Alfred Duryee Guion typing his weekly letter
Trumbull, Conn., March 29, 1942
Dear et als:
A gloomy, raw March day — it would be just the day after I let the furnace go out instead of a continuation of the nice springy weather wee have been enjoying lately. I thought it would be safe to fall back on the oil stoves instead of purchasing another ton of coal, and maybe next week will prove me right — we shall see.
The big news of the week is the explosion and fire at 2 P.M. yesterday afternoon at the Remington plant — six dead, 80 hurt. Paul Warden, (He and his family are living in the apartment at the Trumbull House)
who works at Remington, was on vacation all week, ending tonight, so he just escaped possible injury. He says work will be crippled until they can replace the unit which they are starting to rebuild before the ashes are cold.
Flora Bushey (younger sister of a close friend of Elizabeth’s) dropped in yesterday afternoon after visiting with Mrs. Warden. She says her father and mother have sold their Lake Candlewood cottage and are now in Miami, Florida, where they may stay indefinitely. Her father takes walks every day but I would not be surprised to hear any time of his heart giving out. Flora is training at the Bridgeport Hospital and is staying with Carl and Ethel (Carl Wayne, Lad’s friend, and his wife Ethel (Bushey) Wayne, Elizabeth’s best friend growing up).
Dick has just had his engine and other parts repaired to the tune of $40, so, barring tires, the car ought to be in pretty good shape, although it will have to be driven slowly for a while, which may not be such a bad thing from other angles.
We were all set for a possible visit from Dan over the weekend but Barbara got a wire from him saying he was unable to obtain a pass and that in consequence, he was feeling like a “crushed gardenia”. However, that may mean he will be able to get off next week, which being Easter Sunday and perhaps better weather (it is now snowing!) may turn out for the best after all. Also, being so near to Lad’s birthday will probably mean we will celebrate on that day also.
Cedric Duryee Guion
At long last a letter has come from Ced. He gives the first installment of his Alaskan glacier adventure and promises more later. The important thing is that he is well and has not yet been needed by the U. S. Army enough for them to end his civilian activities. A short note from Rusty enclosed with Ced’s letter mentions Ced’s growth of a beard as resembling a bramble patch, reminding Rusty “of an old painting of our Lord, Jesus H. Christ”. With Ced’s note is also enclosed a good-sized money order, half the proceeds going to Lad, I suppose, in payment for the old Packard which has long since been turned out to pasture, and the balance to his Dad, which as usual, arrives at a very opportune moment to meet taxes due in April.
About the only local items that are worthy of comment are the fact that they are building an addition to the Trumbull Town Hall in the shape of a garage to house the new Cadillac ambulance, and an entirely strange and different outlook up Ives way in that their old barn has been completely torn down.
In Bridgeport, Meigs is now in their fine new building, the old one now being occupied by a Woolworth store, without any fixing up or modernization, and it is certainly a crumby looking job.
Tomorrow and Saturday, more of Ced’s Amazing Adventure.