Bishop’s final letter of 1961 (12 December) began to wind
down with a few more reiterations of the things that were on her mind. The
remaining three short paragraphs are a bit scattered, giving a sense that she
had to go but still wanted to stay connected to Grace, from whom she had not
heard in awhile; but considering Bishop’s trip to NYC and Grace perhaps not
knowing where to write, this silence was not surprising.
The first final subject she broached was to reiterate how
much she “did enjoy seeing Mary and the children in Rio” — this “did” seems
slightly defensive, as if somehow Bishop thought Grace might have been told
otherwise. Immediately, she asked if her aunt and cousins had told Grace “about
the marmoset — little monkey — we had that Joanne was so crazy to take back
with her?”
(marmoset)
One of the aspects of her life at Samambaia which Bishop
appreciated and enjoyed was all the creatures, domestic and wild. It reminded
her of her grandparents’ home in Great
Village with its
menagerie of critters. I have no idea where they got the marmoset (to go along
with the cats, dogs and birds they had), but Bishop noted that “we found him a
nice home before we left, thank goodness.”
After this brief reflection on a visit that had happened in
October, Bishop returned to her now, “This has been a short nightmare trip.”
The Time-Life Brazil book had dominated their stay and caused Bishop deep
frustration, which she had alaready vividly conveyed to Grace in previous
letters, so Bishop didn’t have to reiterate the particulars of that
“nightmare.” She did somewhat wistfully observe, “We are hoping perhaps to get
back next spring or fall.” That “perhaps” would have said it all to Grace, who
could likely see that Bishop would not return any time soon. And the certainty
of it was Bishop’s proviso, “if I save enough of this money …. IF I leave now!”
(Remember, the IRS was forcing her out sooner than she thought she would have
to leave, if she wanted to prevent paying hefty income tax.)
After this scattered moan, Bishop isolated in one line
(perhaps like a line in a poem) her regret: “Please forgive me — I really feel
awful.” Grace would know this to be true, that the disappointment would really
have been deep on both sides. Still, to add a bit of salt to the wound of this
disappointment, Bishop jumped right back to “my Worcester cousins,” whom she had taken time
to see. They had been “very nice” and Bishop felt some need to reiterate, “I
think they are all really doing their best for Aunt Florence.” She told Grace
that having seen them and Florence
made her “feel a little beter {sic}.”
Expanding on this topic, she felt that her cranky paternal aunt was “relatively
happy there,” and thought that it would be “wrong to move her again,” because
“places she can afford are hard to find,” by which it seems she means that Florence’s financial
resources were depleted. Knowing that Grace had her own experiences caring for
the elderly, Bishop noted that “one nurse she does like,” a bit of a surprise,
clearly: “the nurse calls her ‘honey’ and Aunt F asked her to call her
‘Florence’,” obviously a breakthrough from Bishop’s perspective, but something
that “scandalized Priscilla,” one of the cousins. Bishop noted this cousin was
“always on the snobbish side!” From Bishop’s point of view, that her aunt
actually “likes someone, at least” was “nice.” This “nurse seemed the one
civilized person around, I thought.” Knowing Aunt Florence’s nature, however,
one might suggest this nurse was more saintly than civilized.
At this point, Bishop had to stop herself from going on, and
she was running out of room on the page. What she really wanted was to “see you
and have a long conversation.” One last weak reiteration, “well — maybe we’ll
make it in the spring or fall.” But all those qualifiers reveal the dim hope of
it happening. Fearing that Grace had “been sick or something,” Bishop signed
off “With much love to you as always.” And so ended an eventful year for
Bishop. The next post will commence 1962.
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