When your sisters came yesterday they were laden with a cask of honey and buckets of rare roses and peonies, lace and shawls and embroidered handkerchiefs and presents for the little girls. Rosa took a special liking to Celestina, who has promised to teach her how to sew and embroider. I will write more about their visit in my next letter.
On other matters, I wrote some days ago to Father McKinnawae, who is spending the summer on Staten Island preparing the new orphan asylum, asking about the youngest of the Russo children, but have no reply as yet. From Ned I have had no word in a while, and I plan to write him a note as soon as I have a moment. I had hoped to visit a few of the Catholic orphanages with Mary Augustin during your absence, but she hasn’t responded to my notes, quite oddly, I think. I don’t feel confident enough to confront nuns on my own.
One last, happier subject. You will remember that the opening ceremonies for the new bridge on the East River are scheduled for the twenty-fourth of May and will include a grand display of fireworks after nightfall. Aunt Q has had an inordinate—even excessive—love of fireworks since childhood. Some time ago she talked her grandson Simon (he is a captain in the Navy) into finding and securing a small ferry and crew to hire for the entire day. Aunt has also been writing to family members as far away as Albany, and thus far has extracted promises from many of them to join us for the celebration by spending the afternoon and evening on the ferry. Mrs. Lee is in her element, planning a picnic with food enough to provision an army.
Added to this excitement is the fact that the next day—that very Friday morning—Sophie and Cap will be married and then sail in the afternoon for Europe. Family who come for the bridge opening and fireworks will stay for the wedding and the wedding luncheon. I expect you will be on duty on Thursday and Friday, but hope you will be able to spend a few hours with us in the evenings at least. And then there are trips to Staten Island and to Greenwood to plan.
So far this week I have had a great number of badly broken bones to deal with, a half dozen fistulas and tears. I corrected a bowel obstruction and two hernias, and amputated a hand, a leg to the knee, and the toes of a little boy who stuck his foot under a dray cart on a dare. We have had an unusual number of losses in the children’s ward. I don’t like to think of myself as superstitious, but I have had more difficult cases than usual since you left, and signed more death certificates than I like to remember, certainly more than is usual for this time of year. For the sake of the good citizens of New York but mostly because I do miss you, you should come home sooner rather than later.
Your
Anna
Postscript. I decided to wait a day and think before telling you the whole story of your sisters’ visit. I have not talked to Sophie or Aunt Quinlan about it and will not until I have had your thoughts on how best to proceed.
Your sisters were very welcome guests, I think you will know that. They were friendly and open and very polite. Everyone liked them. I liked them. I would like to say that I still like them without reservation, but this is where the trouble begins.
Sophie came in late, about an hour after I got home. I was standing just outside the parlor when Aunt Quinlan introduced Bambina and Celestina to her as Dr. Sophie Savard, Anna’s cousin. There was a short, shocked silence. Bambina especially could not hide her surprise and disquiet. She stammered and withdrew, making an excuse about finding her reticule. Celestina was composed and less abrupt, but very quiet.
I am guessing that you didn’t mention to them that not all Savard family members are white, and that this news will not be well received by your family. It occurred to me that I could take your sisters aside and explain that Sophie is my half cousin, but I was immediately ashamed by this impulse. I will not repudiate Sophie, and I will not make excuses or provide explanations to quiet bigotry. If indeed this is bigotry. I cannot imagine any other reason for what happened, but if you can provide one, I will be both thankful and relieved.
I saw not the slightest hint of prejudice in you; you treat Sophie and Mr. and Mrs. Lee with respect and kindness, and I want to believe you will not allow anyone to treat them in any other way. Jack, I do not intend to alarm you, but neither could I pretend this hadn’t happened and I can’t put aside the worry that others in your family will feel as Bambina does, or worse.
Now I need to hear your thoughts on how best to proceed. I would like to call on your sisters and raise the subject directly, but if you feel that will do more harm than good, I am willing to take your advice. I will also ask you not to threaten or browbeat them, if that is your impulse. I imagine that they will not change their minds. It will just teach them to hide their true feelings, for fear of angering you. In both our professions we see what can happen when anger is tamped down and never let vent.
Anna
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SHERMAN HOUSE HOTEL
RANDOLF AND CLARK STREETS
CHICAGO, ILL.
May 9th, 1883