![]() ![]() I put the people back, I put the places back. I couldn’t do it literally, but I could put it in the pages of a book. I felt the need to put things back the way they were before. ![]() In this semi-autobiographical short novel, his survivor guilt is somewhat displaced, but he very much tries to re-establish the childhood world, in Lincoln, IL, that his loss ended: ![]() The beloved long-time New Yorker editor, William Maxwell, was two years younger than Grandpa and he lost his mother in the epidemic when he was ten years old, a loss which, likewise, haunted him his whole life. He, of course, would never talk about this, but it did seem to scar him permanently. He lost his two brothers in the Great Influenza, From what I understand, in one instance he came home from school not even realizing a brother was ill and he had already passed. There was a component of this reserve though that I never really understood until the past year: survivor guilt. You never doubted his love, but you couldn't expect it to be demonstrative. And, as one would anticipate, was emotionally reserved. He never swore in his life, didn't drink, didn't smoke, worked Saturdays and kept sabbath on Sundays. The man used garters to hold up his socks. He was so proper you almost never saw him out of a suit. The Grandfather Judd was the WASPiest man you could ever hope to meet. ![]()
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