Trumbull – Dear Ex-Trumbullites (and Marian) – Ced Leaves For Alaska – February, 1944

 Lad has been sent to Texarkana, Texas, Marian has left her job as Director of the Camp Fire Girls in South Pasadena, CA, and has traveled to Texas to be with her new husband. This letter fills in a little bit about the rest of the family.

Trumbull, Conn. February 20, 1944

Dear Ex-Trumbullites (and Marian)

Judy_0003You may perhaps recall, gentle readers, that at the close of last week’s chapter we had left our hero, Ced, out on a limb. Upon his return from New York he reported the best reservation he was able to obtain for his return journey was February 22, and quite ironically this Washington’s Birthday reservation was on the Jeffersonian, the crack Pennsylvania train to St. Louis, whence he expected to proceed to Texarkana for a stopover long enough to visit the. A.P.‘s. A few days later however having received another wire from Art Woodley advising him to start immediately, he again visited New York Friday to try for an earlier reservation only to find the Jeffersonian date could not be better but he could take his chance without reservation on one of the other regular trains. This he decided to do so yesterday (Saturday) he held a hasty and quite informal Farewell Sourdough Flapjack Party attended by we inmates, Alta Gibson, (Arnold had already left for work) Flora Bushey, Mrs. Ives and Ethel. The one o’clock express from Bridgeport to Penn Station was very late and thus the first section gathered up those on hand for both sections which not only crowded the Bridgeport station but filled the entire length of the long platform. When the train finally pulled in it was already so crowded that people were packed standing in the aisles and also on the platform, so that we were hardly able to crowd up the steps of the train. We did manage to squeeze in but whether the rest of the waiting crowd were able to wedge themselves in I don’t know. Arriving at the station which was also packed with the usual wartime weekend crowd, Ced finally managed to get his baggage checked. We then went over to the Grand Central to say goodbye to Elsie, ate an early supper and got back to Penn Station just before Jeffersonian train time. Still no last minute cancellations on any of the St. Louis trains, but on the basis of “nothing ventured, nothing won”, Ced asked me to go through the gate with his 22nd reservation while he picked up his bags and made a last try. I waited at the foot of the stairs and finally won from the reluctant brakeman the admission that Ced might board the train on the slim chance that someone who had not canceled might still fail to show up, but that if this did not happen, he would have to get off in Philadelphia and wait for some other train. The minutes clicked by, the conductor stood with watch in hand, yelled, “All aboard.” when Ced appeared at the top of the steps, rushed down with his bag in one hand and a ticket in the other and announced, “I got it”. We said a hasty goodbye and the train pulled out leaving me with the comforting feeling that he would have a comfortable ride at least as far as St. Louis where he was due at 1:35 this afternoon. From there he goes by way of the Missouri Pacific to Texarkana. There is a train which leaves shortly after the Jeffersonian arrives, which would land him at Texarkana at 2:20 AM Monday morning. The next train to my mind is better, leaving St. Louis at 5:50 PM and arriving at Texarkana at 6:05 AM.. Possibly permitting him to have Monday breakfast with Lad and Marian. I am waiting to hear just what did happen.

From there Ced continues on to Los Angeles, thence to Seattle and from there by boat to Alaska. For your information, Ced, Aunt Betty says she mailed your Seattle letter and Elsie’s card in the mailbox in the medical building at about two o’clock, a collection from which was scheduled to be made at three. Of course everyone felt they would like to have Ced stay longer, but we did have him for such a long visit that we were more reconciled to his leaving as contrasted with Lad’s flying visit in the early fall.

Nary a word has been received this week from Dave outside of a letter received last Monday, written the Saturday previously and expressing doubt as to his future movements. I assume he has been sent to some other camp for basic training and has been so busy he hasn’t had time to write. I hope tomorrow’s mail will bring some definite word.

Richard (Dick) Guion

Richard (Dick) Guion

Dick has delighted us with a whimsical letter giving us a sort of a psychoanalysis of his Brazilian horse, as well as a glimpse into the family life of one native family with a daughter of marriageable age. I wish space permitted my quoting it in full, as the whole thing is quite delightful and shows considerable writing skill. In fact, as in Dan’s case, it seems too bad that those possessing such ability do not practice more on the home folks. It makes me quite envious and somewhat ashamed of some of my own efforts. To you, Dave, Dick says he’s glad you like the Army. He thinks the Air Corps is one of the best branches to get into. He hopes you make the grade and will be able to go to school for 15 months as he feels sure that by that time the war will be over. Amen to that.

I am going to award a home decoration to Marian for faithfulness in writing. Another letter this week, in which Lad also adds a pleasant promise of future

Marian Irwin Guion (Mrs. Lad)

Marian Irwin Guion (Mrs. Lad)

epistles to, tells about their being temporarily established in a “fairly nice auto court, with room and a bath”, with the prospect of later obtaining furnished rooms in a new federal housing project. Lad keeps pretty busy with his intensive training job but is able to get home most nights. Marian will try to find some job to keep her busy during the day. For your information, all of you — their present mailing address is Box 154, Hooks, Texas. Be nice, and drop them a line. Marian, as a little reward for your devotion I am sending a sort of Valentine myself which I hope may prove useful in your little apartment. You don’t think your husband will mind other fellows sending you a Valentine, do you?

Dan must be pretty busy also because I haven’t heard from him now for about a month. I am wondering if the recent London air raids came anyway near where he is staying.

A letter this week from Dorothy, written from the New Rochelle hospital, says she expects to have an operation on the 18th and hopes to be back in New York in a couple of weeks. She has been out on a 10 day visit to Larry’s place in Ohio and says it is even lovelier than she had anticipated.

Paul has received word from Remington that due to the fact that supplies of ammunition are so far ahead of needs that he and several thousands of others are to be laid off March first. He plans to enlist in the Navy, if possible, if not in the Army, leaving Kit and the children to occupy the apartment. Ethel just received a letter from Carl in Edinburgh, Scotland, which is one place his trip has taken him.

Aunt Betty is slowly getting used to her Acousticon and thinks she will like it better as time goes on.

It is now 8:30 and I hear outside a chorus of “Young Peoples” who still continue to pay us Sunday night visits. Bob Jennings just came in and says Eleanor heard from Dave. He has left Devens but he does not know where his new camp is located.


Tomorrow, I’ll post a letter from Marian with some news.

I’ll finish out the week with a letter from Grandpa bringing us up to date on the entire family.

Judy Guion



Trumbull – Dear Rover Boys (2) – Dave Speaks His Mind – February 3, 1946

And Dave says: Jan. 11, Manila. “We got a message through our code room last night from Eisenhower to Gen. Styer and other base commanders stating that all men with 2 ½ years service and 45 points will be home by Apr. 30. All men with two years service and 40 points will be out by June 30th. This second group will include me. I have 32 points as of VJ Day and two years active service as of Jan. 13th — 2 days from now. The message stated that the plan was a must and a minimum. If the men could be released faster than they should by all means be released. After the 2 ½ year man leave Manila (in early April if they are to be in the states by the deadline), then they will start sending the 2-yr. 5-mos., then 2-yr. 3 mos., etc. I figure that I should leave at the latest by May 15th, getting me home about June 15th. If we keep bringing pressure to bear on Washington it can be sooner than that. If we’re actually needed over here “for the good of the country” then I’m the last one on earth that would ask to be allowed to go home, but I think that if the Govt. had worked for weeks they couldn’t have thought of a poorer excuse than to say they don’t have replacements. I may sound cynical but I think that if there is really a dire need for us out here the government could have given us a better reason for keeping us here — even granting that the real reason may be a diplomatic or military secret. Therefore, I’ve come to the conclusion that politics of one sort or another has entered into the matter. I hope I’m wrong but I’ll have to have proof to the contrary if I’m to believe anything else. (Here follows some comments about work at the office) I got your “book” on Christmas activities at Trumbull. I especially liked the part about Marty. There should be more people in this world like him. I hope “growing up” doesn’t change him. I’m in for T/4 again. Some of these days it will come through. This is the 4th or 5th time I’ve gone in for it. (In a letter written the next day Dave says the rating did come through). Do you remember some time ago I had a large filling put in one of my teeth? Well it came out before we landed on Okinawa. (Teeth chattering that much, Dave?) It therefore

Page 3   2/3/46

has to come out. My appointment for the dentist today was canceled due to the fact that a Major asked him to do something for him this morning. So now I have to think about how much I don’t want to get my tooth pulled, from now until Monday. I intend to write Lad and Marian to congratulate them, etc., but I know myself too well, so I’ll say it here. “Congratulations to you both! (Or should I say to you three). Here’s wishing you all (that’s leaving it open for more additions) every kind of happiness throughout all the years to come. Love. Dave.

Last night we here discussed plans for the forthcoming house to be erected on the Island and Dick and Marian thought it would be a good idea if they now all pooled their respective ideas (Ced and Dick talked the thing over pretty thoroughly last time Ced was on) and arrived at something more concrete that might form the basis for a place representing the composite of everyone’s ideas. That will leave Dan and Dave yet to be heard from, and when I say Dan, of course I also include Paulette. With Spring now so far off and building materials possibly more generally available, it might not be too soon to look into the preliminary phases of the matter. Financing, of course, is one of the first things to consider and before we can get anywhere with this phase of the matter, we have to have more or less of an idea what the structure will cost and as this will be determined by the size, style, character of building, etc., it behooves us to get our ideas pretty well pooled and in agreement, so open up, ye “furriners” and let us have your European and Asiatic ideas before the crocuses start out of the ground.

Things here are going along as usual. Strikes still occupy news headlines, food shortages, certain articles of clothing, notably men’s shirts and women’s hosiery, still are bothersome, but by the time you get back perhaps things will be more normal. Jean and Dick this afternoon have gone over to visit their in-laws and Lad and Marian have invited Aunt Betty and myself to go to the movies with them — The Bells of St. Mary’s” I believe it is, which means that I shall now have to write finis to this, my weekly offering, and with hope in my heart and a great deal of love and good wishes to you all, subscribe myself, as usual, the same old


I’ll finish out the week with another letter from Grandpa to DB, CD and DP, the boys who are not in Trumbull.

On Saturday and Sunday, Special Pictures.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Dan, Ced and Dave (2) – News of Local Interest – January 27, 1946

Page 2, 1/27/46

And to Dan I might say that last week I dispatched to you the fur coat ordered from Sears Roebuck, plus one other box of miscellaneous items and this week I expect to get off to you the woolen blanket. The scarf ordered about the same time from Sears Roebuck is reported out of stock. Practically all of Baby Guion’s layette have been speeded on their way and next will come some of your civilian clothes. Meantime send me a list of other things you may desire your local purchasing agent to acquire for you. You haven’t asked much for yourself lately in the way of smoking tobacco, dental floss, etc. Are you able now to obtain these things locally? And just so you will not be madly jealous I may as well confess that I have sent a Valentine to a little French girl I know, being careful not to sign my name to it so that her husband may have no case against the sender. It may, however, serve to remind her that we are patiently waiting for that cable reading, “We are on our way to the U.S.” Do you think you can make it by July 4th?

As for purely local news. Dick has spent most of the week in bed with a cold. He is better now, thanks to the careful nursing of his attractive nurse. Thursday we celebrated Marty’s fifth birthday at 142 Cornwall St., Stratford, and a good time was had by all. Coming home it rained like the dickens and froze as it landed, making the streets slippery in consequence, of which I was unable to negotiate either driveway although Lad later accomplished the feat. Outside of Aunt Betty slipping on the ice and falling in a puddle en route from stalled car to house, we arrived safe but wet. Tomorrow the four newlyweds go to New Haven to view the ice follies.

A letter from Anne (Peabody Stanley) (10 Perry Street, New York 14, N.Y.) says she has just received a letter from Uncle Frank asking among others for the addresses of all Arla’s children in connection with the probate of the will of Vivian Peabody who died Jan. 15th suddenly from a cerebral hemorrhage. As Vivian is the last of her particular family and apparently left no will, the estate has to be divided up among all surviving relatives. Anne says there can’t be much of an estate and it seems too bad to have to go through a lot of legal red tape to settle it. I have sent your addresses on as requested.

Red (Sirene) and his wife just dropped in. He hopes to be out in two weeks, but with the Army, who knows?

Smoky, Aunt Betty, Jean, Dick, Lad, Marian, two red squirrels who have lately taken up their abode within our hospitable walls, according to Dick, in fact all the occupants of this house join me in sending our best to yuo, with a special message to Paulette that she and Dan leave no stone unturned with the French and U.S. government so that at the earliest possible moment they can steer a course for Conn. and the welcome that awaits you in the little dot on the map called Trumbull.

So, until next week, ________________________________ interesting quotes from Dan, Dave or Ced, let this be a good night to you all from your hopeful


The rest of the week will be filled with two more letters from Grandpa.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – The President is Preparing a Statement (4) – January, 1946

Dear Dave:

It was good to get your side of the story and I’m glad you had the good sense to stay away from what might have ended in a disorderly occasion and might have endangered your good conduct record and possible chances for an early discharge and home-coming. And by the way, I hope I’ll get a letter from you soon telling me just what these chances look like to you now. As I figure it your two years are up and you must have nearly the required number of points. The test, according to Gen. Ike, is whether you are in non-essential work. Let’s hear the lowdown on the situation. Lad has received his camera back again and intended to send it to you but decided that you would be home long before it reached you. And by the way, if you are shipped home via Frisco and not through the canal, Marian suggested that when you dock you call up her folks, listed under the name of Mowry Irwin, address 11 La Noria, Orinda, Calif., phone Orinda 8081, tell them who you are and they will tell you how to get out there to visit them. Also Aunt Dorothy would probably like to have you visit her. Last known address: 950 Pine St, S.F.

Who do you think called me up last week and asked if I could perform a marriage ceremony here? You’d never guess, Sandy Rubsamen. His mother, sister, and three other friends arrived Wednesday night (and cold it was too) and I married them here in the alcove. The girl comes from Pennsylvania. And the day before I married a sailor, just discharged, to the daughter of a former motorcycle police officer named FitzRoy who once arrested me on a trumped up charge of a taxicab man in Bridgeport, claiming he smelled liquor on my breath. And the bridesmaid was — you’ll never guess this one either — Evelyn Hughes.

Were you too young or do you remember that battleship game that Larry introduced us to years ago? The boys found some of the old sheets in the table drawer where they had been reposing for years and revived the craze as far as the family was concerned using all the 40 or so sheets of it we had; so I have asked George to cut another stencil and may send you a few sheets which you may play with some of your buddies to while away some of the tedious hours. And that gives me an idea. We might bring it up to date and instead of sinking enemy ships with gunfire we might modernize it by introducing a carrier instead of a cruiser, and do our sinking with airplanes or possibly atomic bombs. And you might start a craze in Bridgeport at the same time advertising the Guion Co. by getting out some with our name on them and mailing them out with bills, offering to supply additional copies (also with our name on them) on request. See what you can work out in a promotional way on this when you get a copy. What will we put on our giveaway copies as our ad? How will we distribute them? What charge shall we make in quantities if the stunt goes over as a fad? Try your hand at Guion promotional efforts. Right now I’m hoping you can be back early enough this year so that after taking a good rest and loafing until you feel the urge to work, you can still get the hang of things long enough so that I can feel free to get away for a month beginning about Aug. 15th, just before hay fever starts, and spend that unpleasant season at the Island, where perhaps they are free from ragweed and the accompanying hay fever. It’s something to look forward to anyway even if it doesn’t come true.

Tomorrow, the last piece of this letter. It is a letter to Dan with thought and comments on life in Trumbull.

On Saturday and Sun day, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion




Trumbull – Dear Boys – A Birthday Celebration – Aug., 1942


Aunt Elsie Duryee – Grandpa’s sister

Trumbull, Conn., August 8, 1942

Dear Boys:

It’s raining, Lad is home and we got a letter from Dan; and as this sums up about all the news, I’ll now close. DAD

Hold on there, says you. That’s no way to write a letter. Well, he replies, that’s a lot better than getting no letter at all. (Business of Ced flinching and looking a bit guilty). Even if it’s only a postcard, like the fellow sent home to his wife: “Having a fine time, wish you were her.”) Which shows what happens when a letter is omitted. At least you can if you have a good imagination. Moral, don’t omit letters. Q.E.D.

We are now enjoying one of those all-day steady rains. It started last night in fact and has been quietly and persistently keeping up. Yesterday afternoon I decided to paint our porch chair and as the weather even then looked a bit threatening, I took the chair and paint upstairs in the barn. There was some other furniture there too, and in my innocence, I left them together for a few moments alone, feeling sure that as this had been Aunt Betty’s chair, it had from association, learned some measure of discretion, and you can therefore imagine my surprise a short time later on my return to find a foundling on the doorstep in the shape of another camp chair, which I duly adopted into the family, painted a sort of a character whitewash, and, I suppose, for moral effect, will have to sit on hard occasionally.

Lad dropped in last night on one of the raindrops, I guess. Anyway, there he was this morning, big as life, peacefully sleeping in the bed beside Dave. As his course in Cadre School will be completed next week, he expects to be assigned definitely to some other activity and will therefore not be able to get home. However, if things break right, he may be able to get home the weekend following – – that’s of the 22nd, on which we are planning to celebrate Dick’s and Aunt Elsie’s birthday, although I am not sure Elsie will be able to make it. Also, from Dan’s last letter, it does not look particularly hopeful that Dan will be able to get off either. He says the rumor mill has died down again and it looks as though they might stay on at Roanoke Rapids for a spell longer. Meantime his fame as a lecturer, quartette and choir singer seems to be stirring the little southern town into a seething realization of what a damn Yankee from Conn. really can be like. It is even rumored he will broadcast over their local station.

And here we are now just about where we started.

The moving finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all of your piety or wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a line

Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.

          So says Omar Khayyam, and while I see no reason at present to cancel anything above, neither can I think of more to say at this writing that will add either to your information or entertainment. Flash – Dave just came in and said, “Whatever you do, don’t miss an opportunity to see Mrs. Miniver.”



Special Picture # 299 – Dan Writes Home About the Red Cross in London – 1944

The following article appeared in The Bridgeport Post on Monday, March 27, 1944.


Red Cross on Call for All Servicemen in London, Corp. Guion Tells Family

The American Red Cross in London is “a composite Travelers’ aid, shopping guide, nursemaid, companion, entertainer,  tour conductor, encyclopedia, Dorothy Dix and hostess, all at the beck and call of any G. I. in uniform”, according to Corp. Daniel B.  Guion, of Trumbull, now stationed in London.

“Because it occupies such a prominent place in my mind today, I am dedicating this letter to the ARC (American Red Cross)”, Corp. Guion recently wrote to his father, Alfred D. Guion, of Trumbull.

The clubs in London have been a Godsend to every American serviceman who has come to London,  wanting to get the most out of his visit, the Trumbull soldier continues. “Maps, accommodations, education, information, entertainment, all are the daily diet of the ARC.”

Rooms and meals, he says, are available at minimum cost. “But nicest of all, a new ARC club has just opened quite near the place rather different from the downtown London clubs, more like a USO in that there are no overnight facilities to attract the Grand Central Terminal crowd, that prevails in the regular clubs, coming and going at all hours of the day and night, unkempt from travel, gas masks and musette bags drooping from weary shoulders as they lineup for lodgings.”

This club, designed for men stationed in the area rather than for transient servicemen, appeals strongly to Corp. Guion’s sense of the historic and dramatic.

On Site of Old Palace

“This local ARC is housed in a building built by Christopher Wren for Queen Anne, in the early 18th century,” he explains.  “It is built on the site of an old palace,  which, causes it to fairly reek of atmosphere and tradition, despite the modern comforts that have been added for its present function.”


Great figures of Britain’s past, who have stopped there, or played their parts in the immediate vicinity, include 21 Kings, four queens, Chaucer, Woolsey, Sir Walter Raleigh, Francis Bacon, Spencer (“he read the Faery Queen to Queen Bess”) and Dean Swift.

Open Fireplace

“There is an open fireplace in virtually every room. Library, music room, dining room, information desk, all contribute notably to our comfort indoors, while spacious lawns, secluded bowers, gardens and aged walls lend an aura of romantic antiquity to the grounds around it. Glimpses of barges and boats can be caught through the trees that line the further edge of the lawn past which a river flows.

“By fortunate coincidence I am able to take advantage of this club during the daylight hours all this week, because I have begun working on a shift job which changes hours periodically.”

Corp. Guion is not new to world travel. As a U.S. government engineer, he traveled through a good bit of South America, spending some time working in Venezuela, and before entering service, was given an assignment in Alaska. He had his early education in Trumbull schools, attending Central High School, and was graduated from the University of Connecticut. He has been overseas with the U.S. Army for several months.

Mr. Guion, Sr.,  is an enthusiastic volunteer worker for the Trumbull branch, Bridgeport chapter, American Red Cross, which he serves as director of public information.

“We all know the Red Cross is doing a grand job, here and abroad.” he says. “But it gives an added boost to your morale to hear directly from your own boy how extremely well the organization is serving our men overseas.”

Tomorrow, another Special Picture.

On Monday, I’ll be posting letters from January, 1946. Both Lad and Marian, and Dick and Jean are home in Trumbull, settling into civilian life. Ced is still in Alaska, Dan and Paulette are in France and Dave is in Manila, Philippines. Grandpa is looking forward to the time when all five of his sons are back in Trumbull.

Judy Guion



Army Life – Dear Dad (1) – Life at Aberdeen and Round-Robin From Friends – July, 1942

Lad Guion

July 12, 1942

Dear Dad:

You asked me to let you know how I made out in my teaching course. The class was divided into five groups, by final score on the complete course, and I was in the fourth group. Not quite as good as the best, but well up in the class. And, to top matters, I’m now, plus everything else, instructing a class in Diesel Engines. Anyhow, that could hardly be bettered in the Army, as far as I’m concerned. But it does mean a lot of work on my part, because it is a new course, and I have to lay out a teaching program and the fellow who is in on the ground floor with me (there were only two of us in the whole Dep’t.) knows very little about Diesels. In fact, I’ve had to teach him quite a bit so far. However, we get along together well, and I think I’ll enjoy the work. He is a corporal and his name is Donald Frankenhausen. Our first class starts tomorrow.

The battery for my razor arrived yesterday to the tune of $3.22 which isn’t too bad at all.

Do you remember the parade ground on which they were building? Instead of four buildings there are now 19 completed, 27 others with the floors laid and ready for the sides and roofs, 23 more with the floor frames in place and 46 in various stages of completion. In two or three weeks the complete layout will be ready for occupation.

I’ve not had a chance to see the Captain about insurance or anything else as yet, but I hope to find time this week.

Well, I’ve got to get going on my lesson plans again, so – hasta luego –



The Gang at the Trumbull House - 1934

Trumbull, Conn., July 19, 1942

Dear Boys:

Sunday afternoon has rolled around once again, and a hot one it is, too. Around the festive board at dinner today were gathered, in addition to the regular denizen, Biss and Jean and Catherine – – my two little grandsons having joined the two Wardens in a Child’s Restaurant meal, just previous to our meal in the grand salon (no, it is not spelled incorrectly) in the Guion ménage.



I have just been interrupted (however not rudely) while playing a very interesting game of Bridge. Barbara was a student of mine along the same line, but so far has succeeded in winning almost every hand. Hereafter, the next to potential learners shall not be included when it comes to discussing the why’s and wherefore’s of such little items as trumping your partners aces, etc. All this really boils down to the fact that my forefinger is getting a bit numb from trying to hit the wrong keys. Hoping you are the same —— Jane

(6th female from the left)


Dear Bo s, I mean Boots, I mean Boys:

I bet you can never guess who? After what Jane wrote, I mean. I mean Hello! WE went swimming this afternoon. It was hundred and 62° in the shade of the Old Apple Tree ?-/%. Wow! Dick Jean, David, Bob Shadick, Jane and I started out in Dick’s car for Tungstyen Mine. There were so many kids there we couldn’t even See the Water, so– after getting almost practically stuck in a big mud puddle, — “we left”. From there in three jobs we landed in the Pequonnock back of Sirene’s. (Where we went swimming) so now everyone is nice and cool and happy, too cool and happy to play tennis event. I can’t figure any way to use the other marks (#$^*&) I don’t know any jokes with cussing, and don’t even know what $ and % mean. I can’t even discover another word to use instead of even even.


(partially hidden, directly behind boy in front row, center, wearing white)


hello !!!!

Jean (Mrs. Richard) Guion

this is me  –  jean  –  guess what? something new has been added. another year. yep, i’m getting on in years now. i guess barbara and jane told you all the news, but barbara was mistaken, i’m happy but I’m not so cool. oh, I forgot to tell you, i’m twenty-two now. this is modern design – no capitals. hope you are all fine and happy —–

ced, lad,dan,

bye now, jean


This is the first page of a Round-Robin letter from friends to Lad, Dan and Ced. They are all at the Trumbull house, as happened quite often on Sunday afternoons. Tomorrow, a very long section from Dick, and the conclusion from Grandpa with more news about friends and family.

On Saturday and Sunday, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion