Letters

I want to be a love letter!

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“You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”

During my devotions one morning last week, this passage, written by the apostle Paul to the early church at Corinth (2 Corinthians 3:2-3), stood out to me as never before. In fact, it practically jumped off the page and I’ve been pondering it ever since.

What does it mean to be a letter from Christ, known and read by everyone? Am I such a letter and, if so, what does that letter say to those who read it?

I want to be a love letter from Christ! 

Writing letters is rapidly becoming a dying art, but imagine days gone by when handwritten letters carried words of love to distant sweethearts. People took time to put pen to paper and pour out their thoughts. Letters were treasured, read time and again, tied up in ribbons and kept for decades. Why? Because they made the recipient feel cherished, valued, loved.

How can I be a love letter from Christ?

How can my life have that kind of impact? How can it demonstrate God’s love for those I encounter?

Colossians 3:12 comes to mind. It’s been my theme verse for the past few years.

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

Perhaps those characteristics are the ink with which to write my life, my love letter from Christ. Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.

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Letters from the past, final installment

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As I continue to read through the letters from my father’s university classmates, I feel as though I’m getting to know some of “the boys” personally. They’re becoming real to me through the words they wrote more than 60 years ago!

I especially love John’s wacky sense of humour. Like many of “the boys”, he obviously enjoyed teasing my Dad about his height. Shortly after my oldest brother’s birth, he wrote “Congratulations Old Man! (Dad was all of 27 at the time.) Please share these best wishes with your wife. The few minutes of thought I have had time for since receiving your announcement have made me realize what a brave girl your wife is – why the chance that she might be the mother of an almost infinite length of child – I can almost see her wondering if when he leaves her for his first day of school if the roles will not be in the somewhat reversed position of CHILD looking lovingly down on her and patting her on the head. Ah! Well! since I was not able to get to your wedding and warn her of these things I suppose I must carry my guilt with me these long years.”

A few months later, Oz, who was by that time living on the island of Curacao in what was then known as the Netherlands West Indies, wrote “Our congratulations on your recent expansion from partnership to company. I know without asking that Don Jr. is the best six-month old baby that you have ever seen. When he gets to the walking stage, may I suggest a small weight on his head lest he have any notions of growing taller than his ‘old man.'”

As time went by, wives, children and family vacations began to crop up more and more often in the letters. In August 1951, Gordon wrote “The only ‘big’ news, at least from my point of view, is that I am going to be married at Christmas to a girl I met at Oxford. From your letter, I see that you and most of our classmates are miles ahead of me in this sort of activity but better late than never.”

In 1955, shortly after the birth of my younger sister, we moved into a waterfront house in Powell River. The beach became our playground and I could hear the sound of the surf from my bedroom window at night. My father must have shared this news with his classmates as John comments “The new house sounds most intriguing – view, beach, swimming in April – even if it is salt water. When we visit you I will join you in a dip as long as you can provide a good garden sprinkler to wash away the crystals of NaCl.” (They were chemical engineers, after all!) John and his family did make that promised visit but not until the summer of 1959. A letter written in April of that year fills my father in on their holiday plans. I vaguely remember a family with two children visiting us but I was only six and I didn’t recall who they were until I read this letter.

I’ve learned more about my father through these letters too. In September 1950, John congratulated him on achieving “the status of professional engineer – the first of Chem ’46 and the second of Science ’46, I believe – very good.” Dad didn’t talk much about his work while we were growing up so I was completely unaware of the fact that he published research papers but in August 1951, Gordon wrote “Congratulations on your publication. I can see that you are thriving in this Engineering business.” and a short note from Norm in 1958 says “Many thanks for your gift of a copy of your paper on groundwood from sawdust.” That shows how little I really know about my father’s work; I had to look up the meaning of the word, groundwood!

The final letter in the packet was written in January 1963, almost 17 years after my father and “the boys” graduated from UBC. Though letters became fewer and further between as years went by, I’m sure that some of them continued to correspond for many more years but those letters have been forever lost. How thankful I am that, as I sorted through everything in my parents’ apartment, this little pile of correspondence caught my eye and I decided to set it aside for a closer look when the job was done!

More letters from the past

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Though I’m not sure if I ever met him, I remember the unusual name Oz from my childhood days. His Italian surname had a musical ring to it. His early letters to my Dad were fascinating. On July 20, 1947, he wrote “I’m just writing a short note to tell you that I’m on the move again, this time to jolly old England. The okay to hire me came over last week and before I knew it, they had reservations for me on the Empress of Canada, sailing this Saturday. In case Dorothy didn’t mention it in her letter, its Shell Oil that I’m to work for. I’ll train for a year in England and then go out to various refineries in the far corners of the world. I think that I’ll enjoy the work because the more I learn about oil, the better I like it. We certainly have not enjoyed our brief stay in the ‘fair’ city of Toronto. In fact, our opinion of it is quite unprintable. Vancouver has grown in our estimation by leaps and bounds. We have decided to retire in Sechelt as there is obviously nowhere on earth half as nice. Dorothy is returning there now, because Shell has a nasty rule that says wives cannot accompany newly-hired husbands for approximately 3 months. Therefore we must part till about October. However, we decided that the job was worth a little inconvenience, so Dorothy leaves for home on Thursday.”

A second letter written from London two months later told of an upcoming move to a refinery near Liverpool and gave a fascinating glimpse into life in post war England. “One of the poor features was that Dorothy couldn’t come with me when I came over, but the company will bring her to me as soon as I get settled at the refinery, i.e. about the end of November if all goes smoothly. Actually, it’s just as well because it will give us a chance to get fully prepared for what will probably be a very tough winter. I keep Dorothy posted on all shortages here so that when she comes, she can bring along whatever can’t be obtained here, and believe me it makes a good-sized list. The clothing ration is pitifully small, and what one can get is poor quality and high priced. No doubt you’ve been reading about our crisis. It’s been going on for some time now without any noticeable improvement and from what I can see, the people here are in for a hell of a tough time for years to come.” All was not woe, however. He went on to say “In the meantime, I’m enjoying myself and making full use of my opportunity to be in a huge place like London, although so far its the country around L that has impressed me most. You just can’t imagine the orderly beauty of it.”

Comments about my father’s love life continued to crop up in the letters from his classmates. In December 1947, Gordon wrote “You probably also know that the Dowdings now have a son. This sort of thing will probably become more frequent now.” and a little later in the letter, “Furthermore, how deep are your roots in Powell River now? Nobody is supposed to be able to stay single there that long you know.”

The letters provide other glimpses into my father’s life before I knew him. In February 1948, Rhys wrote “You really seem to be enjoying things. I can just see Skip Stewart at the helm putting up and down the coast – god it sounds interesting.” Some of my earliest memories are of being out on my father’s boat. In the early days of their marriage, my parents spent lots of time touring the coast on it but they sold it when I was about six. By that time, the family had grown to include four children and there wasn’t time or money to keep it up.

I laughed out loud when I read the opening of John’s letter to my father written on October 25, 1948, less than a month before my parents’ wedding. You may remember that it was John who threatened to sue my father if he left his bachelor state behind. “Goodbye forever! Donald Stewart, Bachelor of Applied Science. Welcome! Donald Stewart, married and in Enforced Silence. Seriously – Congratulations old man. I am very happy for you.” He went on to express his regret that he would not be able to get time off work to attend the wedding and act as my father’s best man. Another classmate, who was also working in Powell River at the time, took his place.

Over a year went by before the next letter arrived. “The boys” were obviously settling into their careers. Some were marrying and starting families. Regular contact with their university buddies began to dwindle but I do know that Dad kept in touch with a few of them for many, many years and that he attended a reunion of his few remaining classmates last year.

This seems like a good place to take a break as there are other things I must attend to around here but there are still more than a dozen letters to be read so you can expect a final installment sometime soon!

Letters from the past

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Among the many interesting and strange things that we found as we cleaned out my parents’ apartment in Vancouver was a little pile of handwritten letters addressed to my father. The earliest ones dated back to 1946, the year he graduated from the University of British Columbia as a chemical engineer and moved to Powell River to begin his career working in the research lab at the local pulp and paper mill.

stampI first decided to keep the letters because I knew that the postage stamps would interest my brother, an avid stamp collector. Many of them are 4 cent stamps bearing the image of King George VI. Later letters, written in the 1950s, bear 5 cent stamps with the picture of a very young Queen Elizabeth II on them. A few, written on thin air mail paper, have foreign stamps.stamp 2

After looking at the stamps and the postmarked dates, I began to wonder about the letters themselves. Who wrote them? What did they say and what glimpses might they give of life in a different time? Some people might not approve of me reading my father’s mail but I couldn’t help myself!

This evening, I opened the first letter. “Dear Lofty,” it began. I hadn’t heard my father’s university nickname for years! As a six foot six inch bean pole, it suited him well. The letters started shortly after his college graduation and came from his classmates who had scattered across the country in search of employment. They were obviously a close knit group who referred to one another as “the boys”. They contain lots of job talk that only a fellow engineer would understand but in between there are fascinating glimpses into life in the late 1940s. Come along and snoop with me!

On June 2, 1946, George, who went to work at B.C. Plywoods in Vancouver, wrote “My salary will be $175 to start. ” On August 20, he wrote that the men in the plant were receiving raises as the result of a strike and his monthly salary was going up to $190. Others reported similar incomes. Of course, the cost of living was similarly low compared to today’s prices. On July 3, Rhys wrote from Hamilton, Ontario saying that he hoped to move to a cheaper boarding house soon. “At present I am paying $1.50 per day for room alone,” he complained.

In early August of that same year, Steve described the butyl (synthetic rubber) plant in Sarnia, Ontario where he landed a job doing research. “The plant is the real McCoy. It’s a 50 million dollar, 185 acre affair. It turns out about 1 000 000 pounds a month of various types of G.R.S. and is one of the 3 butyl plants in existence. It’s design and construction is the best, and you can get any equipment you want for research. The boys taking their Masters would be green with envy if they could see some of it. Control of temperature to 1/50 of a degree is commonplace, and absolutely essential in this field.”

John, who went to Trail, BC wrote, “I am in the Zinc Plant research lab on steady day shift with Saturday afternoon and Sundays off – the hours are 8 to 4:30 with lunch from 12 to 1.” In a later letter, he complained about “some guy from the Central Research who got his job by marrying the right person’s daughter.”

I chuckled when Rhys asked in his second letter, “How is your love life progressing? I hear Powell River is quite the place for an old wolf like you.” My father was 23 years old at the time and if I’m not mistaken, the letter was written the week he met my mother as it was dated October 30 and they met at a Halloween party!

Less than three months later another letter from John said, “Your statement about finding PR not so entirely devoid of young women as at first you thought has me worried – steady old man – who will be left in our bachelor league if you fail me now? You can’t do this to me, Stewart! I’ll sue you for breach of promise – that’s what I’ll do.” I wish John’s letters included his last name. I wonder if this is the same John who later built a cabin on the shore just north of Powell River; a cabin where we stayed several times and made many wonderful memories.

Not all of “the boys” wrote as intimately as John did. Though Norm wrote three pages all about his job at the Development Lab of the Paint and Varnish Division of CIL in Toronto, he slipped in just one sentence of a more personal nature. “About myself, I suppose you know that I was married on June 1st.” No details; not even her name!

Jim wrote a long and interesting letter shortly after the New Year. He was at the University of Toronto “instructing in Chemistry, first year general and second year organic.” He was working 19 hours a week for $180 a month and though he didn’t plan to stay there permanently, he clearly enjoyed what he was doing. “The organic lab is Home Ec – 60 girls!” he reported. I was surprised to learn that there were that many girls studying science in the 1940s.

In the same letter, writing about a visit to Princeton University, Jim says, “I also had the great pleasure of seeing (at very close quarters) our good friend Albert Einstein of Relativity fame. He looks just like his pictures. I recognized him first about two blocks away by the terrific halo of white hair.”

Jim clearly got around as he also wrote about a visit to New York, a city that obviously didn’t impress him. “What a complete nuthouse,” he wrote. “There’s no real life there, just pure existence if the taxis don’t hit you, and just pure existentialism if they do hit you. The civil engineers certainly had a heyday in putting New York together. What a city! Nothing but city! It cost me $1.20 to go to the top of the Empire State Building. Reminded me of being on Crown Mountain back home. The subways are an engineer’s nightmare, but still very efficient; you can disappear from sunlight all day for just 5 cents!”

There are 35 letters in all, carefully numbered in my father’s hand. Most of them were written in the late 1940s and early 1950s but the last one was postmarked January 4, 1963. It’s clearly going to take me more than one evening to sift through them all and more than one post to share their secrets. I hope you’ll come back for more!