Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
Going through old papers, I came across a birthday card from my Grandma Wilson. She wrote it on Sept. 5, 1991. I know this because she compulsively dated all correspondence, including birthday cards she would simply sign.
She also dated and labeled the backs of all photos, I habit I would be wise to emulate.
At first glance it was just a big, oversized, flowery card like Grandma usually sent. But inside there were not just one but two letters, labeled "Letter #1" and "Letter 2."
"Letter # 1" was presumably the first letter written, and it was fairly casual:
Dear Alyce,
I am trying to get through this letter before the postman stops here to take this letter.
Walt Disney has made a video tape of Robin Hood. They say it tells about many little incidents, with music and songs. I guess you have finished your program.
Love,
Grandma
She included a clipping from a magazine, showing the video and giving a brief description. I'd done a three-hour radio special that year about "Robin Hood in Myth and Movies," based on a suggestion from her, so I guess she thought I'd be interested.
Grandma Wilson loved clipping out articles and sending them to people she thought would be interested. My father still hasn't gone through her boxes of papers, including many such clipped articles and personal memorabalia. Maybe this is why he's always telling me I take after my grandmother...
But apparently, before she'd sealed the envelope and before the postman arrived, my grandmother had second thoughts. It seems she'd reread a letter I'd sent her, and thoughts were swirling around in her head, bothering her, so she decided to write me what she really thought.
"College is great, but I'll be glad when I'm through with it. I'm getting tired of exams, papers, and projects."
Who said that? Was it Alice as a Freshman? Or as a sophomore? or a junior?
You loved it all! You didn't mind exams, papers or projects. Ask yourself why you say it now.
Why don't you have a talk with your mother? She is trying to catch up with what she lost when she was younger.
You would be very foolish to give up now on doing your best.
You will always be sorry that you did not make the best of your chances now, to try to be prepared for a step in the direction of a satisfying career. Today's woman has just as much right to a career and a home as a man does.
She must be prepared to be responsible for support of the children if something happens to her husband.
I don't know what I would have done if I did not have a job when Barclay's father died. I did not have to start as a typist or a salesperson in back of a counter.
You will love the career you have dreamed of. Do not give it up. The world will lack what you can offer. People will have to do without what you can give them. We should make the best of the talents God gave us. He gave you those talents to use.
Forgive this little lecture for you will be glad I did tell you. I hope you listen to me.
I love you so much.
Grandma
I wish I could remember exactly how I responded to this letter from Grandma. I'm fairly certain that I either wrote or called her immediately to reassure her that everything was fine.
This entire letter was sparked by one careless sentence I wrote in an unguarded moment. The truth is, I was having a bad year, and I'd been experiencing depression. Grandma saw the signs but misinterpreted the cause. I remember thinking, "This is why I never tell Grandma anything." From then on, she only ever heard about the highlights, the good times, the prizes and accomplishments. I was afraid to let my guard slip, because I didn't want to worry her, I suppose.
I wonder what would have happened if I'd have responded differently. I wonder what Grandma would have done if I'd confessed to her that I felt trapped in a relationship with a controlling jerk who was sucking all the joy out of my life? What would she have done if I'd admitted I was depressed, and that I'd never stopped grieving for a cousin who'd died nearly a year ago?
Would she have been flustered, or panicked, as I feared? Or would she have reached out to me, then, too? Would she have counseled me to leave that pitiful jerk who didn't deserve a great girl like me? Would she have sympathized with me, held my hand, understood? From this letter, it seems almost certain she would.
I think I was afraid of disappointing her, more than anything. I was afraid that if she knew her perfect granddaughter had flaws, that she would see me differently. She was always so proud of me; I didn't want that to change.
Sometime before the postman came, Grandma decided to write her true feelings to me. And now, 12 years after the letter arrived and years after her death, I'm ready to reply.
Grandma, if you're out there listening, boy, have I got some things to tell you...
Listen to your Grandma, kiddo.
Copyright
2003 by Alyce Wilson
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