Trumbull – First Sunday of Spring (3) – March, 1941

Richard (Dick) Guion

Richard (Dick) Guion

Dear Dick:

When you read this, old sock, you will have completed a long , lonesome, but withal, I hope, interesting journey. Anyway, it will be one you will long remember, I trust. You have made several references to the matter of homesickness as though it were a weakness that one ought to be ashamed of. I don’t feel that way about it at all. I should say you had much cause to be ashamed of something important lacking in your makeup if you didn’t feel homesick. It would be only the hardened brute that had no finer feelings of any sort, that would not feel some yearning for old familiar things and faces when far from home and entirely surrounded by strangers. “Breathes there a man with soul so dead, etc.”. No, I don’t think you need apologize and I should feel I had failed somehow if you didn’t feel you could write home when things trouble you with the certainty that your words would be received with understanding and sympathy and an unbounded desire to help. As you so truly remarked often, the very act of writing or telling someone what is bothering you is, in itself, is a help.

You’re special delivery airmail letter arrived at Trumbull too late for me to have possibly gotten a reply with check off to you in time to reach Seattle by the 20th, and while I do not yet know whether Mr. Schurman was able to arrange accommodations for you on the Discoverer, sailing on the 20th, none of your messages to date having mentioned receiving a copy of my airmail letter to him enclosing $55 for your boat fare, I assume that if you had been really up against it, you would have telegraphed. I first thought of wiring you additional funds, but as you mentioned having $30 on arrival and only food and lodging being absolute necessities, you should be able to get along.

Of course I hate just as much as you do to have to deliver the much vaunted car to the boys in a faulty condition but I would far rather have any repairs necessary done at Anchorage under Ced’s supervision than I would taking the chance that I did not do what I had an inclination to do, and that was to disregard Ced’s instructions as to the Briggs clarifier in view of my own unfortunate experience with it on the Willys, and let you deliver the car as it came from the Buick place, but this did not seem to be one of the things Ced wanted me to use my discretion on. I don’t mean from this that I am trying to crawl out from under the responsibility because in the last analysis, it was my job to see beyond any shadow of doubt that the car was O.K. and I am deeply mortified to think that things turned out as they did. I hope the delay and expense of putting the engine in good shape again will be small, otherwise the sum of the disappointments will be too much.

There’s one thing I want to go on record about right at the beginning. While it is true that one letter I write is to three of you, that doesn’t mean that if you were there alone I would not write you alone regularly just the same. By the same token I expect and hope and ask you to write me regularly. I don’t want to take second place to any of your girlfriends (Dan, please note). Get the idea out of your head that your letters are uninteresting. They are not. I enjoy reading them. Don’t assume that you don’t need to write because Dan or Ced will tell me all the news. They don’t. They cannot possibly tell me what your impression of things are — what you do and think and feel. It is you I want to hear from individually and not by proxy. The hardest part always is getting started. Make it a rule to start a letter to me once a week, and you will be surprised how easy it will be to finish it. Besides it will be a valuable history of your Alaskan visit for you to read over in the years to come. So let’s see how persistent is your will power.


Tomorrow, I’ll be posting the final portion of this letter, written to Ced with a short note to Dan. Grandpa includes a financial report on the Buick Dick has delivered to Seattle and sent by ship to Ced and Dan in Anchorage.

On Saturday and Sunday, another portion of the story of the Guion family and their early years in Trumbull, including memories from the children.

Judy Guion


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