How I met my great grandmother long after she was gone
Paulyne Frances Harper Foshee was my great grandmother on my mom’s side. I remember visiting her in a senior home as a toddler, and of course there were pictures of her throughout my grandparent’s home. She was known to everyone in the family as Mamalyne, a name she coined herself as she felt too young to be called grandma.
That was all I knew of her, until someone passed down a book of her letters. Mamalyne authored the letters in the last 20 years of her life, before she passed on March 29, 1987 in Orlando, Florida, at the age of 92.
The recovered letters were written to her granddaughters, Polly and Jill, and to her first cousin, Jonnie. I was seven when she passed. I thought the spiral book of transcribed letters was something I’d get to look through eventually.
I definitely never expected the letters to become so meaningful, and of course, I didn’t expect to be mentioned as I grew up in Alabama and was one of 10 great grandchildren.
My husband randomly opened the letter book and like kismet, the page in front of us had the only entry that mentions me! I’m the baby in this letter, which was written on January 7, 1981, to her daughter, Polly. It reads, in part:
“Renee’s baby, Elissa, is 19 months old and talks like a parrot. Recently, Renee heard the toilet flush, ran in to find Elissa standing there saying “Bye, Bye shoes”. One shoe of a new pair was lying on the floor so it appeared the baby had flushed the other. Later, they found it tucked under some blankets and when it was discovered, little Elissa laughed and laughed. At that young age, how could she be so sly? They are coming for a visit soon.”
My mom was able to confirm the story of the alleged flushed shoe, which was a story I never would’ve known.
As I delved further into Mamalyne’s letters, it became clear she was a complex and adventurous woman; quite the witty storyteller. One of her favorite things was going to the mall!
She references many mall trips, and wrote on February 10, 1980:
“Turn me loose in the Mall and I am happy! If my life was not so busy, I would thoroughly enjoy sitting on one of those benches at the Mall and watching the characters parade by. Every type of humanity flock there, just a bunch of addlepated morons. I feel sure some have just escaped from the “funny farm.”
There are a few historical gems as well. This is part of a letter written on April 1, 1981:
“I wore my tail out watching Ronald (Regan) get shot. It was a stroke of luck that the would-be assassin’s bullet missed his heart, but I suppose it was not Mr. President’s time.”
In June of 1982, she references her trip to the Chicago Fair in 1933, and she also reminisces in this letter about her younger days, and this is one of my favorite snippets from her entire letter book. It reads, in part:
“For 10 years I was a blonde on Miami Beach, driving a yellow sports car and dating millionaires. What did I do but fall in love with a poor ass guy, but at the time, I really lived it up. When Jay had money, we went places and spent it with abandon. I saw all the shows on Broadway, the Indianapolis races, several times. New Orleans, Key West, and Cuba before Castro. After all of that, I had another wonderful experience when I managed the mountain resort hotel in Georgia for 7 years.”
I love that this sounds like it could have been written yesterday.
Mamalyne’s second son, my grandfather, Beverly “Bev” Foshee, loved the mountains and built a getaway home in Sky Valley, Georgia, where our family gathered for decades for Christmas and summers. I never knew there was a kind of connection to that area.
My aunt confirmed Mamalyne worked in apartment and hotel management, which is also a field I worked in for many years. I was lucky to find some pictures of her at work. When she was younger, she managed the Forde Ocean Beach Apartments in Miami Beach. She looks like a pin-up girl standing outside of her property in 1938!
She also managed a hotel in Mountain City, Georgia, called The Park Hotel. This is the mountain resort she refers to as a wonderful experience. My aunt provided a retouched color photo of Paulyne and the staff, posing with the company vehicle.
Mamalyne drove the car down to Florida for a visit.
I located a picture of a little girl named Beverly “Renee” Foshee, my mom, posing with Mamalyne, beside the car.
The side of the car reads:
The Park City Hotel
“In the Heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains”
Mountain City, Georgia
My aunt says that one of my grandfather’s brothers, Jack, went to the Sky Valley area to visit first, but she’s sure he was encouraged towards that area because of Paulyne’s link to nearby Mountain City. There’s a postcard from the hotel, and it looks beautiful in the autumn with the leaves changing. I’m not sure when, but my aunt did confirm that the hotel burned down.
I’ll leave you with my favorite quote in Mamalyne’s letters. This one was written in 1986, just months before her death and makes me tear up with joy:
“Throughout my life, writing and receiving letters has been one of my greatest joys. A letter can be repeatedly savored, however, a phone call is lost for eternity with the click of the receiver. These letters are a legacy to my family. Hopefully, this glimpse of the past will enrich their lives as I remember the people who dance in my head.”
It’s sad that letters are practically a lost art. I still love getting a letter, though it’s very rare. I know we can digitize everything now, and thus have more history always at our fingertips, but like Mamalyne said, there’s just something about the feeling letters bring. Holding the letter, getting to read, in that person’s distinctive script, about little things and thoughts going on in their everyday lives.
In the end, these little thoughts and silly stories truly have such meaning. I had no idea I was just a few generations removed from such an incredible woman and I’m so glad I have this entertaining and insightful glimpse into her life.
Special thanks to my aunt, Penny Foshee Velazquez, our family genealogist, for providing photos and additional background information.
