We are back in Lima after a thrilling but very taxing excursion by air to Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas. Our DC-4 was not pressurized, so we had to suck oxygen from a tube during the two-hour flight over the Andes and sit quietly to avoid “seroche” (mountain sickness). In spite of these precautions, several of the younger members of our group became very ill during the flight and had to spend the rest of the trip in their hotel rooms.
The next morning we survivors, undaunted by the altitude (Cuzco is 11,440 feet above sea level), boarded a funny little train which took us through a jungle where orchids grew wild on the trees to a station where Indians in native dress had gathered to stare. Guides were waiting to lead us on foot high into the mountains to the “lost city of the Incas,” discovered in 1911 by a Yale professor (see National Geographic I left open on your bedside table).
I planned to stay behind at this point and watch the tour from a distance, not daring to subject my already aching vertebrae to the rigors of a mountain climb, but when the guide began to talk, I could not bear to let the tour leave without me. The excursion began with a steep ascent up the sides of a 200-foot canyon and the guides virtually had to lift me from ledge to ledge. They could not believe it when they realized my torso was encased in a steel corset. I am sure they thought I was insane to attempt the climb and until we reached our destination I agreed with them. However my physical agony was obliterated by the thrill of seeing the ruins of that ancient city, unknown to the modern world until this century. How many other ancient wonders are still lost to us?
Tomorrow we leave for Buenos Aires; then on to Montevideo and Rio de Janeiro.
Please express my condolences to Mrs. Perkins, and, when you call on her again, take some of the roses from the garden. I have never known them to bloom in such profusion.
Much love,
Bess
JUNE 28 1955
RIO DE JANEIRO
MR SAM GARNER
2364 DREXEL DRIVE
DALLAS TEXAS
PLEASE ARRANGE TO HAVE WHEELCHAIR WAITING AT AIR-
PORT FOR MY ARRIVAL MONDAY AND BOOK HOSPITAL
ROOM AM SUFFERING FROM SEVERE CASE OF DYSEN-
TERY BUT FORTUNATELY MISSED ONLY ONE DAY OF
SIGHTSEEING
HASTA LA VISTA
BESS
July 4, 1956
Dallas
Dear Mavis,
I am celebrating Independence Day with added fervor after a year of seeing so many women my age declare their dependence upon society.
At her daughter’s insistence Lydia sold the spacious home in Denton where she and Manning lived so happily and moved to San Antonio. She hopes to find an apartment of her own but for the moment she is staying with Marian and her family and I for one doubt that she will ever leave. Unfortunately her small pension from the university can hardly support an independent life style and her family advised her to invest the money she made from the sale of her house in something with a potential for long-range profit.
My neighbor, Mrs. Perkins, has also sold her home, and, rather than burden her children with the problems a place of her own would involve, has elected to move into a retirement hotel where all her decisions will be made for her.
I find both alternatives equally abhorrent and am determined to live out my days under my own roof. Not necessarily this roof, however. With the grandchildren going off in different directions and family gatherings turning into an ordeal for everyone but me, there is no longer any need for a house this large.
However, Sam becomes like a man possessed at the slightest mention of selling it and swears he will never set foot in an apartment no matter how comfortable or convenient it would be for me. You would think he owned this house instead of just paying board all these years. Unfortunately under Texas law, I cannot sell it without his signature, so for now we will continue as we are.
It seems strange to be spending the summer in Texas. Usually by now I am far away. However, I have had so much trouble with my back since my return from South America, I am afraid my traveling days are over.
Betsy leaves for college in September, and knowing my namesake is abroad in the land will perhaps keep me content at home. She has chosen Hollins College in Virginia, primarily because of the year-abroad program offered there, beginning in the second term of the sophomore year. It is the only program of its kind open to someone who has never studied French, and I am embarrassed to admit my first grandchild falls into this category. Against my advice her parents urged her to study Spanish in high school, thinking the proximity of Mexico made this a more practical choice. Happily she has finally realized that in spirit we are closer to France than to any country in the world—and she can hardly restrain her impatience to get to Paris.
I spend most of my time now comfortably enthroned in the hospital bed I bought last summer. The telephone is on one side of my bed and my new television set with remote controls on the other. I find that television seldom engages the mind as fully as it does the eye so I keep my radio and record player within easy reach.
I spend every Saturday afternoon doubly entertained, watching a sports event on television and listening to the opera on the radio. If the opera is not being broadcast, I stack my record player with symphonies. It occurred to me recently that by buying two copies of each album I could have the complete experience of a piece of music without interruption to reverse the record. The salesman had difficulty understanding my order at first, but when I finally succeeded in explaining it to him, he said he was going to suggest it to all his customers.
I grow increasingly impatient with my friends who mourn the past and decry the present. I am thrilled with every technological advance I have lived to enjoy.
I only wish Sam could enjoy the life and health he still has, instead of lamenting what he has lost. His eyesight is very bad now but he would still be trying to drive if the children had not sold his car. He threatened suicide that day but I said anyone who allowed him to drive would be an accomplice to murder—at least if he committed suicide, he would only be taking one life.
To try to lift his spirits, I called the Lighthouse for the Blind and requested a volunteer to come to the house two days a week and read to him. I pointed out to them that I had made substantial contributions to their cause over the years and now felt entitled to derive some personal benefit from my philanthropy.
They sent a very personable young man who listened sympathetically while Sam poured out his tale of woe. I had gathered a stack of reading material for him, but at the end of the afternoon it was still untouched. However I suppose Sam needs a listener more than a reader. The next time he came Sam made a separate financial arrangement with him to cover the use of his car and they now spend their afternoons together driving around town.
The first stop on their route is usually the steel company, but yesterday I had a call from the president, asking me as politely as possible to try to keep Sam away from the office. Of course as chairman of the board he is entitled to see any of the company records on demand, but it is naturally very disrupting when he appears without warning and demands an accounting of all recent expenditures.
The company has prospered since his retirement but he insists that appearances are deceiving and that in fact the company is going down the drain without him. Despite the sizable salary he still receives, he laments to anyone who will listen that he is going to die in the poorhouse. His Christmas checks to the children last year were accompanied by such a list of financial grievances that Eleanor threatened to return hers to him un-cashed. Fortunately the rest of us prevailed upon her to accept the check with all the grace he lacked in giving it.
It is very sad to see how little is left for a man who has devoted his life to making money when that motive is removed. He still sets his alarm for seven every morning, showers and shaves, then reads the morning newspaper while devouring a hearty breakfast. During that hour he is a happy man, but at 8 A.M. his day is over, and he has no appetite
at all by dinner. No wonder women outlive men. We have had to be responsible for the shape of our lives from the beginning. Even women with jobs face a full work load every day at home. Every woman knows that making a living is just the first step. But for too many men it is the entire trip.
I must close now and get dressed for the party the children are giving for Sam and me. Today is our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary. However, frankly, I have never considered longevity alone a cause for celebration.
I think of you so often in your home in Honey Grove, living just as you have always lived. Even though you were married to my father, more and more I think of you as a sister—and often feel closer to you living at a distance than to the friends and family I see every day.
My love,
Bess
le 10 mai 1958
Dallas
Mlle. Betsy Burton
aux bons soins de Madame la Comtesse d’Orville
25 rue Coquillière
Paris ler, France
Ma chère petite fille,
J’étais vraiment éblouie par ta lettre du 7 avril. Quand je pense que tu es arrivée en France avec le vocabulaire d’un enfant naissant—c’est-à-dire pas un seul mot—alors, je sais comment tu as étudié pendant les mois passés.
C’est bon de lire Le Monde tous les jours (je ne connais pas Le Canard Enchaîné—peut-être tu m’enverras une copie) mais n’oublie pas de jeter un coup d’oeuil de temps en temps au Paris édition du New York Herald Tribune que j’ai commandé pour toi. Malgré ta nouvelle affection pour la France, tu es après tout Américaine et tu y resteras toute ta vie. Il ne faut pas perdre de vue ton propre pays cette année.
La situation politique en France à ce moment me paraît assez grave, mais, si j’ai permis à ma fille de voyager dans l’Allemagne d’Hitler, je n’ai aucun lieu de me tourmenter pour toi dans la France du Général de Gaulle. Nous avons eu des années bien agréables sous nôtre propre général. Je souhaite le même pour nôtre voisin à l’autre côté de l’Atlantique.
Amuse-toi bien—et surtout fais attention à tout ce qui se passe. Tu as de la chance d’être témoin à une page très intéressante dans la longue histoire de France.
Je t’embrasse de tout mon coeur,
Nana
April 11, 1960
Dallas
Ma petite Betsy,
Though you went back to college last week, I look at your picture smiling at me from the Sunday paper and imagine you are still sitting across from me, planning your future.
I have been accepting congratulations all morning from friends who just read your engagement announcement. I have been in constant communication with your father ever since you announced your intentions to the family, planning an appropriate wedding present—and have decided on a sizable cash settlement which I am trying to persuade your grandfather to match.
To my dismay he grows more reluctant every year to acknowledge his responsibility to the only children and grandchildren he will ever have, and getting him to part with anything in cash requires unrelenting argument. However he has tentatively agreed to turn over to you one hundred shares of stock in an Australian oil company which he assures me will be worth at least twice as much as my wedding present within a decade. I certainly hope so, but since in the meantime it is worth quite a bit less, I am trying to convince him to give you a check for the balance so that, in the beginning at least, our gifts will be equal.
Now that I am approaching my seventieth birthday, your father has advised me to begin dividing my estate to avoid inheritance taxes. I am meeting him at his office tomorrow to sign the papers necessary to convert my estate into a “living trust.”
He gave the same advice to Sam but needless to say it has gone unheeded. Sam is determined to remain financially independent to the end of his days—a worthy goal and one I share completely—but unfortunately he has a very distorted idea of how much he will need in relation to how much I am convinced he has. For the next few years I will be giving away as much as the law allows in advance of death, and I am certain Sam could afford to do likewise. However no amount of argument can convince him he is not going to die a pauper.
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.
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