My Old Box of Letters
My old box of letters, which has aged over 40 years, has become one of my most prized possessions. Opening this old box, the first letter that I picked up was dated June 1962. But just beneath this letter was a larger group of letters bundled together and dated 1958. No, I most go deeper until I find a smaller group dated 1954. When I removed the elastic band from this smaller group I discovered two distinct styles of handwriting on the envelopes. One was that of my older sister, while the other was that of the person I would marry. Included in this group of letters was a telegram dated November 10th. Earlier that summer I had asked a young lady to marry me. When Mae accepted my proposal we set a date for early autumn. But in late September something happened that would change all of that. The company that I was working for was awarded a small contract in Hopedale, Labrador. It was outside work so when the job was completed or when the weather conditions dictated we would be returning home. With all expenses paid and the opportunity to work seven days a week it was a very lucrative proposition. When Mae agreed to postpone our wedding date until after I returned home, I was ready to go to Hopedale.
Flying from Goose Bay in an amphibious plane and landing close to Dog Island it was only a few minutes until someone in a small boat with an outboard motor came out to pick us up. After all eight of us got into the boat with our gear it was time for the operator to pull the cord. As I remember it took four or five attempts before it started. Soon afterwards we were on dry land. Conditions were pretty much as I expected. Our bunkhouse was made of wood with a canvas roof. It had a capacity to hold sixteen. The plush conditions were similar to that which I had experienced in St. Margarets, NB. Our job was to install new overhead cables for power distribution from the main radar station to the RX and TX as well as down to the wharf. I have memories of being on a high rocky hill overlooking the village of Hopedale, watching the village women picking cranberries at the base of the hill. They were small berries about the size of a pea, not your typical Cape Cod variety. I am sure that the berries played an important role in their diet. Not all days were such pleasant autumn days. I remember times with the freezing rain, snow and strong winds causing me to almost freeze my butt off! Like I had realized from the being, the job was of a short duration. When we learned that we would be going home, there was no time to write and tell Mae to reactivate our wedding plans. My only option was to go to the Marconi telegraph office in the village. When I passed the telegraph operator a small piece of paper with the words "Dear Mae, I expect to be home within the next few days", it took him only a minute to tape out a series of dots and dashes before I gave him a five-dollar bill. November 27th became the revised date for our wedding.
That Saturday afternoon has long since become a part of history. I still remember standing at the front of that little church looking back at the main entrance watching Mae on her father’s arm walking down the aisle towards me. Minutes later, we walked back down the aisle leaving the church as man and wife. Some may say that time is unkind, but I believe that it is beautiful. It is true that we grow older and our appearance changes. However, time allows us to mellow and learn how to enjoy each day. A few years ago, Mae and I were sitting in a waiting room at car dealership while our car was being serviced. An older gentleman who obviously was marching to the beat of a different drum was sitting directly across from her. Starring at her for a long time before speaking, he finally said, "I bet you were pretty when you were young"! His remark was priceless. Not only did it put Mae on cloud nine; it also reminded me of a photo that I once carried in my wallet. A picture of Mae with shoulder length hair, sitting in front of an apple tree with a smile that only I could see. Regardless of how many years go by, in my eyes that young and innocent face will never go old.
