A haunting and breathless voice from over the ages...

As we move forward here, I am working on the scripts for the voices in OTL. As readers of this blog know, one is of Barbara Bowie, the young woman who was at Wallum Lake more than a half century ago. Jessica SaintJean, one of our great interns, has transcribed all of Barbara's letters (no easy task, I can assure you). Jessica was as moved as I am, again, as I go over Barbara's words in depth. Jessica wrote to me: "Some of them were absolutely heartbreaking." And it's true.

Here is the full, un-edited text of one of Barbara's letters, to a relative, written on June 18, 1949, less than a year before she died, having never gone home from the sanatorium. In this short note, one gets a sense of this young woman, her cares and concerns, and a haunting prescience of what her fate would be. In putting this film together, I am constantly struck by the strange workings of life, that this woman who I never met, who died before I was born, and who surely never imagined anyone would be preserving her memory -- and, dare we say, bring her to life -- would somehow connect to me. It gives one pause, doesn't it...



Dear Lorraine,

Don’t drop, for Heaven’s sake. I’m really writing you a letter, my dear sister. It won’t be too long, but at least you know I’m thinking of you!

The other night, when the priest came, I didn’t realize he’d be so long. I kept wondering what time it was, and I didn’t dare look at my watch. There’s so much to being anointed. Hope I never need it again until I’m ready to kick the bucket – and I hope that won’t be for years and years.

I just finished writing my darling a long love letter. I hope he appreciates them. What a time I have trying to write what I mean. It’s a wonder my letters to him don’t burn the post office beyond repair! That’s a joke, son.

You’ll know before you get this, but mom was here today with Nana Bowie, Pop, Rita and Nana Horton. I was sleeping like a log when they got here, so I had no lipstick on, my hair wasn’t combed, well, I was a complete wreck. You know Nana Bowie. I looked uncomfortable, so she lifted my head, and fixed my pillows. I felt like an invalid, honestly. She wouldn’t let me move. But I did, after. I love her, she’s so darn sweet.

Father Holland was in to se me today. He’s grand. He’ll certainly go to Heaven when he dies.

Gosh – I’m getting writer’s cramp. Listen! You’d better answer this. I hope you’ll forgive me for all the mistakes, can’t help it. I’m getting old, I guess. Write soon.

Lots of Love,
Babs

PS Next letter I write will be more interesting with some news in it. I hope!