Trumbull – Dear T. S. (1) – Another Trip To The World’s Fair – August 13, 1939

At this point, Dan has returned from Venezuela and Lad is the only son living away from home. I think it must have been strange hearing about all the happenings back in Trumbull, knowing that if he was there, he’d be right in the middle of everything, Fortunately for Grandpa, Lad doesn’t even mention this but it must have been on his mind.

August the 13th (1939)

(sounds unlucky )

Dear T.S.

Do you know what those initials stand for? Well, guess.

Well, the week has rolled around again and it’s time for me to sit down for a couple of hours and have a one-sided chat with my S.A. progressive — the boy who left the old home and made good in the big outside world. Meanwhile the old home still runs along in its own quiet groove awaiting the homecoming sometime in the distant future.

Your short handwritten note arrived Tuesday, also in the red. You are consistent in your color scheme, whether it be pencil or typewriter.

You must have the same feeling that an M. D. has who is a specialist and is called hither and yon to apply his expert knowledge in fixing up something that has gone wrong. It must be a lot more interesting than some routine job that any ordinary mechanic can fix up. It is a challenge where you pit your wits against some mechanical difficulty that presents a difficult problem and you are the only hope of relief, on the correction of which may depend human lives and at least the efficient operation preventing loss of revenue. In other words, you can feel that you are really an important cog in the human order of things, and the constant change in the problems, I should think, would make the job quite interesting. First thing you know they will be calling you to headquarters for service in an ever broadening field, who knows?

Shall wait with interest more information about the new plane. Would it make regular trips now between your camp and Caracas? I gave your birthday greetings to Dick. He wants a tennis racket, money and a razor. The 19th is next Saturday, and we may celebrate with some manner yet undetermined, possibly a visit to Pleasure Beach.

Last Tuesday I took all the boys to the World’s Fair. We visited the Venezuelan exhibit, Italy, Russia, Czechoslovakia, and from there to the New England states building, stopping also at Virginia, South Carolina and Puerto Rico. We then had supper, saw the fireworks with the colored lights on the fountains and then went down to the amusement section. Dan liked it so much that last night he got up another party and in Ced’s car, Dan, Ced, Dick, Don Whitney, Redd Donald Sirene), Jean (Hughes) and Barbara (Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend) went down again. They started about 9 AM from Trumbull and got home about 2:30 this morning. Don and Ced ate some crab meat salad which did not agree with them and in  about half-hour intervals, Ced ran through my room on the way to the bathroom losing crab meat and everything else from both front and back exits. He is consequently been feeling rather weak today.

I have just gotten out Dan’s road map of Venezuela and tried to locate Cero Negro and Carizal, but I guess they didn’t put it on. If you can get a copy of the same Shell road map and can spot the places you visit in relation to this map, I can more readily follow your migration.

Tomorrow, the rest of this letter. Wednesday, two Inter-Office Memos to Lad (Alfred Guion) regarding Trouble-Shooting jobs he had in August, 1939. Thursday and Friday, Another letter from Grandpa to his oldest – and only – son away from home.

Judy Guion


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