Читать книгу Lucy Scott’s Grand Stand - Alan Sorem - Страница 7

Seattle, Washington

November 20, 1942

Dear Whistler,

Thank you for your letter. Straight A’s! Your good grades are an example to all of us working in the war effort here on the West Coast.

I apologize for missing your birthday. Please forgive me. I was busy becoming a married man.

The lucky woman is Constance Sawyer (goes by “Connie”), who is a very accomplished pianist for the junior high Sunday School and teaches math in high school. You will meet her whenever we can make the trip back East.

I agree that the news from Guadalcanal is bad, and, along with you I am very sorry for the parents of the five Sullivan brothers who went down with the USS Juneau. I recommend five whistles of Stars and Stripes Forever to honor their sons.

We must keep our spirits up and support our fighting men. Rommel is on the run in North Africa. The Nazi attempt to take Stalingrad has failed. They should have learned from Napoleon!

Give my regards to your parents. If your mother seems overly strict at times, please remember she loves you and wants the best for you, as does your father. If that doesn’t work, remind her about the time Stinky Smith hit her in the face with a snowball and I beat the tar out of him. That should make her smile!

Affectionately,

Uncle Paul

Seattle, Washington

June 8, 1944

Dear Favorite Niece (yes, you are my only niece but you still are my favorite),

Thank you for your letter. You certainly are mopping up the opposition with your academic record! And in answer to your question, my work is going well at the factory.

Our boys and the Allies are doing a great job. What an enormous effort D-Day was, and I am glad it paid off! And Rome has fallen so the rest of Italy should be easy. Mr. Mussolini will be running scared. I hope for good news from the Pacific.

Our son Paul Junior is doing fine and I am busting my buttons as the proud father! At the rate he is crawling (here he is at my chair as I write), I figure he will be walking soon.

Have a good summer working at the Y Camp. Teach those young hooligans nasty words in French. They’ll eat it up.

Give my regards to your parents. If they seem strict about not dating until you graduate, just remember that from their point of view they are fearful it will lead to kissing and (quelle horreur!) canoodling! Notice how I worked a French phrase in to make you smile.

Affectionately,

Uncle Paul

Milo Oberson High School

212 Park Place

Brooklyn, N.Y.

June 12, 1946

Dear Miss Royster:

I am writing to commend you for your excellent academic record in your high school years. I join with your parents in their pride for your achievements.

I understand that you will continue with your study of the French language to prepare for a position as translator at the new United Nations edifice in Manhattan. My very best wishes to you in all your endeavors. I am sure you will do well.

Sincerely,

M. Edgar Jones

Principal

Sparta, N.Y.

June 20, 1946

Dear Lucile,

I am so very proud of you. Your mother sent me a copy of your valedictory address at the high school commencement exercises. A very good speech except for the whistling at the conclusion.

Ah, well. If you are going to be a hellion, at least you will be a well-educated one. I am being humorous.

Sincerely,

Your Grandmother

Mrs. Zachary P. Thomas

Millvale and Duboise

321 Madison Avenue

New York, NY

August 23, 1946

Miss Lucile Royster:

With this letter I confirm your employment with Millvale and Duboise as a General Management Aide, commencing Tuesday, September 3 at 8:00 a.m. At that time, please report to my office for your introduction to other staff and your desk assignment. Your remuneration will be $72.00 per week, less deductions, with seven (7) paid holidays and one week paid vacation annually.

All of us at Millvale and Duboise look forward to your employment with us.

Sincerely yours,

G. Philip Duboise, Jr.

Personnel Officer

GPD, Jr./avc

The Bronx, N.Y.

December 5, 1950

My dear Lucy,

Please forgive me for telephoning you at the office yesterday afternoon about Roy. The Army Officers rang my doorbell at 1:30 pm to give me the news that my son was killed in action at Chosin Reservoir on the 30th, as was most of B Company, 31st Infantry. I was so agitated that they called my next-door neighbor in to sit with me. That is when I telephoned you. I simply did not know what else to do except to share our grief together.

Roy loved you very much and was looking forward to the wedding once he had fulfilled his military duty.

Please come and see me when you can.

Warmly,

Mrs. Roy Puller, Sr.

Sparta, N.Y.

December 7, 1950

My dear child,

You mother called to tell me of Roy’s death in Korea. I join you in your grief.

Always remember that Roy died a hero for his country against the godless Chinese and Koreans.

It is Pearl Harbor Day as I write you. The defense of freedom carries a high price, as my husband often said. He, too, paid the price. Now, regrettably, you and I have a stronger common bond through the men we loved.

Your mother says you have been given a week off. Please come and see me and we shall console each other.

With deepest sympathy,

Your Grandmother

Mrs. Zachary P. Thomas

Sparta, N.Y.

June 5, 1952

Dear Lucile:

After your mother informed me of your elopement, I pressured her to tell me of your new address and at last she has sent it to me.

I will speak to you plainly. You are old enough to have a handle on life, and if your heart has led you to James Scott I say, God bless your union. Now for something even your mother does not know. When I was your age, I ran off with a dashing Army lieutenant named Zachary Paul Thomas, much against my parents’ wishes and warnings. My mother was a martinet, and I regret to say I am more like her than I wish to admit. However, Zach and I had a wonderful marriage and three wonderful children. May you be so blessed as well.

Life as an Army wife was not easy. Your life with James will not be easy. But if you are true to each other and able to overcome difficulties together, you will have the joy of shared memories later on.

I have appreciated our conversations and confidences in recent years. Please come and see me – with James – when it is possible for you to do so.

And do remember: your parents’ hurt and feelings of rejection will heal. You are their only child and they will not want to lose you forever. We all have the ability, if we choose to use it, to come to terms with uncomfortable facts. My parents did and so will yours.

Your Loving Grandmother,

Mrs. Zachary P. Thomas

May 24, 1953

Dear Precious Lucy,

We have a first anniversary celebration dinner with our friends at Stragoni’s on the day you will receive this, but you know how tongue-tied I get when sentiment is involved. So I am putting my thoughts on paper.

You are a wonderful wife and I am honored to be your husband. A year ago it was all such a whirl. We survived! We both know that first month wasn’t easy. Thanks to our mutual love and sense of humor (did I really say “waffle leaded wife” in my vows?), the rest of the year has been great.

I am so glad you enjoy being on top. I love to hear your laughter!

Jim

Tampa, Florida

October 17, 1976

Dear Lucy,

Thank you for taking time away from your husband and the school to come for your father’s funeral. I would have figured out the checking account and other financial matters by myself but I appreciated your help.

It was good to see the photos of your children. My goodness, they’re all grown up now. And I do wish you would consider spending more time in the Florida sunshine. How you can stand winters in New York is beyond me.

Mom

November 28, 2003

Hi, Mom.

It was great to have another Skype face-to-face the day before Thanksgiving. I saw Abe Weinstein hovering behind you. Please thank him again from me for letting you use his computer for our connection. And give my thanks to the church ladies for sending along a lovely package!

There was a big surprise for our Thanksgiving meal here. Because of the censors I cannot tell you who came. A very high official and a good time was had by all. It was real lift to our spirits!

Going with a convoy tomorrow. Wish me safe travel.

Give a big hello from me to Brother Jim and Sister Sophie. I will send you some more Iraqi jokes to pass on to them.

Will try for another Skype session after I return. I’ll let Abe know by the usual channels.

Love you,

Steve

Rev. Dr. Roger Willoughby

Asbury Court United Methodist Church

Brooklyn, New York 11215

December 5, 2003

Dear Mrs. Scott,

Thank you for the opportunity to have prayer together yesterday. I join you in your grief at the loss of your son, Lt. Colonel Steve Scott.

As I promised, I did speak to the local Army people here in Brooklyn and they confirm that his body should be released from Dover Air Base early next week. By then you will need to have told me whether or not you wish to have a funeral service here first or just a simple committal service at Arlington Cemetery. If you wish to use the church, the ladies of the Abigail Circle will be glad to hold a reception afterwards in the Church Parlor.

Please give my warmest regards to your son and daughter. I look forward to meeting them here or in Washington. Christ’s love comforts us all in this time of sorrow.

Sincerely,

Pastor Roger

128 Stoll Avenue

Louisville, KY 40206

July 22, 2013

Dear GGM* Lucy,

You are really great! Thank you again for helping me with the video for my communications class this summer at U of L. Everybody I know has seen it and they all are impressed with your vitality as your 85th birthday approaches. In the last three weeks Age Is an Attitude, Not a Condition has scored 10,500 hits on the internet. Wow! Not bad for a first try, huh?

I did not see Granddad Jim and his wife while I was in NYC that weekend. He was busy at some conference or something. As you know, my father and Granddad Jim had a falling out some years ago. Over what, I’ve never discovered but I suspect it was about Granddad’s divorce from Dad’s mom Kate. I should have asked you when I had the chance, but it really is ancient history for me. I like to think about the future and not the past.

Please thank Fred for letting me stay at his apartment for the weekend. You and Fred are “the real thing!”

Above is my new address. It is a three-room (plus kitchen and bath) “shotgun house.” That is the description for old houses in this part of the ‘Ville. All the doors are in line, so if you open the front door, it is said you could fire a shotgun all the way through! My friend Ray and I are sharing the space. (No shotguns allowed!)

The other excitement here is the football and basketball teams, as well as baseball and women’s basketball teams, who all look good to repeat their successes of last year. Go, Cards!

Affectionately, your GGS,

Alex

*I am using GGM because it is easier than Great Grandmother.

September 9, 2013

Mon très estimé professeur,

Merci beaucoup pour notre conversation d’aujourd’hui. Elle a réveillé beaucoup de bons et tendres souvenirs de ma mère et des conversations que nous avons partagées, du professeur de français qui vous a suivi à Johnson Tech, des gens que j’aide (la plupart des haïtiens) quand ils viennent à la pharmacie pour les ordonnances. Mais maintenant je passé à l’anglais. Je peux bavarder en français, “la belle langue,” mais je trouve que c’est plus difficile de écrire en français.

[For those readers not conversant in French, I have translated Mr. K’s first paragraph. “Esteemed Professor: Thank you very much for our conversation today. It brought back many warm memories — of my mother and the conversations we would have, of the French teacher who followed you at Johnson Tech, of the people whom I help (mostly Haitian) when they come for prescriptions at the pharmacy. But now I switch to English. I can chatter away in ‘the beautiful language’, but I find it more difficult when it comes to the written word.”]

I find it very pleasant to converse with you. I am glad to hear that your successor, Madam Bonner, is still holding forth at school. She frequently expressed her chagrin when I would mix up my tenses.

During our last conversation in the lobby, please forgive my silence when you asked me what my name is. I told you my surname is Dugay. I did not know how to respond when you then asked what Mr. K stands for. Please forgive me if I seemed rude as I turned away.

Let me tell you now, but I beg your patience as I recite some family history.

My mother, Lucinda Dugay, was born in French Guiana in South America. The family had moderate means to support her older sister and her two younger brothers. When my mother was eighteen, she became involved with a man of low repute and her parents sent her to live with her older sister, Violet, who by then was working in a pharmacy in Manhattan while she pursued a pharmacy degree. Violet agreed to let my mother stay with her rent-free on the condition that she also enroll in a pharmacy program. She did so.

By age twenty-five she had her pharmacy degree and was employed at a pharmacy in Brooklyn. Shortly after she began there, one of her customers took a liking to her and asked her out. They hit it off. She moved out of Violet’s apartment and into his. He was a rising Big Name in racial matters in Manhattan.

Her father, alerted by Violet, came to New York to dissuade her from the relationship. She would not, she told him, because she was pregnant by the man and he had promised to marry her.

I was born on December 26, 1987. He gave me my name, Kwanzaa, the African-American celebration that begins on the 26th. My father by then supervised the local office of a congressman from New York City. Two weeks after my birth he was promoted to a staff position in Washington and left my mother with no marriage and no support. He claimed that she had had affairs with other men, one of whom was the actual father. She countered his claim, stating that he was the only man in her life.

Unfortunately there was no such thing as DNA testing in those days. Nevertheless, an understanding administrator ruled that she was eligible for child support. My father protested but, to avoid controversy harmful to his career, he paid up.

I have attempted several times to be in touch with my father. My letters were never answered. On a high school tour to Washington, I went to the congressman’s office where he was employed. The receptionist told me he was not available. When I said I was his son and would wait, she gave me a hard look and repeated that he was not available.

I wish to retain a tie to the man who fathered me. But I will not use the name he gave me.

That is why I go by “Mr. K.”

My mother subsequently never married. She returned to her work in the pharmacy, found day care for me, and insisted from my youngest years that I would follow in her steps.

In high school I took French because she wanted me to learn “better French” than the conversations we had in her Guianese version.

In many ways I was a disappointment to my mother. My grades were okay but not as outstanding as she had hoped. In my college years I was involved in a rap group as lead singer. That pretty much led nowhere, though we still do occasional gigs in the older establishments in DUMBO. (That may be an unknown term to you: Downtown Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass.) My mother pressured me to follow the family path toward a professional pharmacy degree, and she knew the right people to make it happen for me. She also found a job for me as an assistant at the CVS pharmacy where you have your prescriptions.

My mother died of breast cancer two years ago. I took care of her until the end. When she died, one of her brothers insisted that she be buried in the family plot. I accompanied the coffin to her hometown, Cayenne. It was my first visit. I found the people friendly, especially my Uncle Christophe, who received a doctorate from MIT and is involved back home as senior staff at ESA, the European Space Agency. You may have heard of their Ariane launches. ESA is a commercial rival to American launches, though I hear NASA and others are considering the same kind of thing.

My uncle wanted me to stay on, but I am too American to want to live somewhere else.

I continue to wish to be known as Mr. K, and I know you will respect this.

Several months ago, I tired of living in my mother’s apartment. Too many memories. Also, I wished to find a place nearer my work and also near subway connections to my degree program.

During my search, Carlos Morales came in the drug store one day. He was a classmate of mine at Tech. I recognized him and we fell into a conversation. He knew of a one-bedroom vacancy here at The Russell House, and here I am.

On another subject, please know that I very much would like to be involved in the weekend supplemental food program for needy students at the elementary school nearby. I think you said Thursday evenings are when the group meets in your apartment to do this.

Encore, mes remerciements, [Again, my thanks.]

Mr. K