Whatever reasons you have for staying away, I’m sure you will share with me some day. Please do write me a long letter and, if you choose, avoid all the topics of personal note I’ve set upon you, but give me some news of your adventures of late. I’ll settle for that.
With love from the delightfully sunny and relaxing beach you know you miss,
Amanda
July 20, 1956
Dear Tilly,
Robert and I laughed hysterically over your last letter read far from the ears of Mother and Amanda. You are such a wit and naughty in your descriptions. I should think the censors would go mad if I had the mind to publish your letters. Wouldn’t that be a volume to read—uncut and uncensored. Robert can give you a more accurate account of our enjoyment when he sees you. Oh yes, he is going into the city for a brief check on some important clients that cannot do without his attention for one more month. You may see him before this letter reaches you. I can’t complain. He’s been beached for two months, and that is a record in the last ten years. Please take him into the Village for a bit of a change of pace, but don’t get him drunk or he might forget how to find his way back to this stretch of beach.
Amanda has asked again why Auntie Tilly is not visiting this summer. I think Mother and I bore her silly. This question came after reading the funny card you sent her. I’ve been perfectly honest with her (well, as far as one can be honest with an eight year old) and told her you had been feeling out of sorts for a while. The city and your wild friends do more to get you back on your feet than the casual seaside routine and our lackluster companionship. She said she didn’t believe that in the least. She gave me a lecture about what a great auntie you are, never too busy for her, and she’ll just go to lunch with you all by herself when we get back to the city. So I gave her a kiss and said I was teasing. I told her to keep hoping—you may show up yet.
Love,
Amanda
July 26, 1956
Dear Tilly,
Only a short note to tell you how much we enjoyed your visit. Amanda loves the boa and has been wearing the feathery confection every day. Mother has a thimble full of the Calvados you gave her in the aperitif glass before dinner each evening. What a marvelous idea, and how you managed to convince her it’s good for her health and her appetite is beyond me. You do know how to play to the woman whom I believe knows all about you, but prefers to ignore because she loves you ever so much. But thank you for that. I am no longer accused of being a boozehound when I treat myself to a Manhattan or the occasional glass of red wine. I’m sure Robert will thank you also, as after drinking one glass of wine, my mind heads straight for bedroom activity.
How unfortunate Robert wasn’t here for your stay. He came home only hours after you left. First he complained the trip was short and boring. I told him he should have gone into the Village without you while he was there and taken in the latest art exhibits, but he actually barked at me that that would have been stupid. Then he reminded me he was there on business and why should he go to the Village. To cure your boredom of course was my reply. I got a very dirty look. Of course he immediately apologized. I think his meeting with the client didn’t go well and brought him back before he’d expected. He’s been a bit moody lately.
A day gazing out on the ocean seems to have revived him. In fact, he suggested we renew our vows of matrimony on the beach in August in a celebration of our ten-year anniversary. Isn’t he amazing? He’s so much more romantic than I am. Will you come? You were there for the first exchange of vows, and it wouldn’t be complete without you. Robert told me not to stress if you can’t make it—that marriage and vows aren’t important to you, even ours. Funny. Not ha ha, but funny-odd the way he said it. It’s almost as if he admires you for your decision to not marry or meld your life with another. Men are unknowable creatures, aren’t they? You two are great friends, but I can’t begin to understand your friendship. It certainly isn’t the same as between you and me. But then you and I are female and of like minds, although as different as fact and fiction. Or so Mother has always said. Which makes us perfect friends, don’t you think?
Have to run. Robert is doing a barbecue on the beach tonight for several of the neighbors. Please write back. Anxious to hear how the poetry reading went.
Love,
Amanda
July 5, 1968
Dear Auntie Tilly,
I tried to call you this morning from the pay phone at the Beach Cafe. I had to get out of the house after my blow up with Mom at breakfast, so I walked into town for coffee. I should’ve known you’d be off with your eccentric friends. My wonderful, groovy Auntie Tilly and her eclectic circle of friends! I so needed you here to be on my side about Kevin, and there you were off on some adventure. Daddy would’ve been on my side, but he had to stay in the city and work. He’s never able to be here all of the time. Maybe you’ll see him. I bet you see him as much as we do. He thinks you’re crazy wonderful, but then we all feel the same about you. Anyway, if you’d been here, you would’ve had to speak your true mind. You’re the real thing, not plastic like so many people your age.
It’s blissful on this stretch of beach. I guess I’m glad Mom shamed me into coming for the fourth of July. The fireworks have come and gone except the ones Mom’s shooting out of her eyes right now from the deck. She’s still seething over my part in the protest at Columbia. At one point I thought of you, Auntie Tilly, walking those same grounds, loathing the materialism and the direction society started moving in the forties. Ginsberg, Kerouac and my Auntie Tilly. However did you and Mom stay such fast friends?
I know you’re just dying to know about Kevin, but first, did you hear the whole story on my arrest? Mom was actually relieved I was arrested. She’s convinced it saved me from getting shot. Tearing down the fence around the Morning Park Gym landed me in jail. It was a symbol of injustice and prejudice. The halls of higher learning can’t just turn its back on the black community at its back door! Anyway, if I hadn’t been detained so long at the jail, I would’ve been at Hamilton Hall for the sit-in. You know how badly that turned out. Pigs! But once the students were inside, the doors were locked. All I could do was ferry them food for the next seven days. In Mom’s eyes, my arrest saved me.
She’s more upset about me moving in with Kevin in August than she was about my jail time last April. And to think if I hadn’t taken part in the protest at Columbia State that day, I wouldn’t have met Kevin. We’re soul mates.
So, now the crisis du jour is my moving in with Kevin, but not getting married first. Marriage isn’t my bag. Besides, if I’m not bringing a child into this world of war and assassinations, why should I get married? It would be unconscionable to bring a child into a society of inequality and racist values where individual creativity is suppressed or punished. Can you dig it? I know you’ll understand. You never married and never had children. Auntie Tilly, you really must speak to Mom on this. After all, I’m twenty, and there isn’t much she can do about it.
Honestly, I don’t need the confines of a marriage certificate to be happy. If only she’d see that. The thing is, I do want to have the sort of lifetime love and relationship she and Dad have had. Aren’t they still just the cutest couple? Oh God, don’t tell her I said so.
Do you think she’s more upset knowing there won’t be any more Amandas in the line or I’m not getting married? If the future does improve and I have a child, I wouldn’t name her Amanda anyway. My child would be set apart with her own name like Moonshine or CatEyes.
I wish you could call me when you get this letter. Why Mom insists on carrying on Grandma’s idea of keeping this house a phone-free retreat is beyond me. I’m so out of touch. Of course, Mom is probably thrilled I can’t call Kevin. But she can’t call Daddy either. Maddening. Warn Daddy so he’ll be prepared to take my side when he gets here. Yes, I’m sure you’ll see him.
Write me or come see us!
Peace and love,
Amanda
July 28, 1968
I didn’t get the whole of what happened while you were here. You and my parents seemed all happy and cool when you left though. You three are the most important old folks in my life. What an odd threesome you are to me, at times. You’re so very cool, free-spirited and groovy. Mom is—I don’t know what—going through menopause? Daddy is Daddy and seems to understand both of you. I felt some tension I’d never noticed before, but I could’ve been projecting my own insecurities into the atmosphere. Taking this step with Kevin is huge, you know? Or maybe it’s just Mom’s erratic behavior lately.
I can always count on you for the blunt truth. Like when you told me that what I wanted with Kevin was admirable. And regardless of how groovy I think the way you lead your life is, I need to lead my own life. Of course, I had no idea you’ve had a love relationship, of sorts, all of your life. The thing is, because I had trouble grasping your type of love or relationship or whatever you choose to label it, then I must not want what you have or I’d understand your happiness. That’s rather convoluted, but you know what I mean. Then you offered up to me the example of Mom and Daddy. I get that. You told me to think about our talk. I have. I love and admire you, Auntie Tilly, but I don’t want what you have or rather don’t have. You are perfectly happy, on your own, friendships and relationships coming and going or lingering but no commitment. Kevin is all I want or ever will want. What a revelation! I’d always thought I was more like you than Mom.
I’m heading back to the city tomorrow. I’ll be staying with a friend until our (meaning Kevin and me!) apartment is ready in August. I’m looking forward to school starting again. I must absorb all the knowledge I can to fight the establishment in academia. Students and minorities must have a voice.
I hope we can get together for lunch and a good rap session before school starts. Kevin and I want to go to the Democratic National Convention for the marches there. I want to tell you all about it. I think I’ll need you to run interference with Mom. Or not. Maybe she’ll still be too consumed with my living arrangements to worry about my political activities.
Peace and love,
Amanda
August 24, 1968
Dear Tilly,
A few days of bliss with no one to talk to but the seagulls. I have you to thank for this. I’m so glad you popped back after Amanda, Robert and Mother left. The strain I put on all of us while you were here would’ve dragged on for who knows how long if you hadn’t returned. Once again, Tilly, you read the tea leaves and righted things.
My moods have been so ragged of late. Jealousy of all things. Jealous that you could talk to my daughter, get along so lovely with her, which I’ve had difficulty doing these last few months. Jealous of your longer running friendship with Robert than with me. I’m not sure if I was jealous of him or you. You’re both mine. And angry that the two of you are uncomfortable around each other after so many years and not making sense of that. When Robert left, I tried to give him the blue swimsuit you had left behind and asked him to drop in on you to return it. He said no, I could do it when I got back. This was so unlike him and did more to unsettle me.
Yes, silly thoughts.
So you came back. Lying on the beach, just you and me like old times, really gave me some perspective. Insisting I should stay on when the others left, having some time alone with you and now some time alone with myself is exactly what I needed.
Amanda leaves for Chicago tomorrow, and I am headed home to be by the phone in case she and Kevin should need anything. The thought of them marching still does not make me happy, but I will be quiet and let her live her life. What you told me about your talk with her regarding Kevin eases my mind on that issue. Somewhat. You still didn’t promote the marriage issue, but you might have planted the seed. Thank you, Tilly.
See you in the city.
Love,
Amanda
July 3, 1969
Dear Tilly,
A good time to get a letter off to you before Amanda, Kevin and Mother arrive. Robert and I came up early to open the house and stock the fridge.
We’ve seen so little of you over this past year. I had hoped you’d tear yourself away from your usual group to spend the fourth with us here. You do realize besides a couple of lunches with me at Gino’s, a day shopping at Bloomies and the two dinners at your house (with a house full of people) we haven’t seen you since last summer when you came here to the beach house. Robert cautioned me about putting a guilt trip on you. Pooh! He doesn’t miss you as much as I do. Although, I think he did in the beginning regardless of how little he would say. He’s grown accustomed to your absence.
You tell me it’s because of the publication of your book and the added time required for your appearances that we are robbed of your attention. It’s more than a schedule issue, my friend, Tilly. Last summer marked a turning point in our friendship triangle. I sensed it as you and I watched the last sunset together on the beach. I had hoped it was the changes going on in my body and an unsatisfactory vacation, but there were changes going on amongst us that caused the dissatisfaction. Oh, you and I are the same. When we’ve had time together, our friendship isn’t altered, but the spark has died for the whole of us. If you know, if Robert knows why, well, I fear neither of you will say. Mother tells me it was bound to happen. That men and women cannot be “just friends.” As much as she loves you, she insists a friendship between you and my husband was not a healthy situation. That she should imply there could ever be more between you and Robert than friendship is ridiculous. She said she was only warning me that the longer you two are so close, the more the likelihood of other possibilities. That’s her generation speaking.
I’m of the mind that friendship, like everything else in life, evolves. So we evolved. Men and women of course can be friends, but the scope of their friendship has limitations. Men can never begin to understand the femaleness that is unique to us. So with time, a fissure is bound to develop. But as women, we can only grow closer.
Speaking of evolution, I’m reading your book. Just now, you say? I get very little time to read until I come here. Robert comes and goes, and I have no job or household duties to interfere. You have evolved into quite the writer. Note that I am thoroughly enjoying your book even if I’m not in total agreement. You are satirical, aren’t you? I knew you had that in you, but as I read and am entertained, I smile and feel so much pride. My best friend, Tilly wrote this! Of course, speaking of art and obscenity all in the same breath had me shaking my head. Hate to admit you made a good case, but I really could take issue with some of your conclusions. Do ignore the reviews. Your book is not ten years too late. How absurd. It wouldn’t have found a publisher, if that were true.
See what you can do to shake loose at least for a few days. Robert, Mother and I will be here until mid-August. The hospital gladly gave me an extended leave from my few hours each week since they are slow. Mother has been in such ill health, we’re hoping the sea air revives her. I fear it could be her last summer here. Age is taking its toll. Amanda and Kevin would love to see you. Kevin thinks you’re the “hippest” woman on earth.
Until then,
love and miss you,
Amanda
P.S. Speaking of hip. Remember years back when the town council feared a rash of Beats would invade our quiet corner of New York? It never came to be, but we have had an influx of hippies renting every available beach apartment. They run a few off the beach every morning. Makes our old beach town a bit more colorful.
July 5, 1969
Dear Tilly,
Damn that I never pushed Mother to get a phone. The closest neighbors aren’t here this summer, and so I’ve run to the Beach Café twice to use the pay phone, but to no avail. You’ll probably get my message off your answering machine before you get this letter. Traveling? Wherever you are, I hope you can check messages.
Mother passed soon after the last fireworks faded in the sky, bundled in a blanket beside the campfire and happy. She so love
d the fourth here on the beach.
Her funeral is tomorrow. I know, so soon, but her plot is here on the other side of town and there are no great arrangements to be made. This is the way she wanted it. If you can’t make it, and I doubt you will, have a thimble of Calvados in her honor. She’ll be looking down and smiling on you.
Love,
Amanda
July 8, 1969
Dear Tilly,
Your note and your flowers arrived. I’m absolutely furious with you. I immediately went to the Beach Café and called, but your phone has already been disconnected. Fury doesn’t really describe my mood.
California? It might as well be China. A change of scenery, new breath of progressive air—I don’t even know what you mean. And it doesn’t matter what reasons you have. How could you leave without coming to see us first? You could not have possibly made this decision overnight. I’m hurt you chose not to confide in me.
I read your letter aloud to Robert, and his reaction was the epitome of bland. He’s been your friend much longer than I have, and all he did was shrug and shake his head.
Amanda in the Summer Page 2