Wonderful Break

How is it that the mundane—which on first inclination we'd tend to throw away—often turns out to contain, buried, the very clue we are seeking in our research?

Continuing a letter written in the midst of a hospitalization in May, 1962, from retired teacher, Lummie Davis Moore, to her baby brother (in his adult life, known as Jack R. Davis), we can glean quite a few details of her life. From the introduction posted yesterday, it is clear that Lummie had lots of friends and expected to be out and about, lively and engaged in a full life—that, despite her age approaching seventy six years by this point.

In the midst of all the medical—and potential lawsuit—details, the second page of this letter was surprisingly stocked with all sorts of positive comments on how “wonderful” everyone was in treating Lummie.

Best of all for me, though: in the midst of the letter, Lummie slipped in the very detail I had been seeking. There it was, though just a fragment of a sentence awash in a sea of words: a mention of her daughter, Sarah Martha Moore McKinnon. Now that I’ve found that little snippet, oh, how I wish Lummie had included a full date on the letter.

As she, herself, said, though, I suppose “it didn’t make any difference.” Somewhere, though still unnamed, there is a McKinnon daughter whom I can now claim as a new second cousin—whether or not I ever get to meet her.

I will never forget when Dr. McWilliams (after x ray was hurriedly made) come along side of stretcher introduced me to the Surgeon Dr. Tuverson + said Well it’s a fracture alright and we are taking you into surgery just as quickly as we can get you ready. It will be about 7 this evening—we will have to call your family—Who do you have? I protested over having them call Sarah Martha because that day she brought home from Baltimore hospital her new baby girl. But it didn’t make any difference. They called her any way. Lots of friends were with me and between 10 and eleven I was in my room and it was all over—In the meantime I had one of my friends call my lawyer Mr. Divelbess—and I was in hospital there for a couple of weeks with 4 doctors and Jack they + the hospital, together with friends, have been wonderful, simply the “Red Carpet Treatment.” Then they transferred me to this hospital for therapy + rehabilitation, and it’s simply wonderful here, nurses everywhere you look, wonder[ful] food and everything—Private Room here—friends bring me everything. 104 get well cards so far—