My book goes slowly. […] I am living here alone, doing my own cooking. Today it was breakfast: a glass of milk; lunch: T-bone steak, bread, milk; dinner: a malted milk; tonight: beer, olives, swiss cheese. All for now, Cal. Wish I were there. I saw a movie this afternoon which showed the Saratoga racetrack. I yearned to be there, making my selections.
Pax,
Jim
Drink my health in Sperry’s. Have you forgotten it … on Caroline Street, I believe.
Have you read Gogarty? Sackville Street? Tumbling in the Hay?
BETTY POWERS
150 Summit Avenue
November 5, 1948
Dear Betty,
[…] That is very interesting about your father sitting down with pencil and paper awaiting the returns after sixteen long years.6 I imagine my father did likewise. Fr Garrelts, I guess, is the only one who forecast the turn of events, except Harry himself. Fr G. has the best theory, I think: there just aren’t enough Republicans to go around; it is like the soft jobs and big money; just not enough of it to go around. Fr Murphy was left at the post too, hoping for a Rep victory. So far as anybody could tell, however, he was against the Dems because Barkley7 is “too old.” “Yes,” Fr G. agreed, “he’s about old enough for the cardinalate,” which put things in a stronger light, I guess. […]
You are wrong about my not missing you until the sheets need changing tomorrow. I miss you daily and at odd hours and minutes during the day. It is raining now, very grey and dull-grey, streets black under the wet. […] Well, I miss you, love you, and will be seeing you … and remember what I said about too soon rather than too late. Where will I stay? I will try to work, as ever, try, that is.
Jim
BETTY POWERS
150 Summit Avenue
November 15, 1948
Dear Betty,
[…] A note from Buck saying something called Thinker’s Digest wants to run excerpts from my stories, at their leisure, I guess, they want blanket permission and say they never pay for anything because they publicize books so welclass="underline" need I tell you it’s a Catholic outfit? […] And now, once more, much love.
Jim
BETTY POWERS
150 Summit Avenue
November 22, 1948
Dear Betty,
[…] Feel pretty good today. I ate the last of the strawberry preserves and am into the cherry now, which isn’t so good. We had an interesting trip back,8 no dangerous accidents, or even narrow escapes, eating something at Elk River. Fr G. was on the famished side. I guess he’d hoped for a little something among our rural friends. […]
I picked up a yesterday paper from the basket by the elevator. I enjoy it more that way, I find, with no investment in it, just the loss of time. I did up the dishes and cleaned the ashtrays before I left yesterday, so the house is in good shape. You looked very sweet and pretty yesterday, and I was glad you are my wife. I know I repeat myself, but do try to anticipate the time, so I can be there in time. I realize too how weary you must get of someone asking you when you’re going to have the baby, but I can’t get it out of my head that you should know more about it than you do, or could know. […]
Much love,
Jim
KATHERINE ANNE PORTER
St Cloud, Minnesota
November 29, 1948
Dear Katherine Anne,
[…] I am here in St Cloud, known rightly as Granite City, awaiting the birth of another baby. I hope it doesn’t come as the blow to you as it did to us (I might lift that line for my headstone, containing as it does much of my “thought” and more of my “style”). Betty is 18 days late in having this baby, and the strain is beginning to tell. We are set down here with her family, who are filled with all the expectation families seem to have at such a time; but even they, at this late date, find their joy a heavy thing. It is like a party that everyone’s tired of but won’t leave. And the truth about me is that I just don’t qualify as the ideal husband. The doctor with a big, knowing smile predicts a big bouncing boy, and I’m damned if he has my number there. Betty and I decided that having children is not the same thing for a writer. There is no room in our economy, in the largest sense; the old rowboat leaks already. […]
Your Katherine Anne here is a flourishing fatty. She has one flaw, an eye that doesn’t focus quite right, and one virtue that I take to be art: she dances to music, though she doesn’t yet walk.
Very best,
Jim
Mary Farl Powers was born on November 29, 1948. As they were to do in the case of all the babies, Betty’s parents paid the hospital bill.
BETTY POWERS
150 Summit Avenue
December 4, 1948
Dear Betty,
[…] I did a job on the house yesterday, cleaning. I scrubbed the bathroom with my own little hands, including the toilet bowl, and mopped the floor in here, including the hall, and including behind the davenport, where it was about an inch deep, the dust. I washed the windows on the inside, swept the kitchen, and thought how nice it would be if I could vacuum this rug, but I can’t take ours seriously, our vacuum cleaner. I must study it. […]
Do you need money? I don’t suppose you’d have enough sense (I mean this lovingly) to make your hospital check out big enough to get some. Tell me. Much love. Katherine Anne gave me some nice kisses when I left the other day.
Jim
BETTY POWERS
150 Summit Avenue
December 11, 1948
Dear Betty,
Saturday afternoon. Fr G. has been here for lunch, so to speak, beer, swiss cheese, pepperoni (a new food I’ve found, kind of bologna), and Black Forest bread. […] I won’t deny I’ve had a little too much beer, as you can tell from this typing, but it is wearing off. […]
I went to the Alvin9 last night. An old comedian from Chicago days, pretty good, but the girls weren’t much. I meant to speak to the manager, but didn’t. Do you think A History of Burlesque would go? Thomas More Bookshop Selection. I’m considering it. All for now. Much love. I vacuumed the rug yesterday. Very tough going, but I find the nozzle is good for sucking the dust out of corners, furniture, and picture frames.
Jim
I’m going to get some pepperoni for Ezra Pound. It will make a nice gift for him, something to go with the crackers.
Jim went to Chicago, to his parents’, for Christmas. His sister, Charlotte, was also there with her first child, Dennis, a toddler. Betty, Katherine, and Mary stayed in St. Cloud with Betty’s parents.
BETTY POWERS
Chicago
1948
J. F. Powers, His Christmas Letter
Dear Betty,
Here it is Christmas 1948, and another year has gone by. I am sitting here in my steamer robes writing to you, thinking of the years gone by, the years to come, thinking of our heritage of freedom, of the Minnesota centenary, of rural life, of rural fun, of Life …
Now, the truth is I have not heard from you for three days. Maybe I should have called you last night, or today, and maybe I will (there is some agitation here that I should), but I remember how unsatisfactory our phone calls have always been, and I hold back (there is also the matter of the cost, and I don’t know you well enough yet to determine whether you’d be happier to have me call or not to calclass="underline" mystery of matrimony, inscrutability of woman). Anyway, as you can tell, I am irritated that I haven’t heard from you, but I realize you are probably very busy with our offspring, that and the confusion of the holidays, the dinner at your house today, or is it the Strobels’ on Christmas? I do hope you are not getting nervous and run-down, and I fear you are.