Letters from Marcy #15: 28 September 1965
This was written a month after the last letter. Marcy appears to be ensconced in an apartment in Torrance, in Southern California; I think this was the last of her work-outside-the-college quarters.
A major focus of this letter is Marcy’s aunts Sara and Stelle, apparently sisters who lived together somewhere nearby. I recall hearing Stelle’s name when I was a kid, but I still haven’t quite figured out where they fit into the family tree.
(Edited in 2022 to add: Ancestry.com indicates that Stelle (or Stella?) and Sara (or Sarah?) may have been Marcy’s father Jack’s sisters. I am surprised; I had no idea that Jack had siblings.)
I keep wishing that Marcy’s parents’ responses to her letters had survived; I don’t have much sense of what they were like as people, and I think the letters would have helped.
Tuesday [pencil: 9/28/65] xxxx H'ro. Thanks for the check; almost hope mine bounces so they'll have an excuse to throw me out--the manager-lady (couple, actually) was/were very nice about my leaving at the end of the month. (threw a scene for them, complete with a few tears, which were sort of real as I was pretty blue) about how I'm not making as much as I thought I was, and absolutely have to find a cheaper place as soon as possible. So her husband is going to help me look, even spend a few hours driving around to find places. Said she'd x already sent the check in to the company, or it would have been okay to stay a day or so and not pay. Says the deposit will be returned immediately, soon's I leave, so I can pay deposit, if necessary, on new place. should be able to find a house with private apt for about $60/month, which is what I should have insisted on doing in the first place. but Ruth was in a hurry, and aunt Sara and aunt Stelle were sitting there in the back of her (Chrysler) station wag, and made me kind of nervous... What a messy thing. Spent last Tuesday night at Aunt Sara's, finishing typing a paper for school....listened to Sara tell me all about how impossible Stelle is all afternoon; then she and Dave went to movies with the Glicks and some other couple in the evening, and had to sit and listen to Stelle tell me all about how hard her life is. And how everybody pushes her around, and she wants to live alone, or stay with Valli, or something, and how goodhearted she's always been, and how she hates California, and wants to go back to Philadelphia, and can't meet new people and on and On and ON. I really feel sorry for the poor old thing; she's awfully sweet (if you don't have to live with her, I guess) and can hardly hear a thing, which is terrible in the best of situations, and feels left out and put upon and pushed around and all kinds of terrible. Honest to god, I will kill myself it it ever comes to that. (But then again, it xxx won't. I will never be that dependent on others, not even having a sister, hurray.) She and Sara are constantly at each others' throats; every last little word is taken as innuendo and insult, and real or imagined hurt. Only I think that by now most of it is intended; there's a kind of family/sisterly/familiarity hatred there that is really ugly. Sara kind of wishes Stelle would drop dead, or at least get out of her life, but when push comes to shove, she won't give Stelle a chance to prove that she's worth anything at all. of course, 90 billion years of age is a bit old to start asserting your x independence and turning over a new leaf. And our course Stell has no idea how much of a nusiance she can be, or that sometimes her family needs a vacation from her; least of all does she realize that she is old and sick and infirm and not young and spry and agile. now early morning---fell asleep in the midst of that last bit;; got up early so's I could finish this and mail it this morning. If necessary, I can be reached c/o Mrs. Green, the manager, at 370-5398. hope such is not necessary. .... The apartment is really nice--bedroom/living room w/transformable couch; gigantic closets, entire, tho tiny kitchen, bathroom with shower/tub. and xxxx swimming pool outside, an absolute x prerequisite of LA apartments.....or so it seems. This buildnig, like Aunt Sara's and most others, is built on the order of a villa....like 2 levels, spread out and connected, in an E or some similar or more complex shape, with parking, laundry, trash underneath. surrounded by a fence to climb over, just for the hell of it. The job is pretty okay; teachers (2) are pretty human, tho not terribly skilled, as both are former grade-school teachers. at least they treat kids like people, and are genuinely fond of them.....so we all feel we have lots to learn from each other. The directress is never there, and is evidently slightly out of her mind; the teachers blame her for all unpleasant xxxx rules--we shall xxxx see, she's coming in today. Torrance is pretty damn isolated. Will explore the bus situation this weekend. Went swimming in the ocean last Sunday, which was glorious....trip to San Francisco was glorious, but have to go, so remind me and I'll tell you about it next letter. take care, 'appy contact lens. [handwritten: love] [handwritten: Marcia]
Postmark: semi-unreadable, but I’m guessing it says Sep 29, 1965, Torrance, Calif. Handwritten: “Rec’d this Sat. 10/1/65” and “Ans this 10/7.”