I live vicariously through you, my friend. And more importantly, I love you.
Okay, I do digress. Back to the matter at hand—or no longer at hand I should say. I still have a network of friends in the medical community and could have helped you find a trusted and competent doctor. I’m just glad you managed that on your own, and although you’re sorry word got round to me, I’m not. Would you have even told me if I hadn’t stumbled on your name at the hospital? So, stop being so ridiculous and come visit us, to relax and recoup.
I do have to warn you, Robert is quite upset. He isn’t saying much. In fact, he won’t speak to me at all about you. I can only imagine he’s actually worried and not angry that you did not confide in us from the beginning. He would have helped you, you know. He’s one of your biggest fans, dear Tilly. I am again in awe of my darling husband for the deep feelings he abides. You two have something special that started before I ever entered the picture. He cares deeply for you.
Don’t let the summer get away without lying on this lovely beach. When the hospital offered their occasional staffers a chance for the summer off, I couldn’t refuse. I’ll not set foot in the hot city until September, so you must get here. Although, I can guess that Robert will have to make several trips back and will wait upon you. I think he’ll want to check on you. You know how men are, my man anyway.
Write soon. Much love,
Amanda
July 5, 1956
Dear Tilly,
You missed an amazing fourth. Amanda kept asking where Auntie Tilly was.
You’re not going to visit this summer are you?
I do understand your involvement with your circle of friends, so intrinsic to your budding writing career, keeps you occupied, but I fear there is more to your absence. Maybe you think we’ve grown staid and bought in to the materialism and consumer culture the way the rest of America has? You should know me better than that. My motherhood, part time working and husband tending may keep me out of the current, but I’ve not changed so very much. We’ve been like-minded, you and me, from the moment we met at the first annual Midnight Poetry reading. That was my first date with Robert, if you remember. He introduced you as his best friend. Little did we know we’d be the Three Musketeers from there forward—only two of them didn’t fall in love and marry like two of our threesome.
I’m hungry for news on the latest jazz ensemble you’ve discovered. I’ll gladly listen to your work in progress and give you honest feedback. Come visit me, Tilly. This will prove to be a beautiful summer, and although I do get a bit bored with no intellectual or cultural activity, there is much enjoyment in taking a break to reflect inwardly.
Robert told me not to nag you. He seems to think you need time alone. Now, that is funny. Since when has our Tilly cried, “I want to be alone!” I do hope I’m not being crass, but I think I can understand you better than he does in this instance. Your predicament a couple of months ago will be long gone from your psyche. His sentiments are harking back to that. He seems to be having trouble letting go of the incident, and I have no doubt you are past it. For what reason he’s haunted, I do not know, but he is. He’s a sweet, caring soul.
Speaking of Robert, he’s not made a run for the city since we’ve been here. He bought Amanda a transistor radio and has great fun teasing her about listening to Elvis. They romp in the surf everyday, and then go for an ice cream cone at Culver Soda Fountain. He seems a bit distracted now and then, but he’s lavishing so much attention on Amanda that I don’t wonder if he’s reflecting on how fast she’s growing up. You haven’t seen her in months and will be surprised how tall she’s grown.
In spite of Robert’s pensive moments, he’s been quite affectionate. Or should I say more than normal. I can’t really write about that, now can I?
I do have to tell you, he was quite comical yesterday. We all do a great deal of reading on these long summer days. Robert noticed Mother reading T. S. Elliot and sputtered to me at length. He railed on about how since my mother found Elliot good reading material, it only proves what an elitist he is, and how removed his writing is from real life. Poor Mother is just horribly old fashioned. At least Robert keeps his opinions between us. He is reading two volumes of collections by Shelley and Blake. He’s ordered Ginsberg’s Howl from the local bookstore to round out his summer. See what an influence you are? For me, I think you might approve of The Mandarins, which I started this morning. And if you don’t, then we might have a rousing debate on why.
Whatever reasons you have for staying away, I’m sure you will share with me some day. Please do write me a long letter and, if you choose, avoid all the topics of personal note I’ve set upon you, but give me some news of your adventures of late. I’ll settle for that.
With love from the delightfully sunny and relaxing beach you know you miss,
Amanda
July 20, 1956
Dear Tilly,
Robert and I laughed hysterically over your last letter read far from the ears of Mother and Amanda. You are such a wit and naughty in your descriptions. I should think the censors would go mad if I had the mind to publish your letters. Wouldn’t that be a volume to read—uncut and uncensored. Robert can give you a more accurate account of our enjoyment when he sees you. Oh yes, he is going into the city for a brief check on some important clients that cannot do without his attention for one more month. You may see him before this letter reaches you. I can’t complain. He’s been beached for two months, and that is a record in the last ten years. Please take him into the Village for a bit of a change of pace, but don’t get him drunk or he might forget how to find his way back to this stretch of beach.
Amanda has asked again why Auntie Tilly is not visiting this summer. I think Mother and I bore her silly. This question came after reading the funny card you sent her. I’ve been perfectly honest with her (well, as far as one can be honest with an eight year old) and told her you had been feeling out of sorts for a while. The city and your wild friends do more to get you back on your feet than the casual seaside routine and our lackluster companionship. She said she didn’t believe that in the least. She gave me a lecture about what a great auntie you are, never too busy for her, and she’ll just go to lunch with you all by herself when we get back to the city. So I gave her a kiss and said I was teasing. I told her to keep hoping—you may show up yet.
Love,
Amanda
July 26, 1956
Dear Tilly,
Only a short note to tell you how much we enjoyed your visit. Amanda loves the boa and has been wearing the feathery confection every day. Mother has a thimble full of the Calvados you gave her in the aperitif glass before dinner each evening. What a marvelous idea, and how you managed to convince her it’s good for her health and her appetite is beyond me. You do know how to play to the woman whom I believe knows all about you, but prefers to ignore because she loves you ever so much. But thank you for that. I am no longer accused of being a boozehound when I treat myself to a Manhattan or the occasional glass of red wine. I’m sure Robert will thank you also, as after drinking one glass of wine, my mind heads straight for bedroom activity.
How unfortunate Robert wasn’t here for your stay. He came home only hours after you left. First he complained the trip was short and boring. I told him he should have gone into the Village without you while he was there and taken in the latest art exhibits, but he actually barked at me that that would have been stupid. Then he reminded me he was there on business and why should he go to the Village. To cure your boredom of course was my reply. I got a very dirty look. Of course he immediately apologized. I think his meeting with the client didn’t go well and brought him back before he’d expected. He’s been a bit moody lately.
A day gazing out on the ocean seems to have revived him. In fact, he suggested we renew our vows of matrimony on the beach in August in a celebration of our ten-year anniversary. Isn’t he amazing? He’s so much more romantic than I am. Will you come? You were there for the first exchange of vows, and it wouldn’t be complete without you. Robert told me not to stress if you can’t make it—that marriage and vows aren’t important to you, even ours. Funny. Not ha ha, but funny-odd the way he said it. It’s almost as if he admires you for your decision to not marry or meld your life with another. Men are unknowable creatures, aren’t they? You two are great friends, but I can’t begin to understand your friendship. It certainly isn’t the same as between you and me. But then you and I are female and of like minds, although as different as fact and fiction. Or so Mother has always said. Which makes us perfect friends, don’t you think?
Have to run. Robert is doing a barbecue on the beach tonight for several of the neighbors. Please write back. Anxious to hear how the poetry reading went.
Love,
Amanda
July 5, 1968
Dear Auntie Tilly,
I tried to call you this morning from the pay phone at the Beach Cafe. I had to get out of the house after my blow up with Mom at breakfast, so I walked into town for coffee. I should’ve known you’d be off with your eccentric friends. My wonderful, groovy Auntie Tilly and her eclectic circle of friends! I so needed you here to be on my side about Kevin, and there you were off on some adventure. Daddy would’ve been on my side, but he had to stay in the city and work. He’s never able to be here all of the time. Maybe you’ll see him. I bet you see him as much as we do. He thinks you’re crazy wonderful, but then we all feel the same about you. Anyway, if you’d been here, you would’ve had to speak your true mind. You’re the real thing, not plastic like so many people your age.
It’s blissful on this stretch of beach. I guess I’m glad Mom shamed me into coming for the fourth of July. The fireworks have come and gone except the ones Mom’s shooting out of her eyes right now from the deck. She’s still seething over my part in the protest at Columbia. At one point I thought of you, Auntie Tilly, walking those same grounds, loathing the materialism and the direction society started moving in the forties. Ginsberg, Kerouac and my Auntie Tilly. However did you and Mom stay such fast friends?
I know you’re just dying to know about Kevin, but first, did you hear the whole story on my arrest? Mom was actually relieved I was arrested. She’s convinced it saved me from getting shot. Tearing down the fence around the Morning Park Gym landed me in jail. It was a symbol of injustice and prejudice. The halls of higher learning can’t just turn its back on the black community at its back door! Anyway, if I hadn’t been detained so long at the jail, I would’ve been at Hamilton Hall for the sit-in. You know how badly that turned out. Pigs! But once the students were inside, the doors were locked. All I could do was ferry them food for the next seven days. In Mom’s eyes, my arrest saved me.
She’s more upset about me moving in with Kevin in August than she was about my jail time last April. And to think if I hadn’t taken part in the protest at Columbia State that day, I wouldn’t have met Kevin. We’re soul mates.
So, now the crisis du jour is my moving in with Kevin, but not getting married first. Marriage isn’t my bag. Besides, if I’m not bringing a child into this world of war and assassinations, why should I get married? It would be unconscionable to bring a child into a society of inequality and racist values where individual creativity is suppressed or punished. Can you dig it? I know you’ll understand. You never married and never had children. Auntie Tilly, you really must speak to Mom on this. After all, I’m twenty, and there isn’t much she can do about it.
Honestly, I don’t need the confines of a marriage certificate to be happy. If only she’d see that. The thing is, I do want to have the sort of lifetime love and relationship she and Dad have had. Aren’t they still just the cutest couple? Oh God, don’t tell her I said so.
Do you think she’s more upset knowing there won’t be any more Amandas in the line or I’m not getting married? If the future does improve and I have a child, I wouldn’t name her Amanda anyway. My child would be set apart with her own name like Moonshine or CatEyes.
I wish you could call me when you get this letter. Why Mom insists on carrying on Grandma’s idea of keeping this house a phone-free retreat is beyond me. I’m so out of touch. Of course, Mom is probably thrilled I can’t call Kevin. But she can’t call Daddy either. Maddening. Warn Daddy so he’ll be prepared to take my side when he gets here. Yes, I’m sure you’ll see him.
Write me or come see us!
Peace and love,
Amanda
July 28, 1968
Dear Auntie Tilly,
I didn’t get the whole of what happened while you were here. You and my parents seemed all happy and cool when you left though. You three are the most important old folks in my life. What an odd threesome you are to me, at times. You’re so very cool, free-spirited and groovy. Mom is—I don’t know what—going through menopause? Daddy is Daddy and seems to understand both of you. I felt some tension I’d never noticed before, but I could’ve been projecting my own insecurities into the atmosphere. Taking this step with Kevin is huge, you know? Or maybe it’s just Mom’s erratic behavior lately.
I can always count on you for the blunt truth. Like when you told me that what I wanted with Kevin was admirable. And regardless of how groovy I think the way you lead your life is, I need to lead my own life. Of course, I had no idea you’ve had a love relationship, of sorts, all of your life. The thing is, because I had trouble grasping your type of love or relationship or whatever you choose to label it, then I must not want what you have or I’d understand your happiness. That’s rather convoluted, but you know what I mean. Then you offered up to me the example of Mom and Daddy. I get that. You told me to think about our talk. I have. I love and admire you, Auntie Tilly, but I don’t want what you have or rather don’t have. You are perfectly happy, on your own, friendships and relationships coming and going or lingering but no commitment. Kevin is all I want or ever will want. What a revelation! I’d always thought I was more like you than Mom.