Those 70ish Girls

“I’M MELTING, MELTING, MELTING” By Valerie Halla

I like the old Judy Garland movie THE WIZARD OF OZ because it’s iconic, especially the part where the wicked witch has water thrown on her and melts away. Don’t you wish our troubles and problems could be that easy to eliminate? I feel like I, too, am gradually melting away. Sometimes I feel like a slew of problems hit me all at once. My plate is full and I can’t eat fast enough, however, don’t throw water on me yet.

I know at 70ish my brain is definitely diminishing. I forget stuff you may have mentioned to me, but I still like hearing old stories from family members and sharing in memories that pop up once in a while. I don’t forget those, the old things. The present isn’t as much fun. Some memories play over and over again in my shrinking brain. I love them. Maybe I have dementia or beginnings of the dreaded “A” word disease. It’s all right though, because my cousin says you meet the nicest people if you get altzheimers. “What did you say your name was ?”

Recently I couldn’t recall the name of the Sanderson Family dog when they lived on the farm outside Murdo in the 1920’s and ‘30’s. My Mom used to talk about that dog getting bit by a rattlesnake and suffering. The poor dog was ill and swollen with the venom. This sad suffering canine creature was lying under their farmhouse porch for days, then eventually recovered miraculously. So that thought led to another thought like cards placed one after the other, in order when playing solitaire. It brought me to my next card, through a feeble fading memory. I recalled the letters my Aunt Helen wrote religiously to my Mom. She would write long letters in her utterly beautiful artistic cursive to my mom. They were loving sisters. They wrote lots of them. Letters were a big deal to their generation. They cherished each written word.

I was lucky to get to read some of the sister’s letters when my Mother lived with us for the last five years of her life. Aunt Helen would always ask my mom in her letters if she remembered the name of the mule their brother, Uncle Wayne, rode into town from the farm to school. We answered every time that we couldn’t think of that dang mule’s name, but Aunt Helen would continue to ask in each subsequent lovely letter. That reminded me that I couldn’t remember their family dog’s name either! I was in the same boat as Aunt Helen and it was maybe named the Titanic. I was sinking fast. Simple animal names escaped us both. Did we ever discover the mule’s name? I don’t think so.

I’m fortunate to have some cousins who follow our Sanderson family history and know the farm dog’s name. I guessed it was Shep. I’ll have to see if I’m right. That card hasn’t been turned over yet.

Letters play a big part in our family past. I remember Grandma Sanderson writing letters to my mom and asking how I was doing as a child. My name was long and so Grandma simply wrote, “How is VJ doing?” She always kept us abreast of what was happening in Murdo during her time there.

Each of my aunts had their own styles of writing. Aunt Loretta usually typed her letters which were short and oftentimes written on postcards and small scraps of paper. My mom and Aunt Loretta would also swap letters they had received from other family members. These were like jewels to them and pictures that were enclosed were like diamonds. They would send these letters and photos back and forth although I think Aunt Loretta preferred the telephone.

Aunt Elna wrote in a small hand cramped style cursive. She wrote in cards mostly. She would cram as much as she could into the message even writing along the edges of the text. She might write on the backs of the cards also using every space available. She reported exactly where she had gone, maybe shopping, or uptown to stop in Mack’s Cafe or maybe out to the Hills for a quick vacation with Uncle Jerry. You knew who went and what they did in detail. You got the full scoop as if you were there. She should’ve been a reporter for the Murdo Coyote. “A good time was had by all.”

Looking back, maybe I’m not diminishing at all. Maybe though the people who shaped my childhood and memories are gone, my life is still growing. I keep moving forward. No one has thrown water on me yet. But then Halloween is right around the corner.