During World War II, my grandmother, Mary Bailey (later, Bowen),
was in Texas serving in the Army as a nurse. My mother was five years old at
the time, and left back in West Virginia in the care of her grandmother, Addie
Bailey. My grandma was away from sometime in 1943 until September 1945; my mother
remembers this specific return date, and remembers the extended family members
living at her grandmother’s during this time. Only one man was around, one of
her uncles who had a deferment; the rest had been drafted. This story of
my grandma’s service was something I heard as a child and in the way of family
stories, didn’t appreciate more fully until I grew up and had kids of my own,
and no longer had her around to ask about these many months away from home. I
do know and remember that she was very proud of her career, which
continued in private practices after she returned, and of her service in
the Army. As well she should have been.
Recently I was going through photographs and mementos with
my mother, things both from her boxes and those moved over from my grandparents’
home. I’ve always had an interest in family photos and thought I had seen
all of them, but some of these items I hadn’t. My grandparents have been gone
for over a decade, but my uncle had been living in their place until his
passing, a couple of years ago. So.
We came across some papers regarding a trip my grandmother
took in 1962. Apparently, the professional organization of nurses to which she
belonged planned a European tour. She traveled with them for a month, making
stops throughout Italy, France, Germany, etc. My mother was already married and
out of the house but her brothers—my two uncles who were born after the war—were
fifteen and sixteen. We found the many letters my grandma wrote home, detailing
her impressions (loved Capri, underwhelmed by Florence, etc.). In some of them,
she mentioned her disappointment about not having a letter waiting for her at one
of the hotels on the itinerary she’d left my grandfather and the boys. Apparently, they’d been given the directive to send these letters, so they’d
be waiting at her stops. This is so like my grandma, I can’t even tell you.
Overseeing everyone, being very clear about what is expected of you, making you
feel your importance in her life while also being good to herself. There were a
few letters from the eldest of her sons: telling her about a new girlfriend,
hinting to the fact that he’d been promised a car when she returns.
I loved reading my grandma’s impressions along her journey
and seeing her familiar, steady handwriting. I love that she made a few notes
about souvenirs she wanted to purchase along the way. And I love, most of all,
that she had the gumption to make the trip in the first place. Like my grandma,
I’ve always loved travel and also like her, I’ve been known to be good to
myself from time to time. My kids are about the age my uncles were when she
went on this trip and I can’t even imagine doing something like that at this
stage. In some ways, it was easier to go away when they were a bit younger. I
don’t know if that’s because it feels like there are so many more things to
keep a handle on these days, or because their time as children is so
dangerously nearing its end. At any rate, I know this opportunity must have
been difficult for her in many ways, but also very rewarding. Like her time in
the Army. Like anything worth doing in this life, which has a way of presenting
opportunities and challenges arm in arm.
