A New Arrival

Mail boxes are often only full of flyers with advertising to buy all the things we can’t live without. I have received a couple of very lovely Christmas cards this year, along with two or three fundraising letters, and a monthly newspaper, but today this little green youngster arrived. Froggy, made by my sister Kate Hersberger, was cold even though he was all wrapped up in tape and brown paper! His tiny scarf only kept his little neck warm. He is a welcome and cheerful addition to my living room now devoid of Christmas glittering decor.

“There’s so much love sent through the mail.”

~ Sheridan Hay, The Secret of Lost Things

Weekly Update: Chapter Two, Episode One - A Letter to Digby - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Introducing my next series of Updates, edits to Chapter Two episodes of Situationally Theirs will be posted each Monday. 

Situationally Theirs started in March with Desperanza Eliot and her sister, Emelina Beaufort on the Beaufort estate. The supporting cast of characters, employees of the estate, are the narrators for Chapter Two episodes.

My characters frequently tell me what needs revising. Martha May Digby, the estate housekeeper, reminded me that she seldom hesitates to speak her mind and yet, in this episode, her reaction about not being told of a letter Digby received, for a whole weekend, was nowhere to be found. Her reaction has been included. 

A Letter to Digby

“Martha, have you noticed anything different lately?” James was drying the breakfast dishes while his new wife scrubbed them clean. Martha May and James Edward Digby’s new kitchen did have a dishwasher, but saved it for during the week when they were both working. Of course, there was the occasional dinner with Elizabeth and Samuel or when Martha’s daughter Joanie and her children came for Sunday dinner. “What do you mean, James? Different here at our cottage? We’ve only been married for a couple of months. Everything seems quite settled in our cottage.” James was quiet for a moment. He put the plate he had dried up in the cupboard and picked up another. “I don’t mean here, Martha dear. Really it’s more up at the Estate. I think. There is also the matter of the letter that came in Friday’s mail.”

“Letter. What letter?” Martha put the last cup on the draining pan and dried her hands on her apron. James sighed. “It’s on my desk. I didn’t want to leave it at work. It’s not a long one but maybe explains the odd sense of quietness I’ve felt.”

Martha's face was stern. James put down his plate and tea towel. “Martha, please don't be angry that I kept it from you.”

~~~~~

Good morning Digby,

I felt I should send this note to you, as you have managed Beaufort Estate for quite some time. Mrs. Beaufort and her sister Miss Eliot have also been informed of what I am about to tell you.

I have enjoyed each day spent with everyone working for and those acquainted with the Estate. I find that my time has become too compromised to do my previous daily visits the justice each of you deserve. My visits to the Estate will only be once a week from now on. 

Thank you for all the wonderful stories that you’ve given me while we’ve all been distanced these many months of pandemic restrictions.

Please let the others know of this sudden change.

Your Storyteller.

“Oh heavens, I'm not all that upset now that you've read the letter to me. I'm just surprised! My goodness, James. Here we were just always wanting to talk that poor Storyteller’s ear off. Even our little ghost, Sarah. Well, what are we going to do, James?” Martha wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. 

“Well, Martha” James was all business. “We’ll call a staff meeting for next week to see how we can help. We haven’t had one for several weeks now. Elizabeth can get cooking for a good meal afterwards. Now, let’s get out for our walk. Bring your basket with you. Samuel should have some tomatoes and carrots for us. We’ll stop at the house and tell Elizabeth.” 

“Tell the story as if it were only of interest to the small

 circle of your characters, of which you may be one. 

There is no other way to put life into the story.”

~ Horacio Quiroga, Uruguayan novelist, poet, and short story writer

Chapter One, Episode 148 - Together - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Revisions often take the form of reducing wordiness ~ using three words when one would do or sometimes the removal of an entire phrase from the text. The principal of showing not telling is also an important focus for revision. These were both areas given my attention in this episode. Gratefully, there were no typographical errors to complicate this process.

Together

Maybe I should write to her? But who would read it to her? Emmie desperately wanted to communicate with Carrie Tyler, this young woman with a picture of a young girl. 'Emelina Eliot' written on the back. If she had been well, they could meet for a hamburger in the park. But she wasn’t. When Jeremy called her the night before, she was apparently on death’s door. Dez told her she was better today. Something about dehydration. So why was she on a respirator? Emmie searched her memory. She was on a respirator, wasn’t she? Maybe a letter? She’d often heard Cook talking about the letters she wrote to her sister in England. “Why, I just have a cup of tea beside me and I talk to Lily with my pen. And when she writes back to me, she tells me she has a cup of tea. Then, we’ve just had a good visit.” ..... But would that really be a good way to start to talk with this stranger?

“Dez, do you have some writing paper? And I’ll have to borrow a pen - I may have one in my purse. Yes, never mind the pen. I just need some writing paper and an envelope. Is there a light on your balcony?” Emmie paced and fussed. If she was at home, she’d go running on the track. But she’d decided to stay in Hartley with Dez. “I’m tired of so many unanswered questions!” Dez handed her a packet of writing paper and some envelopes, but kept quiet. She knew enough about her sister to recognize it was good time to stay out of her way. “I feel absolutely helpless! I’ve been asked to help, but there’s nothing I can do or say that is of any help. Why didn’t Jeremy let us alone? I’m sorry Dez, I shouldn’t be ranting at you. You didn’t ask for any of this.” Emelina’s phone rang, interrupting their very one-sided conversation. “Dez ~ It’s the hospital!” Emmie drew herself up, cautiously answering the call. “Hello.” Emmie listened, stern and unyielding when the phone rang, her face slowly softened. “Thank you Miss Campbell. And please contact me with any further updates on Mrs. Tyler’s condition. If she needs anything please let me know.” Emelina hesitated. “Miss Campbell? One more thing. I have a question for you. I’d like to write a short note to Mrs.Tyler. Do you think it’s appropriate, or should I wait until her condition improves a bit more?” She listened to the Social Worker's advice. “Make it a short note and address it care of you - Miss Campbell - at the Social Work Department. Thank you. Yes I have her room number here as well.” Another pause. “You’re quite right. This is a very delicate situation. I’m doing ok and I'm with my sister here in Hartley. Your phone number is registered in my phone. Have a good evening and we’ll talk soon.”

Emmie let out a big sigh. She picked up the note pad where she dropped it when her phone rang. “Carrie’s a bit better tonight but still not out of the woods. I can write her a letter, a short one and address it care of the social worker I just spoke to.” Dez had disappeared into the kitchen while Emmie was on the phone to give her some privacy, only catching a word or two of her sister’s replies. “Feel any better, Em?” Dez could see the relief on her sister’s face, but needed to hear it, too. “Yes. A bit. Still a lot of unanswered questions, but it’s not the time to figure them all out. I guess I can go easy on Jeremy. He did what he thought was right, and I’m glad he did.” Emmie started to go to the balcony, paused and turned back to Dez. “I had let go of my child. Remember? You were all excited when I told you my story, and I told you to let her live her life.” Emmie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You couldn’t have known this would happen, Em. That this part of her life would come here like this. Go. Write your letter. Give me your phone and I’ll take any calls.”

~~~~~

Hello Carrie,

My name is Emelina Beaufort. I was given your name by a colleague of the Social Worker reading you this note. They have the interesting notion that you and I may be related. We’ll have to sit down after you’re better and find out why they think so. Right now, your job is to get better so we can have that chat. 

I am keeping this short so I don’t tire you out. The Social Worker I’ve spoken to tonight is Miss Campbell. I’ve given her my phone number. She will keep me updated on how you are doing. If the doctors say you are well enough for visitors or if you need anything else, have her or one of her colleagues contact me.

I’m looking forward to meeting you.

Be well, Carrie

Emelina

Emelina held up the note, re-read it and then called out to her sister. “Dez? Are you there? Would you please read this and tell me what you think? Did I say too much? Not enough?”

“One minute, Em. I’m bringing hot chocolate.” Dez, coming from the kitchen, walked carefully across the living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, both piled precariously with mini marshmallows. Emelina stood up quickly, opened the screen door and took one of the mugs from Dez. “Mmmmmmm……good idea! Here’s the note I wrote.”

There was only a moment's silence while Dez sipped her hot chocolate and read what her sister had written. “It looks just right, Em. Do you want to mail it tonight or should we do that in the morning?”

“Let’s mail it in the morning. I think it’s time for me……… for us…to relax. Thank you, Dez. A toast to us: ‘We can do this together.’ ” The sisters clicked their mugs and relaxed as the darkness softened and settled.

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness.”

~ Kahlil Gibran

Chapter One, Episode 142 - A Letter to Lily - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Before reviewing an episode, I always look at the word count to see how much time I might need to set aside. This one looked like it may take some time. There were over 1200 words to go through. From the title I knew I would be reading Elizabeth's letter to her sister, but forgot that I had merely taken dictation from her. I did correct a couple of misspellings (don't tell on me), but didn't dare change anything else. 

A Letter to Lily

Some of us still write letters. ‘Snail mail’ is what people have called it since the postal pace was slowed by the advent of email. Mary Elizabeth Saunders, on Vancouver Island, and her sister Lily (Lillian Henrietta Saunders), in England, also part of an island, had been exchanging letters for many years. Friends and family alike had insisted that email was much better. Faster and easier, but the sisters liked to hand write their letters. Part of the ritual was folding the letter, whether one page or three pages, so it fit in an envelope. ‘Sealing with a kiss’ was what they each said when they licked the seal for the envelope. They missed each other but knew that their separate lives were right for each of them. Choosing a stamp - local flowers was the most popular and at Christmas and Easter, the stamps were poinsettias or lilies. For these two sisters, writing a letter was not just the words that they wrote but the care they took in creating a lovely little packet.

~~~~~

The kitchen was still awfully quiet. Martha and James had returned from their honeymoon and were catching up on how the household had managed without them. Martha did have time to tell Elizabeth, almost all the details of their honeymoon. Elizabeth was pretty certain sure she would get more interesting details as time went on but for now, she respected both Martha’s and James’ privacy. It was time to write a letter to her sister, Lily. She hadn’t written for a several weeks, since before the wedding in mid July. She had had one letter from her since, talking mostly about her new grandson who was growing fast. There wasn’t much else to tell except pandemic restrictions in England were not much different than on the Island.

Dearest Lily, 

Thank you for your last letter. It sounds like little Clayton is growing like a weed. Thank you for the new picture of Clayton with his proud grandpa. I was right about Charlie being all proud - the look on his face told it all. And you? Are you the proud and happy grandma I think you are? The two of you didn’t think you would have any grandchildren, but here you are with little Clayton. Babies come along when any of us least expects it.

You may not have much else to tell, but I can make up with all my news. My goodness, the changes around here almost makes my head spin. If it wasn’t for Samuel - I’ve told you about him before, he’s the gardener - I think I would be a little crazy by now. Martha and James are now Mr. and Mrs. When they got back from their little honeymoon, they just moved right into their cottage. They had it all ready - furniture, dishes, drapes, everything. Martha has a renter for her place - Brigitte Smithson - but I’ll tell you more about her later. I don’t know anything about what James is doing with his house - selling it or renting it. But, they did have a lovely, lovely wedding. Everything went perfectly, even the weather cooperated although if the rains had come down, Miss Emelina - that’s Mrs. Beaufort - said we’d move the whole wedding and reception to the Upstairs. Can you imagine that? Old Mrs.Beaufort never would have allowed ‘the help’ to get married on the front lawn and would have had a stroke letting the wedding be held in the Upstairs. She was such so strict about keeping the Upstairs and Downstairs separate. I’m sure glad that’s done with, thanks to Miss Emelina. 

There’s another change because of Miss Emelina. Remember me telling you about the young woman that was the upstairs cleaner and a kind of nursemaid to Miss Emelina when she was down so hard in her sadness? Miss Emelina has got so healthy that she has Brigitte Smithson - that’s the cleaner/nursemaid - be her Personal Secretary! So she hasn’t any time to clean properly. Lily, I went upstairs one day to put away some of the fancier china and there was dust on everything. The floor hadn’t been swept since I don’t know when. When I asked Brigitte about it, she was almost in tears about it. Well, I told her to ask Miss Emelina to hire someone to help her out. And she did! Those two always have their heads together about what I don’t know, but not long after, James (that’s Digby the butler) hired somebody. Seems Brigitte knew of a young man that needed a summer job. Only sixteen years old and the nicest young man you ever want to meet. And that’s not all - Joey Tucker’s his name - this young man heard Miss Emelina talking about a little garden and he asked if he could take care of it. So rides his bike the five miles out from Hartley, cleans all the upstairs spotless, has some lunch - I always make sure he eats a good lunch - and then goes out to the garden. He and Samuel get along just fine and Samuel teaches him all about gardening. Well, I’ll just bet you think that’s enough. Only a couple of days ago, Miss Dez - that’s Miss Emelina’s sister - needed help in the orchard. Some of the apples are ready to pick and she was all in tizzy about how she was going to do it all. Samuel just told her to ask if someone could be hired. And who do you think got the job? Joey. And his friend from town. They’ve got a lot to learn but, I’ll be getting apples more regular this year.

And the best thing I want to tell you is about Samuel. We’ve known each other for years and become good friends. I make sure he has a good lunch when he’s working so hard in the garden. All the vegetables he grows and brings me, he deserves a good meal. He comes up for coffee and a bite of cake in the middle of the morning. Starts out in that garden with the birds. Don’t know how he does it. One day, a long time ago, I noticed his shirt was missing a couple of buttons. I told him to give me the shirt and I’d fix it for him. I washed it and sewed new buttons on. I just told him to bring me his laundry and I’d do it while I was at work. I didn’t ask Digby or Martha if it was alright, but nobody has ever said anything about it so I just keep on. But that’s not the best thing. One evening - this was a few day after the wedding -  I was at home alone as usual and there was a knock at the door. Nobody ever comes to my door, so I got out my rolling pin and was ready to defend myself. But it was Samuel! He was all dressed up in his clothes from Martha and James' wedding and looking so good, I barely recognized him. He took me out for supper at the beach! We had hamburgers and sat and talked all evening.

This old Beaufort place I thought was on it’s last legs, has perked up and is busy, busy. That Covid virus has made life awful bad for a lot of people, but thanks be, we’ve not been touched except for some annoying restrictions, wearing some masks and keeping our hands clean. Lots better than what too many folks have to deal with. 

That’s about all, Lily. 

You and Charlie and that little grandson stay well,

And the rest of your family,

All my love,

Elizabeth

“Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.”

~ Lord Byron

Chapter One, Episode 45 - Cook's Letter to Lily - Situationally Theirs

June 20, 2020

Review, Edit and Update:

Letter writing is a dying art. I pen a lot of words, and once upon a time did write letters. Birthday cards, the kind you take to a party or dinner. So I enjoy writing Cook’s letters to Lily. Editing, while it may not a dying art, is dependent on time, commitment and too often, budgets. For this review, I went to my personal files as usual where I found so many problems in wording, spelling, punctuation that I had to read my actual posting from May 07, 2020. I breathed a sigh on relief to see that all those mistakes had not made it to my readers. Despite that, I did find three tiny little missteps in the posted episode that have been fixed.

Cook's Letter to Lily

The heart of any home and especially the kitchen is the Cook. Not the gleaming silver or dated avocado appliances. Not a kitchen decorated professionally or cobbled together with thrift store finds. It is the Cook. When a kitchen empties out, as it had been with Covid19 restrictions, the beat and rhythm settles into silence. Dez and Emmie had inhabited it for two weeks when they were in isolation. Anyone coming from a jail cell, and the person rescuing them, were to be isolated for the standard two week period. While the two women were in the empty kitchen, they only used the appliances as tools. Dez did make some delicious breakfasts, but a cook makes meals and snacks of all types and for any number of people. The maestro of a symphony of deliciousness.

Yes, in the Beaufort household, there is a paycheque attached to this very creative work. But Mary Elizabeth Saunders cooked because she loved cooking. She loved the chopping and peeling and arranging. She loved the aromas of the sizzling bacon, steamy bubbling of stew or soup and the yeasty breath work of bread rising, bread baking and fresh bread welcoming butter on the first slice. Mary Elizabeth Saunders loved cooking. At the Beaufort estate she had earned the title Cook.

There is one other thing that Cook loves, though. It’s a dying art that sputters along quite sporadically for many, but for Cook is as regular as clock work. She keeps pen and paper in her desk in the kitchen, just as the whisks and spoons in the kitchen drawer. When the roast is roasting or the bread is baking, when the soup is brewing or the stew was stewing, Cook would go to the desk for her other set of tools ~ pen and paper. Today, there was nothing on the big stove but the tea kettle for Cook's pot of tea. She brought it, her tea mug, a cookie and her writing tools to the long kitchen table and settled to write to Lily, her sister who lived 'across the pond' as Cook was fond of saying.

Dearest Lily,

I got your last letter telling me about your new grandson. Thank you for the photograph. He is the spitting image of his grandpa Charley. I’ll bet Charley is proud as punch! That dear little one’s hair is just like yours was when you were a baby. I loved the pictures mom always had of our baby pictures that she kept on the side table. You with your shock of black, black hair, and two years later, me with just a thin cap of barely brown hair. My hair didn’t grow in as thick as yours until I was three months old. Now it seems I’m starting to shed that hair! I suppose when you're pushing on through your sixties that kind of thing should be expected.

Do you remember me telling you about the two people that were hired here about the same time as I was? They started a bit earlier. Well, I do have some news about the two of them and neither of them know that I know that they’ve been making eyes at each other for years. In the last while, since we’ve all been isolated, it seems things have gotten a bit….how can I say this…..hotter. Well, they have been simmering long enough, Lily. But that’s not all that’s happened with the two of them. And at their age. I just shake my head. Now here’s the really interesting part. James - that’s Digby the butler.....his father had been the butler before him. Martha Haverstock, is the Housekeeper. The three of us have been here for, I don’t know 25 or 30 years.We’ve watched young Michael Beaufort grow up and watched him get married. There have been other family weddings on the lawn, pictures taken under the big redwood tree (did I send you a picture of that tree?) and all kinds of entertaining. I’ve been the cook for all of the gatherings. But I was telling you about James and Martha.

Wouldn’t you know it but James came to me the other day when I was in to inspect the kitchen and pantry. He looked real nervous and stood like a school boy over by our big table. We still have to keep our distances so I thought that’s what he was doing. He said we wanted to talk to me. So, I thought it was about the kitchen inspection I’d just done. But that wasn’t it. He was clasping and unclasping his hands, and James is always in control, he was so nervous. So I made a pot of tea and told him to sit down. I’ve never, ever told James to sit down. I may have invited him to but, no, this time I just told him. And he did! Just like he was afraid of me or something. I asked him if he would like some tea. Now I know James likes to have coffee, but it’s my kitchen and I had a pot of tea already. I thought he might like something a little stronger. You know that I’m not one for any alcohol, but I do use it when I’m cooking. I remembered our grandfather liked his cuppa, and once in a while he’d put just a tablespoon of rum in his tea. So I did the same for James. He didn't say anything one way or another. I've had rum in the back of the cupboard for the Christmas cakes I bake every year. I told Mrs. Beaufort if she wanted  something else for her parties she had to order it for herself. I thought she’d fire me when I dug in my heels. Lucky me, she didn’t. But I can’t abide having bottles of liquor cluttering up my kitchen.

Anyway, I was telling you about James. I’ve cooked a lot of lunches and dinners for a few or a lot. But I’ve never had a good looking man, looking real nervous, come to me and say - ‘Cook…Elizabeth….would you, please, make a picnic lunch for myself and one other person. A woman.” It’s a good thing he was sitting down. He might have fallen right over. So I said: “Why James Digby, are you asking me to go on a picnic with you and make the food for it?” Well, I was just teasing him because I knew who he was taking to this picnic. It's Martha - I’ve told you about Martha before. Well, he blushed and stuttered and stammered and said “No, I’m sorry Cook. It’s Martha.” Anyway, we had a good visit after that and he settled down. He didn’t know that food for this picnic would be no different than any other picnics, except that something chocolate would be for dessert. He said he wanted to have the picnic the same day as our Staff Meeting next week.  I'll let you know how everything goes.

Well, Lily, I guess I’ve talked your ear off again. Maybe some day you can come over here for a visit and meet everyone. I guess that would have to be when the pandemic is settled and all the restrictions are gone. Thanks for your letters, I love reading about what you are doing and I know you are all right.

You take care Lily and give my love to Charley,

Love you,

Mary Elizabeth

p.s. don’t forget to wash your hands

“Letters have to pass two tests before they can be classed a good: 

they must express the personality both of the writer and of the recipient.”

~ E.M.Forster

Chapter One, Episode 27 - A Letter Home ~Situationally Theirs

June 01, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Cook did most of the talking in A Letter Home to her sister, Lily in England. A lovely chatty letter, Cook did mention the shared experience of Covid19. Even as the real author of her letter, I really couldn’t alter too much in her letter. I did sneak in there and take out a space and one unnecessary word. Hope she doesn’t notice and please don’t tell on me.

A Letter Home

Cook didn’t care much for the monthly staff meetings that Digby insisted on, despite whether she was in the middle of preparing the evening meal or not. She was not pleased that she’d had to be away from her kitchen at the Beaufort mansion for these past two, going on three weeks. Stuck at home, only going out to her garden and talking to people over that FaceTime. Took me a long enough time to figure that one out and then it wasn’t as difficult at that new fangled microwave with all its buttons. At least, we haven’t had that nuisance of a staff meeting this month. Cook was in her own kitchen. She had a meat pie in the oven, potatoes out and ready to peel. From the drawer in her kitchen table, just like her mother’s old kitchen table, she pulled out a pad of writing paper and a pen. There was a pile of pens in the drawer but she liked the blue one best. The ink didn’t blob. She wrote a letter to her sister, Lily, in England every month. Sometimes more often, like today. It had only been two weeks since she last wrote, but time was growing long so she decided Lily needed to hear from her again. After all, she was as cooped up over here as over there. 

Cook had been christened Mary Elizabeth Saunders. Her sister, who was two years older, was christened Lillian Henrietta Saunders. Mary Elizabeth’s name was shortened to Lizzie by her high school chums. The boys were terrible to her. They teased her and called her Lizzie the Lizard because she had big green eyes that seemed to be looking in all directions. She would just laugh at them and tell them they’d better run because she just might turn into a giant lizard and squish them like ants. But then she grew up and insisted that she be called Elizabeth. She had always known she liked cooking. She and Lily had fights over who was going to cook supper or get lunch ready. Elizabeth always seemed to win. They each went to different colleges after high school. Elizabeth didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life. Becoming a cook, according to her parents and her teacher, was not a very lucrative career path for her. Never be able to pay the bills. So she pursued being a legal secretary. That’s where she developed a distaste for staff meetings. A distaste that had never left her. She was increasingly unhappy so left that job and the education that she was getting to go to work in a mom and pop restaurant. That’s where she really learned how to cook. They were very busy, just off a main highway. People came from far and wide for their sandwiches, hot main meals and homemade soups. Elizabeth was in her element. With the backing of her employers she went to Culinary School to hone her skills. Getting the job with old lady Beaufort had landed Elizabeth in a place that had only been in her dreams. To have her own kitchen with all the tools and toys she would ever want. It was there that she became Cook and had held that title ever since. Digby and Martha were fairly new employees at the time, so the three of them had become fast friends and had been with the Beaufort family well before young Michael married his beautiful Emelina. They had often, when they shared coffee after the evening meal, talked about what they could do, if they were ever asked, with the money that the Beauforts seemed to have in endless supply. But enough reminiscing. Cook needed to get her letter written and in the mail before 3pm.

Dear Lily, 

Hope you are still well. Your last letter was good news that you were negative for this virus. The days are getting long over here and I would just like to be back at Beaufort’s and get cooking again. I’ve done as much cooking here as possible, and have eaten too much of my own good cooking. Surprise. Surprise. Mrs. Beaufort and her sister got groceries for me! That Miss Priss has never done anything much for me in the past but sign my paycheque. I’m grateful for that and hope I don’t lose my job like so many other people have in town.  Because we all have had to be isolating for the last few weeks, I haven’t had to go to any of those unnecessary staff meetings I’ve told you about. Martha, the Housekeeper, tried to get me to keep ‘kitchen books’  but I fussed so about it that she decided we’d just talk about things. I want nothing to do with keeping books. You know that making soup, cooking meals and baking bread are the things a cook should be doing. I’m good at that, I know what I need and I know what isn’t necessary and when Martha and I have our little chats, I can tell her. 

Lily, did I ever tell you about why this place is run like some castle. I must have, I may never have written it down. Old Mrs. Beaufort was the one who tried to make this old house into something grander than it has ever been. Upstairs. Downstairs. I just think that’s about the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. But for some reason all that fooforal stuck, so I went along with it. As long as I could cook delicious food, Mrs Beaufort could have had us living like we were Martians. She had an Upstairs maid and a Downstairs maid, both of them really cleaners that kept the place clean and tidy. Years later when young Michael died, it was just easier for all of us to take care of Miss Emelina. She was so devastated and has been a mess ever since. And then there was the night that we left the mansion in a hurry. We all felt so bad, but were so scared about the virus that we all had our families to think of. That is except for Digby who lives alone and has never been married. We’re no spring chickens anymore and had to get to where we could be safe. If you’re getting bored reading all this - like if I’ve told you this a million times - but then I don’t have much more to talk about. Or you can just stop reading. But let me tell you about the miracle that happened and I know I haven’t told you this part of the story. Miss Emelina has a sister! The miracle was that her sister - what was her name? - Desperanze? - such an odd name - anyway, this was the miracle. Miss Emelina had to rescue her from some kind of trouble. They don’t talk about what that trouble was, so it must be something shameful. Still, this Desperanze seems an awfully nice person and Miss Emelina seems in better spirits than she’s been for a long time. And that’s since her sister has arrived. Well, I guess I’d better stop talking your ear off and mail this letter. I’ll be calling Martha this evening and see what she has to say about coming out of isolation.

Love you, Lily

Stay well and keep safe.

Your loving sister, Elizabeth

“Letter writing is the only device for 

combining solitude with good company.”

~ Lord Byron

A Long Overdue Letter to Santa Claus - 2nd Edition

I've received so many gifts this past year, one more beautiful than any material wish ~ my great granddaughter, Rylie Rose'Marie. She's five months old now! Finding this letter, still unmailed from last year, I was quite humbled. (I did take the opportunity to add a bit to my Santa letter for Rylie Rose.) Found this letter this morning! No envelope. No stamp. Maybe I’ll mail it next year? Anyway ~ it still holds true. My belief in Santa Claus, my knowledge that Christmas comes at any time and my Christmas wishes for each of you….Merry Christmas everyone!!

Dear Santa, 

I’m not sure I should be writing you this letter. It’s been over 60 years since the last time I wrote, but I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. Partly because it’s Christmas and your namesakes are all over the place. But partly because I miss Christmas morning and the brown stockings filled with nuts, candy and an orange in the toe. Did you really eat all the cookies and milk at everyone’s house? 

But that’s not what I wanted to ask about. I have everything I need and most things I want. But there is one thing that I have always wanted. It’s been a secret. I want a kitchen ~ a big kitchen. My own kitchen with all the gadgets I want. If I told you the truth, besides gadgets, I would like it to be a big kitchen. Two refrigerators - or one really big one. Two ovens, one at eye level and one an ordinary one. And a gas range. I want room for a table in the middle of my big kitchen. With big windows facing west on one side and east on the other side.

By the way, I have a great granddaughter now so when she's little bigger we'll be baking cookies and bread and lots of good things, so I'll also need a good sturdy stool for her to stand on, please and her own 'cooking corner'.

Well that’s all I want and really I don’t expect it. Not because I don’t think you couldn’t get it here in time, but I really don’t know what I’d do with all that space. I guess I just wanted to write  one more letter to you.

Your friend, Susan

P.s. Of course, there would need to be a corner for a window seat with book shelves lined with cookbooks and storybooks

P.P.S. And if it’s not too much to ask, I’d need just a little cottage complete with a writing room with a roll top desk and a child's table and chair.

P.P.P.S. Would it be lacking wisdom if I asked for a weekly maid service…..and a garden for vegetables and flowers? (Complete with a set of child's garden tools)

“Only now have you lived long enough 

to know the child that you shall always remain.”

~ Martin I. Green, Santa: My Life and Times