The Deceptions

The Deceptions

It was September 16, my fifteenth birthday. I remember the day well, not so much because it was my birthday, but because it was the day my mother and I arrived at Boppop’s home. Both my mother and I called my grandfather Boppop although I never knew how he got that moniker.

We had driven for three days, from our suburban home in Wheatridge, Colorado, near Denver, to Boppop’s old farm house on an almost two acre former dairy outside of Centralia, Washington. Two of those days were spent mostly in silence. Silence from my mom because of sadness, or maybe fear, the fear of raising a child on her own and I think the fear of facing her father who had been opposed to her marriage from the beginning.

I was mostly mute because I was angry. I was angry at my father for having betrayed my mother. The details were kept from me but it was clear he had done some horrible deed and that it had devastated my mom. And I was angry with my mom as well. Why did we have to run away to Washington just a week after I had started ninth grade? My best friend, Terry and I had gotten Mrs. Nelson as our home room teacher and for once I was looking forward to the school year. Why couldn’t we just stay in Wheatland, the only home I had ever known?

On the third day of our trip, radio reception faded soon after we got on the road. Mom began to talk. She talked about how she had been the good child growing up and how her sister, Josey had been the wild one. She talked about how, at seventeen, she had fallen in love with my father, a roadie and wanna be rock star and how she had become pregnant with me and run off with him. She talked about telling her father she was leaving and how she had expected his anger and that she was prepared for it. She talked about how, instead of anger, she saw the hurt in his eyes and how they had never really connected again since that conversation.

I can’t say either my mom or I loved our situation in Washington, but after about a month there we had settled into a sort of routine. Mom took me to school and then went to work at her new job as a secretary for the Lewis County road department. I took the bus home after school. Boppop was struggling with diabetes so when I walked in the door he would usually be in his big chair with his swollen legs up, either reading through the mail or watching old westerns. I would give him a hug, usually grab a drink or snack, and start my homework at the nearby dining room table. 

Often we didn’t know what to say to each other but it was clear to me, even then, that he was making a real effort to get to know me and to help me through this tough time. He would try to help me with my homework and sometimes we would chat. Gradually our conversations became more and more involved and, in spite of my early teen self, I actually began to enjoy them. 

One day I mentioned how surprised I was by a random act of kindness that I had witnessed at our school. This got us talking about kindness and about human nature in general. Like most kids, I saw most things black and white while Boppop viewed things with a bit more nuance. At some point in the conversation, we came up with kind of a challenge. Boppop bet me that if we sent a Christmas card with a note to ten random strangers, over half of them would respond out of kindness, even if they had no clue who we were. I thought we would get zero responses at all, and certainly less than half would write back. Since I didn’t have any money, the bet was for who mowed the lawn the next summer.

We eventually agreed to include this note with the cards:

Dear (random name),     

Just a quick note to wish you Merry Christmas. Things are going great here and we hope all is well there. 

It was great to see you at the party this summer. We are already looking forward to next year!

Meanwhile, have a great Holiday and we hope next year is wonderful for you.

Joe and Taylor

Boppop and I both wanted the note to be longer but we couldn’t think of anything to add that wouldn’t betray our ruse. 

On our next visit to town we bought a box of Christmas cards showing Santa waving from a snowy rooftop while the reindeer smiled while eating carrots. We each hand wrote five notes onto paper printed with holly on the borders, folded them twice and inserted them into the cards. Boppop dug out an old phonebook. We each picked five names and addresses at random from there, addressed the envelopes, putting only our address in the return address corner and mailed them off.

It turned out that neither of us won the bet because exactly half of the recipients responded. In the first week of December, we received three Christmas cards. Two families just sent a card with a signature inside. One person sent a card, a short note and a picture of their family in ugly Christmas sweaters, back before ugly Christmas sweaters were a thing. The next week brought one more card with just a signature. Then, two days later, came another card, smaller than the others. Our address was written in a shaky cursive as was a note inside. It was written on a piece of lined paper torn from a spiral binder. I read the note:

Dear Joe and Taylor,

I can’t thank you enough for your note to Jerry and I. It has meant a lot to me. I am glad things are going well for you two.

I expect you knew about Jerry’s heart troubles. I am sorry to have to tell you that he passed away from them in October. 

Jerry may have mentioned that my mind, or at least my memory has been failing me for some time. To be honest, I don’t even remember you at the party. Jerry kept track of those things for me but now he’s gone and it’s just me. Did you work with Jerry at the mill?

Renee helps when she can but she’s still in Maryland and busy with the twins so she hasn’t made it back here since the funeral. Do you remember Nate, Jerry’s assistant? He’s been so kind. He brings me groceries and makes sure I have whatever else I need. He comes by often but never has more than just a few minutes to visit. 

Have a great Christmas and please come by sometime or drop me a note.

Regards,

Mary Ann

I handed it to Boppop. He read it, then stared at it for a good minute. He laid the note down. I think he tried to hide It, but I could see a tear in his eye. After a few minutes he turned to me and said, “Your grandmother died when you were two. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was so lost. Your mom and Aunt Josey tried to help but I was too proud or stubborn to let them. I regret that now. I know where Mary Ann is coming from.

After Christmas, Boppop wrote a short letter to Mary Ann, ignoring the question about how he knew Jerry.

Hello Mary Ann

Thank you for letting me know about Jerry. I lost my wife a few years ago and I‘ll never forget how hard it was for me. And I remember my first Christmas alone. Let me tell you, it will get better. It is good to have support like Nate is providing. 

Our Christmas here was good and we are looking forward to spring. Please write back when you can.

Your friend,

Joe

She wrote back soon, sending a carefully folded piece of the spiral notebook paper in a small pastel green envelope.

Joe, thank you.

I can’t remember everything I put in my first note to you, but things aren’t as bleak as I probably made them seem. I do miss Jerry every day. My memory is getting worse but I usually know what day it is and I promise the cat is getting fed. 

Renee and the twins surprised me with a visit between Christmas and New Years. The girls are twelve already, how time flies! I do regret that their memory of me on this trip will probably be spending most of their time looking for my glasses, giving me hugs on request and answering my constant question “Now, which one are you, Sally or Sammy?”

I’m looking forward to spring, too. A neighbor boy has already agreed to mow the lawn for me and with his own mower. I don’t think anyone has been in the shed since Jerry passed and I’m fine with keeping it that way.

Respond when you can.

Love,

Mary Ann

After about two years with Boppop, Mom married the lead highway striper for the county and moved into town. I stayed at the old dairy farm with my grandfather throughout high school. I loved it there and Boppop needed more help as his diabetes worsened.

Their exchange continued. Gradually, Mary Ann’s handwriting got worse. So did Boppop’s sight, making it impossible for him to read her letters. So every two or three weeks I would get home from school and there would be the now familiar pale green envelope on the counter, separated from the rest of the mail but unopened. Boppop wouldn’t say anything but on those days, as soon as he heard the door slam,, he would go sit at the kitchen table and wait for me to read him the letter. Then he would have me dictate a letter in response.

Sometimes he added things to his letters that I think he wanted me to know but he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me directly. He was looking away when he had me write these words in one of his letters.

I know I mentioned once how upset I was when Jenny wanted to come back home with Taylor in tow. Now I realize that it was the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time. I never would have guessed that having a loud, messy teenager around would make me realize how lonely I had been before the intrusion.

Early in my senior year this letter arrived:

Dear Joe

Thanks for the note. I am so glad Taylor is doing well. And I agree, you have every right to be proud of her. Please tell her hello for me and tell her that I too was on the debate team way back when. I can’t remember what we debated about, but it sure seemed important at the time.

I’ve spent a lot of time in the last two weeks just sitting on the couch watching Winnie the Purr sit on the window sill, watching the birds and the occasional butterfly outside. Once in a while she wags her tail but she’s getting old like me. We’re both content to just watch the world through the window.

Sally and Sammy just started high school. Can you believe that? They plan on coming out again next summer.

I am afraid that won’t happen. I wanted to let you know that Doctor Lori (I know I am old fashioned but I still can’t get used to a lady doctor) has told me that my cancer has returned. She gives me only a month or two. I know I beat the odds last year but in her kind way, she has let me know that this isn’t likely this time.

I want to thank you for the friendship you have shown me. I have looked forward to your letters more than I can ever explain. Please take care of yourself and stop eating those bear claws, no matter how good they taste!

Love,

Mary Ann

 I didn’t read the last couple of paragraphs aloud to Boppop. I couldn’t. Instead, I made up some babble about maybe getting new countertops after all, but not the expensive granite ones. Another Formica covering will be just fine, but maybe in a lighter color than this old avocado green.

A couple of days later I wrote a note Boppop dictated and we sent it off. After three weeks, Boppop began to ask if I had seen anything from Mary Ann. I hadn’t.

It took just two stops in town to find some pale green envelopes. I bought those along with a spiral notebook and hid them under my bed. I wrote a note to Boppop. I tried to imitate Mary Ann’s shaky writing on the envelope. I don’t think I did a very good job of it but Boppop’s weakened eyes weren’t likely to notice. I mailed it on the way to school. It showed up in our mailbox the next day.

Dear Joe,

Thanks as always for the letter. I am glad you asked about the cancer. Doctor Lori (I know I’m old fashioned but I still can’t get used to having a lady doctor) said that I am not out of the woods yet but that she feels that I’ve beaten it again! My gout has flared up again but that seems so minor now after the good news.

I am already looking forward to Christmas. Sally and Sammy are learning to drive. I already ordered them each a custom key chain from an ad in the back of McCall’s and of course I will slip some gas money into their present, too.

I’m glad both your daughters are going to be in town for the holidays. Is Josey going to stay for long? Are Jenny and Taylor going to cook a Thanksgiving meal together again? 

Love,

Mary Ann

The next year I went off to a college about four hours away. I took too many clothes, my favorite pillow, a spiral notebook and a stash of green envelopes. About once a month I would return to the dairy for the weekend. There would be one or two green envelopes on the table. I would dutifully read them and write out Boppop’s responses.

I was in San Francisco, on spring break as a junior, when I got the call from my mom. Boppop had died in his sleep.

Over thirty years have passed since I got that call. I still think back often to those few years that I got to spend with Boppop. Years that I was part of not one but two deceptions. Two deceptions that made a couple of people in their last years a little happier. Two deceptions that made me happier, too.