This is Part VII of an ongoing series of posts based on the family album of Milton Goldsmith, so generously shared with me by his granddaughter Sue. See Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI at the links.
On the page following the photographs of his parents Abraham and Cecelia, Milton included a letter written by his mother on November 5, 1857, which, according to Milton, was shortly before their engagement.
Reading this reminded me of what it was like before cheap phone calls and email made handwritten letters obsolete. When my husband and I were dating the year before our engagement, we also wrote letters back and forth. Of course, we were living several hundred miles apart (but still tried to see each other every weekend) whereas Abraham and Cecelia both were living in Philadelphia. But perhaps letters were the only places they had any ability to communicate privately.
Here is Cecelia’s letter:
Some words were cut off on the right margin and at the bottom, but I have tried to transcribe it as best I can and added some punctuation and capitalization for purposes of clarity. Cecelia was a few weeks short of her nineteenth birthday when she wrote this letter, and Abraham was twenty-five.
Phil. Nov. 5th
Dear Ab,
The few lines you have written to me give me a great deal of pleasure, for informing me of your health & good night’s rest. I passed an excellent night as[?] my cold is a great deal better though I am rather hoarse yet. My Dear, I forgot to give you Henrietta’s [?] shawl last night, but it will and[?] as well tonight. I would send over the boy with it, but I am afraid he can not find the place. I am obliged for sending me the book & will look through it as soon as possible. Come early this evening, if you can.
I remain yours forever,
Cely
If you hear of any thing important & have time, write me a note this [?].
If anyone can read it any better than I did, please let me know.
Appropriately, Milton placed the invitation to his parents’ wedding on the page that followed:
Note that the invitation is dated January 1, 1858, for a wedding to take place on January 27, 1858—less than four weeks later. Today it seems that wedding invitations arrive at least two months in advance (often preceded by Save the Date cards). Also, the wedding was to take place at Cecelia’s parents’ home at 440 North Second Street in Philadelphia, not in a fancy catering hall or hotel or resort, as many are these days. Life was so much simpler back then.
But life was also so much harder. Cecelia died less than seventeen years later on November 8, 1874, from apoplexia nervosa, or a stroke. She was only 35 and left behind her husband Abraham and six children ranging in age from Estelle, who was four, to Milton, who was thirteen.
Brotmanblog: A Family Journey 
Indeed the art of letter writing is no longer being practiced. For me it is safe to say that the correspondence I had with Biene before our wedding was the cornerstone of our lasting relationship.
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Yes, your letters are so precious. Imagine if it had all been done by phone—or worse yet, by texting or email. What record would you have of all those emotions and thoughts that kept you both going through the ups and downs?
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So true!
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My husband and I also wrote letters to each other when there was an ocean between us. Nearly every day. I should get them out of the attic….
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You should! I bet your kids would love them now that they are adults and married themselves.
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That’s a very pretty invitation. So sad she died so young.
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It is! And yes, so very sad, especially for her children and husband.
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Great post! These are precious. And I’m inspired – I think I should send someone a nice hand-written note today. :o)
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Good idea! I have received (and sent) many handwritten notes in the last month or so since my dad passed away. It somehow is still so different from sending emails or even typed letters.
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It’s interesting that when someone suffers a bereavement, we are more inclined to hand-write a note or card, than at other times. We received cards after T’s mother’s death from people who never write on other occasions, and I know that I do exactly the same thing. Maybe that is a true mark of respect.
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It is certainly a more personal way of communicating. And boy—my handwriting has declined terribly since I now use it so infrequently.
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So has mine. When I do need to write a note or card, it’s like being a kid again, laboriously trying to do neat joined-up writing 😂
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I know—it’s embarrassing when I have to write over words to add in the missing letters.
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😂😂 exactly!!
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When people inquired about you health it was a serious question. Today “How are you?” is sometimes said without too much thought. When Cecilia and Milton lived it had a different meaning because of how people were more prone to die from a sickness. Although a stroke is still serious today with medical treatment and therapy people survive.
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Great insight, Emily. We do take so much for granted today.
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Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part VIII: Birth Records | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
As you know, I have boxes and boxes of handwritten letters between my grandparents and even some written to/from my dad while he was away in WW II. The love that flows from those letters makes me smile every time. I’m transcribing them but it is an arduous task.
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I can imagine. Boxes and boxes—such a blessing and also such a responsibility.
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Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part IX: The Missing Babies | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part X: A Son’s Loving Tribute to His Mother | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part XI: Tributes to His Father Abraham | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part XII: The Mystery of His Stepmother Francis | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton’s Family Album, Part XIII: The Creative Talent of Milton Goldsmith Himself | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton’s Family Album, Part XIV: Teasing His Little Brother | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part XV: Childhood Memories | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Album, Part XVI: His Beloved Sister and Fellow Author, Emily | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: Milton Goldsmith’s Album, Part XVII: The Contrasting Lives of His Sisters Rose and Estella | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey
Pingback: The Things You Can’t Learn from Genealogy Records Alone: Milton Goldsmith’s Family Album, Part XVIII | Brotmanblog: A Family Journey