A Postcard from the Past

Today is the fifth month anniversary of my sister's death. 

 

I still can't believe I'm writing that.

 

I still haven't written about her, but will, one day.... I promise.

 

Her husband... widower... is in the Netherlands today, visiting his daughter, an ex-pat, who lives with her husband and raises their tri-lingual son at Den Hague.  I spoke with him briefly this afternoon, not realizing he was so far away... and the day had weighed heavily on him, too.

 

Not really what I had meant to write about tonight, though... after a day spent planning treats for the grands.  I'm going to get to baking as soon as I finish this post.  I made iced pretzels, but among Nate, Keith and me, we have managed to decimate them, so I'll make one more batch tonight for Nathan to take home tomorrow.  We missed our trip to the pumpkin patch today, since it was so very cold out... stayed down in the 40s for the day, and the parents decided not to take the kids out for a couple of hours... so, next year.

 

Tonight I have something to show you that I was given with a batch of letters a few weeks ago by my first cousin, Mary Frances, from things her mother left when she passed away last year.  I finally sat down to read them all this week, and laughed and cried as I did.  How I wish my mom had seen this, and could have told me about them!

 

This, for those of you too young to remember, is a telegram.  It doesn't arrive over a phone, either.

 

Or a computer.

 

It was hand-delivered at the door.

 

It is a telegram from my mom and dad, Joe and Mary Peterson, from San Francisco, CA, on June 4 of 1944, letting my

Grandpa and Grandma Trehey know that they had arrived safely at their destination.  My mom duly wrote her mother a long letter that same day, to tell her about their new digs.  My brothers Pete and Mike were with them, and Dad was stationed there in the Navy.  He was in port for the moment, but due to go back out.

 

Mother and Daddy had been moved up and down the state since he had been shipped out there the year before... but after being offered a full commission at the end of hostilities, he chose to come home to Kansas City, Kansas because my mom was so lonely for her family so far away.  I've always been grateful that they did, for, you see.... my sister and I would never have had the best parents in the world. 

 

Kathleen, I wish you could have read the letters!

 

Now we would just send a text.  Seems less important, doesn't it?