My mother was diagnosed with TB shortly after I was born. In 1950 she was placed in the Maryknoll Hospital in Monrovia, California. My father could not take care of us four kids and work full-time so he sent us off to our God-parents. He stayed in the Imperial Valley working, paying the hospital expenses. My two sisters and I were in Port Hueneme living with our aunt and uncle, my brother was in Oxnard living with our grandmother.
Lonely and feeling helpless, my father sent these post cards almost every day to my mother. To the best of my ability I placed these cards in chronological order.
In 1950 Freeways connecting cities and towns were still in the planning stage. It was at least a five-hour drive from Calexico to Monrovia. Most of the distance was on two lane highways with stop and go traffic through each town. It was a long way to go for just a two-hour visit. Then there was the five or six hours to get back.
June 5, 1950 was a Monday. His visit to my mom must have made them both feel better. Did he really think she could get over TB in a couple of weeks? I think he was trying to be a good cheerleader.
“I am sad because I did not send you a flower this week. You know it wasn’t because I forgot.”
The canal systems serve both side of the Mexico-US border. My father worked on both sides managing the flow of the water.
