Letters from Ava, Part 1: 11.25.1969

When my mother passed in 2018, I inherited notes, letters, news clippings — a veritable family history. It’s been years for sure, but I’ve always wanted to document some of that history, and celebrate an era when people wrote letters back and forth.

My grandmother, Ava Caldwell, died in 1986, the same day that comedic actor Ted Knight died. That’s how I remember the date. I never referred to her as grandma or grandmother, nana, mimi, or any of it.

She was Ava.

Also, I only met her twice, once when I was 2 years old and again when I was 7 or 8. We didn’t travel much, and the one time we went to Marysville, Ohio, as a family, we drove.

However, my mom loved her “mommy,” and they were very close, even though they didn’t see each other but twice in the 16 years of my life before Ava died. So, I share these with honor and with curiosity. The letters span the years from 1964, when my folks got married, to 1986, when Ava passed.

For what it’s worth, I asked my brothers where I should start—and the reaction was that I should pick one at random, so I did. The letter is from November 25, 1969, and I should note that I was born 10 months later.

Also, November 25 was the day after Apollo 12 returned to Earth after traveling to the moon.

Here goes the first post in my series called ‘Letters from Ava.’

Dear Mary & Bill,

It was so nice talking to you. Do hope you are O.K. How is Bill getting along, fine I hope.

Shirley is off today and Tuesday. She came and took me uptown to pay my gas. I also got paint for my kitchen. It is pale green. I will do it myself a little at a time.

Got a letter from Gene today. He has 36 days to go yet, said he has got a clean bill of health from the government, outside of teeth and glasses. Is Bill able to step up on his feet yet?

We are having better weather here. On Sunday, it was a drizzle all day but not cold. Today is nice out, warmer tomorrow. I hope it stays nice so I can get my kitchen cleaned. I put it off as I thought the boys were going to do it. It won’t take me long.

Gene Harbold got me two 9×12 rugs at sale close to where they live. I wanted them to take best out for my kitchen. If I keep the floor warm, I don’t have so much trouble with my arthritis, but it isn’t giving me too much trouble right now.

I want to get up early in the morning and get some paint on. Don’t worry; it might be good for me, loosen up my joints.

Saturday is Betty’s birthday, 42 — my family is getting older on all of them.

Christmas is right around the corner, and everything is sky high.

I am glad the men made it back from the moon. I have trouble going up town.

I was invited to Jim’s for Thanksgiving, but I told him I would stay home. Shirley wants me to go eat supper with them. She has to work, but I doubt if I go. The less I eat, the better I feel. I go overboard sometimes if it is something I like. I can have turkey as I have a can.

Well, honey, I finally got some clippings out, so better get them ready. Write when you can and love to both. Shirley sends her love. She is thin, works too hard.

Bye for now.

Love,
Mother

I can’t see very good, so I better quit

***

As I recall, these letters were one idea, one thought after another. It reflects a much simpler time in the world, for sure, and the line about painting and taking her time doing so was something my mom would do. She’d paint a room over the course of several days, taking her sweet time along the way.

Both my mother and Ava had bad, terrible hand-deforming arthritis, causing lots of pain after the age of 60 or so. And Ava suffered from glaucoma, which explains the reference to her eyesight, but as I remember, they didn’t figure out that she had glaucoma until her 80s. Ava died at the age of 92.

In case you’re interested, here are the clippings that were included in the letter, all from the Marysville Journal-Tribune.