Survival but not at all costs May 21, 1985

  

Dear Ruby:

I received your letter Saturday, one day after the court case was settled. It pleases me to see just how much you love your mother, though I do not agree with the reasons for your anger.

You ask if I want the best for you and your mother; I do.

But there is always a price tag on helping people, and limits on just how much a person can be expected to give.

At some point, a person has to think about himself.

Your mother wrote me a couple of weeks ago telling me how she HAD to go on welfare.

This is true. Quitting her job last summer and moving to the woods with a man who eventually dumped her put you both in such dire straits that welfare was inevitable.

Believe me, I worry about both of you, although at this distance it is difficult to show without my words being mistaken for sarcasm.

It seems anything I say that is not cheerful or pleasant is seen as sarcastic or worse, an attack.

There are some things I cannot talk about without dredging up old ghosts from the past.

I do not have it as bad as you and your mother have it. I’ve been very lucky and careful to keep myself safe. This is not selfish as your letter implies, it is survival.

Each of us needs to find his own way to survive; and there is no way to help you and your mother until I’m assured of my own survival.

The last court session came very close to ruining me. No, my house didn’t burn down the way yours did. But the amount in back payments the court wanted would have made it impossible for me to pay my rent or other bills. This apartment is cheap. I would be hard pressed to find anything cheaper. Nor would I be able to send bit of spare cash to you and your mother, because there would be nothing to spare – welfare would suck it all up.

I did not threaten you. I simply stated the facts as to what would happen if I was forced to reveal that I’ve been sending money to you and your mother all along, and that your mother lied to welfare saying she received nothing from me.

I did point out how your mother tends to trust untrustworthy people, people who let her down at critical times. This comes from her desperate need to have somebody in her life, her hope in people that is rarely justified.

Maybe that’s why she reads sarcasm in my letters because she expects as much from me.

I’ve tried to be nothing but truthful, even if what I say isn’t always pleasant to hear. But never once have I given up on the two of you. I simply reached a point where I could not go on without damaging my own life.

Fortunately for all of us, the court here was reasonable, and they didn’t not insist on imposing the harsh penalties they could have.

I’m also glad for your confidence that I would not become “a bum on the street.”

Had things gone differently, I might have.

The most heartening part of your letter came near the end. Thank you for loving me anyway. You and your mother mean more to me than either of you can imagine.  You are family. If not for that, I might have simply brought proof of payment to the courts and let the chips fall where they may.

The first thing your mother said to me when we met back in Nevins years ago was “You’ll be sorry,” and while there have been times when I’ve regretted things, in the long run, I’ve never been sorry for knowing her, and one of the biggest reasons for that is you.

 

Yours always

Al Sullivan

 


  


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