On Friday mornings through June, I go to the Mansion and work with Julie Smith, the Mansion Activities Director, on the stories of the residents. I work with each writer, offering suggestions and critiques.
The residents will read from their stories on June 30, and a friend Abrah Griggs, a book designer and artist from Vermont, will help assemble the book, which will hopefully be published and sold in paper and as an e-book. A blog reader has ordered cookies for the event from the Round House Cafe and paid for them. Thanks.
About a half-dozen stories have been completed. I brought several home with me today to read and edit.
Sylvie gave me a quite beautiful and remarkable story today when I went to the Mansion with Red.
She was the daughter of an America diplomat who traveled across South America and Europe before, during and after World War II. She remembers the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, the dropping of nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the devastation of the Nazi Empire after the war.
“We headed for England where we stayed for four years,” she wrote. “I fell in love there but marriage was not to be. Daddy retired and we headed back to Vienna, Austria. My mother and daddy had loved Vienna, as I had, but my love there did not last. I became mentally, ill, something that lasted many years.
My life was shattered at my having to leave Peter, my first love.
But my traveling was not over. I traveled first to a sanitarium for a cure. I hated it there, but I loved their geometry lessons, I was good at it. I played a miniature harp in my bedroom; I was good at that too. It was called a lyre. The sanitarium was supposed to be in the Black Forest, but I only saw one tree there while taking a walk. Then I traveled to a home for handicapped children to help however, when my Uncle Ralph came there to visit me it was pronounced by the authorities to be mentally ill.”
Sylvie was to deal with her mental illness for the rest of her life, searching for love.
After the war, her life was bounded by the institutions she lived in.
She was hospitalized in Massachusetts for 15 years, and her boy friend Dan died of complications from diabetes. She doesn’t write much about it, but she was rescued from an awful fire and came to the Mansion. I don’t know if she wishes to say more. She suffered three strokes in 2016. Her intelligence and humor always shine through.
Sylvie and I have developed a close friendship, we are always happy to see one another, she always greets me somewhat formally but affectionately. I think she is one of the few Mansion residents that is happier to see me than Red. We just see to get one another.
Her life has some wonderful stories – it is in itself a wonderful story – and her perspective is much shaped by her extensive travels around the world during one of the most tumultuous periods in history.
Her story is important for many reasons, and I am excited to help her tell it to the world. We don’t need any funds to prepare or host the stories. I’m not sure what it will cost to publish the book, if I need help, I’ll ask for it.
Next week, I’ll get the final version of Sylvie’s story – it is nearly done – and it will be exciting to have it read at the Mansion. Her story needs to live. I volunteered to read it for her, and I think she will be happy for me to do it. We’ll talk about it further.
You can write Sylvie at the Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, Mass., 12816. Lo Ann Sanders, a long-time reader of the blog, came to the Mansion yesterday to visit Sylvie and some of the other residents. She came bearing gifts.
Here is an updated list of the Mansion residents who wish to receive your messages: Bruce, Allan, Sylvie, Jean, John Z, Alanna, Peggie, Ellen, Joan, Brenda, Connie, Alice, Madeline, Mary, Barbara, William, Brother Peter, Diane, Helen, Jane, Dottie, Anita, Gerry, Arthur. Thanks.