Trumbull – Dear Lad – Christmas Visitors (1) – December 24, 1939

This is the  first part of a very, very long letter written to Lad, in Venezuela, on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, 1939. For the rest of the week, you’ll be reading some of the twelve original letters each day, written by all the guests on this Christmas Day in Trumbull, Conn. I’ll also include 2 Christmas Cards sent to Lad in Venezuela.

Alfred Duryee Guion (Grandpa)

Dear Lad: R-56 December 24, 1939

I suppose you have heard the new song which begins: “Last night I saw upon the stair a little man who wasn’t there”. It goes on to tell that he wasn’t there again today, and climaxes with the words: “Oh, how I wish he’d go away.” Well, that’s you — except for a direct reversal of the last wish.

Last week I wrote to you from bed, but this week, as you can see, I am back in circulation again. It has been a busy week, too, what with the Christmas rush at the office, (not so much volume as the necessity for getting them out promptly), the Christmas shopping to do, the house to get in order for Christmas guests, the meals to prepare, etc., so while I have not been feeling quite up to snuff I’ve been too busy to pamper myself. Dan got home (from the University of Connecticut) Wednesday and helped, while Dave is doing quite a lot in the Christmas decorating line, trimming the tree (a live one which Dan and Ced bought), fixing the table decorations, putting up wreaths on the front door, hall and living room. Dave decided to place the tree in the living room between the two windows opposite the fireplace where there was a plug handy. All the youngsters who have been away to college are back home for the holidays and have been dropping in on and off, including Dick Christie, Don Whitney, Cy and Pete Linsley, Charlie Hall, Red Sirene, also Benny Slawson, Jean Hughes, Barbara Plumb and a few minutes ago, Wop and Agnes Ives, with some brownies and other Christmas cookies. Aunt Betty arrived yesterday and Aunt Elsie is due sometime today. We expected her in time for dinner but that is long past now (4:30) and no word from her yet.

Today it is quite cold, the coldest we have had this year and the weatherman says snow tonight and probably tomorrow morning. There is some talk of our all going down to visit the Chandlers between Christmas and New Year’s but nothing definite has been decided yet. Oh, by the way, the Ives asked about you and when I told them I was writing to you, they asked me to send you their best wishes for a Merry Christmas. I read them your last letter which began with the paragraph about your coming home in June, 1941. I did not get the expected letter last week with the new snapshots in it, but whether that was because of the seasonal delay in delivery of Christmas mail or because you did not write is unknown at the present writing. We have had the usual mass of Christmas cards, although I have not sent out any myself. Some of them are: Cecelia Mullins (Lad’s girlfriend), Helen Plumb, Mrs. Lee, the Ives with pictures of their three dogs, Don Quaintance, Larry with a picture of the baby, Charlie Kurtz and family, Burr Davis and family, Mr. in Mrs. Searles, the Cudlipps, Brita (Heurlin Bagshaw )and Sidney Bagshaw), Ray Beckwith, Mr. and Mrs.  Kascak, Alice Reyom and Barbara (Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend). Also Rudolph  Noer, George Woods and Mr. Blatz.

I don’t know what is behind it but Elizabeth asked me yesterday if she could come in and celebrate Christmas with us because Zeke has never made much of Christmas and was going to his home for the day. Elizabeth wanted to come in for stocking opening time (I hadn’t up to that time thought of including her in the stocking filling ) right through including dinner. Of course, I said, “Yes.”

Tomorrow I will continue this letter with more news of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. On Wednesday and Thursday, a collection of notes written on Christmas Day to Lad from those present, and on Friday, two Christmas cards sent to Lad.

Judy Guion

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Trumbull – To My Dear Little Boys (4) – A Poem About Stocking Stuffer Gifts – December 25, 1944

Grandpa got quite creative this year while filling Christmas Stockings. Each person got a joke gift to go along with this poem he composed.

Aunt Betty, once known as “Aunt Lizzie”

Keeps warm through the day while she’s busy

But at night, as a treat

And to warm her cold feet

Here’s some coal, which will make her toes frizzie.

*****

Here’s Elsie from New York’s great shop

She daily is kept “on the hop”

But without paper or string

She can’t do a thing

Take this, so your business won’t flop.

*****

Here’s our prize from the far Golden West

California has sent us her best

Though out there, as you know,

They don’t have much snow

So right here she ends her long quest.

*****

Now Jean is the star girl from Hubble

She’s afraid she’ll get round like a bubble

So a mirror will show

As you girls too will know

When her chin shows up signs of its double.

*****

And there is Dave, our young soldier from Crowder

Whose memory for hats takes a powder

Here’s a string for your thumb

To remind you, by gum

That your memory should be getting stouter.

*****

Little Biss is as lean as a poll

One would think she had been on the dole

So to her goes some fat

With the fond hope that that

Will make her get round like a roll.

*****

There was a young fellow named ZEKE

Who keeps Singer’s production at peak

He can turn out a screw

That is equaled by few

He does a month’s work in a week.

*****

Key to Christmas Jokes in stockings: Aunt Betty – piece of coal; Elsie – a paper bag, Marian – artificial snow; Jean – pocket mirror; Dave – piece of string; Biss – piece of suet; Zeke – old coupling.

Tomorrow and Sunday I will continue with more about The End of an Era. Judy Guion

Judy Guion

Trumbull – To My Dear Little Boys (3) – Christmas Day – December 17, 1944

Alfred Duryee Guion (Grandpa)

Page 3    12/25/44

Now the Christmas is all over. What a Christmas! Marian and Jean have spent hours and hours preparing the presents and decorations and tree. The presents were done up each with a different color wrapping and the name of the recipient spelled out with gummed letters, some in a single color, others with each letter a different color, with  ribbon ends all curled up or gummed strips of colored paper gaily decorating the box and gummed stars appearing scattered over the box. Under a beautifully shaped tree, with the usual lights and not too many trimmings, the whole ensemble made a striking appearance when the rather small clan gathered. Of course we spoke of each of you and recalled many instances which took place at former Christmases. Now our stomachs are very full and we are not very ambitious to do anything – you know how we feel!

Hello there, fellows! It is nice to know that even tho’ you are scattered practically over God’s green earth, with the help of the well-known  A.P.O. and the Alaskan Airways, we are able to send to you a small part of our Christmas celebration. Purely a vicarious participation on your part, but you know darn well that we were thinking of every one of you all day long, and wishing, of course, that you could have been with us. But just watch us make up for lost time when all of you do get home! In the meantime, rest assured that Santa hasn’t forgotten how to maneuver the intricate Guion chimney, and managed to leave more than a goodly share of gifts for every one of us. And in his usual discerning fashion he managed to leave “just exactly what I wanted!” Of course, the very obvious lists of “what I want Santa to bring me”, which have been lying around in very conspicuous spots for the last three weeks might have had something to do with his selection, but we won’t let him know that we suspect anything quite so obvious as that. The weatherman, naturally, had to be a little contrary. He very grudgingly gave us a White Christmas, but due to the fact that is been raining since very early this morning, the white part looks slightly moth-eaten. But who are we to complain! Besides it’s a darn sight more snow than we have ever had in California! (You might know that I would have to bring that in somehow – – – the California part, I mean). Nevertheless, we have no complaints to offer at all – – it really was a very wonderful Christmas (except for that very definite defect which I mentioned earlier in this paragraph but which we are trying our best to ignore! You can see how well we are succeeding!) Anyway, the very best of holiday greetings to each and every one of you (with a special emphasis on Lad’s, of course). Best of luck. We hope to see you soon …. As always, Marian

Above, you have heard from Elsie and Marian. Jean has gone to her Mother’s or we would have her contribution also. Well as you may have surmised it is now Christmas evening and the days hectic doings have been succeeded by comparative quiet. “The tumult and the shouting dies, the captains and the Kings depart. Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, A humble and a contrite heart”. And I may add, a hopeful heart that next year may see my brood gathered around this here old rooster. Thanks to the daughters-in-law, not only was this Christmas particularly enjoyable (under the circumstances), but in my own case, it was attended with much less stress and rush and responsibility than in many years past, leaving me in a mental frame of mind to enjoy the peace (what there is left of it on earth) that is symbolic of the season. Peace be with you soon, sons.

DAD

Tomorrow, the final segment of this holiday letter featuring a poem written by Grandpa about the small stocking gifts for the family.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – To My Dear Little Boys (2) – Christmas Greetings – December 24, 1944

Page 2   12/24/44

As usual, Christmas cards have been arriving with their various messages, some of which I shall quote below:

From the Burnham’s – (17 E. 84th St., N.Y.C.) Love to all the Guion’s where ever they are from all the Burnham crew at sea on the Pacific and Mediterranean and Harlem River!

From Brita: (Rusty’s sister) (Bagshaw, Milhouse, Bedford Village, N.Y.) Aren’t you ever up this way? I’d just love to see any of you that could come – – any time. And I’d like to know how each and every one of you are. My love to everyone.

Mrs. Ives: A very Merry Christmas to you. I, too, wish all your boys were home at this time of year.

From Rudolf Noer’s wife: In lieu of a word from Rudolf himself, let me say that his unit was transferred from Italy to France in August and that they are in or near Dijon. He is well but holds out no hopes for being home in the near future, as once I had thought he might be. Best wishes. Anita.

The Chandlers: Are the Guion’s still covering the face of the earth? And are you still covering the Trumbull waterfront? We are still living in hopes of seeing you again. What a host of good memories come with Christmas! We are about the same – – just a year older – – a very little wiser. Please be the connection again between us and your boys and Elizabeth. And I hear that there are more daughters-in-law, and of course they are o.k. Emily and Douglas Chandler. Courage for today. Faith for tomorrow. Happiness always.

Of particular interest to Ced: from Nan and Stan Osborn. Love from all of us to all of you. I am terribly tired and worn out taking care of mother but will feel better in a few days when Connie will be home.

Christmas greetings also from the following: Harold Latour, Mrs. Beebe, Peggy (Sanford), the Mortensen’s, Corinne Flaniken, Gwyneth, Ethel and Carl, Virginia and Roy Rowland, Astrid, Axel and Florence Larson, Helen Plumb, Mildred and Stacy, Mrs. Munson and the Draz’s, Uncle Burton and a note from Dorothy (Peabody, Grandma Arla’s youngest sister) with the news that she expects to take a trip to Los Angeles and is going to try to get up to Trumbull before the first of the year to see us all.

From Elsie M. Guion – Well, here I am again and glad I am to be here at the scene of so many good times and each time the same and each time different – this time again the boys represented by one, Dave. Last year by Ced, and next year?

A young chap came into the Shop the other day and said to me he guessed I didn’t know him but his name was Dan Rowland and he was asking news about Dan Guion. So I told him all I knew about Dan as well as the other boys. He was not in uniform, said he was classified 4-F which he regretted, said he was working in New York in an advertising concern. He sent a Hello to Dan which I said I would relay in this Weekly Letter.

We have just finished a successful Holiday business. For months we had been trying to get some help in the Shop as there was more work in the Shop than the two of us could do, and we were getting desperate when a nice young girl appeared before Mrs. Burlingame one morning and asked where the Shirley Shop was, that they had advertised for help. Mrs. B. told her and said if she didn’t connect with them to come back. In five minutes flat she was back and the next morning she was working for us. Two days later another young girl came in and said she had casually mentioned to her friend that you would like to get a Christmas job and her friend said to come see us, and the next morning she was working with us too. So it worked out fine and they did a swell job for us.

Fkrmck,epx;503kforlcvksdjvd,    This is Susan’s (Susan Warden, the youngest child of the young couple renting the apartment) Merry Christmas to you!

Tomorrow I’ll be posting the happenings of Christmas day and on Friday, a poem written by Grandpa to go along with small stocking gifts.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – To My Dear Little Boys (1) – Christmas Preparations – December 24, 1944

Marian (Mrs. Lad) and Jean (Mrs. Dick)

Trumbull, Conn.,  Christmas Eve, 1944

To my dear little boys:

My, what memories this day stirs in the dusty attic of the past! The visions of little Alfred, Dan, Ced, Biss, Dick and even baby Dave, with their eyes big and wide with anticipation, romping in to open the stockings and later, all athrill stealing downstairs to see the glittering tree with its candle light softly shining on the piles of mysterious looking packages and boxes, or that time in the attic, when I rigged up some sort of affair behind the curtain with strings attached to your presents. Marty and Butch were here this afternoon, and for a moment, I recaptured that old time spirit, when, with delighted gurgles and shouts, they hung up their stockings in anticipation of Santa Claus’ visit tomorrow. I am looking forward to the time when this war interlude ends and I may, perhaps, watch you boys play the role of Santa Claus for your own little tots.

While it is far from ideal with you boys so far from home, my native optimism rises to the challenge and I realize it could be lots worse. Speaking selfishly, if Aunt Betty and I alone had to go through tomorrow, it would not be much of a “merry” Christmas, but with the girls here with their enthusiasm and energy, it begins to take on much of the old time feeling, and to the climax, DAVE CAME HOME THURSDAY and stays until New Year’s Day. Then too, the weather is doing its part, for we have had the first real snowstorm of the season, and Marian is thrilled. And as an added dividend of cheer, a V-mail letter from Dan arrived yesterday, written on December 13th, reporting all well with him. And today Aunt Elsie arrived on the scene so it begins to take on a real holiday atmosphere.

Perhaps your Constitution is strong enough to stand an account of just how things are progressing on this day before Christmas, 1944. Marian and Jean were up betimes this morning, all prepared for a visit to the woods to find some Christmas greens. Their first thought was to go up along the old railroad tracks but they finally decided to go over to the woods in back of Mantle’s. Fortunately, they ran across Walter and he showed them just where to find some ground pine, Princess pine, hemlock branches, long needle pine and Laurel, which they have used in most tastefully decorating the house. I think it is as attractive as it has ever been. Dave started for church but because he could not get the Buick up the slippery driveways, my Buick had been left until late yesterday out in front of Laufer’s, but with no gas in the tank we had a little trouble getting the car started so as to get gas, enabling me to go to Bridgeport for a wedding which was scheduled for noon today. As the girls were busy with their decorating job I started the dinner, got my wedding out of the way. Then dinner. While Aunt Betty was washing the dishes, Zeke and Biss and the two youngsters arrived, then Bob Shattuck to see Dave, then Carl (Wayne), and while all this was going on, the phone rang to announce that Aunt Elsie was at the station in Bridgeport, so Dave and Aunt Betty went down to fetch our  Yuletide guest.

Tomorrow’s post will be Christmas Greetings to the family, Thursday will be events of Christmas Day and on Friday, a special poem with messages and stocking gifts for most of the family.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Son – Christmas Boxes and Household Hints – December 24, 1944

This week I will be posting letters written in December, 1944. All five sons are scattered around the world and Grandpa is holding down the fort in Trumbull with his two “Army Widows”, my Mom, Marian, (Mrs. Alfred Peabody Guion (Lad), who is in France),  and Jean, (Mrs. Richard Peabody Guion) who is in Brazil.)

        Marian Irwin Guion (Mrs. Lad)

               Jean (Mrs. Richard) Guion

Trumbull Conn., December 17, 1944

Dear Son:

“Let us flee”, said the fly. “Let us fly”, said the flea; so they fled through the flaw in the flue.

There, having gotten a good start with a bit of profound wisdom appropriate to the season, my thoughts can now be released to deal with more practical and homely things, such as:

CHRISTMAS BOXES

          One thing I can promise with great assurance and that is that, aside from Dick and Dan, who’s Christmas boxes left about a month ago, in accordance with Government regulations, you others will NOT get your boxes by December 25th, for the simple reason that they have not yet been sent (and there is a grave doubt in my mind whether even Dick and Dan will get their boxes by that date, which will make it unanimous). And being pressed for an explanation of being so remiss, I would depose and say that due to the shortage of labor in the huge Guion organization,  plus the fact that customers are insistent that their addressograph plates be completed promptly in order to take care of their Christmas mailings, it has transpired that the Lord High Executioner of said organization has been forced to stick so close to his job that he has not even had time to go out for lunch, but must forsooth take down a thermos bottle of milk and nibble a few biscuits, instead of going out lunch time to see what Santa Claus has to offer. Result: no greeting cards this year, shopping by proxy through the courtesy of my daughters-in-law. However, if you wait patiently there will eventually arrive a small package containing sundry modest gifts, hardly more than token remembrances from the usual triumvirate, Aunt Betty, Aunt Elsie and Dad, limited by the limited requirements imposed by military life for you boys in the service, plus the distinct shortage of available items to be found currently in the stores. Some of the items, to be sure, are chosen with hope that the thought, in some cases little short of inspiration, will justify the senders earnest hopes – – as, for instance, a wee alcohol stove which your native Guion ingenuity may find many uses for, and in Ced’s case, to keep at the hangar to warm something hot on the cold days when he has to eat his lunch indoors on cold days. But there, no more ideas as to contents of the package, we can now turn to the:

HOUSEHOLD HINTS DEPARTMENT

          Guion’s Great Shaving Discovery: try this one, you with stubborn beards. First wet the face with warm water (in fact washing with soap and warm water will be even better). Then a quick application of brushless shaving cream (I have found Krank’s about the best), and then (here’s the trick) over this apply a regular old-fashioned lather shaving cream with a brush. Sounds like a lot of trouble but in my case, at least, it results in a nice clean shave which leaves the face smooth and not the usual aftershave rash. Maybe it won’t work with you as “one man’s face is another man’s poison”, but a trial will show.

Hint on one item in winterizing your car. During the summer, condensation in the tank, moisture in the air, etc., results in a certain amount of water accumulation in the gas line, carburetor, etc. Therefore, to a tank fairly full of gas add 1 gallon of alcohol, which in theory will absorb water out and itself be burned out in the running of the car. Or perhaps I will get an argument back from Alaska or southern France which will result in throwing this valuable hint out of the window, out there it is, for what it is worth.

Page 2    12/17/1944

(Time out to change carbons) and incidentally, if this letter seems to lack coherence, it is interspersed here and there with hints of dress patterns, the shape of collar best suited for Elizabeth’s particularly shaped neck, etc., you have to blame it on my chatterbox daughters-in-law who are sewing here at a great rate while I am trying to concentrate on this my weekly blurb. They are going to read this later and that is when I shall have my revenge.

However, there is little besides small talk to report. A letter from David still expresses hope of getting home for Christmas, but there is still nothing definite. Carl (Wayne) is home, as I reported last letter. He came over for a while today for a few moments, after we had finished an excellent meal prepared by Marian’s capable hands. I was thus enabled to get several needed things around the house done. All of us here in the house, except Marian, have been hosts to a pesky little cold germ which indeed seems to have been traveling the rounds in Stratford, Bridgeport and Trumbull, attacking the digestive track and causing vomiting and diarrhea. Besides us here, Elizabeth’s family and now the Mortensen’s and Jean reports several in the Harvey Hubble office (The Harvey Hubble Shirt Factory in Bridgeport where Jean is working). Much to Marian’s disgust, we have had no real snowstorm but there is still time to get it before Christmas.

I am now pleased to report that we have two tastefully decorated rooms in the old home – – Marian’s and Jean’s. Following the blue and white motif of the wallpaper, Marian has completed tastefully furnishing her boudoir in feminine style was new white paint on the furniture with blue drapes, etc. it is really surprising what she has been able to do with so little to start with. Very versatile, that lady, and while I am putting down things to be thankful for, I must put the top of the list the good judgment of my two married sons in their selection of my daughters-in-law. Altogether we are a very happy family here and it is just too bad the rest of you can’t be here to enjoy it. Although, of course, if you were, like the flea and the fly mentioned in my opening paragraph, you would probably spoil it all by fleeing somewhere else.

Gosh, here it is almost 10:30, besides which I cannot think of anything more to write about, so in spite of the paper shortage, we’ll just have to let the rest of this page go blank, and only pausing long enough in this closing paragraph to say that I am sorry you will not be here a week from tonight to hang up your stockings as you used to do in the days before Hitler. We can all look forward to next Christmas, and hope.

DAD

For the rest of the week, I will be posting a 4-page letter from Grandpa to his “dear little boys”.

Judy Guion

Dear Reader – The End of an Era (6) – Memorable Events (2) – The True Meaning of Christmas – December, 1945

The following event occurred on Christmas morning in 1945. The family was gathered in the living room and the youngest members, Butch and Marty (Bissie’s boys, six and four respectively), were helping Grandpa distribute gifts.

In a letter written on December 0, 1945, Grandpa recounts one of three high spots that touched his heart.

Butch (Raymond Zabel Jr.) and Marty (Martin Zabel) a few years after the event recorded here.

The second high spot is a bit difficult to get over to you in the way it hit me. You would have had to be here, seeing the sequence of events that led up to it, observed the lordly, yet gracious manner in which the deed was done, the expression of voice, and of face, in fact all those intangibles that lose so much in the telling. It illustrated for me the true spirit of Christmas, innocently and unconsciously symbolized by the youngest of us all. Following the old custom, Butch and Marty, some days ago, had dictated to Elizabeth a letter to Santa Claus in which a formidably long list of gifts wanted by each of them was duly recorded. As the great day drew nearer, perhaps warned by their mother that they might not expect to receive everything on their list, they began to be a bit fearful that they would not get enough presents, but when the Day came and one after one presents from the big pile under the tree were labeled Marty or Butch, it must have dawned on Marty that his erstwhile fears were indeed unnecessary. At least he was thoroughly enjoying himself, stopping quite frequently in his job of handing me packages to unwrap his own, keeping up meanwhile a running comment on events, not noticing or caring whether anyone heard him or not. During one spot when a particularly frequent run of gifts bore his name, he said, half to himself, “I guess I’m getting too many presents. I’ll give some to Butch”, and tearing off the gift wrapping of an attractive picture book he had just received, he unconcertedly, but with a kingly grace and nonchalance, yet with a conscious knowledge that he was bestowing something of real value, he carelessly passed the book to Butch and went on with the business of the day. It was all so matter of fact I don’t believe he really remembers even now that he did anything to give his Grandpa and perhaps, others that may have noticed it, such an big kick.

Tomorrow I will begin posting a week of letters written in 1944.

Judy Guion

Special Picture (# 349) – Christmas, 1939

This photo was taken at Christmas (1939) when Lad was in Venezuela but Dan had been home from there for about six months. He is the one taking the picture.

Back row: Dick, Ced and Dave, front row: Grandpa, Aunt Betty (Lizzie Duryee, Grandpa’s Aunt) and Elsie May Guion (Grandpa’s sister.

Tomorrow and for the rest of the week, I will be posting letters written to Lad. Monday and Tuesday a letter from Aunt Helen (Peabody) Human. On Wednesday, a letter regarding the purchase of a Fifteen Year Investment Contract by Grandpa for Lad. On Thursday and Friday, a letter from Grandpa to his oldest son so far from home.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Pop, Old Boy – Lad Writes About Christmas, 1944 – May 6, 1945

Lad is currently in Marseilles, near the southern coast of France, with his Battalion.

 

Alfred Pebody Guion

6 May 1945

Pop – Old Boy !-

How are you honestly feeling? I’ve had a cold which I got some time last week, but it is diminishing in severity each day, and today I feel better than yesterday. In about a few days (that’s pinning it down, isn’t it?) it should be nearly gone. Maybe all gone.

Received a letter from Dan last night which he wrote on 19 Apr. so possibly by now you’ve already heard from him. Just in case, I think I’ll send the letter on and if you don’t want it you may give it to Marian. This week has been very much like one in March. Snow, rain and cold wind. A little sun. The first couple of days we had snow but since then, rain.

No letters from you this week, so I’ll probably get a couple during the coming week.

You remember, of course, the Ardennes break-through on Dec. 17th. That was a big factor in effecting our Christmas Cheer. Plans had been made for a party and a few of the fellows had made arrangements to eat with French families around here. At the time it happened, of course, we couldn’t write about it, and afterward, I decided to wait a while before telling it. Sometime after the break, paratroops landed in our vicinity, and all festivities were canceled, even to the point of limiting the consumption of alcoholic beverages, which you can understand, I think, and that condition existed until after New Year’s Day. The most probable time of attack, naturally, was Christmas Eve or December 25th. Therefore, although we were outwardly cheerful, there was an undercurrent of strain and depression which killed all happiness during that time. I think most of us feel that Christmas – 1944, never arrived, in the modern sense of the word. I’m regretful, but happy, that an attack never materialized. But we were ready. It’s time to eat dinner, and I’ll have to check the generators before I go so – – keep your chin up, Dad, and take care of yourself. Until the next – “au revoir”.

Lad

Tomorrow and Sunday, more from Dave’s World War II Army Adventure.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Christmas at the Trumbull House – 1947

 

Christmas at the Trumbull House, 1947

Merry Christmas from my family to yours:

(Clockwise) Dan, Ced (in upper left corner), Zeke Zabel, Anne (Peabody) Stanley, Lad’s chair (he was taking the pictures), Marian Guion, Grandpa.

(Clockwise) baby Cedric, Paulette Guion (Mrs. Dan), Helen (Peabody) Human, Elizabeth (Biss) (Guion) Zabel, Dorothy Peabody, Dave, Elinor Guion (Mrs. Dave), Raymond (Butch) Zabel Jr., Marty Zabel, Ced (again).

 

 

Judith and Douglas Guion, Lad and Marian’s twins.

Missing: Arla Guion (Dan and Paulette’s oldest daughter), Gregory (Lad and Marian’s third child) and Dick and Jean Guion.

 

Open you heart at Christmas

And not just for one day

Open your heart at Christmas

Let this beautiful feeling stay.

 

For caring, generosity and love,

We treasure through the year.

Don’t wait until Christmas

To share it with those you hold dear.

M. Carne

 

Tomorrow and Friday I will be posting another letter from Grandpa to his family scattered around the world in January of 1945.

Judy Guion