A Woman of Independent Means (49 page)

I trust my heirs will continue to abide by the unwritten law that has always guided financial activity in our family: capital is to be invested, only income should be spent. Of course my first investment on receiving a substantial inheritance from my mother was in my husband's future and the returns from that investment provided the basis for the financial security I still enjoy.

Your future husband has chosen a field of endeavor where the risks are as high as the potential rewards. Be prepared to offer him any support necessary to achieve his goals; only then will you have earned the right to share in his success.

I appreciate your desire for a quiet wedding, but I trust you will allow me to have a rehearsal dinner for you here at home. Though in recent years I have longed to be rid of all these rooms, I am glad now that I am still here. Your wedding will provide an excuse for one more party. I expect it will be the last one I will ever give.

Please let me know the kind of food your young man prefers so that I may plan a menu to his liking. I noticed when I took the two of you to dinner at L'Auberge last week, he left several things on his plate untouched. I trust he did not feel excluded by the lively conversation you and I shared in French with the waiter. I have not seen a man look so helpless since your father encountered his first artichoke at my dinner table. However, your father now eats artichokes regularly, and I trust in time your husband will come to appreciate and hopefully to share your love of all things French—food as well as language.

For a marriage to succeed, each partner should be excited by the abilities of the other and not feel threatened by an interest that is not shared. You must not begin your marriage by denying all that you are or you will never develop into all that you can be. There is no challenge in the world like the loving presence of someone who believes the best of you, and I trust your marriage will lead to great accomplishments for you both. I am happy to say I met my match—once—and I hope you have met yours.

My love,
Nana

June 26, 1960
Dallas

Dearest Totsie and Dwight,

How gala to celebrate a golden wedding anniversary when the two of you have spent less than half of the past fifty years legally joined in wedlock—but that may be the secret of marital longevity. I wish I could have been there to share in the festivities with you, but I was busy with a wedding here. Betsy was married in Dallas and will be moving to New Haven in the fall where her new husband will continue his graduate studies at Yale. I will be sad to see them go, but true intimacy often thrives on separation—as our friendship and indeed your own marriage have proved.

I am determined not to repeat with my grandchildren the mistake I made with my children—using every means of coercion at my command, emotional as well as financial, to keep them close to me. Ever since Andrew came home from the war, I have had both children at my beck and call. I try to take comfort in the duty visits they pay once a week, but in my heart I am bereft. Polite strangers have taken the place of the two precious allies I sought to keep at my side forever. No mother was ever more terrified of being abandoned in her old age than I—and no mother ever did more to make it happen by doing so much to prevent it.

But at least as consolation for the loss of my children, I have had the good fortune to become my grandchildren's best friend. When September comes, I am determined to bid my namesake bon voyage without a tear as she sets out on a marital adventure that will take her everywhere but back to Texas to live. I wonder where her mother would be today if I had not kept begging her to return home.

One life is simply not enough for all the lessons there are to learn. Thank God for grandchildren! I would like my epitaph to read, “To be continued.”

Je vous embrasse,
Bess

March 1, 1963
Dallas

Dear Marian,

I was so distressed to learn of Lydia's fall and loss of consciousness. I pray she will recover, but in the event of her death, I think the more practical course is to bury her there and avoid the expense of bringing the body back to the family plot in Honey Grove. I am sure it is her wish to remain as close to you in death as she has in life—and to put you to as little trouble as possible. Let me know if you need help of any kind.

Your loving aunt,
Bess

March 15, 1963
Dallas

Dearest Lydia,

I am delighted to hear of your amazing recovery—and sorry if you were offended by the suggestions I offered your daughter in advance of her bereavement. But I felt it was my responsibility to indicate a few guidelines to follow in the event of your death, since you had failed to make your thoughts on the subject known to her. Please be assured that no one could be happier than I that my advice was premature.

However, I would suggest you put into written form immediately all your wishes concerning the future disposition of your person and property. This is a step I took some time ago—soon after my return from South America when I had to face the brutal fact that I was not going to live forever. Naturally any such document can be amended to accommodate changing circumstances. I meet with Walter at least once a year to revise my will.

I know many people our age who refuse to discuss or even to consider the possibility of their death. But I deem it an act of the utmost irresponsibility to place the burden of one's demise on one's survivors. Whatever regrets I take with me to my grave, they will not include one at having left
anything
unsaid.

This past December I made new arrangements with the mausoleum which has been my second home since I brought Rob and Robin back to Dallas. I decided to purchase a family corner consisting of six crypts in addition to the two I already own. In lieu of my usual Christmas checks, I gave crypts to Eleanor and Walter and Andrew and Nell. They were visibly stunned but I assured them they would be grateful later. Sam and I will of course occupy the two remaining crypts and I have an option on an adjoining one for any grandchild who chooses not to marry. Though a person may cherish independence in life, no one should be alone in death.

I have visited all the leading morticians in this area to compare prices and services and have already made my selection, along with a sizable down payment. My children will undoubtedly be too overcome by grief on the day of my death to consider cutting corners, so I have done it for them.

I have also discussed with Dean O'Brien at the Cathedral the service I envision for my funeral. However, I am keeping an open letter with my will, reiterating my wishes in the event he should precede me in death, leaving my last rites to a stranger. My children refuse to listen when I try to discuss funeral arrangements with them, finding the topic unbearably grim, so unless I put it in writing I am afraid no one will remember that my favorite hymn is “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Forgive me for dwelling at such length on a subject that may be as abhorrent to you as it appears to be to everyone else I know. Sam flies into a rage if I attempt to question him about his final wishes and berates me till bedtime for assuming I will outlive him. Sometimes it is hard for me to remember what a gentle, sweet-tempered man he was when I married him. His doctor insists the change in his personality has nothing to do with me but results from the hardening of the arteries that so often accompanies old age. I cling desperately to this consoling thought as I struggle to keep from drowning in the ocean of his abuse.

And yet for all his bitterness at being deprived of his sight and robust health, I never saw a man less ready to die. His stubborn insistence on continuing to live every day just as he always has and at the same time refusing to enjoy a minute of it causes me more pain than my own considerable infirmities. When I am with him, I am ready to die whether he is or not. This may sound like heresy but you do not know how fortunate you were to lose your husband while you still loved him. Life can be as cruel a thief as death, stripping a person of all the qualities that once inspired love and leaving only a hate-provoking shell.

I am so happy to think of you recovering your strength and remaining as alert as ever in mind and spirit. Even though we no longer see each other, I am stronger just knowing you are there.

Devotedly,
Bess

May 15, 1963
Dallas

Dear Dwight and Totsie,

I have been feeling very old since the death last month of my stepmother, who was actually younger than I. However, the enclosed clipping from
The New York Times
makes me happy I am still alive. It is the first time that august journal has ever taken notice of anyone in my family, though I have subscribed to it faithfully for over forty years. And now not just an article —but a photograph as well. It was a happy day for me, loving the theater as I do, when my oldest granddaughter married an aspiring playwright, but I am thrilled to have the drama critics confirm my high opinion of his talent with an award of excellence—even though it was for what is known as an Off-Broadway production.

When I called to offer congratulations, I was greeted with more good news, though nothing worthy of
The Times'
attention: my first great-grandchild will arrive with the new year. Suddenly seventy-two does not seem old at all. I even feel like getting down my suitcases. Now that I have family living in New York again, I am overwhelmed with the desire to make one last round of the theaters.

And after that I may appear on your doorstep. What fun it would be to spend time with the only other two people my age who are as young as I.

A bientôt—j'espère,
Bess