People
write letters when they are separated from loved ones by emigration
or wars, or when they are desperate for help in poverty and
famine. They write letters when they are lonely, or in love.
And for the most part, they write about the texture of their
daily lives, rather than the achievements of politicians or
leaders. Charlotte Gray, introduction,
Canada: A Portrait in Letters
Charlotte
Gray’s book also includes letters from these well-known
Canadians:
Norman Bethune
Sir Robert Borden
Emily Carr
Sir Winston Churchill
Robertson Davies
John Diefenbaker
Glenn Gould
Grey Owl
W.L. Mackenzie King
Pierre Laporte
Margaret Laurence
Sir Wilfrid Laurier
Sir John A.Macdonald
Marshall McLuhan
L.M. Montgomery
Susanna Moodie
Farley Mowat
Emily Murphy
Lester B. Pearson
Louis Riel
Tom Thomson
Catharine Parr Traill
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1942:
Ontario
Norah Egener to Fred Egener in Europe.
More than a million men and women, one-tenth of Canada’s population,
served in the armed forces during the Second World War. For newlyweds
such as Norah and Fred Egener, the war involved long separation.
During their first seven years of marriage, they spent only two
and a half years under the same roof. While Fred trained in England
and saw action in Italy and Holland, Norah established a home
for their two infants near Owen Sound, Ontario. But each ached
with loneliness and longing for the other. They exchanged hundreds
of intimate letters in which they confessed their depressions
and tried to give each other courage and hope..
June
15
Fred dearest: . . . I am now at the cottage . . . Mom and Dad
were down yesterday and took Marg [her aunt] back up town for
a week, so I am alone with the children [Waide and Cynthia] and
the maid. It is the first time I have had them alone since Cynthia
was born, and it is a real treat . . . .
I am quite prepared to take that rolling pin to you dear if you
ever go away again. Seriously though, I guess as you say we are
putting things more into their proper perspective. Darling, I
want you to understand one thing — inside I’m not measuring up
to my problems and this awful separation as well as you might
think. I resent it lots of times, hate everything and everyone,
even the children . . . I can truthfully say I have not been really
happy since you went away.
It was announced in yesterday’s paper that all men up to thirty-five
are to be conscripted — however it was not settled and Quebec
may still balk..
Glad to hear you are on the wagon. If you fall off dear, don’t
worry about me not understanding. Fred dear, I’ll understand anything
you do and I won’t blame you . . .
On the twelfth, last Friday, it was a year since I said good-bye
to you in Hamilton. What a day and what a dreadful drive, back
to London. But what a day when you return! . . . Darling, I appreciate
your words of praise and declarations of love. Many a time when
we lived in Toronto, I must confess I often wondered if you really
loved me. You very seldom told me — but you were always very sweet
to me and loved me as if you loved me, but never before have you
told me quite how much I mean to you.
Darling, in these two letters you are very depressed and lonely,
as I was in a couple that crossed yours. I may be mistaken, but
I have a feeling you’ve done something that is worrying you and
you want to get it off your chest, so to speak, to me but you
don’t know quite how to do it? Am I right? . . . I understand
quite well when you said, “damned if I did not think I’d blow
a fuse soon”. I had the same feeling all winter. I’m just now
beginning to be a bit normal . . .
Biologically a man is supposed to be different from a woman. Remember
Napoleon and his femmes du guerre? Oh hell, what I’m trying to
say is, if it would relieve the tension any, get yourself a girl
for a night. I know one thing though, you won’t feel much better
because you are so constituted that you have to love the girl
to whom you make love, and the girl you love happens to be me
and I’m too far away.
Seriously dear, I really don’t believe it is such a terrible sin.
The tragedy would come if you had more than a physical experience
— if your mind and heart and soul entered into it, like it did
when you and I made love.
Fred dear, maybe I’m away off the track — please tell me if I
am or not. And if you have anything to confess, please do so if
it would make you feel better. I’ve felt better ever since I made
my little confession, but maybe on the other hand it has worried
you . . . Never hesitate to write me, no matter what kind of mood
you’re in — I certainly unburden my troubles to you, sweet . .
. .
Norah
Fred
was wounded in action in Italy but returned safely to Canada in
1945.
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