Write me soon.
Love,
Lesley
JILLIAN LAWTON
BARNARD COLLEGE
PLIMPTON HALL
NEW YORK, NY 10025
January 12, 1970
Dearest Nick,
It’s been a couple of weeks since I last wrote, and that’s the longest period I’ve gone without writing you since your death. A shrink would suggest my not writing was a sign I’m getting over you—as if that were possible. All it really means is that I’ve been especially busy over the Christmas holidays. I saw your dad and Jimmy several times while I was at home. They both did a good job of pretending. I did, too, for their sake. I’m worried about your father, Nick. He’s so thin, and Jimmy says all he does these days is work. It’s as if he’s convinced himself that if he spends eighteen hours a day at the station he’ll forget that his wife and oldest son are dead. I don’t fault him. I’ve never had better grades, and I study and work hard for all the same reasons as your father. I’m desperately searching for a way to forget how empty my life seems without you.
Jimmy’s adjusted the best, I think. Your brother’s over six feet tall now, and when I first saw him, I did a double take. He looks so much like you. I had a rough couple of minutes, but managed a fast recovery.
On Christmas Eve, the three of us assembled at your grave site. We formed a circle and held on to one another. New Year’s Day, I found your father sitting on a bench near your mother’s grave. I gave him his privacy and sought my own.
I knew the holidays would be difficult, but I’m happy to report that I didn’t get into a single argument with my dad about politics or the war or anything else. I feel sorry for my mom. She’s always trying to bring the two of us together and is miserable when her efforts fail. Loving us both makes this tension between Dad and me extrahard on her.
I played the role of the good daughter and went to Dad’s retirement party. I smiled when it was required of me and socialized to the best of my ability. Dad’s friend Montgomery Gordon attended the function, too, and I passed the time chatting with him. He’s as stuffy and full of himself as my father is.
Lesley wants me to come back to Pine Ridge this summer, but I can’t. I don’t belong there anymore. Besides all the tension between Dad and me, Pine Ridge holds too many memories. Anyway, I’ll be busy applying for teaching positions around the country. As of right now, I don’t have a clue where I’ll end up.
Oh, Nick, you’d be amazed at Lesley’s babies. Davey is three and Lindy two and they’re both so precious. I fell in love with them all over again this Christmas. We would’ve had beautiful children, you and I. My heart aches for the babies we never had.
I saw a few friends from high school while I was home, mostly to satisfy my parents who are subtly pressuring me to date again. I don’t know why I should. I don’t plan to marry. No one knows that except you and Lesley. It would sound rash and melodramatic to anyone else. How could I possibly love anyone but you? I can’t. No one could ever take your place.
Remember how much I love you.
Jillian
* * *
We are pleased to announce that
Retired Judge Leonard Lawton
Has rejoined the Shields & Ellis Law Firm
Leonard Lawton is available
For mediation and arbitration,
Consultation and legal representation
in business, real estate and civil matters
* * *
JILLIAN LAWTON
BARNARD COLLEGE
PLIMPTON HALL
NEW YORK, NY 10025
February 1, 1970
Dear Monty,
Forgive me, but I can’t make myself address you as Montgomery. I received the letter telling me you’re going to be in New York next week. Thank you for the invitation to dinner, but unfortunately I’ve already made other plans for the evening.
I understand congratulations are in order. My mother told me you’d recently been made a full partner in Lawton, Shields and Ellis. My father’s mentioned your name often and with great fondness. I’m sure the law firm will benefit from your expertise.
Once again, I’m sorry I’ll miss seeing you next week. I hope you enjoy your stay on the East Coast.
Sincerely,
Jillian Lawton
JILLIAN LAWTON
BARNARD COLLEGE
PLIMPTON HALL
NEW YORK, NY 10025
February 1, 1970
Dear Mom and Dad,
I insist you stop. I know you asked Montgomery Gordon to invite me out for dinner while he’s in New York. He couldn’t have been any more obvious. I’m not over Nick and I will never be over Nick. Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is. I’m not interested in seeing your friend (especially since he’s fifteen years older than me!).
Because he is your friend, I refused him politely, but I would appreciate it if you’d see that this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.
Jillian
Pine Ridge Mills
Pine Ridge, Washington
Reduction in Force Notice
Effective March 1, 1970
Attn: Buck Knowles
PINE RIDGE COMMUNITY BULLETIN BOARD
Day Care Available
All hours
Contact Lesley Knowles
555-6766
April 22, 1970
Dear Lesley and Buck,
I suppose by now you’ve heard from Mom and Dad that I’m married. I’ve known Bill Lamar for three years. We both joined the Navy at the same time. This isn’t a sudden decision and we’re both very happy.
Mom wrote that Buck got laid off at the mill. I’m sorry, Les, but it’s not really surprising, seeing how Dad’s job has been on and off for as long as I can remember. I realize another pregnancy now is going to cause you financial hardship. Apparently that’s a prerequisite for babies! We haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, but I’m pregnant too, almost four months, the same as you.
Bill isn’t Catholic and we didn’t get married in the Church. Dad had one of his temper tantrums when we told him we were married by a Justice of the Peace. He said he didn’t scrimp and sacrifice all those years to send us girls to Holy Name Academy only to have us marry outside the faith. That’s a real laugh! If it wasn’t for the tuition scholarships, neither one of us would’ve been able to attend parochial schools. And we both know it was because of Mom that you and I were able to accept those scholarships. She took in ironing and later worked in the school cafeteria to pay for our uniforms and whatever else we needed. As for Dad defending the faith—what a joke. I doubt either of us can remember the last time he darkened a church door.
But I didn’t write to complain about Dad. I wanted you to know about the baby and to tell you that Bill and I are hoping to visit Pine Ridge sometime this summer.
I miss Joe, Lily and Bruce, and I worry about them at home with Dad. At least Mike got out of the house as soon as he graduated—like you and me. I never hear from him. Do you? The last thing I heard, he left town with a couple of friends and was headed for California. I can’t believe Joe’s a senior this year. What are his plans, do you know? Lily writes me every once in a while and tells me about school. She’s as smart as you were. I miss you all so much.
Write me soon.
Susan, Bill and?
JILLIAN LAWTON
BARNARD COLLEGE
PLIMPTON HALL
NEW YORK, NY 10025
May 4, 1970
Dear Dad,
I just finished watching the evening news. The anger inside me refuses to be silenced. Four students were killed at Kent State today and nine others wounded. Shot by the National Guard. Are you proud, Daddy? Does the sight of those protesters being gunned down satisfy your sense of justice? How dare the youth of America voice their dismay over the escalation of the war in Vietnam. Is that what you think? I can almost hear you say those students got what they deserved.
From the first, you’ve made your
hawkish views on Vietnam very clear. You and your cronies are convinced of the importance of wiping out Communism, but so far all you’ve done is wipe out the youth of America. How many mothers weeping over the caskets of their sons will it take to prove the craziness of this war to you and your friends?
I was in grade school when you so eloquently explained to me the importance of the law and how it was based on our Constitution. I was probably the only third grader in the entire state who could recite the entire Bill of Rights from memory. Apparently the rights you were so proud of no longer apply in our country. Apparently freedom of speech is so dangerous to our society it must be silenced by gun-toting soldiers firing blindly into a crowd of college students. Free speech is so dangerous it must be stamped out.
You once disdainfully told me you didn’t raise me to be the wife of a mechanic. That mechanic died in a fiery crash on foreign soil because our country asked it of him. Nick didn’t hide from what he considered his duty. He went willingly and fought with pride. Tell me, Dad, where are the sons of your friends? You don’t need to answer that because I already know. Harvard. How many of your pompous friends are willing to lay the lives of their children on the line in an effort to wipe out the spread of Communism? Not a one.
As long as Nick was on the battlefield, I supported our troops, and although I disagreed with our presence in Vietnam, I supported that war. I won’t anymore. Not after today. The demonstrators are right: It’s time we got out of Vietnam and Cambodia. I only regret that our withdrawal didn’t happen sooner, so I could have married the “grease monkey” you scorned.
Jillian
Mrs. Leonard Lawton
2330 Country Club Lane
Pine Ridge, Washington 98005
May 11, 1970
Dear Jillian,
Your letter deeply upset both your father and me. Neither one of us condones what happened at Kent State. You so distressed your father that he locked himself in his study.
He didn’t want me to say anything, but his health hasn’t been good, which is what led to his early retirement. I cannot express how much this unpleasantness between the two of you grieves me. You seem intent on blaming your dad for Nick’s death, as if he were personally responsible for this terrible war. I doubt that you realize how unfair you’ve been.
Another point. Montgomery Gordon has been like a son to us in recent years. He contacted you last February before his trip east as a courtesy and certainly not because of any prompting on either your father’s part or mine. Although I was infuriated by your accusation months ago, I bit my tongue. I can no longer remain silent. You told us earlier that you have no interest in dating Montgomery and that, as always, is your choice. But don’t blame him or us for transgressions we haven’t committed.
You implied that your father and I are a bitter disappointment to you. I wish you’d look at the situation from our point of view. Remember you are our only child. We invested all the love we had in you, nurtured you, supported and educated you—and all we’ve received back for years now has been your contempt.
I find it painful to speak of such matters. All I ask is that you not write such cruel, hateful things to your father again. His heart can’t take much more of your venom.
Mom
May Protest Rally
Against the War in Vietnam
Sunday, May 17, 1970
12-3:00 p.m.
Student Union Building
May 15, 1970
Jillian,
If you want to see an end to the war, join me in making our voices heard. The killing must stop at home and in Vietnam. If you believe this, as I do, join the march on Sunday. You must be willing to risk the chance of arrest.
Following the incident at Kent State, we are placing our lives on the line in support of our belief.
Too many have already died. Don’t let the Kent State student deaths be in vain. Join me in taking a stand against the establishment.
Thom Eliason
ASB President
May 23, 1970
Dearest Jillian,
Arrested—you! I could hardly believe my eyes when I read your letter. What a ghastly experience that must have been. Of course I won’t say anything to your parents, or anyone else.
Something good has come out of it, though. I applaud your decision to apply to law school. I imagine your parents were elated with the news. That has been their dream for you from the beginning. You would’ve made a good teacher, but you’ll be a brilliant attorney.
Thank goodness you’re familiar with the law, otherwise who knows how long you and the other students would’ve been detained.
Both Dad and Buck are back working at the mill. I’m grateful. It’s hard enough to get anything done around the trailer with four kids constantly underfoot. My own, plus the two day care children I’ve been looking after. With Buck home, it’s impossible to accomplish anything. Although, to be fair, he wasn’t actually around all that much. He was off doing his “guy things,” as he calls them.
I recently met a few of Buck’s friends and made sure he understood that he’s not to bring any of them to our home again. He plays poker a couple of nights a week with his buddies, but I don’t mind. I get out myself, thanks to Lily who loves to watch the kids. Mom and I are taking decoupage classes and I’ve made several things for the living room. It’s an inexpensive way to decorate. I knit a baby blanket for Susan, too. I have several left from Davey and Lindy and don’t need any new ones myself.
This pregnancy is less troublesome than the first two. I’m much bigger this time. I asked the doctor about twins and he measured my tummy, did a few calculations and said there’s a real possibility this could be a multiple birth. I was joking when I suggested it! There’s no way to tell until July, when I’m seven months along and it’s safe for me to have an X-ray. Until that point, I refuse to worry about it. Naturally Buck is ecstatic, as if twins would prove his virility. Men! Sometimes I think their brains are located below their belts.
I want to get this in the mailbox before the postman arrives, so I’ll end for now. Thanks for your letter. I’m proud of you, Jillian! You stood up for what you believe in—enough to risk arrest.
If I wasn’t so busy taking care of my family and doing day care on the side, I’d march in a protest rally myself. This war has robbed our country of so much already. I’m grateful Mike didn’t have to go to Vietnam, but then I think of all the young men who have, including Buck and Nick. It isn’t right that we’re fighting someone else’s war.
I’ve got to scoot; Lindy’s up from her nap and needs lots of attention.
Lesley
The Class of
Nineteen Hundred and Seventy
Barnard College
announces its
Commencement Exercises
Sunday afternoon at three p.m.
June seventh
Nineteen Hundred and Seventy
At Altshul Court, facing Barnard Hall
By invitation only
June 25, 1970
Dear Jillian,
Dad’s been after me to write you a thank-you note for the high school graduation present. I should’ve done it a long time ago, but I’ve been real busy. It was groovy of you to send me the money, as well as Nick’s certificate from helicopter school. You’re right. I do want it. I got the unspoken message, too. Nick achieved something after graduation and so can I.
You’ll be glad to know I’ve got a real job with potential. (I’m defining a real job as one that isn’t at my own dad’s service station.) Care to guess what I’m doing? I’m building houses. I’m good with my hands and always did enjoy seeing stuff come together.
It’s funny how it happened. I was pumping gas for a guy who turned out to be a building contractor and he started asking me questions and said he had his eye out for someone he could train to be a carpenter. He said he was looking for someone with a strong work ethic and a willingness to learn. I told him I’d be interested and he told me to come down
to the job site the next day and fill out an application.
I was there bright and early, before any of the other workers arrived. Sure enough, Brian shows up. He said he liked my enthusiasm and gave me a job on the spot. Here’s the best part. Brian is a union contractor, which means I’m making union wages. He personally took me down to the union hall and signed me up. There’s a fee but he paid that, too, only it’s a loan that’ll be deducted from my wages.
You’ll never guess who I saw talking to Brian a few days ago. Your dad! Apparently they’re friends. I think your dad might’ve put in a good word for me because I saw Brian nod and look in my direction. Your father’s all right. I know he and Nick didn’t see eye to eye, but then us Murphy boys sometimes rub people the wrong way. I bet that if Nick was alive, he and your dad would be okay with each other.
Sorry it’s taken me so long to send you this thank-you. Dad’s doing better, I think. He still goes out to the cemetery a lot, but he’s eating more. Be sure and stop by the house the next time you’re in town.
See ya,
Jim Murphy
P.S. Since I’m a high school graduate and a union carpenter, I decided it was time to be Jim instead of Jimmy.
Pine Ridge Library Request Form
Name: Lesley Knowles
Books Requested:
Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask by Dr. David Reuben
Between Friends Page 10
