Trumbull – A Birthday Celebration and Thoughts About a Job – Oct., 1942

Trumbull House - from the front, showing the steps to the Front door

Trumbull, Connecticut

October 18, 1942

To my three props:

The week has passed uneventfully at the old home – – no hits, no runs, no errors (I hope). Unenlivened by any news from Alaska or by visits home by the two soldier boys, the days have passed as quietly as the falling leaves from our old maple trees which have now laid a thick carpet of brown over our scant 3/4 acres, even hiding the ugly erosions in our driveway.

Barbara returned from her trip to Lancaster and reported having had a thoroughly delightful time, rendered all the more enjoyable by the ideal autumn weather with the exception of one rainy day. She did not visit camp but Dan’s lucky star was in the ascendant as far as being able to get time off was concerned.

This afternoon after dinner we “got in the scrap”, at least we persuaded Red Sirene to load up his car until it looked like a cartoon picture of an overloaded Toonerville Trolley with all kinds of metal scrap garnered from our cellar and barn, including a 15-foot well pipe and Warden’s old stove.         Red took it down to the school grounds to add to the already considerable pile of scrap that others had contributed.

Jean Hughes is home again, but her husband has gone back to his camp where they have put him in the M.P.’s. Don Whitney I hear is married. Flora Bushey has been training as a nurse I understand, does not like it at all and is going to quit. Dick is getting more and more restive. He does not like factory work and in spite of the fact he has a boss now that he likes, he seems to be looking forward to getting into the Army when his deferment period expires at the end of the year.

I may go looking for a job myself pretty soon, as the thinning the stream of business seems now to be but a trickle and if the trend continues much longer, will not even pay running expenses in spite of the fact that expenses are cut down about as far as they can be cut. I have two reasons for not wanting to throw up the sponge. One is that Dave seems to be really interested in carrying on and the other is that after the war, I believe those who can continue on through these times will be in position to do a very substantial business. The offsetting thought is that with men badly needed in industry, I perhaps could land a lucrative job and at the same time feeling I was doing something to help in the war effort instead of leaving it all to my sons. You were too little in the last war for Uncle Sam to feel he needed my services enough to draft me, and I am too old to fight this war, but I’d like to feel I was doing my bit in some measure personally and not by proxy. Any helpful thought you boys can contribute to steer me out of this dilemma?

Dr. Laszlo tells me he will be leaving in a few months for Army service. He asked all about you boys.

I’m looking forward to having both you older boys home next weekend just to sort of polish off Dan’s birthday celebration, and if I should also have had some news from Ced, that too, would help. As for hearing from all you boys the same week, there’s about as much chance of that as there is of a newly minted 2nd lieut. getting married in mufti.   DAD

Tomorrow and Friday, another letter from Grandpa to his sons.

On Saturday and Sunday, more early memories of Trumbull.

Judy Guion

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