Here is a letter from the Westminster Theological Seminary. (Doug Chandler is a good friend of the family. was the music director at the Trumbull Congregational Church, which the family attended, and where several family members sang in the choir. The families have kept in touch and Grandpa, Ced, Dick and Dave went down to visit them in December of 1939.)
A visit to the Chandler’s in December, 1939.
Grandpa (lower left), Ced and Dick and possibly Dave (top, left to right)
This is to thank you, belatedly I know, for the letters from Dan and Dave and for the more recent announcement of the wedding. I am sorry I have not reported to you sooner about this and about the doings of the Chandlers, but here I am now with enough brass to face the music. The memory of the Guion deluge upon us some several Christmases ago is a classic note sounding out of a rather nondescript past. We are hanging on stubbornly to the hope that we may get together again when the hurley burley’s done, etc. I expect that there will be some changes in all of us but never enough to break the continuity. My own gray hairs and sagging “chest” are evidence of passing years and when I see my six-foot sons I find myself on the verge of panic – – for just a moment. Then I start muttering, as we always do about “the best is yet to be – – the last of life for which the first was made”. I think that Emily must have given you the not-too-low-down about us when she came by your office early in June. I enjoyed her account of her trip to Trumbull and Bridgeport. We met in New York and “helled” around a little – – too timid souls up from the provinces expecting the wrath that fell on Sodom to hit us any minute. I am afraid I enjoyed some of the theater more than I really should have. Last night, as we sat under the apple trees in the backyard, we agreed that it would have to be done all over again soon. Teaching is still fun – – most of the time. There is a breathing spell, I will not say vacation, just here before school opens the 18th of September. We’re spending this weekend in Washington, as I have done each weekend in August. But Washington isn’t a place for vacationing anymore, if it ever was, which I doubt. I had the interesting experience two weeks ago of meeting a man who had been born in Washington, D.C., I hadn’t thought of it but there must be others too who have been born there. Our August is going out in a blaze of heat. Still the thin air and the thinner shade on many of the trees speak of fall, just another “haircut away” as my brother says. By the way, Chan and his family are still on the home place at moors. Joel, his son, is just 18 and waiting. Anytime you can find your way down here you will find us ready to kill the “fatted calf” in your honor. Let us have the fun of a visit with you soon, will you? Greetings and best wishes to you and all the family – – and it is getting to be quite a family, isn’t it? Doug Chandler
The apartment is again vacant and while three or four have looked at it, for one reason or another, each has found it not suitable. Meantime, Catherine (Warden, former tenant in the apartment with her husband and two children) has written and phoned that she must leave where she is, wants to get back to Trumbull and would very much like to have the apartment again. Because of Aunt Betty and the children, lack of prideful upkeep, child nuisance, etc., I would prefer childless tenants but my conscience would bother me if, under the circumstances, I turned her down. And of course the financial aspect of not bringing in the usual income along with other recent changes here is an important and quite necessary consideration. I have been holding off making the final decision hoping that over this weekend someone would definitely take the place but here it is early Monday morning and no takers.
Just for old times sake I strolled down to the carnival Saturday night. Things were much as you can picture them from past memories except on a smaller scale. Instead of knowing 50% or more of the people, one occasionally spotted one or two I knew of old. I chatted with a few – – Charlie Kurtz, Bert Searles, Lewis Pack, from across the street, Herman Strobel, Monsanto, whose hand is getting better, and a few others known by sight but not by name, and then, as it started to sprinkle a little, I took a few chances on the main prizes and went home.
Jimmy Smith came in yesterday afternoon and entertained us in his inimitable matter relating his experiences getting into the ARC for overseas duties. Apparently he made it although he is going first to Washington for a few weeks special service.
Well, if this is to go into the morning’s mail I suppose I had better quit right here and now and then hope there is something waiting for me in the mailbox that will give me some quotable material for next week. Come on, Dan, it’s your turn.