Rest your feet and set a spell.
[I found this in one of my mother’s steno books from around 1951. The photo is from the 1940’s ~ Sperry Hunt]
My husband is a judge. I was waiting to have lunch with him. He was trying a divorce case. He denied the divorce, and added, looking straight at me, “Young man you have had nothing worse happen to you than any of the rest of us.” The whole court room howled.
[Click below to open the image.]
[From Eugenia’s steno pad dated November 2, 1952. The photo is from the 1940s ~ Sperry Hunt]
Marriage is a remarkable institution. It’s full of more fun and trouble that you can imagine. But if you make up your mind to have more fun, you’ll have less trouble.
Make it your business to keep him happy and you know what[?] He’ll make you happy. Worry him good and plenty and you’ll reap your reward.
That’s my best advice.
[Click below for scan.]
Eugenia Hunt wrote this poem in 1950 about her home in Alpine, Texas
Alpine
My back’s to the edge of the desert,
My yard’s by the panther’s tread.
The moon’s the magic silver
On this, my ancient ocean bed.
The lizards run in the yellow sun
And fire’s in heaven when the day is done.
Eugenia Howard Hunt
August 20, 1950
Sleeping Children
Sleeping eyes all
Fringed around me.
Soft arms as pliant
As clouds
And lips unclouded by thoughts
Parted in slumber,
The gentle moving
Rhythm of breathing.
Fingers, five pronged
In the grey dark,
Charcoal blown
Over fluid forms
Soft as velvet–
My babies
In the night.
December 25, 1950
The following is a draft of a precious letter I discovered among the many journals Jeana kept over the years.
To Lalu on becoming 20 –
Lalu, my lovely daughter,
Someday you will know I hope a mother’s heart. It is so deep and wondrous a thing as not to bear description. It is so full of love and pride and hurt and forgiveness as to encompass the universe in its constancy. And its viewpoint can only be reached by being. The years it takes to love a grown daughter are its measure.
The day you were 20, I stood on the heights and opened my palm and a spirit flew full blown into the way beyond me. I stood, an artist of life and saw my work move out into that fresh experience, twirl her skirts, and laugh that wonderful laugh which is my Lalu. I thought, “How terrible and how divine to be twenty. How awful and ecstatic and heavenly.”
Oh, my dear, growing older is very, very, nice. But have a wonderful time now. Savor, taste it, hold it, give it the best you have, don’t dare hurt it too deeply. Because its like a Venetian glass chandelier, it can only be blown by Venetians in Venice to be that beautiful. That’s what the 20’s are – live them, feel them, and know them, it can only be had by you once. Be aware of every moment of them. They are your citadel, your castle for a fine life after.
I do not agree entirely with the authorities that childhood is so great an experience, that it shapes all our destinies. I think the 20’s do. They are such “aware” years.
Don’t hurry and become frantic searching for the way. Pace it and breath deeply, and see it all. It’s full of burning desires – make them cooperate with your time. The burning flame of the arts are all around you. Hold them like a torch in front of your eyes – and give your best to the one that makes you most sincerely expressive. But remember, inspiration must have honest endeavor and application. Nothing does itself.
Last, but not least, when it’s time to have fun – angel – have the best time of your life. There is no better time to have it.
Here’s to you – and Got Bless my girl.
Love – Mother
