the rain. There is an eagerness for spring in their blood: farewell to woollen underwear, to overshoes and scratchy leggings. I understand and remember feeling the same way at this time of year. For me, it is now goodbye, at least for a few months, to shovelling coal into that damn furnace.
A letter from Nora today, which I began to answer before supper, but then Marion came by to ask me to go down to Toronto with her next Saturday and see a movie or something. Now that I no longer have the furnace to worry about, I can get away and so I said I would.
After supper the sky cleared and it was such a fine evening that I walked out along the township roads and didn’t get home until after dark. I will drop Nora a note in a few days.
Whitfield, Ontario
Sunday, March 31, 1935
Dear Nora,
Well, you are leading quite the busy life down there, aren’t you? And yes, I do get your meaning with reference to Miss Dowling. I may live in an Ontario backwater, Nora, but I do understand lesbianism. As a matter of fact, I had my own experience with it when I was in Normal School. A girl there “took an interest” in me. She was always seeking me out after classes, touching me on the arm or shoulder as we spoke,asking me to come home with her for the weekend. I think her parents lived in Belleville. Many of the other girls had boyfriends who would meet them after classes, and perhaps this girl assumed that because I had no beau I was like her. She was a nice young woman too, but it took a bit of doing to persuade her that I was not interested in that kind of friendship. She didn’t finish her year, but went into nursing. Used to send me Christmas cards for a few years. These situations can be difficult! I liked that girl very much as a person, just as you like your Miss Dowling. You just
have to use tact and judgement and hope the other person understands. I was a little too impatient with that girl, I think. Let Miss D. down gently if you can. As for the tall, dark, handsome (and married) announcer, better leave well enough alone, Nora. A good-looking man like that out on the town without his wife? I can well imagine his intentions, and so can you.
I am glad to learn that you are still going to church, but I’m afraid it has become a thing of the past for me. Yes, it’s a morning out of the house once a week, and I am sure that’s how many people see it, but if I go to church, it has to be for a reason. I have to go to worship God, and, to put it as plainly as I can, I have lost my faith. It happened this winter. Perhaps it’s been happening for some time in small ways, but one Sunday in February, it came with a kind of finality. I just stopped believing. My faith was like a clock winding down until that particular Sunday when it just stopped. So now I can no longer go to church and just sit there pretending to believe. I just can’t do that. To tell you the truth, I feel a little sick about it all. I have to learn to live in a world without God, without the thought of ever seeing Mother and Father again — without any of that. And it’s difficult.
I was down to the city yesterday. I can finally get away now that I don’t have to worry about the furnace. So Marion and I went down on the train for the day. Splurged on lunch at Simpson’s and went to an awful moving picture starring Rudy Vallee. Marion is besotted with the man; otherwise she is a reasonable sane thirty-one-year-old woman. She has been asked to sing at Mildred Craig’s wedding nextmonth and asked me if I would play for her. I suppose I will, though I am tormenting her a little (for taking me to that awful movie) by telling her I’ll think about it. Yes, it’s mild up here too and about time. So hurrah for spring! Take care of yourself, Nora.
Clara
Tatham House
138 East 38th Street
New York
April 6, 1935
Dear Clara,
Got your letter yesterday and thought I’d better drop you a note today because I won’t have time tomorrow. I’m going to spend most of
A letter from Nora today, which I began to answer before supper, but then Marion came by to ask me to go down to Toronto with her next Saturday and see a movie or something. Now that I no longer have the furnace to worry about, I can get away and so I said I would.
After supper the sky cleared and it was such a fine evening that I walked out along the township roads and didn’t get home until after dark. I will drop Nora a note in a few days.
Whitfield, Ontario
Sunday, March 31, 1935
Dear Nora,
Well, you are leading quite the busy life down there, aren’t you? And yes, I do get your meaning with reference to Miss Dowling. I may live in an Ontario backwater, Nora, but I do understand lesbianism. As a matter of fact, I had my own experience with it when I was in Normal School. A girl there “took an interest” in me. She was always seeking me out after classes, touching me on the arm or shoulder as we spoke,asking me to come home with her for the weekend. I think her parents lived in Belleville. Many of the other girls had boyfriends who would meet them after classes, and perhaps this girl assumed that because I had no beau I was like her. She was a nice young woman too, but it took a bit of doing to persuade her that I was not interested in that kind of friendship. She didn’t finish her year, but went into nursing. Used to send me Christmas cards for a few years. These situations can be difficult! I liked that girl very much as a person, just as you like your Miss Dowling. You just
have to use tact and judgement and hope the other person understands. I was a little too impatient with that girl, I think. Let Miss D. down gently if you can. As for the tall, dark, handsome (and married) announcer, better leave well enough alone, Nora. A good-looking man like that out on the town without his wife? I can well imagine his intentions, and so can you.
I am glad to learn that you are still going to church, but I’m afraid it has become a thing of the past for me. Yes, it’s a morning out of the house once a week, and I am sure that’s how many people see it, but if I go to church, it has to be for a reason. I have to go to worship God, and, to put it as plainly as I can, I have lost my faith. It happened this winter. Perhaps it’s been happening for some time in small ways, but one Sunday in February, it came with a kind of finality. I just stopped believing. My faith was like a clock winding down until that particular Sunday when it just stopped. So now I can no longer go to church and just sit there pretending to believe. I just can’t do that. To tell you the truth, I feel a little sick about it all. I have to learn to live in a world without God, without the thought of ever seeing Mother and Father again — without any of that. And it’s difficult.
I was down to the city yesterday. I can finally get away now that I don’t have to worry about the furnace. So Marion and I went down on the train for the day. Splurged on lunch at Simpson’s and went to an awful moving picture starring Rudy Vallee. Marion is besotted with the man; otherwise she is a reasonable sane thirty-one-year-old woman. She has been asked to sing at Mildred Craig’s wedding nextmonth and asked me if I would play for her. I suppose I will, though I am tormenting her a little (for taking me to that awful movie) by telling her I’ll think about it. Yes, it’s mild up here too and about time. So hurrah for spring! Take care of yourself, Nora.
Clara
Tatham House
138 East 38th Street
New York
April 6, 1935
Dear Clara,
Got your letter yesterday and thought I’d better drop you a note today because I won’t have time tomorrow. I’m going to spend most of
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