This week, the posts will be short to fill the week. The next letter in chronological order is a five-pager and will take a full week in the next rotation.
Richard Peabody Guion
Trumbull, Conn., July 30, 1944
If this were intended to be just an ordinary letter, you know, it might have started off with “Dear Dick”, but as this is in communication of a very “special occasion”, we naturally have to observe some formality. Of course it is a bit ahead of time, I know, but the 19th will roll around fast enough and I would much rather have this reach you a bit ahead of time that a bit late. But to forgo further preamble, here, as you may already have surmised, is what is intended to be a very special birthday letter.
By this time, you will say, he ought to have had enough experience to write a bang up birthday letter. Let’s see. Between you all, 151 birth days have come and gone, and while it is true only a small portion have occasioned letters, there have been quite a number at that; and yet with all this practice it is just as difficult as ever to say the things one feels deep down inside and to give voice to all the thankfulness and well wishing and great expectations for the future which anniversaries like this stir up in one’s heart.
Perhaps the predominant thought is a feeling of deep satisfaction for the kind of son you have turned out to be. So many times in a family of our size there is likely as not to be at least one who, in spite of all the hope and care and good intentions of the parents, go off at a tangent causing heart aches and worry and disappointments, or even if not anything so definite, there is at least an ill feeling or resentment among brothers and sisters that brings disunity in the family unit. And, unfortunately, it takes only one to cause the rift.
Tomorrow I’ll post the rest of this special Birthday Letter to Dick, on Wednesday, a letter from Marian, on Thursday and Friday, a very interesting and informative letter from Dan who is in Normandy, following the D-Day Invasion.