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While Lad has heard nothing from the draft board as to his status, and saying very little as he does, I have an idea he is prepared to go into it whenever the need arises. He does not feel the way you or Dan do about the ethics of the thing anyway. Myself, I shall have to steel myself to the thought that Lad and Dan and you and Dick will all be in it and if it lasts long enough, Dave also. In fact if they are going to draft folks up to 64 as proposed in the latest suggestion before Congress I may be in it myself, and that will make it unanimous. I cannot help but wonder what Mother would feel and say about things as they are opening up as far as her children are concerned.
I am still having a hectic time at the office. Difficulty in obtaining labor to turn out what work comes my way. Material shortages are threatening in the paper and Addressograph plate field, and it is too soon yet to say what influence the war is going to have on my business. Enlistments and draft calls will still further thin the ranks of men in the higher brackets in Bridgeport industries. According to Paul Warden, who is in Remington, a great many of the men at the heads of departments are leaving that company. Maybe I’ll have to be looking for a job somewhere myself to take care of taxes, etc.
Elsie informs me that business at the shop since last week has practically stopped in spite of the nearness of the Christmas season. Mrs. Burlingame, who has been in the hospital for an operation, is getting better but for several weeks Elsie has had to run the business alone herself.
It snowed yesterday for the first time this year. Lad remarked it was the first snowstorm he had seen in three years. It rained all last night so there is no snow left today but it is rather cold nevertheless. The furnace is not working too well this year. Maybe it’s a case of old age, hardening of the arteries, or something. Dan wants me to use some of his savings to put in a new furnace before the government orders a ban on use of metal for this purpose. I have asked a heating man to come in and give it a look-see with an estimate on what a new plant would cost.
You are cordially invited to attend a joint Guion-Warden New Year’s party with the three-fold purpose of making whoppee for some guests of the Wardens, to commemorate Red’s birthday and to celebrate Dick’s homecoming. Wouldn’t it be great if my great tall distant son accepted this invitation. What a start for the new year for his Dad!
But there, all dreams must have an end and so must letters. If you can fix up some mathematical formula about the strength of good wishes, particularly at Christmas tide, being as the square of the distance separating father from a well-beloved son, without an X X denoting unknown quantities, I wish you would figure out a good one that I could work out and send to you. The answer in any language would be “much love from”
Tomorrow, another letter from Grandpa to Ced in Alaska.
More from the Autobiography of Mary E Wilson (and another daughter) on Saturday and Sunday.
Next week, letters from 1943 when the boys are serving Uncle Sam in their own unique ways.