Letters of Carl T. Hansen
Transcribed from letters written from Carl T. Hansen to Hazel A. Atkins Hansen by their granddaughter, Sherrie Lynn Hansen. It has been a pleasure, and an honor, to finally know this man. I am proud to share his name.
Sherrie L. Hansen
September 13, 2010
Seneca, Missouri
INTRODUCTION
These letters cover a span of years from 1916 through 1938. In transcribing the letters, I have avoided editing Carl’s words, and have deliberately included misspellings which were characteristic of his writing. For instance, Carl consistently writes “possible” for “possibly”, “strenght” for “strength”, “schrub” for shrub, and “litle” for “little”. To correct his misspellings is to alter who he was, for his letters are all we have of him now. I prefer to enjoy his quirky writing style without interference.
What cannot be conveyed in these pages is the stationery he used. The letterheads are widely varied, from Y.M.C.A. and Red Cross Foreign Expeditionary Force on letters written from the trenches in World War I France, to elegant script from the office of the King of England, to hotels and motels across Oklahoma as a young traveling salesman trying to make a living. The paper upon which the letters are written tells its own story.
From Carl’s first letter to 14 year old Hazel thanking her for the sewing kit she sent him on the Mexican-American border, to his last letter written two days before his death, it is clear that she is the one and only love of his life. That ever-faithful love extended to his four children for whom he lived and, I am convinced, died, believing that his death was best for his family.
What is most striking and most consistent throughout the years, aside from his love for his family, is Carl’s eternal optimism. He ALWAYS found the goodness and the brightness in the darkest of times. He found a way to benefit from adversity. Not once did he ever betray signs of discouragement, even when facing such horrendous sights as the Argonne battlefield, or the Depression, when money was non-existent for him. He never complained, but instead, turned hard times into good times. Always. For this he is to be commended.
My Grandmother Hazel was forever my best friend, the one I admired and respected above everyone else. And now, I am always grateful to her for saving my Grandfather’s letters, for now he joins with her in my eyes as the two people who I love with all my heart. Thank you, Grandma.