“My special
nurses are French and Italian and Irish girls, and the superintendent of nurses
is a Scotch Presbyterian from Canada! One of my nurses (the one most in
attendance on me) is Olympia Fumagalli, the charming Italian girl who
accompanied the wife of the former President of Chile, whom the President sent
home to Chile on a Government bomber. She spent some weeks in Chile, and can
tell me the most interesting things about life on a bomber and about life on a
great estate in Chile.”
What
impresses me is Cather’s failure to feel sorry for herself or even to spend
much time explaining why she’s in the hospital. Instead, she’s curious about the
people she meets and intent on telling her friend about them. In her presence,
everyone has a story. No one is too inconsequential.
France fell
six months earlier and Hitler has conquered much of the rest of Europe. The
Blitz rages over Great Britain. Cather says she is buffered from the world’s
horrors by her convalescence in the French Hospital, established in New York
City by the Société Française de Bienfaisance. On the day she writes her
letter, Dec. 30, the well-known photograph of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London having
survived a German bombing raid is taken. Cather writes:
“The Hitler
world has been absolutely blotted out for me, and I seem to have been living in
the safe and sound and not exaggerated kindliness of beautiful traditions, that
are centuries old and will last throughout all time to come.”
1 comment:
Cather excerpt:
"All the cooks and servitors are French and they never hear from their wives or fathers, but they carry on."
"Servitor", a new word for me:
ARCHAIC: a person who serves or attends on a social superior.
Will use that when a friend does me favor, gives me a drink, etc.
Ha ha!
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