“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] In those terms (underlined) it is for Loren a step up from, say, Sayre, whose history is richer even in “lower class” origins. Sayre, however, generally now, represented the poorer man’s version of that American ideal, and it was from there that many of your beliefs and those of your brothers had their origins. [...]

[...] We were living in Sayre, Pennsylvania, a middle-class railroad town in which I’d grown up, which lies only 18 miles southeast of our present home in Elmira, New York. [...]

[...] Although Jane’s father, and my own, had died the previous year (in 1971), our mothers were still living: Jane’s in a nursing home in upstate New York, and mine at the Butts family home in Sayre, Pennsylvania, which is only 18 miles from Elmira and just south of the New York State border. (While Jane and I were away my mother stayed with one of my brothers, who lives some 60 miles below Sayre.)

[...] Both of us had jobs at the large hospital in my home town of Sayre, Pa., eighteen miles southeast of Elmira, N.Y. The setting and the buildings weren’t like those of the “real” hospital in Sayre, though. [...]

[...] I think that my own much more pleasant earlier experiences with the hospital in Sayre, including my doing free-lance art work for some of its doctors, helped me place the locale for this adventure there, rather than at the hospital in Elmira, where Jane died. In addition, we lived very happily in Sayre for several years following our marriage.

[...] Ruburt is only too aware of the fact that he pushed to leave Sayre, and that your circumstances afterward in Florida were negative. [...]

[...] In those days the Buttses didn’t think in such terms, for one thing; for another, I was absent from the family home in Sayre for much of that time. [...]

Returning east to Sayre, Pa., he opened his auto-repair and battery shop. [...]

[...] I was momentarily confused — for my art teacher in high school in Sayre, Pennsylvania had been Helen Bowman, until she married later in life and became Helen Bowman Park. [...]

[...] Yesterday the two of them had spent a day at the hospital in Sayre. [...]

(I said I wished we’d never left Sayre, and she agreed. [...]

1. Helen Bowman — Miss Bowman, my parents and I always called her — was my art teacher in the Sayre, Pennsylvania, high school from 1935 until my graduation in 1937. [...]

[...] Perhaps eight years ago I did a series of medical illustrations for the hospital in Sayre, PA. [...]

[...] The object is the flap of a letter that my nephew Douglas Butts and myself wrote on last Sunday, April 3, at my parents’ home in Sayre, PA. [...]

[...] Betts took us for a ride Sunday in Sayre. [...]

[...] I couldn’t go because of my own work, so Jane attended the conference with Cyril Kornbluth [now deceased], a friend and a well-known writer who lived near our home in Sayre, Pennsylvania.

(I have no ideas at all as to the moving-back-to-Sayre business goes. [...]

[...] In vivid memory is a picture of her attempting to get out of the family car in front of 704 N. Wilbur Avenue, in Sayre, after Fred had driven the family over to see my parents for a visit—probably on a Sunday.

[...] We discussed the events of yesterday, and the fact that my mother is due to return to Sayre on Sunday, December 26. [...]

[...] Debbie had pointed out a photograph of it in a local real estate catalog, and we were quite aware that it bore a good resemblance to the house we’d considered buying in Sayre, Pennsylvania, in the spring of 1974.³ Besides being bungalows, both houses were of about the same age, and even of similar colors.

And in a note for that session I wrote: “Years ago, when Jane and I began living in Sayre, Pennsylvania, not long after our marriage in 1954, I began telling myself that before I reached the age of 40 I’d know whether I wanted to concentrate upon writing or painting — but that if I’d failed to do so before that date, I would then decide upon one or the other of those creative arts. [...]

[...] I had a much younger assistant who reminded me of Tom Lantini, an artist friend who had been a year behind me in Sayre High, our hometown school in Sayre, Pennsylvania. [...]

(This afternoon Jane and I took my parents to the hospital in Sayre; mother for an ear examination, father to be admitted to the psychiatric ward. [...]

If one wanted to outline an event such as our moving from an arbitrary beginning to an arbitrary end, I added, it could be from the time we first looked at Mr. Markle’s house in Sayre, in April 1974, to sometime in the summer of l975, when we think the situation next door will be resolved with the arrival of “new” people. [...]