art by Cher Jiang

Yale Station: Letters of Love
April 5, 1947 pm My Small One, I got your wire this afternoon -- but after I had sent you my wire. I sent it because in your letter you were afraid that, for some reason, I was angry with you. Have you ever seen a man so angry that he would kill himself? Of course not. And to shove you away from me would be dolng that, It's just not good business. Perhaps now and then, later on, I may be angry at something or other that you do, but I could never be angry with what you are inside you. I wonder how many people are alive that could possibly under- stand you, besides myself? You are so bewildered at times -- so puzzled. And yet you are a very strong little thing. It doesn't puzzle me, though don't ask me to analyze it. It's very natural for a man to love a woman very deeply -- but to associate her softness, and sweetness with smallness and that smallness with a greater smallness -- in a way, inferior- ity. This association is very strong. I do not know why this is except that when a woman mekes a man very happy -- when he loves her very strongly, he wonders how it is thet such a person -- capable of such excitement and wonder -- comes to be his. And most people, having a natural, hidden, inferiority complex haven't the courage to think that perhaps something genuine in themselves has atiracted this creature. And so they naturally feel that something inferior must be attached to anything that they can call their own. I suppose that I'm very unorthodox, for I don't feel that way at all. I have stopped wondering how you came to me. I accept 1t, and its acceptance is the most wllling, the most important part of me. Your tenderness, excltement, and beauty and smallness are very wonderful things to me: I literally devour them. They are not mine, and they are no ones, but I have, I know, the greatest right, of anyone else, to them. I do not want fo possess them, because their complete subju- gation to me would be to destroy my Emily Greatrex. I do not take them for granted, for whenever I do, I am bind- ing your will to mine instead of recognlzing your individual- ity. I am happy thet your will follows mine -- and that's a much tighter bond than slavery. I am happy that you want me to possess you -- snd in a way I do, and you me; a very strong
2. possession. Your smallness and tenderness is somehow a thing apart from the big thing you are: the deep sensitiveness; the painful sympathy; the deep puzzlement which comes to all people [who] do not turn their minds away fron all the suf- fering and problems around them. I respect that. And I must respect these other things too. For, if I once possess you go completely that I lose respect for those lesser things, through an almost inevitable association I might lose sight of what you are -- of the things in you that can never be postessed or bound -- and lose the respect for them. So, if, each time you see me, each tlme you glance away from me and back again, you see something of the newness of the time we first met, something of reserve, just know that alone with my love for you, I am paying you about the greatest tribute ome human can pay another -- respect and individual- ity. Don't let that idea run away with you. I don't mean that I will ever stand apart from you. I want you to lean on me -- to feel that all my obligations are with you -- that all my love, and my mind are yours -- and that it's more of an affront than a kindness to neglect using me when you need me. **** Now, after thst long academic lecture: I love you very soundly and madly: if you did not stand before me as a tangible object of my feeling, I would misteke it for in- sanity. (And you'd better watch out when you get off the train tomorrow). I was very pleased with the wire. It told me more than 100,000 words from anyone else could have, and it's another very good reason why I love you.

letters through April 17, 1947

  1. from another correspondent, January 6, 1947 (typed)
  2. from George to Emily, February 19, 1947 (handwritten)
  3. from George to Emily, February 21, 1947 (typed)
  4. from George to Emily, February 22, 1947 (typed)
  5. from George to Emily, February 23, 1947 (typed)
  6. from George to Emily, March 14, 1947 (typed)
  7. from Emily to George, March 23, 1947 (typed)
  8. from Emily to George, March 24, 1947 (typed)
  9. from Emily to George, March 29, 1947 (typed)
  10. from George to Emily, April 5, 1947 (typed) (current letter)
  11. from George to Emily, April 6, 1947 (typed)
  12. from George to Emily, April 7, 1947 (typed)
  13. from George to Emily, April 7, 1947 (typed)
  14. from George to Emily, April 7, 1947 (handwritten)
  15. from Emily to George, April 9, 1947 (handwritten)
  16. from George to Emily, April 10, 1947 (typed)
  17. from Emily to George, April 15, 1947 (handwritten)

Return to introduction.

Minnie Renzer Bostick (1881-1955), father of Glyn Bostick, Fort Worth, Texas, 1911.
Minnie Renzer Bostick and wife Lily, on the road near Childress, Texas, 1938.
Emily Greatrex in New York City, 1939.
Emily Greatrex (left) with her friend Millie Gonzales-Coto, 1939.
Glyn Bostick, San Francisco, March 21, 1942.
Emily Greatrex (upper left) helps decorate The New York Daily News office Christmas tree, 1942.
Emily Greatrex, age 23, July, 1944.
Emily Greatrex, November 13, 1944.
Clipping from The New York Daily News, January 6, 1947.
Emily Bostick with first child Chris, Long Island, New York, March 13, 1952.
Glyn Bostick arm wrestling with Diane and Chris, Syracuse, New York, March 25, 1959.
Glyn Bostick, posed portrait, Syracuse, New York, January 23, 1983.
Glyn Bostick U.S. passport photograph, June 14, 1990.
Glyn and Emily Bostick, Syracuse, New York, March, 1997.

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Typewritten letters converted from image to text by FreeConvert.com, a free Optical Character Recognition tool.