The Unexpected Gift Inside a Book by Eileen O'Finlan

 

                        

                                           

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I grew up hearing family stories and reminiscences from both of my parents, especially my mom. She told many of them so often I eventually knew them by heart. My mom often spoke of her old friend, Carleton Carpenter. They grew up together in Bennington, Vermont. She talked about how close they were as youngsters and the many things they did together growing up in the 1920s and '30s. She would reminisce about how Carleton used to write plays and get all the kids in the neighborhood together to put them on, directing everyone with authority. This is no surprise when you realize that he went on to act on Broadway and in several movies, often playing opposite Debbie Reynolds.

One day, several years ago, when my mom (and Carleton who was the same age) were in their 90s, I found out that Carleton Carpenter had written a memoir called The Absolute Joy of Work: From Vermont, to Broadway, Hollywood, and Damn 'Near Round the World. I bought a copy for Mom which she loved. 

Then I got the idea of trying to see if I could reconnect these two old friends. They'd lost touch after high school so it was a longshot but worth a try. It took a while, but I finally tracked him down and got an address. He was living in New York. I wrote to him, explained who I was, and hoped he'd remember my mom. He was, after all, in his 90s, and I had no idea what he might or might not remember. I was so excited when I got a letter back from him saying that he certainly did remember his old friend, Barbara, and was so glad that I had contacted him. He included a letter for my mom in the envelope. I don't know who was more delighted, Mom or me!

I had given Mr. Carpenter our phone number in the letter I sent to him and he put his in the letters he sent to us. I set up a date and time with him to call my mom. After that call, she spent the day looking like she was in a blissful daze. She just couldn't get over the fact that she had been reconnected with a dear old friend who she hadn't seen or heard from in over 70 years. They continued to write to each other and talk on the phone frequently. She caught him up on her life, who she'd married, her kids, where she'd worked and lived. And he told her all about her acting career and his close friendship with Debbie Reynolds and how sad he was at her recent passing.

It was only a few years later that Mom slipped so suddenly and deeply into dementia that she had to be moved to a nursing home. I learned that Carleton Carpenter passed away on January 31, 2022. I chose not to tell Mom because by then she thought she was living in Vermont and he was her neighbor. It would only confuse and upset her. Mom passed away almost one year later.

Recently, I came across Mom's copy of the memoir he'd written and decided to read it. It begins with his childhood in Vermont. As I read, I noticed that Mom had underlined the names of several people and places he mentioned. Obviously, these were people and places she remembered. Now, as I read it, I imagine what it must have been like for her to read that book and be taken back to her childhood and the happy days she spent with Carleton and their friends and neighbors in Bennington.

I have also found that it is a gift for me because I feel as though through the underlined passages she is pointing things out to me, once again telling me her stories and sharing her childhood with me. I am so glad I found this book and decided to read it. I had thought that there was no way I could ever have that experience again and yet, here it is. I've always found books to be a great gift, but this one has given more than I could have hoped for in a way I never would have expected.

 

  

 

Tombstones Tell A Story by Eileen O'Finlan

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My mom will be 93 in October. Feeling her abilities diminishing, she decided she wanted one last trip to her hometown of Bennington, Vermont. So in August we made the three hour drive north for a long weekend. There were several places Mom especially wanted to visit – places that had meaning to her from her youth – the town library, her old high school, the clock in the town center, the former Hotel Putnam that, among other things, once housed her uncle’s pharmacy, and the Old First Church. She also wanted to visit the graves of her parents, brothers, and other relatives.

I’ve always had a fascination for cemeteries so the burying grounds are of particular interest to me. Depending on their age and condition, they may be creepy, haunting, peaceful, or beautiful. In any case, they draw me in. The tombstones themselves are a special source of beguilement. I love studying about the correlation between the change in tombstone engravings and the layout of cemeteries and the changes in societal views of death and the afterlife between the 17^th and 19^th centuries. These are most fully on display when a cemetery spans centuries as does the one at the Old First Church.

There is much more to read in a tombstone than just the inscription. The shape, size, and substance of the stone and the images engraved on them give powerful hints as to their age and the outlook of those buried beneath them.

In our Bennington travels we visited two final resting places. One was the burying ground owned by and adjacent to the Old First Church. The Church’s congregation was first organized in 1762 and the current church was built in 1805. Its extensive burial grounds are the interment site of soldiers from the American Revolutionary War, both American and British, as well as Bennington’s earliest mayors, Vermont’s early governors, and other prominent citizens.

In one section, the four sides of a stone pillar tell the stories of the burying ground’s Revolutionary era inhabitants.

One side of pillar honoring Revolutionary soldiers buried here

American Soldiers believed buried in Old First Church burying grounds

Hessian (Brunswick) Soldiers believed buried in Old First Church Burying Ground

David Redding - Executed Loyalist

Details regarding Redding's Execution

It is also the final resting place of the great poet, Robert Frost and many of his family members. Fittingly, an elegant birch tree stands watch by his grave. Visitors are invited to reflect on our attitudes about death through the medium his poem, “In A Disused Graveyard”.

Grave site of Robert Frost and Family Members

Mom and my cousin, Patty, reflect near the birch tree at Robert Frost's Grave

Frost's Poem "In A Disused Graveyard"

Closer to our own time period, was our stop at Park Lawn Cemetery where my grandparents, uncles, and other relatives are buried. Compared with older tombstones, I find the more modern ones a bit boring – no disrespect to the dead intended. It’s just that most contain a name, dates of birth and death, and not much else. Unless one expends an enormous amount of money, it’s likely the only viable option, so I quite understand. It’s just that it feels cold and uninteresting to me. However, I did see one grave marker in this cemetery that told a compelling story. It is pictured below.

Grave Marker of William Halford Maguire

The inscription reads:

William Halford Maguire

1911 – 1945

Lt. Col. U.S. Army

West Point ‘32

Chief of Staff, Davao, Mindanao, P.I. when Japan attacked, 1941

Japanese prisoner of War 2 ½ years.

Survivor of three shipwrecks

Subjected to extreme brutality of Japanese captors.

Died Feb. 9, 1945 in Tokyo, Japan, weighing less than 59 pounds

Among awards: Silver Star and Legion of Merit

1933 – Married Ruth Felder, San Antonio, TX.

Children: Mollie Maguire Qvale

William Halford Maguire, Jr.

Imagine all the inspiration for a story to be gleaned from this one grave marker!

As it happens, I am able to add a bit to this story as the above marks the grave of my mother’s cousin. Hal, as she knew him, was captured and forced to walk the torturous Bataan Death March. The fact that he had dwindled to 59 pounds is astonishing in any case, but even more so when one learns that he was well over six feet tall.

Mom remembers Hal as a good-natured fellow whose company she enjoyed. Beyond the grave marker and the little my mom has been able to add, I know nothing about Hal or his life and death. Though it would have to be highly fictionalized, his story is certainly one worth telling.

As writers, we never know when inspiration will strike. Often it comes from the most unexpected places. But if you let the tombstones talk to you, you may come away with the bones of great story. All the better, perhaps, if the story is that of a person who resides in your heart and memory or that of a loved one.