Trumbull – Dear Dan (2) – Notes to Ced and Dave – April 7, 1946

Dear Ced:

In case you are wondering what the above is all about, let me quote Dan’s last letter from Antwerp, March 26th. “The last month or so has seen an incredible melee of activity without progress. If you were to trace my itinerary it would go something like this: Metz, Paris; Paris, Calais; Calais, Paris; Paris, Le Havre; Le Havre, Paris; Paris, Calais; Calais, Paris, Versailles; Versailles, Paris, Brussels, Antwerp; Antwerp, Brussels, Lille, Calais; Calais, Lille, Brussels, Antwerp; Antwerp, Brussels, Lille, Calais; Calais, Lille, Brussels, Antwerp; Antwerp, Calais; Calais, Lille, Brussels, Antwerp. During this period I have managed to be in Calais nearly 50% of the time. Ostensibly, we are trying to get to England. Actually, while waiting for a boat, we are having quite a

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vacation. Tomorrow at long last we are scheduled to board a small British ship which will take me to Folkstone. All the delay has been caused by our truck. It seems that only a limited number of ships are authorized to carry vehicles, else we should have gone right on to England from Le Havre. Frequent trips between Calais and Antwerp were made to see if the boat had come in yet. P.S. It hadn’t. “Chiche” is doing fine. She has been a promising herself to write you a letter in English, Dad, but only a “Richard” could say when. She plans to write it first in French, then translate as well as possible using a dictionary. The result should prove highly original considering how different are the word groupings between the two languages. Latest orders and cancellations: (1) Please send three women’s blouses with long sleeves and collar. Material and color governed by availability. Suggested cotton, white, yellow, red. (2) If electric flatirons with adjustable thermos-controls are available please send one. Ordinary electric irons are obtainable here but none thermo-controlled. (3) You may cancel both dress cloth and cradle cloth orders. They are becoming more common and more reasonable over here. The items that are most sorely lacking now in France are the staples of life such as flour, potatoes, dairy products, etc. Potatoes can be found only by going to the country and carrying them home yourself and the price runs around 6 or 7 cents per pound. Bread, which was un-rationed during the early winter months, is now rationed more stringently than ever and the quality is poorer than it was. In Belgium conditions are much better but prices are startlingly high. And now for the third time I mentioned that the next letter I write will be from England. Dan.”

And that’s the news from your next older brother. Saw Mrs. Ives this week and she asked about you. She has been visiting a friend in Jersey whose husband is dying from cancer and expects to go back there soon. In last week’s letter I neglected to enclose the statement promised so I sent it later in another envelope together with some watercress seeds for the Hopkins’ which I hope will be there when they reached Anchorage.

Dear Dave:

I suppose, and hope, that by this time you are on the high seas so I will not attempt to send a letter to you at the old address but shall instead take advantage of Aunt Dorothy’s good nature and use her for a temporary post office box, carrying the privilege of reading the mail. We have all been working outside today which has been sunny and fairly warm, tidying up the place to look nice for your homecoming. Dick has even gone so far as to give Smokey a shampoo and haircut. April 3rd we celebrated Lads birthday in a quiet manner just among ourselves at home. We had a treat in the way of beefsteak and Marian of course made a birthday cake which was a humdinger. Business keeps coming in pretty well, and if it weren’t for Lad helping out in his usual, quiet, efficient and neat way, I’d be swamped. Miss Platt (who left Grandpa’s employ to open her own printing shop) told me the other day she now has five employees. A couple of competitors have sprung up but apparently there seems to be business enough for all. Lad and I witnessed a demonstration of a multilith last week and it looks like something we could use. Price about $500. I told the salesman I would do nothing in the matter until your return, secretly hoping you might be able to get one as a veteran from army surplus stock and save several hundred dollars. Oh well, I suppose it will be time enough to talk shop after you have returned and gotten Pacific seaweed combed out of your hair. I am certainly looking forward to a vacation at the Island, however toward the end of the summer. And that’s about the only reason I’ll be glad to see you wither. Until you stumble up our old, stony driveway, I’ll remain your same old


For the rest of the week, I’ll be posting letters from Grandpa to Dan and Paulette and Ced. He won’t bother trying to send a letter to Dave because he should be on his way home, joining his brothers, Lad and Dick, their wives, Grandpa and Aunt Betty. The Trumbull house if filling up again which makes Grandpa very happy.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Leaders of Tomorrow (2) – Notes to Lad and Ced – January 10, 1943

ADG - Grandpa, when I know him, early 1960's

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To Lad:      I know darn well you didn’t get the Christmas box I sent to Flint because it was returned to Trumbull the other day and is now on its way again to Arcadia. The amount of postage to and from and to again bids fair to equal the value of the contents of said box. I hope it reaches you this trip. I suppose you are now installed at the Santa Anita racecourse, will refrain from any horseplay and with the Flint experience in mind, now know your oats better than ever. Incidentally, the only report on Flint from you had to do with female activities, leaving chapter 2 to come on the business accomplishments. Then there is the account of your Christmas activities, the report of the trip west and all about your present set up. Yes, indeed, a long letter (or series) is indicated. I am enclosing a little celluloid card I had printed up for one of my local customers in the hope it might be useful. The report of “An actual oil shortage” gives rise to the thought that it is about time some of those wells you and S-V (Socony-Vacuum Oil Company) drilled in Venezuela might very well be made to come in and the refined product from Aruba be sent by a considerably shorter haul to north Africa instead of denuding the eastern states of the Texas and Oklahoma accumulation we need here for heating and cars and production. Maybe the stock you hold in your friend’s company will amount to something. The other clipping you might send to Ced, as I think he too, will be interested in it.

To Ced:      With undaunted spirit I have undertaken the job of getting the portable radio batteries. I have visited one after another of the retail radio stores, even trying a wholesaler. Reports: “Haven’t a one and won’t get anymore.” “They’re not making them anymore for civilians.” “Out for the duration”. “Burgess is best in any country but I doubt if you get any make in Bridgeport”. Finally in desperation I went back to Sears Roebuck who had two “A” And two “B” batteries which they thought would fit only their own sets, which was the only reason they had these few sets on hand, and thinking that even batteries that didn’t fit inside your case would be better than none at all and at least could be made to work even if you could not take advantage of the portable feature by reason of having to hook them up outside the case, I bought them and am sending them to you as my Christmas gift. I am also going to see if I cannot secure the indoor serial gadget I saw in one of the stores, which the fellow said were unobtainable anymore when his present stock was exhausted. Aunt Betty’s little portable radio she keeps in the kitchen has not been working right, so I got one of these for her with the money you sent on for Christmas gifts, and it seems to be much better. Incidentally, she wants me to thank you for her. You gave Dave a pair of shoes he wanted very much and Elizabeth a kitchen apron. I am waiting as far as Dick is concerned to see if he gets into the service and will be guided as to the character of his gift from you accordingly. I have not heard from Dan and Lad yet as to what they would like. Of course I am eagerly awaiting news as to what the Juneau Board decided in your case and where you finally get located in living quarters. Along with the radio batteries I am including in the box a few items to help in your housekeeping activities – – not much, but enough to remind you to write me what else along the same line you would like that you cannot obtain already in Anchorage. I hope the first Christmas box has now reached you and that some of the bicycle gadgets are not too superfluous.


Tomorrow and Sunday, more Special Pictures of the Trumbull House – Then and Now.

On Monday, I’ll begin posting a week of letters written in 1944 when all the boys are working for Uncle Sam.

Judy Guion 

Trumbull – Dear Boys (3) – Grandpa Sends a BIG Thank you to Ced – January 3, 1943

Ced @ 1945

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Dear Ced:

It seems so in adequate to try to write thank you for the generous money order you sent. I shall try to follow out the spirit of your wish in being your proxy Santa Clause. It is funny you should have mentioned a blanket for this is something I did want very much. I had an idea, also, that this would be an ideal gift for Aunt Betty. I had seen them advertised, and as George Lipovaky’s married sister had worked at G.E. and had been able to get items they manufactured at a lower price than the regular retail figure, I arranged with her to get them for me. I inquired about it from time to time, following the time in October when I gave her the check, but was told stocks were low but they thought they would be able to do something about it, but when the present stock was gone there would be no more for the duration. About three days before Christmas I was informed that there was not a blanket in the place and I therefore had to hastily arrange with Elsie to bring up a blanket from the shop – – not an electric one but the good old-fashioned kind. I’ll try it again later and see if anything happens.

If I remember correctly I took you three older boys one time to call on a friend of mine who taught in Girard College in Phila. and at whose house stayed. I first tasted Philadelphia scrapple there. The name was Gerard. They had a couple of youngsters about your age. He has since died but I got a Christmas card from his wife Elsie. She says: “Betty works for an insurance company and seems happy in her work. Bob graduated from U of P last June with honors – Phi Beta Kappa, although he worked part-time at his college course. He majored in English expecting to teach. The Army got him in Aug and for 15 weeks he was studying in technical school and is now at Patterson Field, Ohio. For the first time since he entered the Army he is happy in his work, doing technical research work for the repair men. He is not at all mechanically inclined and felt his training was such a waste if he had to do actual repair work.” You were pretty small but you may remember them.

A few minutes ago the first siren blew and then the apparatus clanged past the house up Daniels farm road and then the ambulance at full speed. This was too much for Paul, so he and Dick and Jean piled out to see what was cookin. When they returned it was with the news that some one with A, B and C stickers on his car ran into a tree outside of Mrs. Boyce’s house, setting the car on fire, but doing the driver no physical damage, perhaps because he was to acted to know what it was all about. He left company to buy chief Beckwith after the fire had been extinguished and I imagine he will have to do some tall explaining if he wants to retain his B and C books.

I am still trying to find these portable radio batteries. Carl was unable to locate any, in fact he was bemoaning the fact he could not get any car batteries. Pretty soon we’ll all realize there is a war going on. Dick says he is fast coming to the conclusion that the boys in the Army are the lucky ones and civilians the ones to be pitied. Here’s hoping 1943 brings you all you want most.


Tomorrow and on Friday, I’ll  be posting another letter from Grandpa to Ced in Alaska, Dan in Pennslylania, and Lad en route to California.

On Saturday more Special Pictures of the Trumbull House, Ten and Now.

On Sunday, the final Guest Post from GPCox, There’ll Be A Hot Time… Enjoy.

Judy Guion

Trumbull (2) – News From Ced and Dave and Easter Greetings – March 31, 1946

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The pictures you sent some time ago were lost in transit between Okinawa and Manila so they were even more welcome than they would be ordinarily – – if that’s possible.

Ced sounds bitter in his letter which he winds up by saying if things keep going this way he’ll go to Sweden. Shame on you, Ced! Shame on me, to – – because if you go, stop by for me to. I’m slowly becoming more dissatisfied with the world in general and the U.S. in particular. I got a kick out of comparing the C-46 I was in (Army style) and Ced’s description of the civilian model of the Army’s C-47 – – bucket seats with space for parachute is a far cry from Ced’s “push-button stewardess”. Oh, for the life of a civilian! Now at last though I can console myself by saying, “it won’t be too long now.” The picture has changed slightly (naturally – – this being the Army). A message came through the other day slowing down discharge for me in my category slightly. It looks like it may be a month now before I start rolling and pitching my way toward the Golden Gate. See you soon. Dave.”

Yes, Dave, your power of attorney would have been good but the way we handled it was far simpler and quicker, as I would have had to get a photostat made and then looked up a notary and have him certify that it was a correct copy and that I was the person mentioned, etc.

And if you two fellows are bound for Sweden you may as well take me along as a chaperone not that I’m fed up with the U.S. yet but I do like to crab about some of the new deal heritage that is still largely responsible for the labor troubles and some of these other cranky bureaus we have trying to run things in Washington and succeeding only in making a bunch of it and making democracy look foolish to the rest of the world. I don’t believe it’s right to run away but rather for you young whippersnappers to see that the right kind of people are sent down to Washington. Of course I know that with all of us are bark is worse than our bite, but at that, there is a lot of room for improvement.

Dear Dan:

While we didn’t have the pleasure of a letter from you this week you may be interested to know that jointly with your Dad you have sent Easter cards to the S_____s Nest and to our friends in Drancy, and also a card on my own to rue de Temple (Paulette’s family). I sent an Easter card to Chiche some time ago. I am reminded of you because this afternoon Dick has been playing a bunch of old records on the phonograph (last week, we had last were able to get parts to fix up the phonograph in the alcove) in the closet reproduced on the radio loudspeaker. Dick has been laid up most of the week with an attack of trench mouth. He evidently picked up the germ when he went down to New York and Dr. Laszlo is treating him with penicillin, which by the way, is a very expensive remedy in the U.S. however, it seems to be effective as he is much better today. Lad and Marian have been spending most of the afternoon fixing  their room up, painting furniture, etc., for the “blessed event” as it draws nearer. My two oldest boys and their wives are simultaneously going through about the same experiences even though they are an ocean apart. We have been having some very pleasant spring weather here lately. The furnace is finally burned its last ounce of coal and while today the house has been a bit chilly, it is not unbearable. If there is anything I can do from this and to assist in getting the Dan Guion’s back to this country, write me explicitly what you want me to do and I will start my act. If it’s not too late when you get this, don’t forget to look up Sylvia and Doug Ward-Campbell. Their mail address is Bank of Montréal, 9 Waterloo Place, London, S.W.1.

Happy Easter to you boys, each of you, wherever you may be.



Trumbull (1) – Letters From Ced and To Dave and Dan – March 31, 1946


For some reason I cannot find page 1 of this letter dated March 31, 1946. I even went to the original letters and page 1 is not they are so I will post page 2 today and page 3 tomorrow with Easter wishes from Grandpa. This appears to be a continuation of a letter from Ced, who is in Fairbanks, Alaska.

Page 2    3/31/46

One other interesting sidelight on the “Student Federalists” ( is a report in the local papers one day last week of the proposed formation of a S.F. chapter at the Homer High School. I had no previous knowledge that there was any further interest in the territory whatever and it seemed great to think that there were some people to help carry the ball in Alaska. If there is interest that strong in Homer, why not other places in Alaska and also why not elsewhere in scattered waypoints in the States and foreign lands? Of course I know there is lots of interest and sympathy all through the world but it gives a kind of impetus to one’s inspirations when he realizes that there is strong support in a previously unknown quarter. I regret that I failed to send a letter to the Homer school but the population seemed too small to warrant the speakers traveling there. Now, tho, I expect that the speakers will certainly visit home or if they decide on coming up to Alaska.

Have been skiing on Saturdays and on my afternoons off and enjoying it immensely. Perhaps by thaw time the art of “Christie” turns will be mastered. Flying has been dealt into less frequently, but when the skiing is over, I shall again take to the air. I did do a loop for the first time about two weeks ago and it worked beautifully. In fact there is lots less sensation than I thought there should be. Spins are much more severe.

There is a new men’s chorus starting in town with Blanche Fusek playing and directing it. I went last Monday and will probably attend regularly from now on. I’d rather be in a mixed chorus but there is no such thing in town except church choirs. They are nice to, but I work Sundays and besides, I prefer non church singing.

Thanks loads for the pictures you sent. They make me homesick for the old home tho. They are also natural and homey. I will soon have some pictures of my bearded frontispiece and will startle you with one or two of same. The Rendezvous went off alright but I got to see very little of it. The car went to someone else, the house wasn’t for me and now all that can be hoped for is the ice pool. Sure is good to hear that the Hopkins made such a hit. They are still in the States but when they return here it is going to be fun checking up on Trumbull again. They will be the first links between here and there since I have been up here.”

Dear Dave:

Following last week’s practice I shall send a copy of this letter to you care of Aunt Dorothy in San Francisco, hoping that either in Manila or S.F. one will reach you, although I am of course hoping that the one to Manila will make good speed and still miss you. Denny the Greek is still asking about you frequently and was quite thrilled when I told him you might now be on your way home. And for the love of Mike, if you have received Dominic Powell’s famous poem dedicated to his son, acknowledge it at the first opportunity. I had the job done for him and he is as proud of it as Lucifer. I told him you had said the males were very poor lately. Perhaps you had better cable him.

Perhaps the other two would like to know what you say in your latest letter. I know nothing of my C.O.’s letter to the W.D. (War Department) about my allotments – – probably a routine thing that happens all the time. Of the four letters I find comments on only two. Your March 3rd letter tells of Dan’s meeting a Mr. Loveridge in France. Aunt Anne writes that Mike Gresham is out this way in a USO show “Three Men and a Horse”. I don’t remember him but when he gets here all certainly look him up. Your “pictorial thoughts” most certainly were not needed to create in me the desire to come home but you’ll never know how welcome they were.

Tomorrow I’ll be posting the conclusion to this letter.

On Saturday more Special Pictures of the Trumbull House – Then and Now. On Sunday, the final Guest Post from GPCox titled There’ll Be A Hot Time…

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Dave (2) – Grandpa Writes to Ced – March 10, 1946

This is the second page of a letter Grandpa is writing to his children and daughter-in-law who are still away from Trumbull.


Dear Ced:

Or should I say, “Mr. Jackson”. We are certainly having a good opportunity to check up on your Alaskan life and find it quite an interesting experience as viewed through the eyes of your friends – – the Hopkins. If your ability to pick friends is revealed by the present example, you rate 100% plus. Of course they would always be most welcome as friends of yours but they have both won our hearts here and are now friends of ours in their own right. It was good of you to urge them to visit us and delightful of them to take you up. Last night we showed them some of the Alaskan Kodachrome slides which you and Dan took and looked over some photos which Leonard had brought along with him. I was quite surprised when I asked him if you had been bending his ear on the “Union Now” question that he has not been taken into camp as it were. And in this connection, along with your efforts to line up the use of the land through the schools and colleges, the thought occurred to me that your national headquarters might make a very effective flank attack, sort of a sugar-coated pill, to change the simile, if they were to inspire some well-known author who ranked in the best seller class to write an historical novel based on the dramatic period in this country’s history, based on the Federalist papers. Historical novels are quite popular, in fact they always have their strong followings, and I don’t know of any way of getting over to the public a realization of the real condition which existed in the early days of our history than through the medium of an interestingly written story of that time, and if, as you believe, the present condition of the world states, approximates that which predated our own “uniting”, it would not be a long stretch of the imagination to have the public form its own comparison between our own early conditions and present world situations. It seems from Mr. Churchill’s speech that England is nearer the Union Now idea then we are in this country. On the other hand, Russia seems to be tending rapidly in the opposite direction. Well, so much for world politics.

It just occurred to me that it might be a good stunt for me to call up the Bagshaws (Rusty’s sister and her husband), especially in view of the fact that Leonard knows Rusty, and see if it would be convenient for us to drive over and call on them this afternoon. You mentioned in your letter that Leonard and Marion might like to meet the Ives. As far as I know Agnes is still in the West Indies and Carl and Ethel have moved over to their new home in Devon. This morning Jean and Dick took them for a walk up by the reservoir. Yesterday afternoon, they drove in my Buick, up to Pinewood (Lake) and then down the Merritt Parkway to the new Saugatuck Reservoir. Today is a bright, beautiful, sunshiny day, although rather brisk and cool. It is now 12:30. I started this letter early so I could get it finished before dinner and be able to devote the afternoon to our guests. Now I shall stop to get my car which is being lubricated over at the Gas Station in case we take off for the Baghaws this afternoon. The only local news of note that occurs to me is that Mr. Kurtz has been in the hospital for a few days but I understand is coming home this afternoon – – some trouble in connection with his diabetes, which however, they think will be remedied by proper insulin dosage.

Well, that’s all, children dear, we’ll be seeing you soon, I hope,


Tomorrow, another letter to “poor dogs” and I’ll finish the week with a partial letter (pages 2 & 3) written on March 31st.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Son – Grandpa Writes to Ced – December 27, 1942

This letter is addressed to Ced alone, since Dan made it home and Lad is driving to California at this time.

Ced and car - 1940 (3)-head shot

Trumbull, Conn., Dec. 27, 1942

Dear Son:

Last letter there was mention of a cold spell that had set us all a-shivering, but that news was a bit premature because that cold spell was followed, or should I say, developed, into a still lower temperature, and if neighbors’ thermometers are to be believed, resulted in the coldest days the family ever experienced since they came to Connecticut. Mrs. Mantle told me that one day the thermometer both at the back and at the side of their home registered 24° below zero. Even well after sunup, the thermometer just outside our kitchen window registered 14 below. In any event, it can be said without any possibility of overstatement that I have never experienced a series of cold days of so low a temperature over so long a period. We had about arrived at the conclusion that it might be a good thing to journey to Alaska in order to find warmer weather. However, I am glad to say that due to the weatherproofing done last year, the installation of storm windows and the operation of the furnace at full capacity, both day and night, temperatures prevailed. I guess we can all remember that winter we spent in the apartment when pipes in the cellar froze and Ced burst forth in his vehement imitation of Bradley Kincaid. The only damage done this spell was a burst pipe in the laundry, but as that is an annual occurrence anyway, it failed to make much of an impression. My car failed to start due to the fact I had not put enough Zerox in the radiator to protect it that low, so it froze to some extent, but not enough to do any harm. However, the weather since then has been normal for this time of year, and even when the mercury crept up toward zero, everyone remarked how warm it was, being almost tempted to leave one’s overcoat at home. Well I guess that’s enough of an opening paragraph about the weather. By the way, it seems to be very popular these days to add a pint of casite to one’s oil for ease in starting.

For Christmas, Dan breezed in, but in spending Christmas Eve in the Warden’s, he evidently drank the wrong kind of wine so that the next day he felt pretty miserable and did not begin to feel like himself again until Saturday. Last night he and Barbara went to New York to see an ice show. About midnight Christmas Eve, (Aunt) Anne and Don (Stanley) alighted from the bus, and Christmas morning the four Zabel’s and Elsie arrived to gather around the tree for the usual procedure.

Trees this year were very expensive, small ones costing two or three dollars and four or five foot trees selling for a dollar a foot. The small ones on sale around here were so scraggly that Dave refused to have anything to do with them, and then he had a brainstorm. He had been busily engaged trimming a beautifully full, fair-sized tree in the church for their pre-Christmas party, which tree had been dismantled Christmas Eve and thrown out back of the church. With some of the base removed it made perhaps the best looking tree we have had for a number of years. The only fly in the ointment came while we were at dinner when Butch (Raymond Zabel Jr., Bissie’s oldest – 3 years old) disappeared for a moment and came back into the dining room grinning and proudly announced he had pulled over the Christmas tree with all its lights and decorations. He wasn’t kidding. He had done just that. Dave, with a great effort of will, maintained a discreet silence, thus winning a great moral victory.


Later the tree was restored but seemed to lack some of its pristine virginity. With Elizabeth’s help, we were able to have a big turkey and Kathryn Warden had generously donated two pies so we got by very nicely in spite of the scarcity and high prices of food. On the day before Christmas, not an ounce of butter was obtainable anywhere in Bridgeport or vicinity. The previous day I had been able to get a quarter pound at Herb Hay’s (Grocery Store in Trumbull Center) and the day before that, half a pound in Bridgeport, which, with what I had bought the previous week, was sufficient for our needs. No cream is on sale, but that saved from the top of Laufer’s daily milk deliveries serves just as well. It was interesting to note food prices in Anchorage. Beef is practically unobtainable but when occasionally it is for sale, prices are around $.55 a pound. Codfish is $.43. Turkey is $.51. Bacon, very scarce, but when obtainable $.45. Smoked hams are out entirely. Canned vegetables limited to one can to a customer. Many canned goods are missing, baked beans, chocolate syrup, corned beef, mushroom soup not having been on sale for months. In general, Anchorage food prices are surprisingly close to ours.

A telegram from Lad instructed that all mail hereafter be sent to Camp Santa Anita, Arcadia, Calif., marked “Hold”, so I assume he has either left Flint for the far west or is about poised to go.

The usual flood of Christmas cards arrived. And in this connection, Dan, it occurred to me that if you did not copy Jim Shield’s address, you might want it. It is 1023 Seneca War Homes, Seneca, Ill. Don Whitney is with the 743d Tank Bn., Fort Lewis, Wash.. Col. W. C. Weeks, Hdq., 7th Corps Area, U.S.A. Office of Engineers, Room 1103 Federal Bldg., Omaha, Neb., and Sgt. Nelson G. Sperling, Battery B, 375th Fg (?) Bn., Fort Jackson, S.C.

Two interesting letters arrived from Ced, which served somewhat to ease the pain of not having all members of the family gathered under the family roof at Christmas. The first of the two to arrive was the one written last; the first one written arriving a few days later. Among other things, it set forth clearly and fully the thing we have all been wondering about so long and that is Ced’s status as far as getting into the armed services is concerned. After much effort he has finally passed his examination and now has his aircraft engine mechanic license, on the strength of which Art Woodley has asked his deferment. The local board is averse to granting it but final decision rests in Seattle and up to the time Ced last wrote, no final word had been received. The house the three of them have been living in has been sold and as of December 12th they will all have to find new living quarters. (Correction: change the word Seattle above to Juneau).

I am awfully pleased about that license, Ced. It does my heart good to know you are progressing along your chosen line. The next license you will go after, I suppose, will be your pilot’s license. I’d feel safer to know you are on the ground rather than up in the air, fighting with some treacherous air pocket above a glacier or near a mountain, but that’s just the old man part of it, I suppose. After receiving your explanation as to how you feel about the letters dispatched week after week, I haven’t the heart to carry out what you choose to call threats; but I do want very much to hear from you regularly and hope your kind heart and understanding nature will induce you to do what you might not be led to do with mere threats. Aunt Betty fairly cheered at your sentiments regarding war songs and says she is 100% with you. Lots of love from us all to you and Lad.

In three weeks I’ll begin posting letters written in 1943, a truly momentous year for Lad. 

Tomorrow more Special Pictures of the Trumbull House, Then and Now.

On Sunday, The Role of Sports, a Guest Post by GPCox.

Judy Guion