Emma, Edna and I...

For years….it has to be more than that…at least since I lived at home with my family, I’ve had this book: a vintage, 1919 edition of Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary. Stashed away in my shelves, its lovely binding has become a mess, hanging on for dear life by a few simple threads.  I bought it at a used bookstore…back when those still existed (sarcastic wink). And what attracted me to it was an inscription on the inside of the front cover: Edna Loftus Smith, Coco Solo, C.Z., December 1926. “How romantic.” I thought, as I grazed my fingertips across the flowery script.

She must have thought it was important? Or it must have been important to her? Important enough to write her name and location in the book. But there’s no other marks…no clues. Maybe it was just habit? “WHO were you Edna?” I’d say aloud, flipping through pages. “And why do I need to know?” These are the sorts of questions I’ve always asked myself, every time I see it tucked away in my bookcase. Sometimes I’ll pull it out, fan the pages once again; just to be sure I didn’t miss anything. One year, I had even attempted an online search. But it’s difficult to stalk and trace a woman that’s over a hundred years old. And so I gave up my search, faithful that when the time came, she might appear.

This past summer I resurrected Madame Bovary yet again, from another life of boredom. We spent lazy sunny afternoons on a small patch of grass in front of my apartment. Unemployed afternoons….lol. Noontime marks when I should have been looking for a job. Instead I lay on my belly, dog at my side, minutes passing as I listened to her story. She spelled of boring conventional husbands, splendid affairs and evenings far more passionate than I could imagine.  I saw something of myself in her character. The part of me that stares out windows, dreams while watching others pass and who wonders…imagines. Maybe even sometimes worries that I’m not leading the sort of life I yearn for. Not in terms of adultery of course, lol, but Emma Bovary's journey is one of refusal. Refusal to accept being trapped, hungry for an alternative and ripe with passion. Raw feminism if it ever had a start. Ideas that can be applied to most areas in life. And as for myself; I am not fearless, not taking chances, not struggling against the water. I’m just here.

A couple of weeks ago, on the rare occasion that Kevin was actually sitting at the dinner table with me, I was cleaning my nook. My nook is the small station in which I keep all my everyday items. It’s a tiny office, command station, as he likes to call it. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the old book. I told him the story of my vintage treasure, what attracted me to it and about the inscription. “That’s cool.” He replied, eyebrows raised. “You should look for her again, you never know?” he hoped aloud, walking back to his chair. “Yeah…maybe.” I said slowly. 

That evening I sat in bed, searching and reading online. I found that Coco Solo, C.Z. stood for Coco Solo, Canal Zone of the Panama Canal. It had been a United States Navy submarine base, established in 1918 on the northwest side of the Panama Canal. Was she an officer? Was she married to one? Was she stationed there? Still so many questions unanswered and more arose. Finally I came upon a website titled, CZBrats. It appeared to be a site documenting the history of the canal, people who lived and were stationed there and what the canal looks like today. As I clicked through old photos, I tried to imagine Edna, standing on the shore or posing near barracks. Still….I found nothing of her personally. I decided to email the people who ran the site. At the very least, maybe they could point me in the right direction? It was worth a try.

A few days later I received an email from a woman named Lesley. She kindly replied and offered to send Edna’s name through her mailing list. Perhaps someone might know something? And that was all it took: a simple request and the kindness of a generous stranger. A few days later another email appeared in my inbox, with names, birthdates, places of residence…and even a photo.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I began to sift through the information. “I can’t believe it!” I cried to Kevin as he hugged me and stood behind my shoulder, gazing at the screen. “Wow.” he said, shaking his head. “Merry Christmas baby.” And I just nodded yes. So completely touched, I couldn’t even speak. Finally. Finally I had a portrait of who this woman was, where she had been, even a photo. It was amazing.

I believe the world speaks to me in signs. Sometimes they’re actual—physical signs, and sometimes its an object, a collection of words or even gesture. That when I put it all together I’m certain it was meant for me, right at that moment. I know because somehow it always fits, exactly. It correlates with my life, my needs and desires. Like some beguiling force, answering all my questions and pointing the way. I know what you might be thinking, “how silly” right? But I can tell you the exact sign I saw just days before Kevin and I met, before I got my job in Santa Monica, when I knew my life was changing. And now, at a time when I’m earnestly searching for my path, lost in my own mind (sometimes negativity) and worried, I meet this woman. She’s a lady who allows me to take my mind off myself for a moment. A person who already lived many of my desires: going to college, visiting New York City, sailing around the world. A girl who appears to have been well traveled, thoughtful, and maybe even adventurous. I believe she is a clear sign. A beacon: begging me not to give up, not to feed my wounded spirit and never to forget my dreams.

Below is the email from Lesley and all the wonderful details about Edna...

Candace,

Someone I know looked up information about Edna G.M. Loftus.  Here's what he came up with.  Enjoy -- now you have some info and a picture to go with your book!!  It is a picture of Edna when she was in high school.

****************

Edna G. M. Loftus was born 20 Aug 1899 in Philadelphia, PA.  In 1938, she sailed from Naples, Italy to NY, NY.She was married, but travelling alone to "Bureau of Aeronautics, Navy Dept. Washington, D.C." She attended William Penn High School for Girls in 1916, and a wonderful photo of her is available. Her parents were John W. (b: Nov 1874 in England) & Elizabeth (b: Nov 1881 in PA). They were married in 1898. Edna's siblings were John W. Jr.(b: abt 1901), Florence M. V. (b: abt 1903), Elizabeth A. (b: abt 1912), and Dorthea R. (b: abt 1915).  Edna’s mother Elizabeth’s parents were both born in Italy. They are listed on the 1900, 1910, 1920, and 1930 census in Philly. Sister Dorthea (Dorothy) traveled to the CZ in 1936, 1937, and 1946. The Loftus Family apparently lived at 6046 East Elmwood Ave. in Philadelphia. In 1923 Edna was living in Los Angeles, and travelled to/from Hawaii.  In 1932 she to/from Yokohama, Japan.   Apparently she took world cruise in 1957 too.Edna’s husband was Rear Admiral Clyde W. Smith. He was the foster father of her sister Dorothy, which explains Dorothy’s trips to the CZ. The admiral died 19 May 1974 in Washington D.C. He is buried in Arlington. Edna is probably next to him. He was born in Marathon, Iowa in 1900.

***********

From this information it can be assumed that Rear Admiral Smith was one of the Navy’s early aviation people. I did find information that he was a Naval Cadet, but no year. At one point he was stationed at Coco Solo. They must have retired to the Los Angles area.

Lesley

A few last interesting details that seem to intersect between Edna and I...

Who knows, maybe Im nuts? But some signals are hard to ignore. What attracted me to this item? Some people say that some objects from past lives come back to you. Maybe we knew each other? Maybe I was her? Romantic and strange and maybe I'll never know :)

*********

-I think its strange that Edna was born in 1899. Most of the women in my family (including myself) are what my mother and I affectionately refer to as "the nines." 1919, 1939, 1959, 1979, 2009...all our years of birth. 

-The date that she was born, Aug. 20th, is the same date that we got Fiona. A special date indeed. 

- And just a neat tid bit : The publisher of Edna's edition of Madame Bovary, is Brentano's of New York. Brentano's was a very famous, very popular publishing house and bookstore in New York City at the turn of the century. They specialized in French literature, many titles by French writers in exile during the Vichy France period. Its possible that Edna purchased this book from the very bookstore itself.