A Gift From A Book by Eileen O'Finlan

             

 

                                     

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I grew up hearing lots of family stories from my mom about her youth in Bennington, Vermont. She often spoke fondly of a neighbor named Carleton Carpenter. She was very close friends with him when they were kids in the 1930s and '40s. After high school they went their separate ways - she to college, then a teaching career, marriage and family and he to New York and later Hollywood to act on Broadway and in movies. If you don't recognize his name, you will certainly remember his famous co-star Debbie Reynolds with whom he appeared in several movies.

About seven or eight years ago, 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 so I purchased a copy for my mom knowing that she would be interested in reading about the life and career of her old friend.

I got to thinking how great it would be if I could reconnect these two childhood friends now both in their nineties. It took some doing, but I finally managed to track down an address for Mr. Carpenter and wrote to him explaining who I was and why I was writing. I didn't tell my mom that I was doing this. I didn't want to disappoint her if it didn't work out.

Before long, I got a letter back. Well, two letters actually. He wrote one to me thanking me for contacting him and another letter to my mom. I'll never forget how surprised and delighted she was when I explained what I'd done and gave his letter to her. He also included his phone number. So began the renewal of an old friendship through letters and phone calls in which they caught each other up on all that had happened in each of their lives during the decades since they'd last seen each other.

Carleton Carpenter passed away on January 1, 2022. By then my mom was in a nursing home due to Alzheimer's Disease. I chose not to tell her since she spent most of her time living in her childhood and to her, he was once again her neighbor and playmate. Mom passed away in December of 2023.

Recently, while looking through my book collection, I came across the copy of The Absolute Joy of Work that I'd bought for my mom and decided to read it. The first part of the book is about his childhood in Bennington, Vermont. Mom had underlined the names of people and places that, obviously, she remembered from her own childhood there. 

Reading this part of the book was not only interesting in and of itself, but it also gave me an added connection to my mom. I love the stories she told of growing up in Vermont. I've been trying to keep them alive in my memory. My mom had a fascinating life and I would like to fictionalize her reminiscences for a future novel. She was the last of her siblings to pass so there is no one left to ask about that time and place. I must rely on only what I remember her telling me. 

Seeing the places in the book that my mom had marked have added to my cache of knowledge about the time and place of their childhoods. It was an unexpected gift as I felt as though Mom was speaking to me again, telling me more about her stories, sharing more details of her past, and letting me know that she's never truly gone from my life.

I consider books among the greatest gifts in life. Sometimes, they bestow their treasures in the most unexpected ways.

 

The Importance of Family Stories by Eileen O'Finlan

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On February 25, 2022 my Aunt Joan passed away. She was 88 and had been living in a nursing home in Vermont for years while her Alzheimer's progressed. A few days before her passing, she fell and broke her hip. Her condition made it impossible to operate as she would not have lived through the surgery so the only option was to keep her comfortable. On the evening of the 25th, she died peacefully in her sleep.

My aunt's passing means that out of a family of seven kids, my mom is the only one left. She, too, is in a nursing home. At 95 and stricken with dementia, she is unable to comprehend that she has lost her last sibling. Knowing this, we have made the decision not to tell her. The necessity of that decision made all the more profound for me the wealth of family lore that is now gone. I know many of the family stories, but until I no longer had anyone to ask, I didn't realize how many questions I have about them. For years, we'd been asking my mom to record her memories. She'd always promised to do so, but somehow never got around to it. Now it's too late.

Family stories are important. They tell of a shared past, of lives lived, relationships built and cherished, sorrows endured and shared, and joys celebrated. They express the things that were important to a family. Pay attention to the stories that get handed down, told repeatedly. Commit them to memory or, better yet, write them down. And ask all the questions you can think of while you still can.

I remember one day when my mom and I were washing dishes together. She was in a reminiscing mood so I heard all about the time when she was thirteen years old and her mother was hospitalized for weeks with a serious illness caused by drinking contaminated raw milk. As the second-to-oldest child and the oldest girl, it fell to her to run the household and care for her younger siblings while her mother was in the hospital and her father was working. This story was told to me only a few years before her dementia progressed to the point where she had to go to a nursing home, but unlike many family stories it was the first time I'd ever heard it. She also regailed me with details of how she and her mother worked in a factory together during World War II. They were working on a project for the U.S. Navy, but each group of women was making a different part and none of them ever knew what it was they were building. I thought about how many of the events from my mom's life would make great stories, but I have so many questions. I've no doubt a lot of them will find their way into my future novels, but I so wish I had the opportunity to ask all the questions that come to me now when I ruminate on them.

My aunt's passing and the inevitable day when my mom follows her, signals the end of an era in our family. But the stories will live on as best as we can continue to share them. No doubt we'll add new ones of our own for future generations. I hope they ask a lot of questions.

Rest in Peace, Aunt Joan