Trumbull, Conn., Dec. 19, 1943
Well, if old Ponce de Leon had ever found the Fountain of Youth and imbibed a draught of the elixir of life, I would have known just how he felt when, after sitting up last Sunday night figuring out when Ced might possibly arrive home after receiving an airmail letter dated Calgary, in he walked about eight A.M. Tuesday morning, having stepped off the Montréal train at Bridgeport at 7:45 and hopping in a taxi (which incidentally couldn’t make our driveway). The candle, which as per my promise, I had kept burning for him the night before, was badly guttered in the holder as it stood on the electric stove just inside the back door, as he marched in with his hands full of baggage — the same old towering Ced. He looks about the same except that we all agreed he has filled out a bit, at least as far as his face is concerned. His trip from Seward to Seattle was uneventful except for the blackout Friday and Saturday (the first and second days out) after five P.M., and the gulf being a bit rough. Stops at Juneau, where, as usual, it rained and at Ketchikan where, for a wonder, it was clear and sunshiny, were enjoyed. On his arrival at Seattle chances for a plane trip East were so indefinite that he finally decided to retrace his steps as far as Vancouver and take a Canadian Pacific train to Montréal, which he did. It was bitterly cold at Montréal – much colder than in Alaska, but as related he reached Trumbull safe and sound and weren’t we glad to see him! Needless to say, I was late to work that morning. Since then we have been learning all about Anchorage first-hand. We were all invited over to Ives for dinner Thursday night and had a most enjoyable evening, supper followed by movies of their Hatian trip and scenes from Trumbull. What a comfort to have Ced home again and to know he will be here about a month. His plans are to leave here around the middle of January and return via Los Angeles in order to visit the newlyweds. Carl came home last night for a short visit and Ced went over to see him this morning. Tomorrow Ced is going to Bridgeport with me and plans Tuesday, to go to New York with Aunt Betty to see Grandma, etc. He brought a host of things from Alaska in the way of gifts for us all, which of course we are eagerly awaiting to open on Christmas.
No letters this week from either Lad, Dan or Dick, which may not mean they have not written but merely that the Christmas mail is slowing things up. Oh, yes, this morning for breakfast we had real Alaskan sourdough pancakes prepared by Alaskan Ced himself, with enough of the batter left over to form the nucleus of another batch for later consumption.
We have not shown yet any of the Alaskan or South American movies, none of which Ced has seen, but probably will, if not tonight, soon, as Ced also has some slides which he sent home and are now, according to reports, awaiting him at the railroad station.
There is much more to write, but I’ll cut this letter short here as there is so much to do and here and talk about and right now they are awaiting me in the kitchen (I hope). Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be charitable and forgive my not writing more under the circumstances. I only wish you were all here too.
Tomorrow and Thursday, another letter from Grandpa. I’ll finish out the week with another letter from Marian to The Gang in Trumbull.