Remembrance of things past

"If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever."  ~ Winnie the Pooh

     I am a huge fan of the PBS Masterpiece Classic presentation "Downton Abbey". For those who have not seen this show, it is essentially a historical soap opera set in the immediate pre- and post-World War One years at an English Lord's estate (I believe the main character is an Earl? Maybe a Duke?) and involves not just his family and friends but the servants as well. The last episode of the second season was this past Sunday. I have watched every episode of both seasons, and enjoyed "living" in this era along with the characters.

     One of the things I like about the series is the time period. The years 1914 to 1920 were the years of my grandparents' youth, and so as I watch the young people in this series I envision my grandparents as also young and how they must have dressed, talked, the music they listened to, and especially the World War and how it impacted their lives. The war was a focus of the series this season, with some fairly graphic scenes of battles in the French trenches and of wounded soldiers.

     My grandparents rarely discussed World War I, so I didn't know much growing up about how it influenced them. My paternal grandfather died when I was only 6, so I never got his perspective on it at all, but my father told me that his father was turned down for service for a physical problem, I believe it was flat feet and bad eyesight. My maternal grandfather had a heart murmur that kept him out. But I learned as an adult from my father that my paternal grandmother had been engaged to a man who died during the war, not from wounds but from an illness.

Miss Ruth Webster, circa 1914

      Today I found something that brought back the story of my paternal grandmother and it has had me thinking about it all day. In a very old decorated glove or sock box that dates from the 1920's was an envelope addressed to "Miss Ruth Webster". It had no postage stamp, just a typed "Soldiers letter" in the corner. It had an ink stamp indicating it had passed through the censorship process okay. The return address was from "Pvte. Ray. Strite, M.D., P.A." from a US Base hospital in France.  This was my grandmother's first fiance. Her first love. She had saved this envelope and stashed it in this box, safe from the prying eyes of her sons and her husband. Inside I did not find a letter, but something totally unexpected. There was a folded piece of heavy gray-green fabric that was identified by handwriting on the fabric that said, "Piece of Boche observation balloon brought down here, March 27." The other item was a folded piece of shirt cardboard that had two little tiny yarn figurines taped on it, one in bright green and the other in bright red labelled "Irene and Oscar"  in handwriting that looked masculine to me.  There was also a very tiny photograph of a man's face-- almost too small to identify-- that I can only assume was Ray Strite's photo.

the Boche Observation balloon fragment

What odd little figures these are-- named Irene and Oscar, and clearly had meaning for Ruth and Ray

 - see the tiny photo in the upper right and corner?

Is this Ray? I think maybe it might be!

     I was fortunate as a child to live in a duplex house with my Grandma Ruth living upstairs. She was present every day in my middle childhood years, so I knew her pretty well. I loved her and enjoyed spending time with her. She was a bit of a character, having some quirky habits that could embarrass me a bit when my friends were around... but she had a quick laugh and a very dry sense of humor.  She talked sometimes about my grandfather, Merton Howes, but she never mentioned Ray Strite. Ever.  The only thing I remember even remotely close was a casual conversation she and I had about war when I was maybe 11 or 12 years old, where I made the mistake of referring to World War II as "The REAL war...". When she asked me what I meant, I told her that everybody knows World War II lasted longer and involved more countries and was a much more serious and important war. I remember her response very well-- her tone changed to be quite serious, she lowered her voice and she said with great emphasis, "Barbie, World War I was a terrible war... many people suffered horribly and a lot of people died. Don't ever think it wasn't important!"  It was her demeanor I remember most of all... how fast it changed and how serious she was.

Ruth Webster Howes and Merton R. Howes, my paternal grandparents at approximately 25 years of marriage in this photo

     I got to thinking about all this, and looking down at these little remembrances she had secreted away I realized she must have loved Ray Strite very much. His death must have broken her young heart. She had gone on to marry my grandfather and have two fine sons, and become a business woman at a time when few woman did that, and then she grew old, became disabled by heart disease, and died when I was in college. Her life had been full and meaningful and I will carry many wonderful memories of her for the rest of mine.

     I am going to look up some information on Ray Strite, if I can find it. There are genealogy websites, and World War I archives that should help. I want to know more about this young man who died too young in a far away place leaving a very young and beautiful woman grieving for him.  It occurred to me that had he survived and come home to marry her, I would not have been born. But I think the real story is how Ruth Webster picked up the broken pieces of her heart and moved forward. How does one do that? How does one start anew in such a situation? Then I remembered that each of us will have some triumphs and some tragedy in our lives-- none of us is exempt from it. I know an awful lot of people who have triumphed over grief and tragedy-- there are endless examples I could quote. Human beings have such an unbelievable reserve of strength in times of tragedy. And we also have a deep need to remember, to save momentos and remembrances. Painful though the memory of the tragedy can be, these remembrances connect us between our present and our past and remind us of how human we are.