it’s only a 1/2 hours run from our place Long Beach. I haven’t saw Joe in some time. The last time he was up I brought him to aunt Marys uncles Pat and Mikes and aunt Emilys to all of his relativis here in Nassau County
.
‘In your letter Ellie you say you were knocked about a bit, how come, in moving about. Cornelia is working – typist and stenographer. Jack is away. Cornelia and Euphemia, we seem quite lonesome today, I cleaned my desk and found your last letter Mary and I received Holy Communion this morning. We often hear from Emily. I and aunt Mary just send her 1 Pound each – she never complains, but says only for us would have to put the children away. she certainly seems very grateful, in a few years the children will be able to help her a little. You asked how Joes boy was. I believe Ellie there is no improvement. I am glad to learn you have your own home –
that’s Brighton Gardens. Maybe the letters had been sent tothe wrong address –
it adds so much to life, give our love to Jim, thank you for the invatation to Ireland, some day, if we live, in many years to come we might possibly pay you a visit. but not for a long while yet as our children are so young, would wonderfully like to, write soon, always glad to hear from you, with love and best wishes from all to all your sister and brother – Mary and John
.
‘Connie, Jack and Bob lived in Hempstead. My other cousin, Phemie – Mrs Seaman – lived further up Long Island, in Stoney Brook, which looked like a Hollywood-style village. Her kindergarten lessons in deportment hadn’t been wasted on her; she was a tall, slim woman who held herself very well. We were shown the greatest love and affection. We were wined and dined * and, I’d swear, if the fatted calf had appeared, he would have ended up in the oven. I felt that the void created by my mother’s death had almost been filled. I didn’t feel like I was going home, meeting these people, but I suppose I was closing a chapter. The one unfortunate part of it was that my mother’s sisters, Mary, Connie’s mother, and Emily, who had been living in Arklow, † had died only a few years previously. If I’d just been that little bit sooner, I could have met them. And Mary had actually visited Emily in Arklow. So that was a pity. But, at least, I got my own generation.
‘I came home to Ireland in a high state of delight. While nothing could make up for the loss of my mother, I felt I knew the type of person she’d been, as mirroredby all her relations. From that time on, we corresponded regularly. Connie wrote long, newsy, witty letters –
Dearest Ita – my lovely cousin –
and I answered in my own style. Jack visited us on three occasions. Bob and his wife, Jean, came over. Aunt Emily’s granddaughter, Breda Key, who lives in Toronto, also visited us a few times.’
The fifth letter is dated February 14th, 1929, exactly eight years after the first. It is handwritten, in black ink, on John Beekman’s own headed notepaper; ‘John J. Beekman’. The words ‘You Always Need Insurance’ are above the name, and ‘estb. 1908’ below it. There is a phone number, ‘Phone 2693-W’, in the top left-hand corner. Four services are listed below the name, two on each side of the paper; ‘Fire and Auto Insurance’ and ‘Real Estate’ on the left; ‘Mortgage Loans’ and ‘Notary Public’ on the right. There is no address. The day and month are handwritten. The first three numbers of the year – 192 – are printed; the ‘9’ is done by hand.
‘Dearest Sister Ellie – Was mighty glad to hear from you and learn you were all in good health, after all, that is the greatest blessing as far as worldly blessings go
.
‘You spoke of the flu, well Mary had it and Pneumonia was real bad, but was spared to us Thank God, she is mending but her heart is yet weak and will be for some time –
my mother died a month later, of pneumonia –
it’s been an extremely mild winter here. but I see Europe
.
‘In your letter Ellie you say you were knocked about a bit, how come, in moving about. Cornelia is working – typist and stenographer. Jack is away. Cornelia and Euphemia, we seem quite lonesome today, I cleaned my desk and found your last letter Mary and I received Holy Communion this morning. We often hear from Emily. I and aunt Mary just send her 1 Pound each – she never complains, but says only for us would have to put the children away. she certainly seems very grateful, in a few years the children will be able to help her a little. You asked how Joes boy was. I believe Ellie there is no improvement. I am glad to learn you have your own home –
that’s Brighton Gardens. Maybe the letters had been sent tothe wrong address –
it adds so much to life, give our love to Jim, thank you for the invatation to Ireland, some day, if we live, in many years to come we might possibly pay you a visit. but not for a long while yet as our children are so young, would wonderfully like to, write soon, always glad to hear from you, with love and best wishes from all to all your sister and brother – Mary and John
.
‘Connie, Jack and Bob lived in Hempstead. My other cousin, Phemie – Mrs Seaman – lived further up Long Island, in Stoney Brook, which looked like a Hollywood-style village. Her kindergarten lessons in deportment hadn’t been wasted on her; she was a tall, slim woman who held herself very well. We were shown the greatest love and affection. We were wined and dined * and, I’d swear, if the fatted calf had appeared, he would have ended up in the oven. I felt that the void created by my mother’s death had almost been filled. I didn’t feel like I was going home, meeting these people, but I suppose I was closing a chapter. The one unfortunate part of it was that my mother’s sisters, Mary, Connie’s mother, and Emily, who had been living in Arklow, † had died only a few years previously. If I’d just been that little bit sooner, I could have met them. And Mary had actually visited Emily in Arklow. So that was a pity. But, at least, I got my own generation.
‘I came home to Ireland in a high state of delight. While nothing could make up for the loss of my mother, I felt I knew the type of person she’d been, as mirroredby all her relations. From that time on, we corresponded regularly. Connie wrote long, newsy, witty letters –
Dearest Ita – my lovely cousin –
and I answered in my own style. Jack visited us on three occasions. Bob and his wife, Jean, came over. Aunt Emily’s granddaughter, Breda Key, who lives in Toronto, also visited us a few times.’
The fifth letter is dated February 14th, 1929, exactly eight years after the first. It is handwritten, in black ink, on John Beekman’s own headed notepaper; ‘John J. Beekman’. The words ‘You Always Need Insurance’ are above the name, and ‘estb. 1908’ below it. There is a phone number, ‘Phone 2693-W’, in the top left-hand corner. Four services are listed below the name, two on each side of the paper; ‘Fire and Auto Insurance’ and ‘Real Estate’ on the left; ‘Mortgage Loans’ and ‘Notary Public’ on the right. There is no address. The day and month are handwritten. The first three numbers of the year – 192 – are printed; the ‘9’ is done by hand.
‘Dearest Sister Ellie – Was mighty glad to hear from you and learn you were all in good health, after all, that is the greatest blessing as far as worldly blessings go
.
‘You spoke of the flu, well Mary had it and Pneumonia was real bad, but was spared to us Thank God, she is mending but her heart is yet weak and will be for some time –
my mother died a month later, of pneumonia –
it’s been an extremely mild winter here. but I see Europe
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