Friends and Trumbull – Ethel Bushey and Grandpa – Nov., 1940

October 21, 1940

Dear Ladd –

Ethel Bushey

Ethel Bushey

Have you heard the wonderful news about Carl and I? ( P.S. – We are engaged.) The most scrumptious ring you ever did see is on my important finger. By the time you arrive back in the U.S.A. I’ll probably be Mrs. C. Wayne. (I hope)

Enough bragging for now. Oh, by the way, your Dad was the first person to see my ring.

Carl Wayne

Carl Wayne

I was glad because you know how much I have always thought of your Dad. He seemed to be as happy as Carl and I about it.

Did you know that I am your nephew’s godmother and a very proud one too? I love him, he is the most wonderful child alive. Yesterday was his first birthday.

Arnold and Alta are keeping the home fires burning in their trailer.

Edna and Frank are living in Bridgeport at Sage Street, just below Bridgeport Hospital.

October 12th I was a bridesmaid for a friend of mine at a very large wedding. It was beautiful. My gown was maroon velvet top and maroon taffeta skirt. Next letter I’ll send a picture. Having some made in my gown.

A few of the girls started my hope chest for me. Officially I really haven’t one, I hate the clumsy things. Here are the starters:

1 can opener – Mrs. Chris Smith

1 dishcloth – Helen Slawson

measuring spoons – Barbara Plumb

potholders and salad fork and spoon from mother

          You can easily guess where I’m going to be doing most of my work.

Here is a snapshot Bissie took this spring.

Bissie is here now talking while I’m trying to concentrate on this letter. Flora and Bissie are now commenting on the picture that I’m enclosing. You can probably guess what the comments are about.

Write soon.





R-100    Nov. 3, 1940

Dear Backsliders:

My eyesight is strained from peering into the gloom of the interior of P.O. Box 7 in an effort to discover a letter either with a Venezuelan stamp or an Alaskan postmark on it. 14 times during the last week (that’s two Saturdays, so no remarks about Kurtz’s not being open on Sunday –nh, nh, so there!), So with no letters to answer and little local news there is not much skeleton to build the body of this letter on. A preposition is a bad word to end a sentence with. (I got you that time too.)

The box with the skates and music was dispatched this week. Cost, including insurance was a $1.25. Thanks for your thoughtfulness in sending the dollar, Ced. It almost made the grade. I did not know which Spanish grammar Dan wanted, so I picked the one that looked as though it had been used the most. As a matter of fact I did not discover the other one until after the box had been all but sealed with my orange tape. I did however include the two magazines that Carol Ravell sent. I should think you would follow Lad’s idea, Dan, and let me subscribe to the Spanish edition of Reader’s Digest for you.

Just after I had finished writing to you boys last Sunday and was thinking about going to bed, who should breeze in without previous warning of any kind but old boy Dick. They had left Florida the Friday before on receipt of a telegram from Mr. Kascak telling Bob he had work for him to do at home. They had practically lined up jobs to, which they badly needed, as their cash had about vanished. Apparently most of their time down there was spent helping a tennis pro who gave instructions to amateurs who desired to improve their game. The boys would work on the courts long enough to earn the privilege of playing the rest of the day, which, while enjoyable, (using $20 rackets, etc.) did not bring in any cash with which to buy grub or pay rent, so that they found themselves in Philadelphia on the way home with $.50 in cash and no gas. Luckily, Bob had relatives in Philadelphia where they replenished their gas tanks, pocketbooks and the inner man and arrived in Trumbull with $.50 to the good. Dick thoroughly enjoyed himself and said it was worth all it cost. He feels much better mentally and is now looking for a job. He tried to get on the Easton Reservoir job but they said they had more than enough men and were not interested in taking on any more. He does not want an inside job. He has been doing odd jobs around the house here for the past week, and today I got them to go to town. The three of us. I got them up about nine and put them in good humor by giving them a pancake breakfast and then set them to work getting up the storm windows while I started to clean up around the incinerator. I worked at this for an hour or two and then came in and started dinner. After this important function was over and dishes washed, I got them working on the incinerator again until dark. Barbara, Don and Jean have just come in and are now reading last weeks Alaskan letters. I have just asked them what news there might be for me to pass on to the absent ones with the result as follows:

Jean and Don were the committee appointed by the choral society to arrange a Halloween party at Mrs. Miller’s last night. Ghosts, corpses, empty rocking chairs rocking, dark rooms with eerie sounds, etc. apparently sent shivers down many choral backs and undoubtedly put the proper tremolos and the voices of those members of the choir went to church today.

Jean has had her fang removed and asked me to tell you that she is downhearted, Ced, because you have not written her. She asked me to tell you that she had an infected finger from knitting you a pair of mittens (Don says she is knitting you a pair of infected mittens) and still you have not written.

Tomorrow, I’ll finish out the week with the last half of this letter from Grandpa to the Backsliders – all three of them.

On Saturday and Sunday, I’ll post Special Pictures.

On Monday, We’ll move forward to 1941 when both Lad and Dan have come home and are working at the Producto Plant in Bridgeport. Ced and Dick are still in Alaska.

Judy Guion


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