J. Powers - Suitable Accommodations - An Autobiographical Story of Family Life - The Letters of J. F. Powers, 1942-1963

A letter from a Miss Riordan, who wants the author of The Presence of Grace to write an 800-word story for her magazine for blind children. Is this not the woman who got me to write one before and then wanted me to change it after I did write it — to which request I never responded? For a long time I had her letter around in my study. Now I must close. […]

Much love,

Jim

HARVEY EGAN

507 Church Street

Ann Arbor, Michigan

November 10, 1956

Dear Fr Egan,

Long time no hear. I am established here in two rooms with a view, the radio is giving me the Michigan-Illinois game, The New Yorker is on the stands with my latest story,9 the first chapter of my new novel, I am smoking “Erinmore Flake,” a product of Northern Ireland, smoked on my arrival in Ireland and so full of sweet dreams for me. Tomorrow is Katherine Anne’s birthday, Tuesday is Boz’s, and I’ve just purchased a wristwatch for him: I want him to learn the value of time. He and Betty are arriving for a short visit on Tuesday. Except for the necessity to introduce Betty to the faculty, and probably have some people in, I am looking forward to the visit. […]

It is now 1:30 Minnesota time, and I must try to get the Iowa-Minnesota game. I suppose the Hawkeyes will play dirty again, as they always do against our guys. Regards to Sr Eugene Marie.

Jim

Betty and Boz came for a visit; Jim gave a party; both ventures were surprisingly successful.

BETTY POWERS

507 Church Street

Ann Arbor, Michigan

November 17, 1956

Dear Betty,

Nine o’clock here, in an hour you’ll be arriving in Chicago, and since I left you, I’ve been thinking about you, both of you, and hoping all goes well. […]

I put the table back in the living room but otherwise have left everything untouched. It is cold here tonight, or can it be that you’re gone. The Man Downstairs is entertaining tonight. Pansy and Dwight are quiet, even to the hangers. I regret that I must have seemed rather dim and unresponsive in the station. All for now. Write when you can. And love to the girls, Hughlie, and to you and Boz.

Jim

BETTY POWERS

507 Church Street

Ann Arbor, Michigan

November 23, 1956

Dear Betty,

The morning after Thanksgiving, with George here reading a book. […]

I had a miserable night with George. He snores, spins rapidly in bed at intervals, and in general gives you a rough time. So I was tired all day yesterday. He may come and see us around Xmas time; I urged him to do so. […] Much love to you all, and especially to you.

Jim

Dwight: I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Pansy: You don’t take care of yourself. You’re too proud to wear your sweatshirt.

Hangers: Clang, clang, cling.

BETTY POWERS

507 Church Street

Ann Arbor, Michigan

Wednesday, 6:30 p.m., December 5, 1956

Dear Betty,

[…] I have just eaten one of my little dinners, quaint I guess you’d have to call them: spaghetti, half a can of corn, tea, and cookies. It was between that and pancakes, but I decided to hold off on them for a bit. I have MSS to read tonight because I have two appointments in the morning. […]

I went down for the mail this morning and met Mr Collins. He asked me to mention to Mr Rice that some apartment or other would be vacant on December 15. I looked at him, wondering if he’d said something that really concerned me. I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about this apartment. No, he meant the one at the head of the stairs. “They’re going back to California. He doesn’t like the climate here.” I rocked and teetered at this news. Finally I said, with a winning smile: “Well, it’s better than California.” To which he nodded and smiled. So Dwight and Pansy are departing, and that little scene I conveyed to you was pregnant with meaning, as we say in creative writing. I feel I should give them some kind of going-away party, but the trouble with that is that I haven’t yet met them. Maybe just a gift. Even that presents difficulties, for I heard Pansy, through their open front door as I was coming up the steps, telling someone that they were asking so much for this and so much for that. They are selling their furniture! How can they do it? They’ve lived with these things since last September.

Now I’ll close. Mr Kennedy and Mr Whelan10 are taking me out for dinner tomorrow night. I was surprised to learn from Mr K. that Mr W. has only just in the last week rec’d his master’s. I told Mr K. that if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have been quite so friendly with Mr W. We have to draw the line somewhere, after all.

Much love,

Jim

Jim and Betty planned a Boxing Day conversazione to be held at the red house.

HARVEY EGAN

GO BLUE!11

507 Church Street

Ann Arbor, Michigan

December 6, 1956

Dear Fr Egan,

It was good hearing from you after so long. George, who at Thanksgiving trained in and planed out, said he’d seen little of you. I wonder who your friends are, now that you’re cut off from janitor supplies and hardware and merchandise in general. I passed through the Twins last week, not stopping except for a tasty breakfast in the Mpls station.

My calendar grows more and more interesting: only eight more classes to be held. I’ve been a regular con about marking off the days. Not that it hasn’t been good. I am better for it, of course. I was getting a little shaggy, intellectually. With my basically brilliant mind, it wasn’t long before I was making sallies with the best of them. Another thing I’ve been doing in collegiate gatherings is suddenly hitting someone on the arm, the idea being to leave a black-and-blue mark. We all do that. I tried ripping open a few flies — some, like Hask, majored in that at Quincy College Academy — but the zipper has done away with all that. Tripping, of course, is still done, and breaking wind. The more we change, the more we’re the same, I always say. As I say, it’s been good, not only for me, but for those I meet. I seem to be very popular. I have been asked to read from my work here and there, but of course I had to refuse, at the money offered.

I’m glad you thought the last story good. I never know what you’ll think. The response has been light except from my immediate family. Actually, I think I’m outgrowing my public. I’m shooting for immortality.

About Yuletide cheer, we are planning a really big affair. You’ll get an invitation, and in your case and George’s we can offer overnight accommodations. We are flushing the woodwork for guests, and it should be plenty gala. I am going into Detroit on Saturday to look for a punch bowl. I saw a beauty in Chicago the other day, but it was priced a little high ($500) when you consider you don’t use a punch bowl every day. In the end I may settle for a commode belonging to the Mitchells. I don’t know Phil Silvers’s work. I think Sid Caesar’s skits good, though, and like to look at Jackie Gleason, who always reminds me of Dick Keefe.

I am glad to hear that The Wanderer is getting after Elvis. Somebody ought to, not that there isn’t a lot of good in him, or in the way our merchants prepare us for Christmas, for that matter (vide L. Cowley). I don’t know what can be done for Gordon.12 I do think, and hope, he’ll be spoiled for the grey life he was leading in Chicago, not that there isn’t a lot of good in a grey life, and certainly Chicago is a good place for it, not that Chicago doesn’t have its … Say, how do you like these apples? About that marriage course for student nurses, skip it. Not that such a course isn’t … Hey, I can’t stop this! How would you like a rubber Santa Claus over three feet tall, more than thirty-two inches around, roly-poly, and best of all you just pull the tape and he actually talks, says, “Merry Christmas”??????