(1993) The Stone Diaries (25 page)

In no time at all they’ll be in college and you’ll be free to go tripping around with your old "gal" friends, which is what you’ve always wanted.

Frankly, I think Beverly is taking advantage of your good nature. I know she helps out, especially with you going off to Chicago, and she does do your typing and all, but just think what she’s getting in return. Free room and board and a pretty easy ride. And I don’t see why the baby has to be in my room. What happens when I come home at Christmas?

Where exactly am I supposed to sleep, if that’s not too impertinent a question? As for the name Victoria, since you asked my opinion, I think it’s pretentious. There’s a Victoria in my dorm and she’s a real snot.

Can you please send my red cardigan soon.

Love, Alice Ottawa, December 14

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, That was just a wonderful piece on Christmas plants, and I laughed till I cried about your struggle with your leggy poinsettia.

Here’s some advice you might want to pass on to your readers: keep the darn things away from gas, drafts, and radiators and they’ll thrive all winter. In fact you’ll get sick of having them around. Ha.

Also, give the soil a stir with a kitchen fork now and again.

Happy holidays, and thanks for your weekly words of wisdom, Hollis Sanderson Bloomington, Indiana, December 29, 1955

Daze—A quick note to say you’ll be getting a letter from Beans who’s decided she wants to come with us to Chicago. You have to believe me when I say I couldn’t think of any way to say no. She had me on the spot, but you’ll be hearing the whole story—I think I’d better leave it for her to tell.

Also want to assure you we got the key to the Lake Lemon house from the lawyer and checked it over thoroughly. There’s absolutely no indication of what might have happened to Maria, no notes, etc., though it looks like some of her clothes could be missing. (Empty hangers in the closet and so forth.) You already know about the money she withdrew—a cool twenty thousand, though she could have taken a helluva lot more, according to the lawyer. By the way, your dad’s old backyard pyramid looked kind of sweet under a layer of fresh snow. Georgio thought there might be squirrels nesting inside. How d’ya like that?—little squirrelly pharaohs.

The Christmas present was a hoot. I must be the only person in the state of Indiana, maybe in the whole Western Hemisphere, to have a reading lamp made out of a giraffe’s foot—where in God’s holy name did you find him (her?)? I think you’re back to being the Daze of old—though I hope you know what you’re doing, taking on a baby. Yikes.

See ya soon, Fraidy Bloomington, Indiana, January 10, 1956

Fraidy’s no doubt told you what happened, Dick’s little "lady friend" in Cleveland, anyway I won’t go into detail on a postcard.

Just gotta get away for a couple of weeks—from all these gee-dee memories. I’ve taken the house off the market—that’s one decision anyway. See you next Tues at Palmer House.

Love, Beans Ottawa, February 2, 1956

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, Just wanted to let you know your column on Chicago gardens pushed my husband’s magic button. His nibs hates traveling like all get out, but after reading about the Morton Arboretum, he’s decided we’ve just got to go see for ourselves, so we’re driving down in April.

Glad you’re back. Pinky What’s-his-name doesn’t know "nuttin" about Harrison’s Yellow versus Persian Yellow.

Yours sincerely, A Faithful Reader Northampton, Mass., April 6, 1956

Dear All, Sorry I haven’t written lately but I’ve been going through a lousy time with Russian lit, also with the professor (a drip) and my roommate, Shirley, who’s depressed about her boyfriend, another drip. Also it’s been raining a lot. I’m thinking about changing my major, maybe Spanish. Or sociology. Or education. Everything I think of seems irrelevant.

Love, Alice Northampton, Mass., April 20, 1956

Dear Mother, Just to let you know I’m feeling a whole lot better and I really did appreciate you coming, especially when I know you’ve never flown in an airplane before and are scared to death of crashing. I think you’re right, that I was feeling down because of Dad, the thing about it being just one year after he died, one year exactly. I had a long talk about it with my Russian prof who said he really truly understood how I feel and that these one-year anniversary things can hit you hard emotionally and it was okay if my term paper was late.

I’ve decided to stay with my Russian major. We’re into Gogol.

What a soul that man has, Russia’s great soul incarnate.

Give my love to Warren and Joan and Bev and especially Victoria and tell them I’ll be writing soon.

Alice P.S. Forgot to comment on your new hairstyle which is just the mostest. Makes your neck look thinner too. Have you ever thought of tinting over the gray?

Ottawa, September 3, 1956

Dear Mrs. F., We wondered if you would care to join the Recorder staffers for our annual dinner at the Press Club, September 20th at seven o’clock. Pinky Fulham always plans a superb menu and a wonderful evening of songs and skits. Perhaps, if you would like to join us, I could call for you and drive you there. Do please let me know.

J.

Ottawa, November 14, 1956

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, At last, someone’s solved my black leg problem. Any advice on thrips?

A Faithful Reader Northampton, Mass., November 20, 1956

Hi all. Up to my eyebrows in mid-terms. Just wanted to say happy first birthday to Victoria. Can’t wait to see her again.

Alice Bloomington, Indiana, December 20, 1956

Hope this reaches you by Christmas. Happy holiday cheer to all.

Beans and I are thinking of New Orleans for February. How ’bout it?

It’s all over with Georgio. I got tired of holding in my stomach all the time and pretending I was his girly-girl.

Peace, joy, etc.

Fraidy Ottawa, January 15, 1957

Dear D., The Recorder staff loved your piece on how to graft cacti—the perfect topic for winter gardeners. Pinky Fulham’s done a few drawings (which I’ve enclosed for your approval) since he thought it might help readers follow the more difficult steps. He’s a cactus man from way back, he tells me. Also very good on trees.

Affectionately, J.

Ottawa, February 7, 1957

Dear Mrs. Flett, Thanks for your kind words about the cactus illustrations. I think, not to pat myself on the back too much, that our readers really went for them, it kind of jazzes up the page. And as for covering the column while you’re in New Orleans, it would be a pleasure. I’m always glad to pitch in. A person can get pretty sick of writing about local elections and school board hassles.

Sincerely, Pinky Fulham Ottawa, June 30, 1957

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, Loved "Getting Tough With Phlox." I’ve clipped it out for my files, and bought an extra copy for my sister-in-law in Calgary who’ll get a real kick out of it.

Sincerely, Rose Henning, a timid-but-determined-gardenerin-training Hanover, College, September 19, 1957

It’s so noisy in the dorm I can’t think, but wanted to let you know I’m settled in and surviving. Great weather down here. Great news about Beverly doing the commerce course, she’ll do great.

Love to all, especially Vicky.

Warren P.S. You said postcards were okay.

Ottawawawa, December 2, 1958

O dear mrs green, my dear mrs thumb how i love you love you for your goodness your greenness your thumb-readiness your watering can your fertilizer pellets and o how i love rustling these limp pages and finding you there always there between stamps and bridge between recipes and religion there forever there with your greenness your kindness and o last week with your dampened cloth wiping clean the green green leaves shining and polishing o so gently and opening the green pores to the air it was like washing the hands of a little child you said dear mrs greenthumb o if i could only be your child scrubbed clean and pure to light and goodness i too would be happy i too would need nothing and o how i love you need you sweet keen clean mrs green thumb
Anon Bloomington, Indiana, January 15, 1958

Daze—you’re going to kill me, but I can’t make Florida in Feb.

Guess why—I’m getting married. Yep, married! Hope you’re still standing up and breathing. Beans says I’ve misplaced my brains, but I think you’ll like Mel. He’s a lab instructor, divorced, nice hair, sings baritone in a barber shop quartet, that says it all. So instead of soaking up the sun in Florida, why don’t you get yourself down here to Indiana for the wedding. It’s gonna be a five-minute quickie in court, no fancy dress, but the biggest party you ever saw afterwards.

Buckets of champagne. Oceans.

Love, Fraidy

Bloomington, Indiana, January 17, 1958

Just a scribble. You’ve just gotta come for THE WEDDING, and then we two old maids (toi et moi) can head down south for a week in Florida. (Fraidy says you’ve got over your fear of airplanes.) I need some gee-dee sunshine. Hope Mel works out for Fraidy, he’s sweet but has already had TWO divorces!!!

Beans Ottawa, March 4, 1958

Dear D., Wonderful piece on palms, "The Mystery Tree," and we’ve had a great response to Pinky’s drawings too.

Wondered if you would care to see a performance of Tea and Sympathy. I’ve been given two tickets for March 15th.

J.

Ottawa, June 2, 1958

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, Your tribute to geraniums touched the middle of my heart. These sturdy, stout-hearted darlings have kept me company for the fifty years of my married life, sitting on the window sill and cheering me on while I peeled the supper spuds. My hubby was one of those who could not conceive of supper without potatoes on the plate. Well, now I’m in what they call a retirement home, Sunset Manor if you can believe it, so no more paring knife duty, but I still have my window sill full of bright little beauties. Like you, I like to rub the dead flowers between my fingers and smell the fragrance, only I never told anyone I did such a thing, it sounded so crazy.

Sincerely, Mrs. Alice W. Keefer

Ottawa, April 27, 1959

Dear Dee, Thank you so much for inviting me to Easter dinner. What a handsome family you’re blessed with: Alice with that cloud of red hair, shy Warren, sweet Joan, and your niece Beverly and little Victoria. I had almost forgotten the pleasure of sitting down with a real family for a holiday meal—and a splendid meal it was! And please don’t think I was embarrassed about Alice demanding to "look me over."

Yours, J.

P.S. Hope next Tuesday is still all right.

Bloomington, Indiana, November 14, 1959

Daze—Your lawyer phoned the other day about the Lake Lemon property.

He’s got a buyer interested at last, but only if they bulldoze the pyramid and re-fill the area. Can you let me know how you feel about this. Should we go ahead? Apparently they don’t need Maria’s signature for the sale.

If she ever surfaces, they can work out some sort of compensation.

Love, Fraidy (Mel says hello)

Bloomington, Indiana, December 13, 1959

Daze, Merry Christmas from Mel and me. I passed on your comments to the real estate people, and, no, I don’t think you’re crazy. Why rush into a sale if you don’t need the money, though I probably should warn you that the pyramid seems to have attracted vandals, either that or frost damage. All best wishes in the next decade. Who ever thought I’d become "the little married woman" and you’d be the "career gal." Anyway, it suits you. Beans and I are in agreement on that, if nothing else—you’ve found your metier!

Love ya, Fraidy

Ottawa, April 3, 1960

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, Wow, you really told it like it is in "Plant Food—Yes or No." My wife and I’ve been bickering over this particular issue for years. So, in gratitude I’m sending you my recipe (attached) for getting the algae off your lily pond (if you have one), and keeping it off! Tell your readers they can buy copper sulphate at any nursery or hardware store.

So long and thanks, Roman Matrewski Ottawa, August 12, 1960

Dear Mrs. Green Thumb, Really enjoyed your dramatic struggle with the ant colony. Also your words of enlightenment on the European leaf beetle. You’ve got a real gift for making a story out of things.

Gratefully yours, Fed-Up-With-Weeds-And-Bugs-in-South-Ottawa Bloomington, Indiana, November 4, 1960

Hi, Just got Alice’s wedding invitation. I’ll be there with bells on.

I’m taking you at your word about bringing "a guest." We’re going to fly instead of taking the train. He’s loaded.

Beans Ottawa, December 15, 1960

Dear Dee, Just talked to Pinky who said he’d be glad to take over the column until your daughter’s wedding is over. I understand these affairs can take a lot of organizing. Pinky’s got some interesting material on ferns which seem to be making a comeback. Let me know if there’s any way I can help out.

Yours, J.

Ottawa, January 22, 1961

My dear Dee, Forgive me, but I must put this in writing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

J.

Hampstead, England, April 20, 1961

Dear Mother, We’re so happy in this little house. I never dreamed I could be this happy. Even the address sounds like a poem: 1, Brewery Lane.

How about that! I think I’ve been a little crazy all my life and now suddenly I’m not any more. I’m going to stay here forever and have babies and write about Chekhov and keep snug and sane. Thanks for wonderful snaps of Victoria. It makes my heart swell, just thinking of her. Glad to hear you and Beans and Fraidy have decided on Bermuda this year. Ben sends his love along with mine.

Alice Bloomington, Indiana, May 25, 1962

Daze, So glad we could make it for the christening. Alice looked gorgeous—my, she’s mellowed—and Ben Junior is beautiful. (I suppose they’re already back in Hampstead.) And it was nice meeting Jay at last. Yes, you were right, he does have a nice rich, worldly laugh.

Also there’s something endearing about a man who knows all the words to "Ivan Skavinsky Skavar." I couldn’t help being pleased he and Mel had so much in common. Isn’t it bizarre, all of us having beaux at our age, though I guess Mel doesn’t quite qualify as a beau now that he’s a husband. By the way, Beans and Brick are talking wedding bells. Wish I could warm to him, but can’t somehow. What do you think? It isn’t just his name and those godawful neckties is it? Maybe it’s the way he sneers at the Kennedys. Maybe it’s that Sigma Chi ring. Maybe it’s everything.