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And speaking of the competition between you and Dick as to who can refrain longest from writing home, reminds me of the story of a surgeon, an architect and a politician who were arguing as to whose profession was the oldest. Said the surgeon: “Eve was made from Adam’s rib and that surely was a surgical operation!” “Maybe”, said the architect, “but prior to that, order was created out of chaos, and that was an architectural job.” “But”, interrupted the politician proudly, “somebody must have created the chaos!”
A visit with the Chandlers: Top left: Ced, Dick and possibly Dave, front left: Grandpa.
Last week while I was busily working away all alone, as usual, in my office, a lady climbed my long stairs and appeared in the doorway. I glanced up and it wasn’t until after a second glance that I realized it was Mrs. Douglas Chandler in person. She was visiting in Trumbull for a few days while Doug went on to Moors to see his brother and mother. (Those of you who went on our Gaspé trip will recall their hospitality). She said Doug has not been well but was feeling better now. Mike and his little sister were fine but his big brother (now over 6 feet tall) while working recently in a linoleum place, had a 600 pound bale of felt fall on him, breaking his leg and injuring his spine. He is recovering O.K. but it sort of spoils his chance of getting into the armed forces as he wanted to do. Other local news in brief: Erwin (Laufer) is home for good. Doesn’t yet know what he is going to do. Nellie (Nelson Sperling), his mother says, is now overseas somewhere, probably in the Pacific area. Carl (Wayne) is home this month and then hopes to go to school in New London to finish his course qualifying him for a 3rd engineers job. A letter from Catherine Warden says Paul is at an airbase in Hawaii – – probably at Pearl Harbor. The base must be a fairly large one because they have several Navy PX stores and can get fresh Pineapple juice, milk, etc. He says the country is quite beautiful except where it is covered with concrete. All the runways and most of the base is concrete because vegetation grows so fast wereever there is soil. He went over in a “small ship” but he loved it, and wants Dave to know he wasn’t a bit seasick, either.
And now for Dave’s letter, written on five consecutive sheets of toilet paper, dated May 25th and received June 4th. “There’s not much to write but I thought maybe I ought to get a letter off to you while I’ve got a chance. It’s been raining for about four days now with no sign of a let up. The boys in France, with their mud, have nothing on us. We’ve got it up to our A – ancles. I got a letter from Jean which I think I shall try to answer tonight. How is Aunt Elsie? I suppose she is all better now. My morale is still excellent in spite of the rain. We’ve got our tent really fixed up well now. And they’re putting in electric lights. Also there is promise of well-water soon. Our shower is doing well. Boy! The war has sure raised hell with the quality of paper out here. If the situation is any better back there, how about sending me some stationery? Love, Dave”.
Of course I’ve taken the hint and a box of writing paper is now on its way to you, but if it doesn’t get there any quicker than the “Christmas” box I sent as soon as you were shipped out of Crowder, it won’t do you much good. Incidentally, Dan, I’ve also mailed a pair of Polaroid sunglasses to you, encased in Kleenex. I also send each of you fervent hope for an early return home, encased in lots of good wishes (a bit of an understatement), and I hope it won’t be en route to the CBI theater either. The June sun, when it does shine, will seem a bit brighter, the grass and trees a bit greener, the bird’s songs a bit cheerier and your old Dad a bit younger and less cynical than he is now accused of being, when that comes to pass, so here’s hoping. As always,