Is it okay to read a parent’s intimate correspondence that they never shared while alive?
It’s suddenly a question I must ask. I still haven’t managed to finally finish sorting through and disposing of the papers that followed my parents to the ends of their very long lives. Endless photos, letters, Christmas cards, handwritten notes, newspaper clips, obits of friends…the variety is endless. I’ve managed to cull the “What in the world should I do with this?” category to just a few boxes that are safely in storage while I wait for the psychological energy to return to the task.
But now there’s a new task at hand…another round of sorting, this time going through my sister’s stuff, since it’s unlikely that she’ll be able to do it herself, given her current health challenges.
Today I opened a box in her bedroom, and recognized an old wooden box that had belonged to our father. I lifted the lid, and found a stack of handwritten letters from an old girlfriend of his. The first letter I picked up was penned in 1933, and scolded him for taking so long to reply to an earlier missive. I don’t know how many letters there are. The stack is maybe four inches high. My sister must have taken them from his room after my dad died, but never mentioned them to me.
The letters are from Betty Peabody, a Michigan woman my dad met, probably just after graduating from high school. My sister recalls my mother saying “that woman’s picture” hung on the wall in my parents’ bedroom for several years, even after they were married. I’ve found several snapshots that I believe are of Peabody, only one with my dad’s handwritten note identifying her.
He sometimes talked about hitchhiking across the country to see the 1933 Worlds Fair in Chicago, and then spend time at the Peabody family’s farm in Birmingham, Michigan. But he never spoke to me directly about Peabody or their relationship.
From the bits and pieces, I think Peabody had spent time–a summer, perhaps?–with a relative in Long Beach, California. They met and, I now know, corresponded for years afterwards. She graduated from high school in 1933, and later earned a degree in Home Economics from Michigan State University. A copy of her graduation program was among his papers when he died, along with photos indicating he had attended the graduation ceremony.
Peabody has always been a special and mysterious figure in my dad’s life. Mysterious to my sister and I, that is.
Now I’ll retrieve the box and the letters. I intend to read to through them, although it makes me feel like I’m violating their privacy by digging into things my dad never talked about. And the other hand, he kept these letters for nearly nearly 80 years, and I want to know why. Perhaps it’s because they might tell me something more about my dad as a person, not as a father figure, but just as a guy just starting what turned out to be a long, long life.
And if I do read them, then what? Perhaps I’ll return them to her surviving family members. I’ve already searched online and found an obituary that identifies her relatives. Perhaps that’s the best I can do, and just let them decide whether the letters are worth saving.
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Sorry…I have no words of advice. But your question did make me think of The Bridges of Madison County.
Purely a personal choice of what you do with those letters, of course. The fact that your father never discussed his relationship with the “mystery lady” with you could simply have been out of respect for your mother’s feelings. (It was the case with my father, although he never left behind letters for me and my siblings to peruse.) Reading the correspondence will likely reveal to you a side of your father that you’re not aware of. There might be references to other people, organizations or events that your father had an affiliation with. And who knows where that might lead to,…
I don’t think I’d read them. There’s no way to follow up if you read something that bothers you.
Use your own discretion regarding these letters. I would just say to make darn sure her descendants really want the letters before giving them to them. I’ve had experiences in my own family where I shared letters from our grandmother and that type of thing. I never even received a thank you or any kind of comment. I think most people, living their own day to day lives, just really aren’t interested in letters from long gone relatives. Basically, these are people who don’t care about history, even their own family’s. They are the type whose eyes immediately glaze over if you try to share tid-bits from the family tree with them. You know what I mean.
My parents met and fell in love in June 1940. They were then separated until November that year when my mother returned to Hawaii to marry my father. They corresponded for five months, and my mother saved all their letters until one day in the mid-1980s she decided to discard them. I convinced her to save them with the proviso that I wouldn’t read them while she was alive. Not long after her death my wife and I went to the bank safe deposit box to read them, but I found it impossible precisely because of their gentle intimacy and joyfulness. More than twenty years later I still haven’t read them, but perhaps now I could. As for your father’s letters a lot would depend, I think, on the nature of your relationship with him and your mother.
I wouldn’t read them. While my father was alive, I helped him clean out a car he was selling and there were letters & photos that I stumbled upon. I regret having seen the few I looked at (that fell open, really). Because I can never unring that bell. BUT, it enlightened me later when I sadly discovered what a Casanova he was and is. DON’T!
DON’T! I saw personal items of my father’s when helping him clean out a car he was selling. Can’t un-ring the bell.
Ian, Sorry I replied “twice” – the 9:16 was blank after I hit post comment.
Depends if you’re the type that picks the red pill or the blue pill?
I think your journalistic instincts will only be satisfied by reading them but you may want to put them away until there are no other traumatic life events actively unfolding in your life. My parents were very much a mystery to me, and I recently lost my sister, so I think I would welcome a peek into the past … just not right now.
Read them. Cherish them. Share them. here’s an important, if simple story or message there. I believe they saved the letters and other life markers, treasures of living and loving so they would live beyond them. They knew they’d live on in them. If they wanted privacy they would have ensured that by losing or destroying them.
DO read them at some point. I’ve gotten much joy reading my mother’s letters home to her family after her arrival here in Hawai’i. I also found out why I care so much about development and land use, Hawaiian culture, sovereignty, etc. after going through my father’s briefcase. I hadn’t wanted to but Aunty Laura Thompson told me it was time and it was. You might find some things that make you uncomfortable (there were several other women’s pictures besides my mother in his briefcase), but you’ll also find some gems that can maybe answer questions you’ve had about your life.
Ian, the fact that betty peabody’s picture was displayed in your parents bedroom several years during their marriage and your mother referred to her as “that woman” . It’s clear what you should do. Either burn them or chop them up in little pieces and put them in the compost pile. I’m on team Mom in this situation. My parents were married for 57 years till my father’s death and I know there were moments like that in their marriage. People make a vow to each when they marry it’s important. I don’t think you will learn anything for the better by holding on to them. You’d be doing what your mom wanted to do years ago. Of course that’s my take on this for whatever it’s worth.
PS Both the book and movie The bridges of Madison County were absolute tripe! Again my opinion, however, if you see a copy of the book it would benefit a compost pile.
I’m also NOT a fan of Bridges of Madison County.