A letter from my father…
Morgan family descendants, including Aunt Anna holding Fred (back row)
We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they’re called memories. Some take us forward, and they are called dreams.
Jeremy Irons
When in conversation, my dear father used to ramble on a bit. I guess he did similar in letters. Weirdly I’ve recently uncovered two letters in which he wrote at length about his parents and this triggered many memories which I realised had been long hidden.
I also recently found a letter he’d written to my mother on 28 Aug 2011, just after his 90th Birthday, in reply to one from her about their children and what a fine bunch we are!
“As you say all our grandchildren are a delight. I first was struck by this at Pebbles’ wedding [2007] and when I left Kilverstone a whole lot surrounded my car and waved me off. All so full of fun and joy. It was an amazing feeling and you are quite right that they are a credit”
In letters I discovered to and from my parents when I first went to boarding school, I realised my father didn’t necessarily want me to be sent away to school. It was what everyone did. When I mentioned this to him he avoided answering me, which I found telling.
Both my parents wrote tons of letters to me, and I presume my 3 siblings, most of which I’ve kept! There are also ones from my maternal grandfather and his second wife Opal. Also some from my Canadian and American cousins. Some of these are emails, especially just before, and then subsequent to, the Morgan Family reunion held in Maine 2008. My maternal grandmother was a Morgan before she left Philadelphia to marry Cecil Fisher.
At school we were encouraged/forced to ‘write home’. I cannot recall if this was during a dedicated session or on the weekend. I have a distant memory of a blue leather writing case used for this. I also corresponded with friends from Norfolk from my youth and further afield once I’d made school friends, who were from Denmark, the Channel Islands, and all over the UK. We would write to keep in touch, share news and stories about our lives.
I really enjoy writing, especially with my new red moleskin fountain pen, which I bought at the Gare de Lyon en route to stay with Sal recently. Using this helps me still myself a bit and makes my handwriting marginally more legible. Sometimes I write as carefully as possible then take a photo and suggest to the recipient that I could re-write it in case they cannot decipher my letter/note/card.
I find hand writing gives me time to contemplate what I’ve written, in particular if I do a rough copy first.
My family have a long held tradition of sending postcards when ‘on holiday’, something started by my paternal grandparents and evidenced by postcards I inherited from my Grandfather to his firstborn Anna sent in the 1916/17/18. Both my parents continued with this as did we and other family relatives, e.g. Jenny. But sadly now not quite so much.
We also had a tradition of sending thank you letters, especially for Christmas presents. I myself can recall the burden of doing this after the festivities. We continued this when our kids were young. They still send handwritten cards in particular for Mother’s Day. I treasure handwritten birthday cards from my grandsons.
Writing by hand with a pen or pencil is something we all learn in our very early years at school. The art, skill, or manner of handwriting is called penmanship.
I learnt to write at Thetford Preparatory School run by Mrs Kennedy in our local town. We were taught on hard wipeable Formica sheets marked with pencil lines. It was the first school I went to. As I recall it had a downstairs for children up to 6ish and an upstairs for ages up to 17 or thereabouts. According to the school reports I’ve just found, I started in the Kindergarten at Easter 1956, moved to transition in the summer of 1957 and into Form 1 [upstairs] in the summer of 1958, from which I left in summer 1960 aged 9.
Thetford Preparatory School
- I am centre left in shorts with a racket
I can remember my mother writing at an old-fashioned desk with a fold down flap and cubby holes for envelopes, paper and correspondence. I actually have a miniature version of this kind of desk which she gave me.
Miniature writing desk similar to my mother’s
I think my father must have written in his office. My father had very tall writing which was slightly easier to read than my mum’s.
Reading my handwriting is pretty difficult! I endlessly get complaints from family and friends. I recall a delivery man being furious with my handwritten consignment note done in 1990s at my business Linen Hire.
As a consequence, I have to think twice about handwriting thank you letters/cards etc. I try to train myself to make my writing legible but often get carried away in the process and then run out of space to say what I want!!
Pen pals are people who regularly write to each other, particularly via postal mail. Pen pals are usually strangers whose relationship is based primarily, or even solely, on their exchange of letters. For many year a pen pal relationship was encouraged to practice reading and writing in a foreign language, to improve literacy, to learn more about other countries and lifestyles, and/or to make friendships.
I never had a pen pal, but I did write to school friends who lived further away.
I would have liked a pen pal if everyone else had one. I often felt ‘left out’ or different and was desperate to fit in with, what I thought, everyone else did.
In the mid 1990's I did start sponsoring an African child via Action Aid. I received drawings from my sponsored child. I felt deeply responsible for the child, however communications seemed to be rather intermittent and irregular. I did think the children would find it interesting to be in touch with someone from another part of the world, and the same for me and I felt very touched to receive their drawings, however, I did feel I should/could be doing more - perhaps even visiting in person? My sponsorship lapsed after a few years.
I’m a keen cook and have just read about ‘The Lily Vanilla Birthday Project’ which was launched this weekend by the East London Bakery Lily Vanilla. Their aim is to provide birthday cakes to underprivileged children across London who might not otherwise get one. Donations can be made for part of or the whole cake. The same article mentioned Luminary Bakery, a charity and social enterprise based in London that uses baking to empower women who’ve experienced extreme poverty, disadvantage and abuse.
Having experienced distanced giving, I am now much more inclined to support charities closer to my heart and closer to home.
Beautiful memories are like old friends. They may not always be on your mind, but they are forever in your heart.
Preserving and making memories are incredibly important to me. Our son Tom has become the family archiver and was very involved in preparations for the Morgan reunion. He took videos of my father talking about his memories of his family. We took this out to Maine with us.
For many years - in fact about 50 years with a few breaks! - I have been exchanging the gift of a Dodo pad with my friend Jo. I use these to record my thoughts and ideas and to give myself routine. They are wonderful to look back on and appreciate the passage of time. What was important and interesting then and now…
Alongside writing letters, my family also have a tradition of keeping extensive photograph albums as family archives.
I have recently been given an extensive number of boxes of albums that belonged to my maternal grandmother who was from Philadelphia. Also her cookbook which my mother had been given.
Sadly the albums are in a very poor condition having been left in a barn with a leaky roof for over a decade, so I am currently looking at how to preserve and archive them for the next generation - its going to be a long job!
Part of this process I'm sure will be to immortalise some of the memories in my art. I'm not sure how this will manifest as yet however.
Watch this space...
