Soon after the death of Millie Elgor, a dear friend of mine for many years, I found myself in a rather uncomfortable position. Millieās sister, Georgia, called me to ask if I would be able to fly to Red Hook, New York, where Millie owned a small cottage. Georgia and the rest of her close-knit family knew of our trusting and loyal friendship since the early days of our youth. They themselves could not bear the task of going through her personal belongings.
āCan you do this for us, Sandy? You can go during spring break, spend as much time as you care to, and of course all expenses will be paid. We will make any arrangements according to your wishes.ā They didnāt make it easy to refuse.
I told Georgia I would check my calendar and get back to her.
I started to think about the days in Red Hook during the time our friendship flourished. This lovely town was part of Dutchess County in the Hudson Valley. I believe the population was about 8,000 at that time (1950ās). Millieās father managed a dairy farm in one of the two large agricultural districts. My father was a high school history teacher in a town rich in American history.
After graduating from high school, we decided to apply to Bard College, which was a four-year liberal arts college bordering on the east bank of the Hudson River. We were fortunate in that we were accepted and believed our future to become authors was guaranteed. Our interests, however, were aimed in different directions; Millie was determined to follow the journalistic route, and I wanted to teach the joys of literature to every student who entered my classroom.
During our second year at Bard, one of Millieās professors, Robert Roth, showed an interest in her and an intensely romantic relationship developed. In all our years as friends, I had never seen her so happy. She spent hours telling me of their plans, right down to where in Red Hook they would settle and how many children and pets they would have.
Six months later, when Millie found out Professor Robert Roth was indeed a married man with children, her heartbreak resulted in depression and physical illness. She barely had enough strength to get through her classes … but get through them she did. Not only did she graduate with honors, but her love for people and the kindness and sweetness she showed toward them every day of her life amazed me. After her experience, there was no bitterness or lack of trust in her life. I always hoped my friendship was somewhat responsible for her golden attitude to some degree.
Millie purchased the cottage in Red Hook about ten years after graduation. It was located just a few miles from Bard, and she lived there until the day she died. Now her family wanted me to go there to gather together her books, photos, and letters.
The plane was to leave Tuesday, and I would be on it.
The cottage was lovely. It was as I thought it would be…many books, few photographs, and boxes of letters, piled from floor to ceiling. After finding a ladder, I managed to slide the boxes along the floor and thought I would look into just one before I went to bed and continue through the days to come.
I did not stop at one box. The letters were all addressed to Miss Ann Thrope, the notorious syndicated personal advice columnist whose true identity was never revealed to the public. They were from every part of the country. Each envelope was ripped open as though the crazed recipient couldnāt waste a moment before reading it. I too felt the need to do the same, but there it wasāthe envelopes all ripped up for me.
I can tell you that I no longer wondered if it was my friendship that helped Millie get through her heartbreak, depression, and illness many years ago. She never got through any of it. Her messages to those who wrote her were hateful, vicious, and degrading. Her words screamed at the women who yearned for loving relationships. She wanted them to hate as she hated. She wanted them to learn that no one was worthy of trust.
Becoming Miss Ann Thrope was the only way Millie Elgor knew how to live the rest of her life. No one could ever hurt Miss Ann Thrope.
*Misanthrope: One who hates humanity is antisocial and whose life is dedicated to spreading the message of hate in the many phases of life; a cynic and misogynist.
