Trumbull – Dear Network Stations (5) – Grandpa’s Final Comments – September16, 1945

This is the final section of a long letter from Grandpa to family members around the world.

Trumbull House in winter - (cropped) - 1940

The Trumbull House prior to 1950

Now for a few asides, comments, remarks, criticisms, insults or what have you. Dave, your letter cleared up a number of points I have been wondering about. The comments I would make to most of the things are obvious. I’m thinking the way people back home here are kicking up a fuss with Congress in the Army that you will be home long before Christmas, 1946. Dan, Airmail from your and might also cut down the 16 day transit time for regular mail. Last week I got off to you and adapter made to Lad’s specifications of aluminum by the Singer Mfg. So. Through  Zeke’s courtesy. I tried to send it by air mail but P.O. said no. I also sent a box with a couple of cans of meat for the Rabets, a few items for the Senechals and a couple of items for Paulette. More clothing items will be sent this week. All on the list have either been purchased or ordered, excepting the watch and wool. I am also greatly elated about the grandchild news. I am hoping it can be born here in little old Trumbull, but as you say, we’ll just have to wait for developments. Jean, enclosed is Paulette’s letter to you, with translation by Dan. Your check was mailed last week. The Washington phone calls totaled $4.85, if you must know. Thanks for the ration books.

Next week, along with new quotes (I hope), I will probably have an account of the APG’s trek through upper N.E. and N.Y. Coming up, one birthday for Dave. Hope he gets that raise, or better yet, an H.D., along with that phantom camera I have not yet been able to find for him. Dan, the latest, according to a Paris radio report, is that Adolph Hitler is hiding out in Bridgeport, Conn. I haven’t had any orders recently from a man named Schickelgruber so I cannot vouch for the authenticity of the rumor. I’m sneezing off now until next week.

DAD

Tomorrow and Sunday, I’ll post more information about the End of an Era.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Network Stations (3) – Quotes From Internationalist Dan – September 16, 1945

Daniel & Paulette's wedding - 1945

Daniel Beck and Paulette (Van Laere) Guion on July 17th, 1945

And Internationalist Dan writes way back on August 25th, by regular, not airmail, “Mail service is immensely improved— 5 to 6 days by airmail. Thus I am answering your August 19th letter today; and a rather amusing situation it is too, reading your account of how the war ended in Trumbull, because over here it is not yet official although we are convinced that the formality alone is lacking. But the spontaneity of celebration seems to have suffered an even greater blow than that of VE day because of rumors and preliminary reports. No tolling of bells, no blowing of horns, no demonstration of any kind has marked the end of the war, in Drancy, although I understand that the Yanks in downtown Paris cut up a bit on 16th of Aug. I am excited at the prospect of Lad’s getting home so unexpectedly. If only it is true! And if only I had known! Speaking of getting home, I hope you can send me those articles for Paulette as soon as possible because I might be leaving soon. She will not be able to leave for a matter of months because she must wait for an immigration visa from Philadelphia. Also if pregnant (which seems definite) she might be prohibited from sailing on any Army transport until the child is three months old. There is always the alternative of civilian transportation but waiting lists are long and space is limited. It seems that we must just make the best of it. While I remain in

Page 3    6/16/45

France it is feasible to send parcels but whether or not it will be possible after I leave I cannot say. So please don’t wait for the fall and winter catalog. Enclosed are two belated letters, one to Marian and the other to Jean that Chiche wrote last May. They were mailed to me while I was in Maastricht but were returned to Calais undelivered. We are both excited about the “expectations”. Chiche asks if it is possible to buy wool in America. She wants six lobs of wool, two each of pink, light blue and white. Our Army program is undergoing the throes of reorganization. We are hoping to get a good educational program started and perhaps I can take the Paris University course. It looks now as if I might get home in November or December. If you get a chance, please write a letter of thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Rabet, 5 rue Cuvier, Drancy, Seine, France. They have given us (Chiche and I) every form of hospitality imaginable and will not accept any money for it. I manage to find small presents for them such as cigarettes and soap but I feel very much in debt to them. Most of their food is bought on the black market because the legal ration is too slim. They particularly miss meat. If you can find any kind of canned meat or fish, please send it.

(Cease quotes. Red (Don Sirene) dropped in a while ago to see Lad, who is at present touring New England with his wife, and was accompanied by his fiancée, Geraldine Fisher. He asked me if I had seen the Bpt. Herald (Bridgeport Herald newspaper) headline which read: “Corp. Sirene wins Syracuse belle”. He said Jack Filman and Bill Palmer were fresh out of the service and that Barbara Plumb (Dan’s former girlfriend, who enlisted as a WAC) was expected home in November.)

Tomorrow and Friday, I’ll post the final segments of this letter.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Network Stations (2) – More Quotes From Dave – September 16, 1945

This post continues quotes from Dave, with insights and observations from a 19 year old.

Trumbull - Dave Is In Okinawa (3) - June 7, 1945

This is the Water Works building in downtown Manila where Dave works on one of the upper floors.

The other important thing I want to tell you is far more saddening to me. A group of the boys went down to Shuri — I think it was the last Sunday in July — souvenir hunting. There were about nine of them. Shuri was a scene of hard but swift fighting. Naturally there were a lot of explosives left there by the swift advancing army. Minefields weren’t cleared and duds were still left lying around without being detonated. The supply sergeant, who is a wild sort of guy, saw a Jap dud and raised his foot to kick it. Al Rundel, who was in my class

Page 2 9/15/45

back at Crowder, told him not to kick the dud, and when he saw him doing it anyway, he dropped to the ground. The dud went off throwing shrapnel all over the place. Bernie Arnold was in front of Sgt. Hamm, the guy who kicked the dud, and caught most of the shrapnel right in his stomach. He screamed and fell to the ground. He died about an hour later. There were three of us who were quite good friends — Hensley, Bernie and myself. Hensley was there and saw the whole thing. He gave me the complete story which wasn’t very pretty. I’ll never forgive Sgt. Hamm for the damned-fool thing he did. If we’ve seen one training film about leaving duds and charges alone, we’ve seen fifty. He escaped with the damaged foot. Leg injury to one of the cooks, complete paralysis to the arm of one of the clerks and other cuts and bruises were some of the other damage done. But as usual, it was the best man of all that had to die. Naturally I felt terrible about the accident and loss of Bernie. I want to church that night and that helped, but not enough. I felt pretty bad for a number of days. All I could think of was the picture he had shown me so many times of himself, his wife and his three-year-old daughter sitting in front of their Christmas tree the year before last. To top it all off, about two days later I got a letter from Ellie asking me to thank Bernie for the bracelet he had made from a Jap plane, which I had sent her. Bertie was no longer there to thank. He had missed the end of the war only by a few months. He was 38 and would probably be on his way home now. I’m doing crypt work here or at least I will be when our Co. get set up in Korea in a few days. We will handle the communications between GHQ and the Co. I think the rest of the Co. will be in Korea. We are no longer a monitoring Co. and now have reverted back to a plain service Co. When the rest of the Co. landed on Okinawa, Lieut. Greenberger intended to give me the T/4 that was open on our team. At that time he didn’t know how good Salamone was, and was more deserving of the rating and been in grade longer than I. So Sallie got the rating but Lieut. G. told me that when the chance permitted, he would see if he could promote me. As he is in charge of the group here in Manila, my chances are fairly good I think. All I’ve got to do is stay on the ball. The only trouble is it’s been so long since I’ve worked in a code room, as up in Okie I was working in the compilation section.

Tomorrow, Thursday and Friday, I’ll post the rest of this long letter. The posts will include more news from Dan and also news from Brazil.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Network Stations (1) – Start In With Quotes – September 16, 1945

We are in the fall of 1945. All the boys are serving Uncle Sam in their unique ways. Lad is home from France and he and Marian are very happy. Dan is still in France, seeing Paulette whenever he can and waiting anxiously for the day he will be discharged. Ced remains in Anchorage, Alaska, working for the Army at the airport, repairing and recovering planes. Dick, with his wife Jean, are in Fortaliza, Brazil and Dave in now in Manila, the Philppines, and fulfilling the role of a clerk in the Army Communication Center.

The Homestead in Trumbull

Trumbull, Conn., September 16, 1945

Dear Network Stations:

Might as well start in with quotes at once this week as otherwise I might be accused of not doing my part in conserving paper. Maybe you have noticed that the quotes tail now wags the letter dog so to speak. Clever of me to work it this way, wasn’t it? I now don’t have to do anything but sit like a big spider in the middle of my web and merely act as a clearinghouse or central station (Dave would probably have the right descriptive adjective or term for this sort of communication center) for the messages you boys send in of interest to all the rest of the family (when I say “boys” of course that includes the girls too), making it unnecessary for me to use my brain, if any, to try to think up interesting and clever things to write so that you boys will all exclaim in chorus, “Oh, isn’t he wonderful! I don’t see how he does it!” You notice, don’t you, how we get to the quotes at once. Oh well, then, here’s one from Dave:

DPG - Dave in uniform

David Peabody Guion

“Someday I’ll write you a long letter on St. Augustine’s Church in the Intramuras and some of the other things I’ve seen and heard here. One night at St. Augustine’s I talked to a Spanish woman that had lived near there. She told me some pretty gruesome things that she had actually seen. One thing I got a laugh about was her account of the first Americans she saw returning to Manila. She said she looked at them from a distance and decided that they were awfully nice looking Japs, but when one of them said, “Okay, sister, move along”, she knew they were Americans taking back the city. The Japs have turned many of these “flips” into robbers. The only food they had was what they could steal and it became a habit. Now we have to watch carefully every time one gets near. Of course they aren’t all that way, some are really very nice and respectable people. They love MacArthur and seemed to be better Americans than some of the people whose homes are in the States. There seems to be some resentment on MacArthur’s seemingly “glory getting” attitude among the men in the Pacific, but you won’t find very many guys who express satisfaction with those that are over them. It just gives them something to moan about. Remember I said they didn’t like Buckner too well? – The same thing. However I’ve never heard anyone say anything about not liking Stillwell— he seems to be an all-right guy.

And another from Dave dated Sept. 4th: “Today they stopped censorship on the mail which gives me a chance to say some things which until now I have hesitated to mention. The first you have probably already guessed – – I was put in the harbor on L-Day at Okinawa. That was Easter Sunday—a day I’ll never forget. The feint on the east side of the island came off at dawn and then at 8:30 the real invasion went ashore. It was a beautiful clear day and we stood on the deck watching the barges go by with the Marines in them. On shore we could see the little dots advance up the beach and into the brush. Later on, we watched the vehicles, tanks, etc., go in. In the air over the island we watched American planes dive straight down out of sight and then come up again in a matter of seconds. There was a haze over the spot— they were dive bombing Yontan Airport.

Tomorrow and for the rest of the week, I will be posting the rest of this 4-page letter.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Reader – The End Of An Era (1) – July 19, 2021

It is with a heavy heart that I write this post to tell you that the Trumbull House has been sold.  From what I understand, the new owner plans to create nine one room Studio Apartments in the main house, two more apartments in the barn and to add on to the Little House to form a home for his family.

I will be devoting at least the next few weekends – maybe many more – to a Memorial of the house that has been an anchor for my family for almost 100 years.

Trumbull House – June, 2020 – Front View

Trumbull House – June, 2020 – Side View

Trumbull House – June, 2020 – Back View

Quoted from the Reminiscences of Alfred Duryee Guion, “…. written in the spring of 1960 while on a four month’s “around the world freighter trip.”

How did we come to settle in Trumbull?  Almost purely by chance.  And it all happened because of a few weeks vacation spent at my brother-in-laws summer camp in Connecticut.  One day Fred Stanley, who had married my wife’s sister Anne, told us he had rented a little shack in the woods near Sandy Hook, Connecticut, on the Housatonic River, and as he could use it only part of the time, he asked if my family would be interested in occupying it for a couple of weeks.  We were, and one summer morning we loaded up the old Franklin with beds, mattresses, clothing and food and with five children and two adults, escorted by Fred to show us the way, we started merrily on our adventure.  Approaching Danbury (Connecticut), the most awful bangs, rattles and clanking left no doubt that something was seriously wrong with my car.  Luckily a Franklin repair service was located nearby and here we learned that a main bearing had burned out, which it would take a couple of days to repair.  By dint of persuasion, seeing our plight, the headman finally consented to put all hands to work to try to finish the job by nightfall.  Fred was to go on to the camp with the children in his car and Arla and I would stay with the Franklin until repairs were completed.  While I watched the mechanics at work, Arla spent several hours chatting with the proprietor’s wife, who, she told me afterwards, painted a glowing picture of an old house they owned in a small country place called Trumbull, too far away for them to live in while conducting a business in Danbury, but evidently a dream of a home.  She must’ve been a good saleswoman because Arla was so enthusiastic from the description given that when vacation time was over and I had to get back to work, she persuaded Fred to drive over to the place.  It was a case of love at first sight and nothing would do but I must see it too and discover what an ideal place it would be for the children.  I, too, was pleased with it

It was obviously out of the question as a practical proposition because, with a job in the lower part of New York City and a Connecticut home 7 miles from the nearest railroad station at Bridgeport, itself 55 miles from Grand Central Station, only a madman would give the matter a moment’s consideration.  She reluctantly agreed and the subject was abandoned, in my mind, at least.  As it has so often been said, it is unwise to underestimate the power of a woman.  Returning home from work several weeks later, I found her one afternoon busily sketching at a table covered with several sheets of paper, and on inquiry, was told that she was figuring out how our present furniture would fit in the Trumbull house.  Seeing how serious she was, there followed several weeks of weighing arguments pro and con, ending in the decision that, for the children’s sake, I would take the chance and try commuting between Bridgeport and New York.

The Larchmont house was sold for considerably more than it cost and the Trumbull property bought for considerably less than the proceeds from the Larchmont property.  We moved in one late December day.

I believe this picture was taken in 1922 at the Trumbull House around Christmas.  Elizabeth was born on January 6, 1919, making her 3 years old. Dick, the baby in Arla’s lap, was born on August 19, 1920, making him a little more than 2 years old.

Tomorrow I will post more information and memories of the Trumbull House.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Sonny (1) – Marian’s Birthday Celebration – November 12, 1944

              Marian Irwin Guion (Mrs. Lad)

Trumbull, Conn., Nov. 12, 1944.

Dear Sonny:

It gets a bit puzzling how to address you youngsters each week without repeating some salutation used in former letters, and in this respect perhaps Dan has the right idea of plunging right into the letter without wasting time on the customary form of address. Sometimes I sit for a couple of minutes puzzling how to begin this week’s screed, so today I just wrote the above applying to each of you individually and collectively.

Yesterday was not only Armistice Day but also Marian’s birthday, and following the usual custom we celebrated it today. Elizabeth, who came to dinner with her two boys (Zeke came in later, he having been to his mother’s to see Irv, who is home on leave), was able to get, through her butcher, a nice ham, quite a rarity these days, and that with some of Burrough’s cider of sainted memory, baked sweet potatoes, cauliflower, topped off with Guion’s celebrated prune whip, was followed with the opening of gifts amid the soft glow of candlelight – – in the dining room, of course. Lad had sent me a bottle of Marian’s favorite perfume earlier in the week and this happened to be the last gift she opened which topped off things with an unexpectedly pleasant surprise for her. Doing as much as we can, however, these days still lack that intangible something that used to be present with all you boys gathered around in your accustomed places. It is so pleasant having Marian added to the home circle that she and Jean supply what would otherwise be a very quiet and almost somber occasion.

Yesterday Lad wrote from “somewhere in the United States”, or I should say Marian got a letter yesterday written the day before but from where is one of those wartime secrets. He was unable to give the slightest inkling of what is planned, but at least it is clear he did not sail Tuesday with Carl on his transport, although even this sailing is just conjecture.

Ced saved the day from being a news blank week by making it possible for an Alaskan letter to reach me Saturday. The address on the envelope definitely puts me into the local wood choppers union along with Sidney Hillman of C.I.O. fame and other Roosevelt supporters. In spite of the old saying, there appear to be about 20 million Americans who voted for the wrong man, and being quite disgusted I shall not even comment on the horrible example of poor judgment on the part of the majority of U.S. citizens. Undaunted, however, I shall try again four years from now.

To come back to Ced, from what he says the traditional method of celebrating Halloween is practiced even in far-off Alaska. Here, it was very quiet, most of the Trumbull hell raisers having transferred their affections to pestering Japs and Jerries. Ced also recounts in his usual modest manner that he was duly elected President of the Anchorage ski club and has already gotten his committees working. Among other things they are planning a trip to Independence Mines and their annual ski rally. In his letter Ced enclosed a money order and for Dan’s benefit I quote: “Ten dollars of it are to be put into Dan’s account. It is payment for his Spanish records and I hope he will be satisfied. No one seems to know what they were worth, and as the girls had them in the cellar and wanted to clean out the place, they decided to try to sell them. Eleanor Oman has gone out to live with her mother in the states and before she left she made the deal with some soldiers.”

Tomorrow I’ll post the conclusion of this letter including a few extracts from Rusty’s letter to Ced.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – A Birthday And An Anniversary – November 4, 1944

Since Lad is using this letterhead to write to Grandpa, my guess is that he brought along some writing paper when he was sent to Jackson, Mississippi.

Saturday

 In Camp.

Nov. 4, 1944

Dear Dad: –

Since I don’t expect I’ll be able to get home for Marian’s birthday, I sent, under separate cover, a small bottle of Marian’s favorite perfume. I would like you to wrap it for me and give it to her on the great day (Nov. 11) or if a celebration is held, on that day.

Nov. 14 will be our 1st anniversary, and again, circumstances still being the same, I’d like you to get her an appropriate token of my appreciation for her. A bouquet of flowers or something – you probably have a good idea for this –, and any expense should be added to the sum already owed you by us. Marian will repay you as fast as possible beginning after her arrival.

She wants to get some sort of work and if you can have a talk with her maybe you might be able to give her some idea of what she should do. I told her to consult you on any problems which may arise so please try to get her to do so if it looks like she may be bashful or retentive.

I guess I didn’t tell you, and she may be there now, but she left here Friday morning with the Buick and trailer. She should be in Trumbull sometime before late Monday night. Her route followed US 11 to west of Washington DC where she turned east on US 211 and then from Washington DC to New York – US 1. From G. Washington Br. to Henry Hudson; Cross County; Hutchinson River, and Merritt Parkway. I hope she arrives with no difficulties.

I’m going to write her a letter which will give you all the news.

My regards to everyone.

Love,

Laddie

Tomorrow and Friday, a letter from Grandpa to “Dear Sonny”, meaning each of his sons.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – A Letter From Marian And Lad – November 1, 1944

MIG - letter to Grandpa - Thanks for the $35., Nov., 1944

Wednesday

Jackson   11/1

Dear Dad,

What a peach you are to send the $35.00 so speedily, without any question. We thought that we could wait here until our first government check arrived but Uncle Sam began rushing things too much. Today (Nov. 1st) is the dead-line as far as Uncle Sam is concerned. All the wives are supposed to have gone home, and no more private cars on the Post. But Lad took the car today, anyway. He’s going to park it outside the gate, so that I can pick it up if he gets restricted. He called me this noon to say that he thought he would be able to get out tonight.

Just to be on the safe side however, we packed the trailer last night, so that it will only take me a few minutes to put the last minute things into the car and be on my way home.

Incidentally, Dad, I’m really looking forward to living there at Trumbull. It seems to me to be the best place of all, other than actually being with Lad, and think of the extra nice company I’ll have. Your comments and P.S.’s in your recent letters have made me feel that I’m really coming home, so that this doggone separation has one bright side, anyway.

I’m leaving here tomorrow or Friday, at the very latest. When Lad comes home tonight, he’ll know a little more about their coming restriction, I think, so that he’ll have an idea whether or not he will be able to get home tomorrow night. If he can, I’ll stay until Friday, but I’m pretty certain I’ll leave then. So if everything goes according to schedule, I should be home sometime Sunday, probably late in the evening.

APG - letter to Grandpa - Nov., 1944

Dad: –

Marian has told you just about everything it is possible to tell, so far. I don’t know anything further about tomorrow night than I knew last night. It is quite disconcerting to say the least to have to make plans when everything is so unsettled, but I can’t get anything definite concerning just what we are going to do. That, I guess, will have to wait until it happens.

Marian is a wonderful girl, Dad, so please take care of her for me. My happiness, and practically my life, is wrapped up in her. I know you will, tho’, even without my asking. Incidentally, her birthday (29th) is Nov. 11.

I get up at 0400 and packing the trailer last night kept me up until almost 2300 last night, so I’m so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open, so I’m “gonna quit” here, and as they say in Mississippi – hurry back and see us.

Lad

From the looks of things it might be later than Sunday before I arrive. Lad wants me to stay as long as possible – and I want to, too. However, it would make it easier for him, I think, if he knew that I had arrived home safely, so I just don’t know. The best I can do, I guess, is to say, “Look for me when you see me.” It won’t be very long before I’m there – Love from Marian and Lad

Tomorrow I’ll post a letter from Lad, letting Grandpa know a little more.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Lad (2) – Good Investment – November 5, 1939

ADG - Grandpa with Smokey in yard - near Thanksgiving, 1945

Grandpa with Mack on the side yard

Page 2 of R-48

Your reference to the pilot, Dave Duryea was quite interesting. I wonder if he is not some relation. My mother was a Duryee or Duryea as it was sometimes spelled. Her father, Joseph Duryee was one of several brothers, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob (twins) Joseph, my grandfather and William. Abraham was a noted general in the Civil War, head of the Duryee Zouaves and commander of the famous 7th Regiment of New York. Perhaps that will give enough of the family background to enable him to identify the family if he knows the family history. The family originally was Long Island Dutch and before that were French Huguenots.

Your comments on the prospects of taking Mr. Leander’s place versus being a diesel man are interesting. I think your idea of playing along for a while to see what happens is a good idea. It may be if the new man is a veteran or expert diesel man and you, more or less, come in contact with him, one of two things will happen. You will have an opportunity to learn something from him that will increase your knowledge or he will soon learn your value and knowledge in this field, and if the work increases so that he will need an assistant, he will want you and you will be in line for advancement in this field, as you now are in the transportation and garage line.

It is now 7:45. The electricity in all the vicinity is still absent. My one candle is burning low and I don’t know how much more of this letter I can write under the circumstances, but there is one topic I want to cover before the candle fails entirely. Perhaps you remember Bob Shedden. He is now selling a form of investment known as Investors Syndicate. He told me about it. I had heard it before and knew it was a good thing. I told him I would take out, in your name, a share or whatever they call it, which will cost about $130 a year and which at the end of 15 years yields a good income, which in the meantime is entirely safe. It is a combination of all the best features of Building and Loan, insurance and investment combined. I have asked him to write you about the details and have you sign the necessary papers, but I have definitely told him to go ahead. I will take care of the payment out of the money you send home. I don’t approve of putting all funds in one thing, putting all your eggs in one basket, as the saying goes. So with the home building and loan card, for which I have received duly signed by you, and this Investors Syndicate, we have a good diversification in, but will yield a good income in time, be safe and still leave some funds to be invested in some other form of investment that will be worthwhile.

I brought Elizabeth home from St. Vincent’s Hospital on Monday. The baby (Raymond Zabel, Jr., Biss (Elizabeth (Guion) Zabel) and Zeke Zabel’s son) is a cute little tyke and seems to be good and doesn’t cry much. Well boy, this is about all that little candle will permit me to do tonight. Until next week, then old Laddie, my very best hopes and wishes and love from your one and only    DAD

I know about the 7th Regiment of New York but I’ll do some additional research and do at least one post about that. It’s quite an interesting story.

Tomorrow and Sunday, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Lad (1) – Candlelight – November 5, 1939

At this point in 1939, Dan has returned to Trumbull from Venezuela and is attending the University of Connecticut at Storrs. Lad is the only son away from home as he continues to work for an oil company in Venezuela. With his weekly letters, Grandpa  makes sure Lad knows what is going on in Trumbull and within the family.

R-48 of Nov. 5, 1939

Dear Lad:

This is stormy afternoon. It has been raining all day– a steady, hard downpour with a high wind, whistling and howling and beating the rain against the windows, by contrast making the lights and the cozy fire in the fireplaces all the more cheery by contrast. It is for 4:45. Dan has just come back with Barbara and Jean.

(lapse of some time) It is now six o’clock. Just as I will wrote the above sentence, the lights went out. They are still out and am proceeding with this by candlelight. Dan is trying to pop corn over the open fire. Barbara (Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend)  is lending him moral support. Dick and Dave are singing to accompany Dick on his guitar, assisted by Jean (Hughes) and Barbara. Ced has gone to work (I don’t envy him on his outdoor job in this weather).

SOL - (DAN) Family picture in 1938 (2)

    Daniel Beck Guion

The following message is transcribed: ”I saw one of your old girlfriends recently. I have been told that she used to engage you in conversation by the hour when you drove the school bus. I have further been informed that your repeated attempts at discouraging her advances fell flat. Her name? Alice Habersham! She had a small part in a play which was presented in Trumbull by the Ladies Improvement Society, Munroe. I did not meet la muchacha, but Jean told me the story. Dan”

SOL - (CED) Family picture in 1938 (2)

      Cedric Duryee Guion

Whimpy expired the other day — died of a broken axle while Ced was driving her home from Bridgeport. He had just about decided to sell the tires to Carl. He is now preparing to register old Peep., after he gets another tire, battery and a waterproof top.

Tuesday is usually the day mail reaches me from Pariaguan and I’ve been fearing, all this week, that this would be another time I did not hear from you regularly, but the day was saved by a welcome letter in the box when I went for the mail yesterday. I note you are a convert to the theory of relaxation. I suppose what you say is good advice, but there is a difference in temperaments that has to be taken into account. You are more like your mother, who could do just what you find works so well in your case. I don’t know as I do relax completely in the sense that you mean, but when I have nothing to occupy my leisure moments, such as a good book or cooking the meals, or writing letters or doing crossword puzzles or listening to the radio, I am apt to concern myself about the bills or problems at the office or some non-comforting thought, so as an escape, I like to put these things away that do not profit anything by thinking about them. I believe my health is apt to be better by replacing worrying thoughts by some form of activity than it would be by trying to relax and have disturbing thoughts intruding into my solitude. Anyway the only way I can truly relax is by getting away from the ordinary, everyday obligations that force themselves on one’s attention. That’s why a sea voyage is prescribed so many times I suppose. Someday, maybe I can leave all the things that call for attention here and start out on a voyage to see my eldest son in his South American haunts. I’ve always felt any way, that I would much rather wear out than rust out. It’s nice to know that your old man’s well-being concerns you. Right now you are doing the maximum job contributing to my piece of mind by your contribution to the family exchequer. If it were not for your financial help I would have a real serious problem that I could not help worrying about…

Tomorrow I will post the rest of this letter.

Judy Guion