Letters from a Father (3)

"I guess you know how sad I felt when I heard about Grandpa's death," began Ron's letter, November 12, 1957. Before my great grandfather's death, there were four generations of Hutchinson males living.

The next two letters are about moving into our new home, complete with the floor plan. Each room is named. My bedroom is across from my mom and dads, my sister Terry's room is on the same side as mine, down the hall and on the other side of the bathroom.

It is not until February that the next letter was written. It is addressed only to Mom, and it begins, "Don't have a heart attack because I'm writing. Believe me many is the night that I have intended to write but got sleepy and had to go to bed." Apparently between November and February, Pop died. This probably explains the gap of time between letters, because Ronald would have gone back to Connecticut for the funeral. A few months later, there are some references about sending some of Pop's clothes.

The big news of the February letter was the birth of my brother, Douglas Ronald, on January 30, 1958. Beverly almost died during the delivery. They had to give her four pints of blood. She remained bedridden for sometime, and I am not sure she ever fully recovered. Imagine having a sick wife and three children; age three, two, and a new born. Ronald hired a woman to help with the cleaning of the house.

Some personal references in this letter: "I cut David's hair a few weeks ago but haven't taken him to a barber shop yet to get it straightened out. It is a boy's hair cut anyway and it doesn't look too bad. He is getting to be quite a little man. He is saying more words all the time and talks constantly. He eats well and is strong as a bull. Both the kids are fascinated with the baby. Terry is a regular little mother to him. She loves him and pats him and is pretty gentle. I think David wants to wrestle with him."

It was not that many years ago that I received these letters. When I received these letters, I already had my three children. The references about me being "as strong as a bull" reminded me especially of my early fathering. I would often refer to Matthew as a bull calf, because as a two year old, he was so muscular. My youngest son, Michael, also has that genetic gift.