There was a mystery in the first batch of letters I received back in November 2013. The first letter on the pile was addressed to Alice Hunter, but it wasn’t from Chuck. It wasn’t from overseas, at all. It was from the University of Texas in Austin. A warm yet brief note to Mrs. Hunter providing her with the name and address of “Elizabeth Ann Sterling.” The letter was dated April 1946. I put it aside and began reading Chuck’s letters home. I put the odd letter out of my mind for the time being.
Chuck’s mother was clearly his most trusted confidante. He looked for her approval in many areas: college, career, and his love life. And she was not shy about giving her opinion. In late November 1944, Chuck was writing back and forth to his gal whom he presumably met while training at the University of Texas in Austin. In a note to his mom, he asks for her insight:
Tucked behind this letter was another one on light pink stationary. It was delicate to the touch, as well as transparent. I was careful not to rip it as I unfolded it.
Her letter was loving with a tinge of lonesomeness. She envied her roommate who received several letters per week from her man overseas. She teased him and suggested she wouldn’t mind hearing from him more often.
“As ever, Sherry” Sherry? Who was Sherry? No last name, no return envelope. Just a name, a note and delicious purple penmanship.
Then, I remembered…the letter Alice received in 1946. I quickly pulled it from the stack and it revealed the following:
Elizabeth Ann Sterling. Elizabeth? But wasn’t her name Sherry? After finishing the letters and learning of Chuck’s death, it dawned on me that Alice wrote to the University to find Chuck’s gal and tell her the tragic news. Was “Elizabeth” and “Sherry” one in the same? My instinct told me yes, but I needed further proof. It occurred to me that “Sherry” sounded like the endearment term, “Cherie.” So I followed my gut and googled the phrase, “1940s terms of endearment, Sherry” As I suspected, “Cherie” was among the nicknames for someone’s girlfriend. But no Sherry.
It was over. With no last name, no return address, no proof, I couldn’t tell the story of Alice Hunter’s selfless act of reaching out to a stranger, to share the tragic news of the death of her son.
I needed to let go
of this story and move on.
And then, few weeks ago, the letters from my new friend in Georgia arrived. My co-author Kim and I dove right in, split up the hefty stack, took our separate piles with the promise to read quickly, text any revelations and switch letters as soon as humanely possible.
And there it was. Sitting on the top of my stack. The answer. Waiting for me to see it.
June 10, 2014
Dear Chuck,
I was in the dark with no more paths to follow. I was at the end of the road. Finally, all was revealed. Thank you for the much needed enlightenment.
As ever,
Karen
