This is the second half of a rather lengthy letter containing quotes from many letters Grandpa has received this week plus some timely advice to his sons.
And Ced sent a very welcome and long desired letter telling more in detail of his homecoming plans. The pleasantest surprise of all was the fact that he has a two months leave of absence. He says: “I plan to start early in December, probably the third and will fly to Juneau with Art (Woodley, owner of Woodley Airfield, where Ced works) in the Electra. There I hope to board a Canadian Pacific boat for Vancouver where I will try to get either a train or plane seat. As you know, travel is very difficult and I may not even get home for Christmas. If lucky I shall be there a few days before. The fare by plane from Anchorage to Seattle is close to $200. My time off is supposed to be approximately 2 months elapsed time, leaving about one month home. Possibly I can arrange an extension if desired.”
Ced let one of his helpers at the airport borrow his car the other day and because the brakes were poor, the borrower ran it into the back of a pickup, damaging the grill and denting the fender. Repairs will cost about $60. Ced has been skiing at Independence, spending the evening afterward with Rusty. The snow was perfect and they had an enjoyable day all around.
The Trumbull House
I suppose if you noticed my salutation you have forgotten it by this time, but it is meet that we return to it for a few minutes for the tiresome part of this letter — a few words of fatherly advice, which probably, in the usual course of human events, will be dutifully noted and forgotten right afterwards. Newspaper editorials, debates in Congress, speeches by businessman, etc., have dealt quite persistently of late on what is going to happen after the war, from an international, national and individual standpoint. If it is foolhardy for the nation to drift on into the problems of peace without taking adequate forethought and laying plans as far as is possible to do so at this time, it is equally improvident for the individual to do likewise. Two of you are now married and have someone other than yourself to consider and the rest of you hope to follow in their footsteps sooner or later, (I hope), so it behooves all of you to give some thought to the subject. There is nothing so good for the purpose of clarifying one’s thoughts on the matter as to attempt to put it down in writing. There is another coincidental reason why I wish you would all make the effort and that is the fact that this war has blasted wide open the former course of our family’s procedure and whether for good or ill it will be difficult, perhaps even unwise, to expect to return to the former status quo. The old home here which has seen you all grow up and out in wider circles may no longer, for all of you, be so much a place to live as a place to come back to. As long as I am around peddling papers I would like to feel I might have some part in coordinating, as far as is possible with your individual plans, not only my own activities but those of all of you in order that the intangible thing known as “family spirit” may not gradually disperse in thin air. So with the idea of helping rather than hindering what you may see in the way of opportunity, it is essential that you first have some idea what you want to do, for of course no captain ever reached a port merely by sailing around without knowing where he was bound. So, dear children, your homework this time will consist of your writing teacher a composition under the caption “What I plan to do after the war”. I promise you now that no matter how hard the task may seem in contemplation, its execution will pay dividends for you. That is the main thing — my interest, great as it is, is secondary. Now, are you all going to be good children and set a deadline of your own choosing and not too distant a date in 1943, so that when the New Year is ushered in with the customary tooting of horns and whistles we as a family can have some united news to toot about ourselves?
When next I write my weekly screed another Thanksgiving Day shall have passed into the great limbo. You may be sure that we shall be thinking of you all as we gather around the old table in the dining room, and we shall silently toast you all in the distant corners of the globe, and pray that when the day next rolls around we shall have a real Thanksgiving because you are all safe and sound home again.
On Saturday, Day Four on the Santa Rosa as Lad gets closer and closer to his destination. On Sunday, more about My Ancestors, Joseph Bradford.
Next week I’ll be posting letters written in 1944, when all five of Grandpa’s sons are helping win the war for Uncle Sam.