The paper was strong, the ink still readable, the words in a flowing script easily legible once I understood the flow of the script. The date July 17, 1934 clearly written in my Dad’s hand in the top right hand corner. “I can do this,” I thought. “Don’t get distracted with content. Just be attentive to the job of listing.”
In brief, here is the inventory: the first of the 72 letters is dated 4 July 1932 and the last 17 July 1944. Each letter is a monologue; not one is matched with its response. The majority, 63, are from Daddy to Mom with only 9 from Mom to Daddy. They are continuous in batches according to times they were separated – 29 during their courtship in the Gatineau Valley and 43 over their times apart when Mom returned for various reasons to the Gatineau Valley and Daddy stayed up north in Timmins Ontario. Now I knew I was working with 72 letters written when Mom and Daddy were apart 6 times over 12 years.
Scanning
To my surprise I did “Get at it”. There was no need to read the letters just yet. I began by scanning them. I was wading in gently.
The process, once I got into a routine, did not drain me emotionally as I feared it might. I carefully avoided reading much of each letter as I scanned. I got into a rhythm of opening each envelope, unfolding and refolding each letter, then replacing and re-filing. I felt a sense of accomplishment and as I placed the last letter back into the red box I could almost hear Mom saying “Atta girl – you did it!”
Transcribing
With the completion of the scanning I knew that even If I did nothing else at least the letters were now scanned and protected. However, I knew in my heart that while the scanning was necessary, it wasn’t enough if I was going to truly honour the writing and their lives.
The transcribing for me, as Mom might have said, required “gumption.” I reached again for the red box, tilted it off the shelf and breathed deeply as I gazed at the photo on the lid of that couple, my parents. So happy, I thought…so together. My Dad always said “God works in strange ways.” I was now ready to see how that belief played out in their writing in those periods of their lives.
The process began anew. Opening, removing, unfolding, transcribing, refolding, replacing. This time the task took me into deeper waters. Now I was reading, immersing and involving myself in their lives. I was amused, entertained, informed, intrigued, stricken with grief, encouraged, and mystified. And, I made it through all the letters.
After transcribing each letter I immersed myself in searching for themes and threads of thoughts and emotions that moved from letter to letter. I looked again into Mom’s collection and found mementos she had saved; religious pictures, telegrams, greeting cards, train tickets and a small notebook where she listed the men who interested her. I was to learn from Mom’s detailed entries in that small book how she rated the men who interested her, including my father to be.
