Trumbull – Dear Baby Snoooks (1) – Daily Reminders – Oct., 1944

Trumbull House - The Barn

This is the walk Grandpa had to take from the back porch (on left)

to the barn where his car was kept.

Trumbull, Conn., Oct. 29, 1944

Dear Baby’s Snooks:  I mean Jack Benny: Oh, shucks, Jean has the radio going and my concentrations get all mixed up. There, she has thoughtfully and selfsacrificingly turned it off so that I can unhamperedly write to her sweetie among others. Whether it will be worth all this trouble I have my doubts, but here goes anyway.

First will turn to the anecdote department. The Greek dictator General Metaxes was invited to try out a new flying boat. He undertook to pilot it himself. All went well until the Commander noticed they were gliding down to the airdrome. “Excuse me, General, but it would be better to come down on the sea. This is a flying boat”. “Of course, Commander, what was I thinking of!” said Metaxes. After making a safe landing on the water he rose from the wheel and said, “Commander, I greatly appreciate the tact with which you drew my attention to the incredible blunder I was about to make.” Whereupon he turned around, opened the door and stepped into the sea.

Two little sardines were swimming aimlessly in New York’s East River. “Let’s go up to Connecticut for the weekend! suggested one. “Heavens, no, it’s much too long to swim.” “We could go by train” ventured the first sardine. “What! And be jammed in like a couple of soldiers.”

Americans on the German front have their own secret weapon – Patton Pending.

Here is one whom Dave, a rabid Gilbert and Sullivan fan, will especially appreciate. The other night at a political rally in Fairfield, the Norwalk baritone, Greek Evans, sang the following to the tune of Tit Willow from The Mikado.

On the train in Chicago sat little Tom Tit,

Singing Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney

Said Hennigan, Dickie Bird, why do you sit

Singing Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney

Said Dickie Bird, “I feel in my little insides

The American people are wise to my lies,

So give me that fat little worm, now decide

To clear Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney

In thirty-six I had John L., as you know

Clear Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney

But he got to tough to swallow, and so

Clear Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney

In 40 I gave them dear Wallace, you see

But he tried to steal top billing from me

And so we must ship this nit-wit out to sea,

Clear Sydney clear Sydney clear Sydney.

So here then am I, your little Tom Tit

Singing Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney.

I must have my way or the job I will quit.

Clear Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney.

With Ickes to throw the mud till it hurts

And Biddle to get the business man’s shirt

All we need then is the Hillman to drive the rest NERTS

Clear Sydney, clear Sydney, clear Sydney


Page 2   10/29/44


So much for the froth. Now let’s get serious. It occurred to me the other day that for each of you absent boys I have some daily reminder that pleasantly brings you to mind. The days of late have been getting right chilly, so saying goodbye to Aunt Betty, gathering my lunch under my arm, I hasten out to the barn and slide under the Buick wheel. It feels cold to the touch but not for long because soon the heater which Ced not only “gifted” me but installed as well, begins purring and my hymn of Thanksgiving daily floats with the heat waves up toward Anchorage. And, by the way, Ced, the regular arrival of the Alaska Sportsman is enjoyed by all. I noticed in the last issue a mimeograph ad giving the name and address of a concern in Anchorage that does mimeographing. It would be interesting if you got a schedule of prices from them and sent it to me.

But to get back to my Daily Reminders. Quite soon after I hop out of bed I think of Lad and his thoughtfulness in giving me the Remington Rand electric razor. Then after shaving and dressing I make my bed. Do you remember Dan, that two toned woolly brown sweater you once had? Well, the blanket you had in Alaska, which Ced brought back with him and which I use on my bed, is the same two toned Brown and I always think of you as I put this blanket in place. At the office, time and time again during the day as jobs have to be turned out I am reminded of how much I miss Dave, and lastly at night when I come home I usually enjoy a smoke after dinner, and as I reach for a cigar, and see the Brazilian cigar box Dick sent I am of course reminded of my Portuguese son – – yes, there are still three cigars left. I counted them today. And speaking of office work, Dave, Mac says he has someone who has agreed to take over the task of sending out News to Youse again. He says the principal reason it was discontinued was because you went away and he found there was no one who could quite fill your place. Others dillydallied with the idea but you were the only one that went right ahead and did something about it – – few words and plenty of action.

Tomorrow I’ll be posting the rest of this letter.

On Saturday and Sunday, I’ll have more Special Pictures for you.

Next week, I’ll begin a week of letters written in 1940. Lad was still working in Venezuela, Dan and Ced had moved to Alaska and Dick, Dave and Grandpa were holding down the fort in Trumbull.

Judy Guion


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