Family News

From letter dated November 27, 1986

My life is office work and bridge, both of which I enjoy thoroughly, but neither of which makes entertaining conversation.

Ian McIntosh, a Jamaican who has retired here with his Belizean wife Althea, has adopted me as his Pygmalion bridge partner, somewhat to my surprise. Ian is a delightful soul, probably about 50. He has written a book and is a tournament-level player, an absolute monomaniac. Althea does not play and is wise enough not to consider learning the game from Ian. She is perfectly happy to have him out nights, even to supper-bridge parties. My game is improving; I enjoy the extra socializing; and I shall continue until Ian gives up on me and finds a more dedicated acolyte.

Ian does things like describing a strange convention and then adding, “You don’t have to learn that one. It’s played by only two couples in the world.” Or, “You need to learn that convention if you ever intend to play with the Chinese.” I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was not in my immediate plans.

Just last week, he convulse me by asking wistfully if I didn’t intend to go early to our Duplicate session. I replied that I was sure our hosts did not want us one minute before 7:30. Ian’s idea would be to go thirty minutes early, sit down, deal some hands, and discuss them by ourselves while our hosts took their baths. Everyone loves Ian and laughs at his peculiarities.

 

My current Major Problem (or Project) is training our year-old Golden Labrador Simba. He is a beautiful dog, enthusiastic and amenable. I adhere to the books that recommend frequent five-minute sessions…and ignore the word frequent. Simba’s attention span and my strength usually expire at the same time. It would be so much easier if he spoke English and I could discuss the fact that all the commands he obeys so well on a lead in the yard should be obeyed equally enthusiastically in the house.

Actually, he is pretty good, except for the fact that he is not good around people. It isn’t as if I had a houseful of children-and-friends in and out all the time. He is friendly but skittish, so there is no reason to invite him in with friends. I only hope I live long enough to accomplish what the book recommends—a sit/stay so that he is pinned to the rug while guests settle themselves without his bumptious attentiveness. What probably will happen is that I will get too old and tired to continue at about the same time he gets so old and staid that it doesn’t matter.

Meanwhile, he is a delight to our lives. His arrival resurrected our aging Rhodesian Ridgeback Doña and now she runs and plays and spars with him like a juvenile instead of like the arthritic spinster she really is.

 

As for Alex and Carli…

Alex is unmarried, has an apartment under my house, and works with me in the shipping business. He has a nice girl, María, but I have no idea what their intentions are. (She was in Carli’s class at school here.) He is busy, seems happy, takes a month off every summer to visit family in Georgia plus his old friends in Louisiana.

Carli and a friend, Tom Rindfleisch, bought a house together in Palo Alto almost two years ago. Tom is director of an extended version of the computer research department Carli worked for at Stanford. Like her, he is a founding member of Teknowledge, the company she now works for. Translates to: they-can-talk-to-each-other. Marriage is not mentioned (by me, especially) and aside from a tiny corner of my heart, I am completely happy with them both. Their house is lovely…gorgeous dark oak floors and paneling, a large fenced yard, vegetable garden, on a cul-de-sac surrounded by huge old trees.

 

Carli and Tom came for September national festivities. I suggested that if they could ignore earthquakes in California, they could ignore hurricanes in Belize. With all the decorations, nightly entertainment, parades, it seemed a good time to moderate the culture shock for Tom. Actually, he had a marvelous time and enjoyed everything.

Alex and I had a cocktail party soon after they arrived…mostly the younger group with a select few of my good friends.

There were times when I had the two to myself, either on a jaunt when Alex was tied up with a ship or for an occasional evening. Then Alex and María took them to dances, parades, all sorts of things, as well as a couple of trips upcountry. And, of course, we all were together other times. It worked out nicely for everyone.

I was amazed that they were able to stagger back to California with their hand luggage—two bottles of Belize run, ten pounds of frozen lobster tails, and a great bronze port hole that Alex salvaged from Bucher’s scrapped tug El Torito and gave them.

 

From letter dated December 9, 1987

Things are about the same this year, with the shipping agency perking along.

I finally made it north this year, to Ohio to see my sister Mary, and then on to Michigan to see a favorite cousin, Helen Anne, who is fighting cancer. She is doing remarkably well and we had a gorgeous time re-living our early years when we were as close as sisters. Marvelous arguments when we remembered things differently, and endless giggles.

I did manage five days in Guatemala for the first time in years. The ostensible reason was to get some native fabric and a throw rug for my guest room. It gave me a chance to catch up with old friends who used to visit Belize regularly in the Fifties. The brief holiday was a lovely mixture of relaxation and stimulation.

 

A lot of my activity this past year-plus has involved Duplicate Bridge. My partner Ian’s system has come through more by osmosis than by study because I find that reading bridge books fractures my attention and concentration. Anyway, I finally am playing fairly reliable bridge with him and…also finally…enjoying it. We play hard, but not a deadly game. It all is fun. Have met some delightful new friends through this.

Only one regular Duplicate game at night a week, plus sometimes an extra, and one afternoon bridge game with old friends who do not play the same system. I have to go back and forth and sometimes it gets confusing. Still it is pleasant and I am lucky to have acquired a good partner.

 

Alex’s “friend” María is one of the kindest, nicest girls in the world. I have no idea what, if anything, are their plans, but meanwhile, I can only be pleased that Alex is happy. (As you say: it is a new world. I certainly am glad I wasn’t faced with these irregular situations when I was thirty years younger. I need all my present wisdom—i.e., “mileage” to cope gracefully.)

Haven’t seen Carli and Tom this year, but will in 1988.

 

From letter dated November 9, 1988

In May, Carli and Tom married quietly at a court house. I am completely happy about them, though I missed being Mother of the Bride. Tom is exactly the man I always hoped would walk into Carli’s life. He is about ten years older than she and a delightful person with a keen mind, fine sense of humor, and far more good qualities than I will bother to enumerate. I love him dearly. Carli and Tom are delightfully happy themselves.

 

Carli wrote me in March a year ago to say that Tom and she wanted me to go with them to Africa as their guest. It is the trip I have dreamed of since I was a child and the one I knew I never would have. The trip was even more wonderful than I had dreamed; I returned last week. The entire trip was perfect. Nothing went wrong, not a bad moment, it was a joy to be with them.