July 8, 1940
I received the note you so thoughtfully left for me at the hotel. You guessed right. I was in no hurry for the sleeping garments and I am mighty glad you played hooky. I hope you enjoyed getting away from the daily grind for once. You ought to do it more often. Kicking over the traces once in a while does one a lot of good and I hope you enjoyed it this time.
Now I have some very sad news which you may already have heard. When we three “boys” were off on our spree Tuesday and stopped in at the shop, you recall giving me cousin Colly’s address in Norwalk and telling me Sylvia had stopped in a few days before and told you her mother was very ill. It rather worried me so Thursday I played hooky and went down to Norwalk to find out how things were going. Tizie met me at the door and informed me that cousin Colly had died the night before. Sylvia was out shopping at the time so I had a long chat with Tizie. A diseased liver and gallbladder was the cause of death. The funeral was to be held Saturday afternoon at a funeral home in Westport. I miss understood Tizie to say, as I learned later, that she had notified the relatives and as you were mentioned during the conversation I carried away the impression that you were one of them. Dave, Dick and I all went down to the funeral, but arrived late as they got there 15 min. early and not being sure I would come they decided not to wait until the scheduled time as none of the other relatives were expected. It was a simple impressive funeral and Sylvia bore up splendidly. They – – she and Tizie – – expect to go up to the Fish’s place on Cape Cod for a week. By the Way, Helen Taylor was at the funeral, as she had come up to visit her uncle, Pig. Fish. After they return, Sylvia will try to settle up her mother’s affairs and then Tizie will have to hurry off to see her son, whose wife suddenly went insane and shot herself, leaving him with two little children. Tizie feels under the circumstances she ought to be on hand to help. What Sylvia will do is a question. The pension her mother has been getting will cease, she cannot go back to her father’s folks in England at the present, and none of her mother’s sisters or brothers are in position to take her in. I have invited her up here for a visit but I do not know that she will accept. I don’t imagine she is trained for any commercial job so the whole thing is very much an open question.
The boys have finally reached Alaska, en route to their final destination which I believe is Anchorage. A card received from Dan this morning, mailed June 29 from Juneau where the boat made a stop, seems to indicate they are having a good time. They must be fairly settled by this time but it takes such a long while for letters to arrive that I won’t know anything definite for some time yet. They are really much further off by mail time then Lad is. Three airmail letters I sent to them en route across the country have all been returned undelivered.
You might show this to Aunt Betty when you see her, as I have not much time for letters these days with so many distant boys to write to.
Enclosed is a little historical account of your grandmother which is very interesting. I made this copy for you. It was sent to cousin Colly by a cousin (Father’s brother Elijah’s daughter who lives in Arlington Va.) and Sylvia gave it to me to copy.
I’ll be seein’ yer soon, I hope.