Daniel Beck Guion, after returning from Venezuela
November 26, 1939
Muy senor mio,
Su padre va a escribir a usted en buen espanol! Que piense usted de eso? Pere frankemente, no soysu padre.
soy su hermano, escribiendo uma carta tarde. Si hay gramatico malo conozco mas espanol ahor que quando staba en Venezuela, pero no conozco mucho todavia.
After reading over one of el padre’s letters, he mentions that I have been using your car, then he goes on to say that the top blew off, the battery went dead, etc., etc., etc., but he fails to mention clearly that he is speaking of peep rather than your Packard. Actually, your Packard is still giving satisfactory service. The rips in the upholstery are exhibiting a normal growth, to be sure, and one of the front right springs has sprung a leaf, but the motor runs, and, in comparison to Ced’s peep, a “lemon” would taste like a nectarine, altho’ it is not entirely clear to me what a nectarine is, part of my logic insisting that it has something to do with the juice in Dad’s pipe, and the other half suggesting that it is perhaps a half-breed peach, which your friends might term a “mestizo”.
I have been interested lately in South American studies. I am considering a “career” in Latin America, but have more or less abandoned my plans to study geology. I should prefer a job which would afford a greater amount of travel and meeting people. Salesman for some U.S. Co. would be ideal. I am studying Spanish seriously, and have begun reading books on South America to get a broader education on the history, economics and geography of Latin America. In this connection I wrote to a School in Washington, DC called the School of Latin American Studies. I have reason to believe that this School is a foreign service school, perhaps majoring in diplomatic studies, but the director has promised to send me a catalog for the coming year. (the stuttering “m” which has appeared unexpectedly in the word “Coming” was entirely coincidental, and has no bearing whatsoever on actual words).
It is my turn to spend Thanksgiving at home (Dan and Uncle Ted Human left for Venezuela in October of 1939, so he missed the usual Trumbull Thanksgiving.) while you thrill to the festive spirit of the celebration de los llanos. I suppose that you americanos will sally forth with your trusty esopetas in search of a rash paguato or pava in the true old New England style! At that, it will be better than my last year’s Thanksgiving, for we spent that day working in the heavy November downpour around el rio Sivare, just west of Santa Rosa.
And speaking of el rio Sicare, I have been writing more elaborate accounts of some of my experiences in connection with a course I am taking at School. This serves a dual purpose. First, it supplies the assignments for my homework. Secondly, it preserves for posterity accounts of my more out-standing impressions of Western Venezuela. Do you remember the Shrine along the trail just past the rio Sicare, near Santa Rosa, the shrine with candles burning on it? I have written the story of that shrine ….. the Shrine of Jose del Carmen, as told me
I cannot find the other portion of this letter. I also was unaware of these accounts and will contact his children to see if they have them.
Tomorrow I will post a letter from Aunt Betty to Lad.