We all have regrets in life, some more then others, for those who have none, my hat is off to you.
My father had a regret, her name was Christine.
I wanted to know more about this regret, I searched a long time because all I had was the first name. I could rule out the bronco rider my father was madly in love with, her name was Sally or Sadie. That love affair ended because my gandfather commanded my Uncles to interfere, which they did bringing the whole thing to a halt.
And no, my grandfather never called her a circus performer, the circus performer remark was made during an argument that my parents had. My father said to my mother, "I am tired of performing like a circus monkey for you." The only people who heard this remark were, my parents, Thayer Tutt Sr, Frank Baber and myself.
I found a Christine Penrose but she was of no relation and when she married, the newspapers reported she was a niece of the family, but that was false information. I discovered another Christine in Colorado Springs, she was a famous fiction writer. Christine Whiting Parmenter, was a published author from the 1920's, she wrote well into the 1940's. I found every book that was published, thinking if this was THE CHRISTINE, she might have written about her realtionship with my father. But, no she was not the one. Though I am so glad to have discovered her for she has disappeared from the history of Colorado Springs. She was born in 1877 and passed away in 1953, she wrote over 25 fiction books and stories, she married and had a daughter.
I poured over my uncle's letters and at long last a shadow emerged. My grandfather had mentioned a Christine briefly, she had came to the house by the seashore, when grandfather had vacationed there. On I searched and slowly the shadow became a willowy figure and the willow a person.
Christine came from a wealthy family, her family was related to my grandfather's side of the family but it was a very far relation. Just as my gandfather had arranged my Uncle Charle's marriage with success, my grandfather believed that Christine would be perfect in ours.
Her beauty was not outstanding but she wasn't a dog either. She cared deeply for others, she was on numerous charities and was always helping people. Her spirit was kind and with her wealth she helped many. Every summer she stayed at her house in Bar Harbor, it was not far from the Penrose summer home. Every winter she lived at the Bellevue-Stratiford Hotel, my Uncle Richard also lived at this hotel. Her name was mentioned many times at social events in the New York Times.
The marriage between her and my father never took place, she never married. She was a good friend and companion to my Uncle Richard when they both were in residence at the Bellevue-Stratiford.
And so Christine, the person, became a willow who became a shadow once more when she passed away in 1944.