No. 76

Chas. into Dubuque

Stewart King c/o

John C. Davant, Attorney

501 Cleveland St.

Clearwater Florida

December 26, 1938

Dear Stewart,

Merry Christmas! Red and white against the snow is bright, but we burst and proclaim Christ is born. As I wanted to attach this candy cane to this box, as I promised and started off just so, as your mother would like things to be just so, I instead have unwrapped it and it is in my mouth.

I am not ready to send them off to your attorney. There is that bit about the truth I must get to, but how to unravel it?

Yesterday, I put down my mission, for the happy chains I wore and hope to be worthy enough to wear again, for our Virgin Mary, who stifles me for Christ: I went to Mass with the most austere determination to be finished with this memory business, as your mother would want me to, as Maria Parloa would want me to, with proper wrappings, or toss it off like a bag bound and gagged for the dead letter office. But I must get back to it. For my age, and for Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.

Another letter from Charles. As the winter comes, as it does in Iowa, for me in the present day, but how easy for me to recall the day I was reading about Charles - He in the summer of 1885 and me, in 1895, and the Holy Spirit.

June 1885

Dear M--, Val is dead. Know by way of C--. Cannot go to Bath. Called to Dubuque for training. Staying at the Lormier. Will take E—with me for evaluation if they will keep her for the time of my coursework and exams. Boy needs rest. All need rest. Some will get it. Still making the catch.--Chas.

Your mother told me that she did make time to travel to Bath for the burial of their brother, Valentine, who died in the old family home, where your grandfather now lived with Valentine's wife and two young girls, who promised to take care of the old man, who had to bury his son, only the age of 52.

At the same time of my reading about Charles studying the railway postal routes, I was again ordered by your mother to follow the manual according to Maria Parloa, and to study and clean. I started to reflect, late at night, mostly, how time got away from me, how easy it was for me to move in time, as it does when one enjoys himself.

Still that summer, your mother was expecting new porch and window awnings to arrive. They were to be installed, of course, by the delivery men. These window treatments were red and white striped. She said that if the men showed up when she was out, that I was to be sure and satisfy the installers with goodies she had planned to make, to wrap a portion for them, served with lemonade, and to provide a portion for them to take home, but to use the packaging from the King family brand or store papers. As your mother was away, I did exactly as I was told, and things went smoothly. How excited I was for her return to enjoy the window dressings. How right she was to be so organized and thoughtful, in advance of how hard these men worked to install the screws into the brick and stone.

In my own studies, based on the curriculum of Maria Parloa, I read that every object in every room had to have a reason to be there: "The thing that supports real weight or pressure should have the appearance of being able to do so without any strain upon itself or danger to the object supported." No teacup saucers underneath large fern plants. Serving utensils set out must hold up to the portion; must balance in one's adult hand. Children can use toddler size up to a point, for training in short lessons, but the sooner they understand the adult nature - the pressure of the purpose of the occasion of dinner - of the purpose and cost of the item, the more they will respect it and care for it, keeping it dry, polished, and always in a proper place.

With Maria, and with your mother, God bless her, I was learning to drill. It was a beautiful thing, to be out of the nasty saloon, where I was interrupted by customers peppering me with a request here and there during the lunch time crowd, touching my backside strings for added emphasis of their low interest, with jolting action rushing out according to the train whistles and for me to quickly wrap and why was I taking so long and the boss calling. With Maria, I was at last learning daily something practical and pleasing, and yes, you might think it was only home economics! I was taking notes, improving vocabulary and poise, and even watching how Maria constructed her sentences.

The key was to keep order, Maria wrote, and your mother agreed, so that no family member might be uncomfortably aware that you - or the system - was working. And for there to be no noise or evidence of how the work was done.

It occurred to me how opposite my life was becoming. In the saloon, I prayed for release, a rescue, a break, some comfort, so that I could do what I want--perhaps some lacework or just to sleep--and being only focused on my situation, of course, I was miserable to focus on what life would be like once I started to really live, away from my chores.

With Maria, and especially your mother, we were working on a script so that the goal was to have no one noticed our being there. I began to feel a strange joy and I cannot explain it. Your mother and I were like machinery that hummed in the background, like a horse that took the bit and started walking at a steady pace. Each day I began to see its allotted tasks before us as adventure, or even my portion, and I trusted they would be accomplished. Your mother and I soon began to find a quiet, almost loving, agreement. I received no praise, but I also received no criticism, especially when we focused on Maria's manual. Because my studies were beginning to be worked out, methodically, I began to feel that I could, like Charles Brother, make any catch.

--Miss Minnie

2025 Copyright Christine Friesel