Letters to Home

Dotting My Teas By: Marlene Oxender

I can say something about myself that most people cannot say: I have five brothers, and I have five sisters. I was baby number nine of eleven siblings.   

My mother was a writer, and she wrote a lot of words in her lifetime. She also saved her words. The papers. The letters. The stories. I’m still reading the material she left behind.  

I found a letter she’d written from her hospital bed when she was a young mother. After reading a few sentences, I knew I was the baby she was writing about in her letter to home. 

Dear Kids, 

Will you ever love this live doll baby that I have with me over here?

I got to hold her for the first time this morning about 6 o’clock. I was still kind of sleepy so didn’t fuss with her much. But when I got her at 10 o’clock, I really looked her over 

She has a nice little round head like Lee.

A smile like Darrell’s

A nose like Donnie’s.

Eyes like Carolyn.

Lips like Elaine’s.

Cute little ears like Jayne’s. 

Dimples like Eddie’s.

She is soft and smooth like Marcia.

Little like Grandma.

Not much hair like Grandpa.

Cries like her mom – and put her together, she’s a big “Doll” like her Dad. 

I think I’ll put a big ribbon on her and put her under the Christmas tree. 

Love, Mom  

After I’d read the letter, I stood and simply held it in my hand. It was a wonderful, yet strange, moment in my life. I was the new owner of an old letter. A letter my mother had written on the day after I was born. A letter that’d been written to my four older brothers and my four older sisters. The letter was about her newborn baby, yet she included each of her children in the letter.

It was December of 1962. A time when silver Christmas trees were found in many homes. My mother had told me she really did put me under the Christmas tree, and her letter confirmed it. I was a newborn baby who was placed under the family Christmas tree. 

Three years later, in September of 1965, my mother wrote this letter to her nine children while she was in the same hospital with baby number ten – Jeanette. 

Dear Kids,

We have another little fat dolly over here. I got to hold her for the first time about 10 o’clock. Dr. Boerger came in soon after. He said she looks like she belongs to the family. 

I looked her over from head to toe. She had to sneeze, she burped, she had the hic-cups, she tried to suck her fist and also tried to scratch her face with her fingernails already. I believe she is well put together and every part is working fine. God has been good to us. 

Did you girls realize we have another dish washer? What does Marlene think? What are you going to name her? How about Jean Ellen and call her Jeanie. But you decide. 

Love, Mom  (over)

On the back side of the letter, she wrote… 

Don’t change the beds this week-end. We’ll do it when I get home. 

Don’t forget to get the bassinet home from Grandmas and clean it up – o.k. 

Marcia try to do all the ironing you can this Saturday and Jayne and other girls can clean up house. All help each other (no fighting) please. 

Boys play together nice so no one gets hurt. 

See you, Love Mom 

Jeanette was born on a Wednesday. Mom told the girls not to change the bed sheets on the weekend because she wanted it done when she got home, so apparently, she stayed in the hospital through the weekend.

The hospital bill and payment receipt are in Jeanette’s scrapbook. The bill was $126.00, and the insurance policy through Edgerton Hardware had paid $118.00. You could say Jeanette cost my mom and dad $8.00. 

I also found a box of handwritten letters that had been sent to my grandmother Lula Bowers Imm. Grandma was born in 1888, and these letters were dated 1903 through 1918. 

Apparently, Grandma was single at the time and resided in Elkhart, Indiana. She worked at a place called Tea Garden. I’d love to go back in time and see the place.  What did they serve there? Was it a restaurant? I think a trip to Elkhart is in order. 

Grandma’s collection of letters shares a picture of what life was like at the turn of the century. They wrote about their horses, material to make a table scarf, sweeping the cellar, and how many bushels and cans of food they had preserved. They were baking bread and making soap. They sold turkeys and hens and discussed the prices. 

They used the words “grand” and “dandy” in their everyday language. Many of their sentences started with “Say.” 

There was talk of when Grandma Lula might be planning to come home to Waterloo. They spoke of travel by passenger train between Waterloo and Elkhart. 

I learned who was marrying whom, who robbed the cradle, and tidbits of funny stuff.   

If Mom hadn’t been a saver, I wouldn’t be having such a dandy time sorting through old letters and newspaper clippings. Estates can give you so much material, you could write volumes. 

And so it began. I became a writer. The items I had unearthed gave me something interesting to write about. 

I shared my short stories on social media before publishing them on my website – dottingmyteas. Less than a year later, the stories were shared in a column in my hometown newspaper. Then came the books – thanks to a friend who kept after me to do what it takes to publish a book. 

But say… it’s always a grand day when friends are there for you. When friends hold your hand while you jump through hoops that are new to you.  When friends give you a reason to write a letter to home.  

Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her three published books, Picket Fences, Stevie and Grandma, You Already Am Old, are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com