Carol Unger, 1931 - 2003

Letter: 26 July 1979

(to Kate at summer camp)

Been quite busy last 3 days. Your Dad and I went sailing, which became a bit too eventful. We started out with what seemed like a decent wind. But once out beyond the seaweed, that wind rose up to 24 mph, kicking waves to 2-3 feet, breaking into whitecaps everywhere. It kept us moving and hiking until on one slam of a wave I fell overboard. I hung on desperately to be towed thru water thinking, “If I let go Dad will never be able to get me.” With struggle I got back into the boat and we tried to sail with just the jib—impossible! The waves and wind swept us into the march at Stony Island, where with high winds it was impossible to get out. We tried everything to flag down a boat for help. I’m sure they heard us but offered not a hand. The life jacket raised high on the mast attracted a woman in her house along the shore. Thru her the Coast Guard showed up to draw us out beyond the shallows of Stony. We were awfully relieved having them assist. We had been wallowing in the swamp with high wind and sea buffeting us 2-3 hours. Tired, exhausted, bruised, and somewhat disheartened we arrived to dock relenting to the elements. With all due respect (after 5 to 6 hrs. of confrontation) we left nature to drive northward, thankfully without us.

The following 2 days we cleared Grandma’s apt. and moved her things in with us. Aunt Jackie was a big help. It was a shared camaraderie of good feeling working together. Maybe you know the feeling; living and sharing your lives together with your cabin mates.

Letter: 30 Oct 1984

(during Kate's first year at college)

I read the Dean’s address he gave you at orientation. I’m impressed! His notions seem so right if one will call himself “educated.” If you pursue and persist you will have a true catholic view with which to approach your endeavors. As it is now you hold a broadness of thinking which will only be more finely honed. I didn’t appreciate, in my ignorance, what kind of a school you selected. It certainly is an opportunity. In his talk he had a quote of Herman Hesse which seems to express the transition you are in.

“At life’s each call the heart must be prepared to take its leave and to commence afresh, courageously and with no hint of grief, submit itself to other, newer ties. A magic dwells in each beginning and protecting us it tells us how to live.”

And speaking of beginnings—I’ve started piano lessons with Sara, the music teacher. I like it! I don’t know how good I’ll be but no matter. It’s the absorption in music that fulfills.

Letter: Jan 1986

(during Kate's second year at college)

Pg 1A

Nurture this shoot— care for me Give me water deeply so I will embed firmly— not a wrenched twisted sprout Give me sun to reach my measure— not gnarled with ingrown injury Give me sun to warn my flesh— not a chilled stunted cramp. Give me food to urge my branching spread— not a halting knuckled limb Give me nourishment so my bark sheaths my inner fluid force— not an outer eggshell shattered to spill vital sap Give me food so my trunk sways to support my spirit— not a rent torn stump when pressed by gale Do this so with your care I will flower and flourish.

Letter: 7 April 1987

So much I wish for relaxing warm rays, the movement of dance, a yawn and a good stretch, a lovely spatialness, a quietude to pervade and exude your inner space and bring ease to your tension. Metamorphosis—you, the brilliant butterfly.

Well—take a deep, expansive breath and try to slowly expel the tension. Do it right now—focus on the moment only—the kinetic release. Now who’s crazy…me of course.