student neighborhood was to be expected. We also hosted a Cinco de Mayo party, both of us being fairly decent Tex-Mex chefs. I make a killer bean dip and guacamole. Kerry makes an awesome taco dips and some chicken enchiladas that will make you call god’s name. Needless to say, both parties were well-attended. I also held most of our cream city review reading parties at our place – I was the fun EIC. Kerry and I along with our friends Sarah and Agnes formed a trivia team at the Milwaukee Ale House, called Dead Babies Will Save Michael J. Fox. We won a couple of times, but quickly spent our prize money on that delicious signature beer – lots of Louie’s Demise. Just because we were single and seemingly stuck in that position, didn’t mean we didn’t have fun. We did the Lakefront Brewery tour multiple times – and they do get you drunk. Plus on Fridays you can enjoy a pretty darn good fish fry and live polka. We cheered on the UWM Panthers basketball team and sometimes even the soccer team on chilly nights with our buddy Jaclyn. I will remember Kerry and the friends I’ve made here as some of the best I’ve ever had.

Half of Dead Babies

ccr reading party

Then in 2009, as I was finishing my course work and beginning my role as head of UWM’s cream city review, I met Dan McBee. Kerry and I were both unenthusiastically trying to date online. I did Match for a while and met with a couple of disappointments, including a divorcee who dumped me on the day I was to complete my oral preliminary. Thank god he had the good grace not to do it before the written part – a 3-day gauntlet that I managed quite well thanks to multiple cups of Alterra’s Blue Heeler and a Neko Case concert snuck in between the 30 pages I had to write that weekend. I switched to OkCupid soon after, and after being stood up decided that I might just stay single. It seemed to me that men just aren’t worth it. I even thought I’d had my fill of sex. Then this guy who worked with homeless and liked cooking food on the grill asked me to lunch.

We met at Lulu’s and then did the Bayview shopping stint – Halloween tradition. Bayview is the place to go for wearable vintage. In a week I was in love. Maybe it was the loungey, dimly lit, Goodfellas-style ambience of At Random, where we sat drinking tiki cocktails and talking on many a date, but probably not. There are places in Milwaukee I’ll always associate with us – and not just Dan’s upper flat on Pine Street in Bayview. The Mitchell Domes – the botanical gardens in which Dan would have proposed if he could have waited ten more hours. The South Shore Farmer’s Market. Warnimont Dog Exercise Area. Guanajuato’s – Milwaukee best Mexican by far. Both Midwest Diners and the Landmark Diner, which we called “Old Men Coughing” and “Babies Crying” respectively. Chill on the Hill in Humboldt Park. Bangkok House in St. Francis.

 

The Domes

At Random

Before I finished my novel and defended it as my dissertation, I endured a crisis in the form of Governor Scott Walker, who was miraculously elected and then proceeded to viciously stomp the crap out of anything education in the state. One of the greatest and saddest times I will remember: joining hands with my colleagues in protest. Much of this happened in Madison rather than Milwaukee, but there was plenty of chanting, marching and rallying in both places, to whatever effect. I remember riding on the bus to Madison with my fellow teachers and students, people like Liz Sauer and Dawn Tefft and Lee Abbott, singing songs and hoping hoping hoping. Usually it was ice cold and often we were snowed upon as we marched around the Capitol. As Act 10 was about to be passed, Dan and I rode out to Madison in the night and joined the packed house of the Capitol, which at that point already smelled like dirty

At the Capitol

Campus rally

Kill the bill!

mittens and feet. We didn’t get arrested, but when we saw the throngs in Madison those dark weekends, we knew there was some little part of history there. I along with Kerry and Molly actually ended up in a documentary of the event. I saw Jesse Jackson in Red Arrow Park. I stood among union members raising a fist in Spaights Plaza and at State Fair Park. I made signs – so many signs – asking for fair treatment and telling the 14 democratic senators who walked out to stay hidden. I went to AWP in Chicago and gave a presentation along with Brenda Cárdenas, Timothy Yu and Lane Hall on labor and writing. Soon after that, the Overpass Light Brigade was officially born. They are still here, and so is Walker. But I’ll soon be gone.

 

People's Books Co-op

Annual Louie Last Regatta

Dan and I married in Las Vegas, moved to St. Francis and continued to work as we watched Milwaukee and Wisconsin continue what might look like a downward path. But Milwaukee was still (is still) a fun place to be. Kerry found herself a sailor on Match and got married in Grant Park. The wedding was followed by a reception at the Urban Ecology Center, another one of the town’s coolest places. I became a doctor and hit the very depressing job market. Kerry moved out and bought a house with Kevin in Bayview. They got a couple of kitty cats, and Dan and I got a dog. Fortunately, Dan and Kevin got along well and the four of us spent a lot of fun times together at the South Shore Yacht Club where Kevin’s sailboat, Be Bop, is docked. We got into playing strategy board games together and hit a few Brewers games as well. I’m so grateful to have had them: good friends who are also tinks (two incomes no kids), especially as so many of my writer friends – Kate Nesheim, Suzanne Heagy, Joe Radke, Ellen Elder, Drew Blanchard, Monica Rausch, Oody Petty, Ryder Collins, Cherri Conley – were scattered to the winds, and so many of Dan’s friends married and had kids and gradually slipped out of our lives except for rare occasions. I was doing well as far as adjuncts go, and Dan had a steady job at Community Advocates, but our futures seemed precarious and we have struggled with poverty for the better part of our marriage. That’s another shining point in Milwaukee: you don’t have to be rich to live here.

Oody and Ellen

The beautiful Dawn Tefft

With the racing sausages

Bachelorette booze cruise

I don’t know what’s in store for us as residents of Des Moines. It’s smaller than MKE – more comparable to Madison in population. It’s one of America’s richest cities, thanks to the insurance industry, and therefore somewhat more conservative than our part of Milwaukee. (Less conservative than some other parts.) I hope its smaller size means I can build myself into the community like I tried to do here. Maybe I’ll get a chance to volunteer somewhere, or maybe we’ll find another trivia league. Right now we plan to move into a suburb near the college until we find something in town that suits us, so we’re committed to hitting the town and exploring once a week. It’s exciting and scary – going somewhere new. Dan too might even have a job lined up already. Our future looks brighter than it ever has before. But Milwaukee will always be a part of us both.