Saturday
Dear Teresa,
Got your letter today and thought I'd better get busy and answer it. We had to go buy groceries and get me a new pair of shoes. It rains so much here, the shoes I wear for every day get ruined in no time.
I'm real glad about you getting to work in the hospital as a candy striper. I loved working at the nursing home. But I sure got myself involved with them. Even when I was off work, I talked about them all the time. I think Jimmie even got jealous after a while! I just hope you can go on to be a nurse. It doesn't pay a whole lot of money (more if you go on to be a RN) but it's rewarding in a lot of other ways.
I'm studying to get my GED since I didn't get to finish high school, and when I get it I think I'll go to the VA (Veterans Administration) and see about going to school. You can take just about anything you want to and they pay you $260/month to go. I'm eligible for it because of being Jimmie's widow. As long as I don't remarry, I can go to the base and buy groceries, etc., and I have insurance that pays 75% of all my doctor, hospital and drug bills. Plus the $314 I get a month. So you can see why I don't want to get married. Anyway, I'll get my GED first, then after I see what courses I can take, I'll probably start school. May end up a real "brain child" at 39 years old! Ha, ha.
This summer we're planning on getting a bigger apartment. I sure hope Charlene will let you spend some time with me. Maybe we could take off and go down to Galveston. There are a lot of places to go around here and we could have a lot of fun.
Charlie seems (our dog) to be a lot better, so I don't know if that vet was lying just for the money or not. But I'm still going to take him to another vet and have him checked. Phil's working but I'm still trying to pay off a bunch of bills in Fort Worth with my money (thanks to Buddy!) so it's still kind of tight. As soon as I get those paid off, I'm going to get me a car. Phil's real funny about my money. Won't touch it but by this summer, we ought to be in pretty good shape.
When you write, give me Charlotte's phone number and address. I had it but lost it. And tell the fart to write me. It wouldn't kill her. She was supposed to talk to my lawyer for me and find out some stuff and let me know, but I never heard from her. Tell her it doesn't matter about that now. I talked to Buddy's mother and I can go one of these weekends and get my stuff. I'll let you know when. I think he's already gone out to get his. I hope I have something left. He started "getting his" for being blind this month and she said he bought him a car. Now what does a blind man need with a car? I smell something very fishy. I talked to those doctors myself so I know he was blind. But you can't tell about him. You just can't trust him about anything. But as soon as I can, I'll go get my stuff. Maybe he'll move from his mother's (that's one reason I'm in no hurry) and I won't have to see him. Oh, and tell Charlotte I closed out my bank account. And tell her she'd better write.
I wish I knew where David was. He'll be 21 on his birthday this month. I just hope he's okay.
I'm sorry your daddy's having so much trouble with Patty. But like I said, I'm really glad that you're with Charlene. I halfway raised her because she spent so much time with us when your dad and I got married. I think she was just seven when we married and she didn't get to go places very much so we'd go get her and let her stay with us. I think a lot of her although we haven't been around each other much since she got married and after your daddy and I divorced.
I'm glad you like the poem book. I've written a couple since I gave it to you that I'll send you to put in it.
Well honey, I guess this is all for now. Be sweet and let me hear and be sure and send me Charlotte's phone number and address. Call her and tell her I said Hi. As soon as I can afford it, I'm going to get a phone. But I may wait until I move. It costs so much to move a phone.
P.S. What does W/B/S mean?
Love,
Mother & Phil
This letter is postmarked 3/21/79. David's birthday. He'll resurface in a year but for now he's living between Arizona and California. He likes the weather in both states since he never knows when he'll have to make a bed out of a park bench. His schizophrenia is still untreated.
The book of poems you referred to is a notebook you gave me for my twelfth birthday. You filled it with songs and poems you wrote and a few you didn't but that meant something to you. You wrote a personal note to me in the first few pages:
This isn't a very expensive gift but I hope that by giving you a copy of all the poems and songs I've written over the years that maybe I'm giving you a part of myself. They show a lot of my thoughts, joys and fears that I have found hard to express any other way. I hope that you'll read them and know that even though I've failed in may ways, hurt many people, it was only because I'm human, in spite of the fact that I do love the Lord and those close to me.
Teresa, never give up on yourself or give up on God. And I know in my heart that He'll never let you because He's never let me and I've had many a dark place that I don't believe you'll ever have to be in. As I've told you, before any of you were born I dedicated each of you to God and asked Him to keep His hand on you and help you. I believe with all my heart that he will, in spite of me or anyone else. Three different times over the years when I was worried about you kids, I prayed, and just opened my Bible, expecting to see a verse that would be my answer. Three times it opened to this verse in Isaiah 13, "All thy children shall be taught of the Lord and great shall be the peace of thy children." That was no accident.
The last part of this book are some favorite poems of mine that I didn't write but that mean a lot to me. The first one I dedicate especially to you. Maybe this book won't mean much to you now, but I believe it will some day.
I love you very much.
Mother
I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.
I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.
I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can't help
Dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.
I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple;
Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.
I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.
You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,
After all.
Roy Croft
Oh, and W/B/S means "Write Back Soon" and just so you know, I haven't given up on myself. I fired God instead. He never returned my calls.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Conversations With the Dead: February 26, 1979, Houston, Texas
Dear Teresa,
I guess you think I'm terrible for not writing, and I guess I am. So much has happened tho and I've had so much on my mind. Life seems to be full of surprises.
The reason we didn't come down as we'd planned that weekend is that Phil got hurt and he's been off work for several weeks. He's always trying to help someone, and always ends up getting hurt somehow. We have a friend that lives in these apartments named Doc and he's a pretty old man and in very bad health. Well, he had a son named Mike that was living with him and he was a real ding-a-ling (Reminded me a lot of Buddy. Poor old Doc was scared to death of him). Anyway, he'd just gotten out of jail and was driving poor doc up a wall, staying drunk and throwing fits. So Doc asked us if we'd invite him up to the apartment one night for a while, just so he could have some peace and quiet, just for a while. So we did, and after he was here for about an hour, he started acting real crazy, insulting me and everything. Just real nutty. So finally, Phil asked him to leave and he refused. Well, Phil went down and told Doc, and Doc said to please keep him up here long enough so he could get some clothes and go over to his sister's. He was really scared of him and now I understand why. Anyway, we did, and then Phil asked him to leave again and he still refused, so Phil literally threw him out. Then he started worrying about if Doc had been able to get away in time and went down to check. Well, Mike was down there busting windows and car windshields with a chair and then he jumped on Phil when he saw him. (You know me. I had followed Phil because I was worried). God it was awful! He was a crazy man! He finally got Phil down and then he started kicking him in the face and looked like he was trying to kill him. Of course I was screaming for him to stop and finally I yelled I was calling the police. So I ran in his (or Doc's) apartment and called them. I was so mad. And of course when I get that mad, I don't have sense enough to be afraid. He came in while I was calling and laid down on the couch, just like nothing had happened. I won't use all the words I said, but I said I was calling the police and using his phone to do it. I guess in a way I was daring him to touch me, which was really dumb but I was too mad to care, and I'd already decided to break a lamp over his head if he even moved. Anyway, he just said to go ahead and laid there. So when I got through, I came back to the apartment to see about Phil and wait for the police. We had him though, because he had started all this here, in Phil's apartment, and then to top it all off, he'd gotten smart with the cops (and Houston police are known for being mean anyway) and they drug him out of his apartment and took him to jail.
But God, you should have seen Phil. His eyes were black and his nose and jaw were broken from all that getting kicked in the face. He's gone through hell the last few weeks and couldn't even eat anything but liquids until here lately, so of course he hasn't been able to work. He's going back this week but of course the money situation money-wise isn't too good, so we're just going to have to wait until we get our bills caught up a little before we can come up to see you. And to top it all off, they messed up on my check and I've had the devil trying to get it.
So all in all, I hope you'll forgive me for waiting so long to write. I've been so durn [sic] worried and had so much on my mind that I couldn't even think straight enough to sit down and write a letter. But do you know what happened to Mike? Of course I feel sorry for Doc, but I can't honestly say I'm sorry it worked out like it did. I guess he just reminded me too much of Buddy and I'm really not over that yet. Anyway, Doc wanted Phil to press charges against Mike but being as soft-hearted as he is, he wouldn't do it. But he died in jail before he got out. They "said" he had a heart attack, but I don't believe it. Knowing how Houston police are, and his big mouth, my guess is that he opened his mouth once too often to either the police or some of the other prisoners. It happens all the time. Anyway, it's all over now but I sure was worried for a while.
Now on top of everything else, Charlie is (the dog) real sick. They say it's heart worms and he's going to have to go stay at the vet for several days and that's going to mean more money. And the treatment is real dangerous and there's still a chance he may not make it. That's all I need -- to loose [sic] Charlie. A mess, isn't it? But it could have been worse. A lot worse. But enough of that. Phil's okay now, and will get it all straightened out in time. Then we can come see you.
I felt so bad because we couldn't stay that weekend we were there. I kept remembering how pretty you were and how you had your suitcase packed and I know you were disappointed. I was too, believe me. But I'd explained to Charlotte that we couldn't spend the night and I thought she'd told Charlene. But next time we'll be able to stay. I want to be with you so much. It's been so long. It hurts so bad that I can't be with you like I want to, and share in your growing up. And I know this is a hard time for you. But I'm glad you're with Charlene and them. Charlene has more common sense than Patty does.
When I was there, you asked me what it was like when I was 14, and I've been thinking about that. That age seems to be pretty confusing for everyone. I went through it and I saw Charlotte and David go through it, and a lot of other kids. I remember when I was that age I felt like I was on a roller coaster most of the time. My emotions were all messed up because your body is changing and that physical upset just naturally messes up your emotions. But it's only natural, except I didn't know that at the time. I thought I was some kind of nut or something. The thing is, you're not really a child, and yet you're not really grown, either. One minute I'd feel so independent, and like I could lick the world, and felt grown, and the next minute I felt real insecure and self-conscious and wished I was a little kid again. The least little thing that anyone said or did could hurt my feelings and make me feel like a clumsy idiot! And not knowing what was causing it I figured I'd feel that way the rest of my life.
But I got it in my head that if I could just get away from Mother and Daddy and get married, it would all change. So at 15, that's what I did, but of course that really only made it worse because your daddy and I were so young, and we just didn't have enough experience at living and solving problems. And of course when Charlotte and David came along, it only complicated it more. Being an only child and not being around babies, I really had no idea what to do or how to do it. And that just made me feel more like an idiot. You see honey, there are no shortcuts in life because there is no way to learn anything except by experience. And that takes time. Had I finished school and dated more (so I could understand people better) I would have learned to cope with people and problems better. As it was, it was all so much for me to handle; I ran from it by taking pills and drinking. And starting so young to run from reality and hurt, it became a habit because I never learned how to cope with life.
Like I said, it takes time and experience to learn that and I didn't do that. So I had no tools to work with. And as time went on I really missed all the things I didn't get to do, like dating and going to dances, etc., but by that time I had two babies and was tied down all the time. That's why I'm so glad and proud of you for wanting to finish school and make something of yourself. I know that in the process you'll have time to build up your self-confidence and learn a little about life and people so you can handle it. Believe me, you have plenty of time.
Well, guess that's all I can think of right now. I hope I answered your question. When Phil and I come up there we'll have a chance to talk. I just want you to know honey that I am very proud of you. Just hang in there. Take care of yourself and write me, and I promise I won't wait so long to answer you. And don't forget to send me a picture of you when you get one. Tell Charlene and Pat "Hi" and tell Charlotte to write me. (Phil says "Hi").
Love, Mother
P.S. I'm real tickled about you wanting to be a nurse. That's what I always wanted too. Good luck!
Mom,
There are no intervening letters between Buddy and Phil so I must have heard of the switch by phone. It doesn't matter. You moved from a bully to a wussy. We all do that I guess, try to heal from an extreme by moving toward its opposite. A friend of mine called it "the matchbook theory", that when you're bent one way for too long, you have to bend in the extreme opposite direction to self-correct. But I think the binding on your "matchbook" weakened from overuse, became thinned and frayed until your constitution was no more.
You and Phil will last nine months. He'll start drinking again and so will you. Shopping for men at AA doesn't seem to work out well but this lesson you'll never learn. Knowing what will happen, I'll watch your next ten letters for signs that you're drinking again. I don't know why. You're dead. What difference does it make? I guess I need to feel in control because I felt duped every time you fell down and disappointed me. I'd trust you and you'd fall. You would stop writing and I would fear you were dead. I guess now that I'm in control of the situation, your words in my hands, I can manipulate the information. I know, it's dumb, but it's a way of interacting with you without feeling vulnerable again. Funny thing is, I feel vulnerable anyway.
Today was the perfect day to read the words, "Just hang in there." I'm afraid and in pain because one of my children is hurting and his future is uncertain. Feelings of helplessness make me small again. No matter how old I am, I will always yearn for that mother figure when I'm most afraid, for the bliss of unconditional love despite how unpredictable it could be, how short-lived it was. Some would even call your love counterfeit.
I have learned about life and people just as you said I would, but what I've learned is that they are one inseparable variable. We can count on only what we can control which is what? I think knowing yourself is more important, building up your own reserves. Even you, my mother, my safe port, weren't safe enough. But your words are safe now in my hands and they cannot die. I can milk them for all the comfort I need today. I can even believe that you're here in this room, reading over my shoulder, telling me everything will be okay, that I can "handle it". What other option is there? I believe that because you taught me well by example what weakness is, I am strong.
The last sentence in your opening paragraph makes me smile: "Life seems to be full of surprises." Yes Mother, it does.
I guess you think I'm terrible for not writing, and I guess I am. So much has happened tho and I've had so much on my mind. Life seems to be full of surprises.
The reason we didn't come down as we'd planned that weekend is that Phil got hurt and he's been off work for several weeks. He's always trying to help someone, and always ends up getting hurt somehow. We have a friend that lives in these apartments named Doc and he's a pretty old man and in very bad health. Well, he had a son named Mike that was living with him and he was a real ding-a-ling (Reminded me a lot of Buddy. Poor old Doc was scared to death of him). Anyway, he'd just gotten out of jail and was driving poor doc up a wall, staying drunk and throwing fits. So Doc asked us if we'd invite him up to the apartment one night for a while, just so he could have some peace and quiet, just for a while. So we did, and after he was here for about an hour, he started acting real crazy, insulting me and everything. Just real nutty. So finally, Phil asked him to leave and he refused. Well, Phil went down and told Doc, and Doc said to please keep him up here long enough so he could get some clothes and go over to his sister's. He was really scared of him and now I understand why. Anyway, we did, and then Phil asked him to leave again and he still refused, so Phil literally threw him out. Then he started worrying about if Doc had been able to get away in time and went down to check. Well, Mike was down there busting windows and car windshields with a chair and then he jumped on Phil when he saw him. (You know me. I had followed Phil because I was worried). God it was awful! He was a crazy man! He finally got Phil down and then he started kicking him in the face and looked like he was trying to kill him. Of course I was screaming for him to stop and finally I yelled I was calling the police. So I ran in his (or Doc's) apartment and called them. I was so mad. And of course when I get that mad, I don't have sense enough to be afraid. He came in while I was calling and laid down on the couch, just like nothing had happened. I won't use all the words I said, but I said I was calling the police and using his phone to do it. I guess in a way I was daring him to touch me, which was really dumb but I was too mad to care, and I'd already decided to break a lamp over his head if he even moved. Anyway, he just said to go ahead and laid there. So when I got through, I came back to the apartment to see about Phil and wait for the police. We had him though, because he had started all this here, in Phil's apartment, and then to top it all off, he'd gotten smart with the cops (and Houston police are known for being mean anyway) and they drug him out of his apartment and took him to jail.
But God, you should have seen Phil. His eyes were black and his nose and jaw were broken from all that getting kicked in the face. He's gone through hell the last few weeks and couldn't even eat anything but liquids until here lately, so of course he hasn't been able to work. He's going back this week but of course the money situation money-wise isn't too good, so we're just going to have to wait until we get our bills caught up a little before we can come up to see you. And to top it all off, they messed up on my check and I've had the devil trying to get it.
So all in all, I hope you'll forgive me for waiting so long to write. I've been so durn [sic] worried and had so much on my mind that I couldn't even think straight enough to sit down and write a letter. But do you know what happened to Mike? Of course I feel sorry for Doc, but I can't honestly say I'm sorry it worked out like it did. I guess he just reminded me too much of Buddy and I'm really not over that yet. Anyway, Doc wanted Phil to press charges against Mike but being as soft-hearted as he is, he wouldn't do it. But he died in jail before he got out. They "said" he had a heart attack, but I don't believe it. Knowing how Houston police are, and his big mouth, my guess is that he opened his mouth once too often to either the police or some of the other prisoners. It happens all the time. Anyway, it's all over now but I sure was worried for a while.
Now on top of everything else, Charlie is (the dog) real sick. They say it's heart worms and he's going to have to go stay at the vet for several days and that's going to mean more money. And the treatment is real dangerous and there's still a chance he may not make it. That's all I need -- to loose [sic] Charlie. A mess, isn't it? But it could have been worse. A lot worse. But enough of that. Phil's okay now, and will get it all straightened out in time. Then we can come see you.
I felt so bad because we couldn't stay that weekend we were there. I kept remembering how pretty you were and how you had your suitcase packed and I know you were disappointed. I was too, believe me. But I'd explained to Charlotte that we couldn't spend the night and I thought she'd told Charlene. But next time we'll be able to stay. I want to be with you so much. It's been so long. It hurts so bad that I can't be with you like I want to, and share in your growing up. And I know this is a hard time for you. But I'm glad you're with Charlene and them. Charlene has more common sense than Patty does.
When I was there, you asked me what it was like when I was 14, and I've been thinking about that. That age seems to be pretty confusing for everyone. I went through it and I saw Charlotte and David go through it, and a lot of other kids. I remember when I was that age I felt like I was on a roller coaster most of the time. My emotions were all messed up because your body is changing and that physical upset just naturally messes up your emotions. But it's only natural, except I didn't know that at the time. I thought I was some kind of nut or something. The thing is, you're not really a child, and yet you're not really grown, either. One minute I'd feel so independent, and like I could lick the world, and felt grown, and the next minute I felt real insecure and self-conscious and wished I was a little kid again. The least little thing that anyone said or did could hurt my feelings and make me feel like a clumsy idiot! And not knowing what was causing it I figured I'd feel that way the rest of my life.
But I got it in my head that if I could just get away from Mother and Daddy and get married, it would all change. So at 15, that's what I did, but of course that really only made it worse because your daddy and I were so young, and we just didn't have enough experience at living and solving problems. And of course when Charlotte and David came along, it only complicated it more. Being an only child and not being around babies, I really had no idea what to do or how to do it. And that just made me feel more like an idiot. You see honey, there are no shortcuts in life because there is no way to learn anything except by experience. And that takes time. Had I finished school and dated more (so I could understand people better) I would have learned to cope with people and problems better. As it was, it was all so much for me to handle; I ran from it by taking pills and drinking. And starting so young to run from reality and hurt, it became a habit because I never learned how to cope with life.
Like I said, it takes time and experience to learn that and I didn't do that. So I had no tools to work with. And as time went on I really missed all the things I didn't get to do, like dating and going to dances, etc., but by that time I had two babies and was tied down all the time. That's why I'm so glad and proud of you for wanting to finish school and make something of yourself. I know that in the process you'll have time to build up your self-confidence and learn a little about life and people so you can handle it. Believe me, you have plenty of time.
Well, guess that's all I can think of right now. I hope I answered your question. When Phil and I come up there we'll have a chance to talk. I just want you to know honey that I am very proud of you. Just hang in there. Take care of yourself and write me, and I promise I won't wait so long to answer you. And don't forget to send me a picture of you when you get one. Tell Charlene and Pat "Hi" and tell Charlotte to write me. (Phil says "Hi").
Love, Mother
P.S. I'm real tickled about you wanting to be a nurse. That's what I always wanted too. Good luck!
Mom,
There are no intervening letters between Buddy and Phil so I must have heard of the switch by phone. It doesn't matter. You moved from a bully to a wussy. We all do that I guess, try to heal from an extreme by moving toward its opposite. A friend of mine called it "the matchbook theory", that when you're bent one way for too long, you have to bend in the extreme opposite direction to self-correct. But I think the binding on your "matchbook" weakened from overuse, became thinned and frayed until your constitution was no more.
You and Phil will last nine months. He'll start drinking again and so will you. Shopping for men at AA doesn't seem to work out well but this lesson you'll never learn. Knowing what will happen, I'll watch your next ten letters for signs that you're drinking again. I don't know why. You're dead. What difference does it make? I guess I need to feel in control because I felt duped every time you fell down and disappointed me. I'd trust you and you'd fall. You would stop writing and I would fear you were dead. I guess now that I'm in control of the situation, your words in my hands, I can manipulate the information. I know, it's dumb, but it's a way of interacting with you without feeling vulnerable again. Funny thing is, I feel vulnerable anyway.
Today was the perfect day to read the words, "Just hang in there." I'm afraid and in pain because one of my children is hurting and his future is uncertain. Feelings of helplessness make me small again. No matter how old I am, I will always yearn for that mother figure when I'm most afraid, for the bliss of unconditional love despite how unpredictable it could be, how short-lived it was. Some would even call your love counterfeit.
I have learned about life and people just as you said I would, but what I've learned is that they are one inseparable variable. We can count on only what we can control which is what? I think knowing yourself is more important, building up your own reserves. Even you, my mother, my safe port, weren't safe enough. But your words are safe now in my hands and they cannot die. I can milk them for all the comfort I need today. I can even believe that you're here in this room, reading over my shoulder, telling me everything will be okay, that I can "handle it". What other option is there? I believe that because you taught me well by example what weakness is, I am strong.
The last sentence in your opening paragraph makes me smile: "Life seems to be full of surprises." Yes Mother, it does.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Conversations With The Dead: September, 1978, Weatherford, Texas
Friday
Dear Bug,
Got your letter this morning. That sure was fast. Was so good to get it, and to talk to you the other day. I've missed you so much.
We were going to go pick up a car today but the guy we were going to get it from had a death in the family and is out of town. If he isn't back by tomorrow we'll have to wait until Tuesday because everything will probably be closed Monday (Labor Day).
Charlotte called me the night I talked to you and she and Mike and the kids are coming out Sunday and Buddy's going to barbecue some steaks. It's been ages since I've seen them. She sounds like she's happy. I hope so.
I called David and they said he's been gone from there about ten days. He's moved in with "someone" but they didn't know who. They still have the letter for him that your daddy sent hoping that he'd come back to get it. Just don't know about that kid. You just can't keep track of him.
We got a lot of good rain the last few days and we sure needed it. Helped my flowers a lot. As soon as I get some more film I'll send some more pictures so you can see the flowers and back yard, etc. Keeps me pretty busy keeping all the weeds hoed up and all, but I enjoy it.
When you get your school pictures this year, be sure and save me one (the same size as the last one) and I'll pay Patty for it, okay?
There's a lot of things we're planing [sic} on doing to the trailer as we get the money. Like I said, Buddy's had this place for about four years but only used it on the weekends and stuff. It'll be fun fixing it like we want it. It's got three bedrooms and two baths so we have plenty of room. First thing we're going to do is get some new furniture. All that we have in it now is second-hand.
Well baby, I guess this is all for now. By the way, what do you want for your birthday? Be thinking about it and let us know. Write me whenever you can and call anytime. I love you very much.
Love,
Mother & Buddy
The visit with Charlotte and the kids won't go so well. You'll get drunk and Buddy will put his hands on kids, etc. On 10/24/78 you'll purchase a .45 caliber revolver from Weatherford Finance & Pawn with a hot check in the amount of $288. I can only imagine your intent. On 11/3/78 you'll try to sell it back to the pawn shop again. On the original Seller's Bill of Sale is the following information about you: Age - 39, Weight - 125, Height - 5'2. I can tell from the Polaroid of you enclosed in this letter that you're thin. On the back of the photo you wrote that Buddy took the picture while you were talking to me on the phone so in a way, the picture is of us.
It's almost been a year since Jimmie died. I never knew he was only 54 when he died. He looked 100. There was a 17 year age difference between the two of you. On his certificate of death it listed his parents, Elmer and Virgie, both deceased. Jimmie served in WWII. His cause of death was listed as "Medullary Failure/Cerebrovascular Accident". That's the long way to say, "Stroke". He was buried in Greenwood Cemetary in Fort Worth. On 9/22/77, the day after his death, you used a Mastercard to pay for his burial and plot, etc. You lived on that same Mastercard and a Wards credit card until at least Christmas. I can tell from the three-digit codes on the back of your Wards receipts what sorts of items you purchased. There was the $30 pant suit, lots of gas and auto repairs, some pharmacy items and lunches. The credit cards were in Jimmie's name. I guess when you could no longer use the cards and couldn't afford to pay the balances (I read your letter to Wards apologizing for being so delinquent and explaining about your recent hospital stay), you began to write hot checks. You wrote a hot check to your attorney, Frank Coffey, on 10/3/77 in the amount of $100. Many followed that one and soon you were receiving letters from Tim Curry, the Criminal District Attorney in Fort Worth (1/12/78). That didn't stop you. In shaky handwriting you wrote a $110 check (#175) on 2/31/78 to Dr. L.H. Luck Optical on Camp Bowie in Fort Worth. That check was written on a closed bank account. There were also checks written to Big Daddy's Package Store, Safeway and Skaggs. All hot. You opened a joint checking account with Buddy, aka Nathan Graves, and went on a hot check-writing spree from mid-October to November, 1978. Then something happened. Maybe it was Buddy knocking out your front teeth or the barbecue incident with Charlotte, but you'd had enough and finally left Buddy. Then you began paying for all those checks to stay out of jail. I found all the receipts for the cashiers checks and money orders you had to use, and all your lists of check numbers, amounts and recipients. Your loyal attorney, Frank Coffey, would have his secretary (also a Charlotte) write on May 10, 1979:
Dear Rogene,
I paid the money orders to the district Attorney's Office this morning and got the enclosed list of checks (Skillern's Drug Store, Daniel's Drug Store, Early Drug x 3, Eckard's Drug, Montgomery Ward x 4, Buddies Supermarket x 4, Skaggs, Safeway x 3, Piggly Wiggly, Krogers, Pantex foods, Majestic Liquor x 4, Kings Liquor x 3, Land Mark Liquor = $900.95). The money you have sent will pay these off. However, there have been two additional checks to Chicotsky's totaling $58.70 still out there. That will clear up the ones at the main Court house. Frank said there were some out at the Northeast branch Courthouse that total about $300-$400, but those have not been turned in to the main courthouse yet. I can call out there and find out what they have and the total of them if you want me to. I am gald [sic] that you are still doing okay. don't give up.
I also found some medical bills which fill in some blanks. You were admitted to All Saints Hospital after visiting the ER on 9/1/77. The diagnosis is 1. Overdose 2. Depression. You were held for three days. On 1/17/78 you were treated by Dr. James Brooks, our family doctor for as long as I can remember, for a respiratory infection, hormone insufficiency and a vitamin deficiency. Then on 1/28/78 you were admitted to All Saints Hospital with a diagnosis of 1. Acute alcohol withdrawal and 2. Depression. They kept you until 2/1/78. On 2/5/78 you visited Harris Hospital where I was born for x-rays of your forearm, nose, skull, chest. On 2/28/78 you were admitted to All Saints Hospital again with a diagnosis of 1. Alcoholism with delirium tremors, 2. Depression and 3. Fractured nose. You were released on 3/7/78. Since you were Jimmie's widow, Champus/Champva paid for most of these services. These hospital visits and injuries took place during the early days with Buddy, and now I remember the cheap paper on which you wrote me a letter with no return address. You wrote that you were no longer with Buddy. You wrote it from the hospital. All this and you'd not only go back to this monster but marry him. You called yourself "stupid" for ever being with him in the first place. You said it.
Patty and Dad will be getting a divorce soon. I remember feeling bored one evening, wishing a bomb would go off in the yard or the sun would melt. Any change at all. Then a fight broke out between Patty and Dad. The fight was over something stupid, a broken glass and a rip in the upholstery of a new chair they'd bought themselves for their fifth wedding anniversary. Anyway, Dad punched Patty in the face and it was over. Honestly, she had it coming. So your next letter will be sent to my new address in Arlington, Texas. I'm moving in with Dad's sister, Charlene. There are legal documents I didn't learn about regarding this move until after my fortieth birthday, but more about that later.
Once you left Buddy for good there's a letter you saved from Dad written just after Christmas, 1978. He writes:
Dear Rogene,
Hope this finds you well. I noticed your letter the other day at Charlene's and got the address off it. I probably shouldn't be writing to but I get tired of talking to myself sometimes. I often remember the night we had together. It was nice. I won't write much. Don't know if the address is current. Write if you can.
My best,
Jay
I don't think he ever stopped loving you.
Dear Bug,
Got your letter this morning. That sure was fast. Was so good to get it, and to talk to you the other day. I've missed you so much.
We were going to go pick up a car today but the guy we were going to get it from had a death in the family and is out of town. If he isn't back by tomorrow we'll have to wait until Tuesday because everything will probably be closed Monday (Labor Day).
Charlotte called me the night I talked to you and she and Mike and the kids are coming out Sunday and Buddy's going to barbecue some steaks. It's been ages since I've seen them. She sounds like she's happy. I hope so.
I called David and they said he's been gone from there about ten days. He's moved in with "someone" but they didn't know who. They still have the letter for him that your daddy sent hoping that he'd come back to get it. Just don't know about that kid. You just can't keep track of him.
We got a lot of good rain the last few days and we sure needed it. Helped my flowers a lot. As soon as I get some more film I'll send some more pictures so you can see the flowers and back yard, etc. Keeps me pretty busy keeping all the weeds hoed up and all, but I enjoy it.
When you get your school pictures this year, be sure and save me one (the same size as the last one) and I'll pay Patty for it, okay?
There's a lot of things we're planing [sic} on doing to the trailer as we get the money. Like I said, Buddy's had this place for about four years but only used it on the weekends and stuff. It'll be fun fixing it like we want it. It's got three bedrooms and two baths so we have plenty of room. First thing we're going to do is get some new furniture. All that we have in it now is second-hand.
Well baby, I guess this is all for now. By the way, what do you want for your birthday? Be thinking about it and let us know. Write me whenever you can and call anytime. I love you very much.
Love,
Mother & Buddy
The visit with Charlotte and the kids won't go so well. You'll get drunk and Buddy will put his hands on kids, etc. On 10/24/78 you'll purchase a .45 caliber revolver from Weatherford Finance & Pawn with a hot check in the amount of $288. I can only imagine your intent. On 11/3/78 you'll try to sell it back to the pawn shop again. On the original Seller's Bill of Sale is the following information about you: Age - 39, Weight - 125, Height - 5'2. I can tell from the Polaroid of you enclosed in this letter that you're thin. On the back of the photo you wrote that Buddy took the picture while you were talking to me on the phone so in a way, the picture is of us.
It's almost been a year since Jimmie died. I never knew he was only 54 when he died. He looked 100. There was a 17 year age difference between the two of you. On his certificate of death it listed his parents, Elmer and Virgie, both deceased. Jimmie served in WWII. His cause of death was listed as "Medullary Failure/Cerebrovascular Accident". That's the long way to say, "Stroke". He was buried in Greenwood Cemetary in Fort Worth. On 9/22/77, the day after his death, you used a Mastercard to pay for his burial and plot, etc. You lived on that same Mastercard and a Wards credit card until at least Christmas. I can tell from the three-digit codes on the back of your Wards receipts what sorts of items you purchased. There was the $30 pant suit, lots of gas and auto repairs, some pharmacy items and lunches. The credit cards were in Jimmie's name. I guess when you could no longer use the cards and couldn't afford to pay the balances (I read your letter to Wards apologizing for being so delinquent and explaining about your recent hospital stay), you began to write hot checks. You wrote a hot check to your attorney, Frank Coffey, on 10/3/77 in the amount of $100. Many followed that one and soon you were receiving letters from Tim Curry, the Criminal District Attorney in Fort Worth (1/12/78). That didn't stop you. In shaky handwriting you wrote a $110 check (#175) on 2/31/78 to Dr. L.H. Luck Optical on Camp Bowie in Fort Worth. That check was written on a closed bank account. There were also checks written to Big Daddy's Package Store, Safeway and Skaggs. All hot. You opened a joint checking account with Buddy, aka Nathan Graves, and went on a hot check-writing spree from mid-October to November, 1978. Then something happened. Maybe it was Buddy knocking out your front teeth or the barbecue incident with Charlotte, but you'd had enough and finally left Buddy. Then you began paying for all those checks to stay out of jail. I found all the receipts for the cashiers checks and money orders you had to use, and all your lists of check numbers, amounts and recipients. Your loyal attorney, Frank Coffey, would have his secretary (also a Charlotte) write on May 10, 1979:
Dear Rogene,
I paid the money orders to the district Attorney's Office this morning and got the enclosed list of checks (Skillern's Drug Store, Daniel's Drug Store, Early Drug x 3, Eckard's Drug, Montgomery Ward x 4, Buddies Supermarket x 4, Skaggs, Safeway x 3, Piggly Wiggly, Krogers, Pantex foods, Majestic Liquor x 4, Kings Liquor x 3, Land Mark Liquor = $900.95). The money you have sent will pay these off. However, there have been two additional checks to Chicotsky's totaling $58.70 still out there. That will clear up the ones at the main Court house. Frank said there were some out at the Northeast branch Courthouse that total about $300-$400, but those have not been turned in to the main courthouse yet. I can call out there and find out what they have and the total of them if you want me to. I am gald [sic] that you are still doing okay. don't give up.
I also found some medical bills which fill in some blanks. You were admitted to All Saints Hospital after visiting the ER on 9/1/77. The diagnosis is 1. Overdose 2. Depression. You were held for three days. On 1/17/78 you were treated by Dr. James Brooks, our family doctor for as long as I can remember, for a respiratory infection, hormone insufficiency and a vitamin deficiency. Then on 1/28/78 you were admitted to All Saints Hospital with a diagnosis of 1. Acute alcohol withdrawal and 2. Depression. They kept you until 2/1/78. On 2/5/78 you visited Harris Hospital where I was born for x-rays of your forearm, nose, skull, chest. On 2/28/78 you were admitted to All Saints Hospital again with a diagnosis of 1. Alcoholism with delirium tremors, 2. Depression and 3. Fractured nose. You were released on 3/7/78. Since you were Jimmie's widow, Champus/Champva paid for most of these services. These hospital visits and injuries took place during the early days with Buddy, and now I remember the cheap paper on which you wrote me a letter with no return address. You wrote that you were no longer with Buddy. You wrote it from the hospital. All this and you'd not only go back to this monster but marry him. You called yourself "stupid" for ever being with him in the first place. You said it.
Patty and Dad will be getting a divorce soon. I remember feeling bored one evening, wishing a bomb would go off in the yard or the sun would melt. Any change at all. Then a fight broke out between Patty and Dad. The fight was over something stupid, a broken glass and a rip in the upholstery of a new chair they'd bought themselves for their fifth wedding anniversary. Anyway, Dad punched Patty in the face and it was over. Honestly, she had it coming. So your next letter will be sent to my new address in Arlington, Texas. I'm moving in with Dad's sister, Charlene. There are legal documents I didn't learn about regarding this move until after my fortieth birthday, but more about that later.
Once you left Buddy for good there's a letter you saved from Dad written just after Christmas, 1978. He writes:
Dear Rogene,
Hope this finds you well. I noticed your letter the other day at Charlene's and got the address off it. I probably shouldn't be writing to but I get tired of talking to myself sometimes. I often remember the night we had together. It was nice. I won't write much. Don't know if the address is current. Write if you can.
My best,
Jay
I don't think he ever stopped loving you.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Conversations With The Dead: August, 1978, Weatherford, Texas
Monday
Dear Teresa,
Hi baby. I've been thinking about you so much here lately so I just had to write. I hope you're doing okay and are happy. I sure do miss you. I know you're probably growing like a weed! If you have one handy, I wish you'd write me and send me a picture. (In fact, write me anyway and tell me what all you did this summer. But if you can, send a picture too).
I don't know if you knew or not but "Old Blue" just up and died! Ha. So we're without a car for now. First the transmission went out and we spent $400 to put a new one in and then a couple of weeks later the motor just burned up. So now we have to get a new one. We're going to go see about one this week. It's really nice out here but you sure need a car. But "Blue" was a pretty good car. She just got tired and quit!
I've got me a nice flower garden and I work in it keeping the weeds out, etc. There's a creek that runs behind the trailer and a bunch of shade trees and we like to get out there and barbecue in the evenings (Buddy loves to cook which is good because I don't. Ha. So a lot of the time he cooks and I clean up. Pretty good, huh?). But it's so nice and quiet out here. It's like being out in the country. The nearest store is three miles away so no one bothers you. I like that. I'm just plain tired of cities. I hope you can come out here sometime next summer. They have a clubhouse with a swimming pool and all. And there are two big lakes here so we could go fishing, too. There's all kinds of rabbits and quail, etc. here. In fact, there's a covey of quail (about fifteen of them) that show up in the lot next door every morning. They're so cute to watch. They stop and look both ways before they cross the road and there's one of them that we've named "Johnny Come Lately" that always hangs back and gets in trouble. Then he has to run his legs off to catch up with the rest of them! And sometimes we like to sit in the back under the trees and listen to the radio (we have some chairs and a table out there) and there's the prettiest red cardinal that comes and sits in my flower garden and listens to the radio! He doesn't show up unless he hears the radio.
I guess you're getting ready for school now. Knowing you, you're probably glad to go back. But that's good and I'm glad. I'm glad you enjoy it and do so good.
Have you heard from Charlotte or David? I've tried and tried to get a hold of Charlotte but haven't had any luck. I would have sent her a birthday card but don't know where she is.
Well baby, I guess that's all my news for now. If you want to call me, just dial 0-599-7414 and that way we can pay for the call. Just tell the operator when she answers that you want to make a collect call to that number from Teresa Williams and she'll ring us. Call any time you want to. I'd love to hear from you and so would Buddy. We Got married and we're very happy and we love it out here. It's kind of an exclusive place and no one can get in unless they own property out here, so you don't have to worry about things getting stolen and stuff like that. And by the way, Buddy said to tell you Hi and that he loves you. And I love you too, very much. So write me, honey, when you get time, and call any time.
Love,
Mother & Buddy
*A "covey" of quail. Sounds like a word Buddy taught you. You haven't heard from Charlotte or David because you're with Buddy. He put his hands on Charlotte's 10 year-old son, remember? You were drunk and trying to peel rotten potatoes so maybe you don't remember. Buddy wants to hear from me? No, I won't be calling either. And you live in an "exclusive" trailer park? Sounds like another bullshit word Buddy taught you to say. Thanks for the Polaroid of the trailer; maybe you can beat out all the dents and mow the grass once in a while since you're suddenly into yard work. I'm glad you're happy, Mom, or at least think you are. You won't be so happy when your new husband knocks out your front teeth but hey, that day hasn't come yet. One more thing, Mom. Buddy doesn't love me. Buddy doesn't love you, either. He's a clever sociopath preying on your weaknesses out in the middle of nowhere. Help will be hard to come by when you need it most. Buddy is now talking you into writing hot checks for beer and pills, something you'll pay dearly for later on. Soon he'll talk you into buying a gun. The party is just beginning.
Dear Teresa,
Hi baby. I've been thinking about you so much here lately so I just had to write. I hope you're doing okay and are happy. I sure do miss you. I know you're probably growing like a weed! If you have one handy, I wish you'd write me and send me a picture. (In fact, write me anyway and tell me what all you did this summer. But if you can, send a picture too).
I don't know if you knew or not but "Old Blue" just up and died! Ha. So we're without a car for now. First the transmission went out and we spent $400 to put a new one in and then a couple of weeks later the motor just burned up. So now we have to get a new one. We're going to go see about one this week. It's really nice out here but you sure need a car. But "Blue" was a pretty good car. She just got tired and quit!
I've got me a nice flower garden and I work in it keeping the weeds out, etc. There's a creek that runs behind the trailer and a bunch of shade trees and we like to get out there and barbecue in the evenings (Buddy loves to cook which is good because I don't. Ha. So a lot of the time he cooks and I clean up. Pretty good, huh?). But it's so nice and quiet out here. It's like being out in the country. The nearest store is three miles away so no one bothers you. I like that. I'm just plain tired of cities. I hope you can come out here sometime next summer. They have a clubhouse with a swimming pool and all. And there are two big lakes here so we could go fishing, too. There's all kinds of rabbits and quail, etc. here. In fact, there's a covey of quail (about fifteen of them) that show up in the lot next door every morning. They're so cute to watch. They stop and look both ways before they cross the road and there's one of them that we've named "Johnny Come Lately" that always hangs back and gets in trouble. Then he has to run his legs off to catch up with the rest of them! And sometimes we like to sit in the back under the trees and listen to the radio (we have some chairs and a table out there) and there's the prettiest red cardinal that comes and sits in my flower garden and listens to the radio! He doesn't show up unless he hears the radio.
I guess you're getting ready for school now. Knowing you, you're probably glad to go back. But that's good and I'm glad. I'm glad you enjoy it and do so good.
Have you heard from Charlotte or David? I've tried and tried to get a hold of Charlotte but haven't had any luck. I would have sent her a birthday card but don't know where she is.
Well baby, I guess that's all my news for now. If you want to call me, just dial 0-599-7414 and that way we can pay for the call. Just tell the operator when she answers that you want to make a collect call to that number from Teresa Williams and she'll ring us. Call any time you want to. I'd love to hear from you and so would Buddy. We Got married and we're very happy and we love it out here. It's kind of an exclusive place and no one can get in unless they own property out here, so you don't have to worry about things getting stolen and stuff like that. And by the way, Buddy said to tell you Hi and that he loves you. And I love you too, very much. So write me, honey, when you get time, and call any time.
Love,
Mother & Buddy
*A "covey" of quail. Sounds like a word Buddy taught you. You haven't heard from Charlotte or David because you're with Buddy. He put his hands on Charlotte's 10 year-old son, remember? You were drunk and trying to peel rotten potatoes so maybe you don't remember. Buddy wants to hear from me? No, I won't be calling either. And you live in an "exclusive" trailer park? Sounds like another bullshit word Buddy taught you to say. Thanks for the Polaroid of the trailer; maybe you can beat out all the dents and mow the grass once in a while since you're suddenly into yard work. I'm glad you're happy, Mom, or at least think you are. You won't be so happy when your new husband knocks out your front teeth but hey, that day hasn't come yet. One more thing, Mom. Buddy doesn't love me. Buddy doesn't love you, either. He's a clever sociopath preying on your weaknesses out in the middle of nowhere. Help will be hard to come by when you need it most. Buddy is now talking you into writing hot checks for beer and pills, something you'll pay dearly for later on. Soon he'll talk you into buying a gun. The party is just beginning.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Conversations With The Dead: March 17, 1978 Address Unknown
Dear Teresa,
Hello baby. Happy St. Patrick's Day! I thought you might think I haven't been thinking about you because I haven't called, but I have. But I was in the hospital for a week (nothing serious) and then I was out of town for about two weeks. Maybe it's better if I write for a while anyway. I was kind of afraid that calling might upset Patty and your daddy, and I really don't want to do that. I just want you to know that I love you and I miss you an awful lot. And I think about you a lot too.
Also, I wanted to tell you that Buddy and I aren't together anymore. In fact, I really wish I'd never met him, to tell you the truth. It took me a while to realize it (I'm kind of stupid) but I finally did. I'm getting my checks from the VA now (because I'm Jimmie's widow) but I'll probably go to work pretty soon, so I can keep busy. But I felt like you'd like to know that I wasn't with Buddy anymore. I'm sure you were worried about it. And by the way, I am not drinking anymore either. So everything's fine. I just kind of fell apart when Jimmie got sick, because I knew he'd never come out of it. I just couldn't handle it every [sic] well. But I think I can now. I hope you can forgive me for being so weak once again. Seems like your mother has a habit of that, but I don't mean to.
Well honey, I guess this is all. Be as sweet as you always are and remember I love you very much.
Love,
Mother
*This letter had no return address so I assume you're still in the hospital and Mom, alcohol-related delirium tremens are serious. Your handwriting is shaky. The paper is thin, almost transparent. Your life must feel like tissue paper, too. Yes I was worried about Buddy because he scared me. He threatened to kill Dad. He encouraged you to drink. He'd stare into my eyes and say, "What's wrong? I can see you're uncomfortable. What's troubling you?" I didn't dare tell him he made me uncomfortable. I'm sorry Jimmie died of a stroke but I don't think it was his death that was so difficult for you to handle. You married him on the rebound from Phil, or maybe you just married him out of a desperate fear of being alone. But what you had difficulty handling was what you and Buddy did to poor Jimmie after his last stroke. I'm sure the police wondered for a long while not only how Jimmie made it to the park bench in the shape he was in, but how he ended up completely naked. And in even more alarming news, I know you're not done with Buddy yet.
Hello baby. Happy St. Patrick's Day! I thought you might think I haven't been thinking about you because I haven't called, but I have. But I was in the hospital for a week (nothing serious) and then I was out of town for about two weeks. Maybe it's better if I write for a while anyway. I was kind of afraid that calling might upset Patty and your daddy, and I really don't want to do that. I just want you to know that I love you and I miss you an awful lot. And I think about you a lot too.
Also, I wanted to tell you that Buddy and I aren't together anymore. In fact, I really wish I'd never met him, to tell you the truth. It took me a while to realize it (I'm kind of stupid) but I finally did. I'm getting my checks from the VA now (because I'm Jimmie's widow) but I'll probably go to work pretty soon, so I can keep busy. But I felt like you'd like to know that I wasn't with Buddy anymore. I'm sure you were worried about it. And by the way, I am not drinking anymore either. So everything's fine. I just kind of fell apart when Jimmie got sick, because I knew he'd never come out of it. I just couldn't handle it every [sic] well. But I think I can now. I hope you can forgive me for being so weak once again. Seems like your mother has a habit of that, but I don't mean to.
Well honey, I guess this is all. Be as sweet as you always are and remember I love you very much.
Love,
Mother
*This letter had no return address so I assume you're still in the hospital and Mom, alcohol-related delirium tremens are serious. Your handwriting is shaky. The paper is thin, almost transparent. Your life must feel like tissue paper, too. Yes I was worried about Buddy because he scared me. He threatened to kill Dad. He encouraged you to drink. He'd stare into my eyes and say, "What's wrong? I can see you're uncomfortable. What's troubling you?" I didn't dare tell him he made me uncomfortable. I'm sorry Jimmie died of a stroke but I don't think it was his death that was so difficult for you to handle. You married him on the rebound from Phil, or maybe you just married him out of a desperate fear of being alone. But what you had difficulty handling was what you and Buddy did to poor Jimmie after his last stroke. I'm sure the police wondered for a long while not only how Jimmie made it to the park bench in the shape he was in, but how he ended up completely naked. And in even more alarming news, I know you're not done with Buddy yet.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Conversations With The Dead: Greenville, Texas, 1975
Tuesday
Dear Teresa,
Well, how have you been doing? I know you've been busy since you started back to school. Do you like it pretty good?
I haven't heard from David since he went back to Cleburne. I called him the weekend that he came over to your house and told him he could come back with me, but he said he wanted to stay in Cleburne. I really don't understand why he didn't want to stay here but as long as he's happy there, I guess it's alright.
Well, I got me a little black dog. Her name is "Spooky" because she's so afraid of everything. I spent the night with Betty & James when I was in Fort Worth and they gave her to me. She's so cute. Her tail curls over her back (she's part Chow and part Scotty) and her hair is wavy and she has hair over her eyes and a goatee. She's really something. She's about five months old. I've really enjoyed her. She just has a fit every day when I get in from work after being here by herself all day. When I drive, the traffic scares her, and she lays up in my lap or under the car seat. She's the spookiest dog I've ever seen. But she's a good watch dog. Someone was outside my front door one night and she barked up a storm.
I'll be glad when you can come up again and see my apartment. I think it's real cute. Maybe you can come up for a few days on the Thanksgiving Day holidays. Find out what days you'll be out of school over Thanksgiving and let me know so I can come get you. (Ask your daddy if it's okay). You wouldn't want to spend all the time you're out of school here because you need to spend part of it there with Patty and Jay, but you can spend part of the time with me. Of course it's nearly two months until Thanksgiving and I'll see you before then, but we can go ahead and make plans for Thanksgiving.
I never have gotten that ring fixed but I saw something the other day that I want to get for your birthday. It'll be real cute in your new room (Curious? Ha).
Well honey, guess that's all my news. I just work, come home and eat and go to bed, except for going to church. Phil came up to see me last weekend. He's a plumber and he fixed Betty and Jame's bathroom plumbing last week. He still wants us to get married as soon as I get my divorse [sic] from Sonny. I know one thing, I'd never find anybody that would be any better to me. He really is the nicest person I've ever known, and I've known him now for over a year. That's one mistake I made with Sonny. I really didn't know him long enough before we married. If I had waited and gotten to know him better, I never would have married him. So, I don't know. I really haven't made up my mind about Phil yet. So, let me hear, if you get a chance. Be sweet and don't forget that I love you.
PS Just write me at Nanny's. I don't really know this address yet. So for now, write me in care of Nanny.
Love,
Mother
Well Mom, it's interesting that you don't know your address yet though it's written on the outside of the envelope. I suppose your apartment was actually Phil's. Your divorce from Sonny will become final just about the time you decide you don't want to marry Phil. Your decision will come during an argument with Phil; he'll call you a "convenience" and you won't like it. Nice guy, huh? He'll leave to go to the store and when he returns, you'll be gone. Almost instantly you'll get married to someone else and announce this by showing me his and hers wedding rings during a weekend visit. Husband #3's name is Jimmy Spinks. I'll get one postcard from you during this marriage, a photograph of Pensacola Beach Pier. You and Jimmy will see a few states during this trip and you'll write that you wish I could see all the pretty country. I kinda doubt that now but, oh well. You signed the postcard as you always did when there was a man in your life, his name beside "Mother". I never got that, not even back then. It'll be 1978 before you write again.
Dear Teresa,
Well, how have you been doing? I know you've been busy since you started back to school. Do you like it pretty good?
I haven't heard from David since he went back to Cleburne. I called him the weekend that he came over to your house and told him he could come back with me, but he said he wanted to stay in Cleburne. I really don't understand why he didn't want to stay here but as long as he's happy there, I guess it's alright.
Well, I got me a little black dog. Her name is "Spooky" because she's so afraid of everything. I spent the night with Betty & James when I was in Fort Worth and they gave her to me. She's so cute. Her tail curls over her back (she's part Chow and part Scotty) and her hair is wavy and she has hair over her eyes and a goatee. She's really something. She's about five months old. I've really enjoyed her. She just has a fit every day when I get in from work after being here by herself all day. When I drive, the traffic scares her, and she lays up in my lap or under the car seat. She's the spookiest dog I've ever seen. But she's a good watch dog. Someone was outside my front door one night and she barked up a storm.
I'll be glad when you can come up again and see my apartment. I think it's real cute. Maybe you can come up for a few days on the Thanksgiving Day holidays. Find out what days you'll be out of school over Thanksgiving and let me know so I can come get you. (Ask your daddy if it's okay). You wouldn't want to spend all the time you're out of school here because you need to spend part of it there with Patty and Jay, but you can spend part of the time with me. Of course it's nearly two months until Thanksgiving and I'll see you before then, but we can go ahead and make plans for Thanksgiving.
I never have gotten that ring fixed but I saw something the other day that I want to get for your birthday. It'll be real cute in your new room (Curious? Ha).
Well honey, guess that's all my news. I just work, come home and eat and go to bed, except for going to church. Phil came up to see me last weekend. He's a plumber and he fixed Betty and Jame's bathroom plumbing last week. He still wants us to get married as soon as I get my divorse [sic] from Sonny. I know one thing, I'd never find anybody that would be any better to me. He really is the nicest person I've ever known, and I've known him now for over a year. That's one mistake I made with Sonny. I really didn't know him long enough before we married. If I had waited and gotten to know him better, I never would have married him. So, I don't know. I really haven't made up my mind about Phil yet. So, let me hear, if you get a chance. Be sweet and don't forget that I love you.
PS Just write me at Nanny's. I don't really know this address yet. So for now, write me in care of Nanny.
Love,
Mother
Well Mom, it's interesting that you don't know your address yet though it's written on the outside of the envelope. I suppose your apartment was actually Phil's. Your divorce from Sonny will become final just about the time you decide you don't want to marry Phil. Your decision will come during an argument with Phil; he'll call you a "convenience" and you won't like it. Nice guy, huh? He'll leave to go to the store and when he returns, you'll be gone. Almost instantly you'll get married to someone else and announce this by showing me his and hers wedding rings during a weekend visit. Husband #3's name is Jimmy Spinks. I'll get one postcard from you during this marriage, a photograph of Pensacola Beach Pier. You and Jimmy will see a few states during this trip and you'll write that you wish I could see all the pretty country. I kinda doubt that now but, oh well. You signed the postcard as you always did when there was a man in your life, his name beside "Mother". I never got that, not even back then. It'll be 1978 before you write again.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Conversations With The Dead: September, 1975, Greenville, Texas
Sunday
Dear Teresa,
Guess you're getting ready for school. It won't be long now before it starts.
Sorry I didn't get to talk to you the other day when I called your daddy about David. I talked to David yesterday & he sounds fine. I was going to find out what kind of medicine he was supposed to be taking & get it for him but he said he already had it. He says he'll stay there until I get an apartment. He sounded real good & he's tickled to death that I've started back to church. I'll be glad when I get settled & he can come down.
How is Mac these days? I still don't have the pictures of us yet. As soon as I get them I'll send you one.
I've found a real nice little church that I've been going to. They've been comming [sic] to pick me up until I get a car.
I got a call from Phil the other day. He's moved back to Fort Worth & he's still wanting me to marry him. But I just feel like I need to put the Lord & David first. He's really a good & sweet person but I guess I'm just kind of scared of marriage after Sonny. But I told him we could still be friends & see each other some. I believe he's the nicest person I've ever known.
Well honey, guess this is all. Take time to write me & let me know how you are before school starts & you get to [sic] busy.
I love you,
Mother
*I'll be attending another Baptist private school this year, entering 5th grade. Boulevard Baptist School in Burleson, Texas. Joy Baptist closed last year after the minister's wife got into it with the kindergarten teacher. Mrs. Wolfenbarger started a fight in the middle of a service. Next thing we knew, school wouldn't be resuming the following year. I guess no one is perfect.
Mac the Guinea pig is fine but he'll freeze to death this winter. Poor little guy. Ben the hamster had some sort of heat stroke over the summer. I don't seem to have much luck with animals.
I look forward to seeing the pictures of us at Nanny's. I'm glad you found a church and are making plans to be with David. He needs you like I do.
Phil? He's another dead-end, but you'll take any road that keeps you from being alone. I'm learning your pattern with men now, that love for you means longing and need. It's the wrong way to love. It's not love at all.
Dear Teresa,
Guess you're getting ready for school. It won't be long now before it starts.
Sorry I didn't get to talk to you the other day when I called your daddy about David. I talked to David yesterday & he sounds fine. I was going to find out what kind of medicine he was supposed to be taking & get it for him but he said he already had it. He says he'll stay there until I get an apartment. He sounded real good & he's tickled to death that I've started back to church. I'll be glad when I get settled & he can come down.
How is Mac these days? I still don't have the pictures of us yet. As soon as I get them I'll send you one.
I've found a real nice little church that I've been going to. They've been comming [sic] to pick me up until I get a car.
I got a call from Phil the other day. He's moved back to Fort Worth & he's still wanting me to marry him. But I just feel like I need to put the Lord & David first. He's really a good & sweet person but I guess I'm just kind of scared of marriage after Sonny. But I told him we could still be friends & see each other some. I believe he's the nicest person I've ever known.
Well honey, guess this is all. Take time to write me & let me know how you are before school starts & you get to [sic] busy.
I love you,
Mother
*I'll be attending another Baptist private school this year, entering 5th grade. Boulevard Baptist School in Burleson, Texas. Joy Baptist closed last year after the minister's wife got into it with the kindergarten teacher. Mrs. Wolfenbarger started a fight in the middle of a service. Next thing we knew, school wouldn't be resuming the following year. I guess no one is perfect.
Mac the Guinea pig is fine but he'll freeze to death this winter. Poor little guy. Ben the hamster had some sort of heat stroke over the summer. I don't seem to have much luck with animals.
I look forward to seeing the pictures of us at Nanny's. I'm glad you found a church and are making plans to be with David. He needs you like I do.
Phil? He's another dead-end, but you'll take any road that keeps you from being alone. I'm learning your pattern with men now, that love for you means longing and need. It's the wrong way to love. It's not love at all.
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