Trumbull – Dear Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail – A Few Flotsam and Jetsam of News – April 16, 1944

Alfred Duryee Guion (Grandpa)

Trumbull, Conn., April 16, 1944

Dear Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail:

Oh, pardon me, I have just been reading to my little grandsons and apparently are a little mixed up, as you see even in my verbs. You see some weeks ago Elizabeth decided she would have the New York Aunties up for Easter, but as Zeke had already told his mother they were going up to her house for Easter dinner, Biss, not to be swindled out of her master idea, decided to postpone it for a week and invited us all over to her house for dinner today. Alas, however, the New York Aunties wrote for one reason or another this was not a good day for them, that they preferred anyway to wait for warmer weather but Elizabeth, having in the meantime bought a ham, wanted the Trumbull contingent to come over anyway, said the little red hen, and they did. (Oh dear, I keep getting mixed up with those children’s stories.) Anyway, after dinner, Zeke decided, as this was the second day of the new fishing season and the Sun had peeped out for a few minutes, to go fishing. The distaff side of the family, having finished washing the dishes, and I, having to get home in time to write my customary letter, started out for Trumbull. Elizabeth decided to come with us, so the two boys, all decked out in their sailor suits, and their mother, piled into the Buick and off we started for Trumbull. Now a little reflection on your part will make it quite clear that to attempt to write a letter with two little boys wanting to help make the keys of the typewriter jump up and down, the ribbon to role a bit faster and the shift key jog up and down a lot quicker, has led me to the sage conclusion that discretion is the better part of valor. Their mother, sensing my dilemma, has lured her progeny to accompany her to the drugstore with visions of overflowing glasses of ice cream soda, so the respite, so heartily won, is being dedicated to you, my distant children.

Now a few flotsam and jetsam of news. Jean’s brother has followed his sister’s example and has chosen himself a wife. Anticipating a definite draft date, he enlisted in the Marines, and the day before he was scheduled to depart he ups and takes his girl to the preachers and the knot is tied without fuss or bother or letting the rest of the family in on the doings until it was all over.

Paul (Warden, the tenant in the apartment with his wife, Kit (Katherine), and their two children, Skipper and Susan) comes home from Samson (Oneonta, New York) where he has been undergoing preliminary training for the Navy on Tuesday next, for a weeks furlough. What he will say when he finds his young son, after removing the cap to the gas tank in his car and filling it to the brim with Guion sand, can better be silently imagined than expressed in the colorful language learned in camp.

Mr. Powell’s son has been wounded and is in the hospital. In either storming or defending a machine gun nest on Penape, his buddy was killed outright and young Powell received some shrapnel in the jaw. Of course his parents are quite worried but as they received a letter from him telling of the circumstances, they are hoping it will not be too bad.

Copies of letters from Dave and Dan are enclosed. This is the result of the suggestion Dan makes in his letter about quoting from word received from the other Guion’s. Thanks, Dan, for the constructive idea.

The difficulty with snaps is that there is no one here now who is a camera buff. and we don’t think to take pictures. Jean volunteers to try to remedy the difficulty if films can be obtained for the purpose. By the way, Conn. driver’s licenses expire at the end of this month, in case any of you are interested.

Marian writes they are busy trying to make their newly acquired abode presentable. Hoping you all are the same, as usual,


Tomorrow and Sunday, more of the Early Years, with the final Memories of Alfred Peabody Guion. Next weekend, I will start posting the Memories of Cedric Duryee Guion.

Why not invite someone to share these stories of an ordinary family during the World War II. Better yet, why not have the posts delivered directly to your inbox? Just add your email address below the  FOLLOW box on the left column of my Blog site and then click on FOLLOW It’s as easy as that !

Judy Guion


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