Special Picture # 320 – Kemper Foster Peabody – Arla (Peabody) Guion’s Father – 1886

Kemper Foster Peabody (my great-grandfather) was born at Plymouth, Wisconsin, August 2, 1861. He attended Shattuck Military School in Faribault, Minnesota. He was a Civil Engineer and about five years after this picture was taken, was a member of the Second  Legislative Assembly of North Dakota. On  June 26, 1889, he married Anna Charlotta Westlin, born at Ostersund, Jemptland, Sweden, May 13, 1865.They had 7 children: Burton Westlin, Arla Mary (Peabody) Guion, Kemper Francis, Helen Perry (Peabody) Human, Anne Westlin (Peabody) Stanley, Laurence Kane and Dorothy Westlin Peabody. 



Trumbull – Rx – Dear Patients (2) – A Family Round-up -February 27, 1944



OLD DOC GUION HIMSELF: On the basis of the old saying, “Physician, heal thyself”, I suppose this report would not be complete without a word as to the author. At present he is suffering from an extended case of painindeatus caused by too frequently sitting down to read letters from his patients that keep crowding into Box 7 with scarcely a let-up. This, however, is only during the day. He starts the morning right and ends up in a happy frame of mind before retiring by inspecting his bureau on which, side-by-side, stant photographs of his two daughters-in-law — one of them a California gift and the other a Valentine.

Hints to toilers on the homefront. Every so often we have the urge to use the mail facilities Uncle Sam has provided to supplement the weekly letter by some little trinket as a token of our thought of you and naturally the thought pops up, “What shall it be?” And then we try to think back on what has been previously sent and how acceptable it was and the only clue we can recall are the words, “Your package arrived O.K..” Lots of help in that, isn’t there? So you can imagine my delight when letters arrived simultaneously from each of you boys giving me just the answers I wanted. I quote from Lad: “That cloth you sent to shine up my rifle and other hardware with was undoubtedly well intended but in your ignorance you didn’t know that the Army doesn’t allow us to use anything of that sort.” From Dan: “Those playing cards with my initials on them, I am sorry to say, are just cluttering up my pack. In the first place, I don’t get time to play, even solitaire, and in the second place, I wouldn’t play if I had the time. Thanks just the same”. From Dick: “Now what do you suppose a soldier could do with a dinky little round knife and nail file? That might be O.K. down Trumbull way for civilian use, but sorry, Dad, it’s pretty useless here.” Well, boys, that’s fine. Just what I wanted to know, and then when your letter continues with, “but, what I would like to have which I can’t get here is some, etc., etc.,” it just finished off with the right note. Why not make the dream come true? We all learn by experience but experience won’t help if it’s tongue-tied.

A postal from Ced en route written from St. Louis, 6 PM reports a comfortable trip that far. From my timetable he should have reached Texarkana very early Monday morning. However one of those formal Army change of notice cards from Lad dated February 20 informed me his new address was Pomona, and I am waiting to hear again from Ced as to whether or not he made it. It will also be interesting to hear from Ced and Lad and Marian as to their get together after all these years.

Time out  –  the furnace sheared a pin

2 hours later – after much effort the pin has been restored but in the meantime the fire has gone out, so I’ll just rather abruptly bring this missive to a close, get something to eat, light the fire and then I’ll really need a bath, which I shall duly take.

So long then, from


Tomorrow and Sunday, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion

Special Picture # 318 – Dan in Venezuela with Some of His Surveying Crew – 1939


Tomorrow, I’ll begin a week of letters written in 1944. Lad and Marian are in Texas. Ced has been home but is traveling back to Anchorage, Alaska, hopefully with a stop in Texarkana to see Lad and Marian. Dan is quite busy in London, Dick is in Brazil and Dave seems happy with his new situation in Uncle Sam’s Army. Grandpa tries to keep the home fires burning.

Judy Guion 


Special Picture # 317 – Alfred Peabody Guion – 1917

These are pictures of my Dad, Lad, taken about 1917.





Tomorrow, another Special Pictures.

On Monday letters from 1944 .Marian is following Lad wherever the Army sends him. Dan is overseas. Ced is still in Alaska, Dick is in Brazil and Dave is working on his Basic Training.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Ceddie, Dearie (4) – News From Family and Friends – September 13, 1942

This is the final page of a long round robin letter to Ced, from family and friends, gathered to celebrate Grandpa’s 58th birthday.

Dan in uniform @ 1945



In line with my somewhat radical idea that it is the fellow who has successfully reached another milestone on life’s journey who should be grateful enough for the privilege to remember his family with a token or two, I passed out a few small trinkets which seemed appropriate for each personality, and then turned my attention to a peculiar looking package which had just been brought in tied with a battered clothesline, to which a large placard was attached reading as follows:

“Steeped in the traditional Guion sentimentality, a

group of your progeny and assorted admirers have

donated this gift for your smoking pleasure, or

any other dissipation that might appeal to you.”

Inside a large cigar box was a tiny little cigar, around which were wrapped bills in the amount of FIFTY dollars. For a moment I guess I was sort of knocked speechless.

After dinner dishes were washed, the family went out in the bright sunshine of the backyard to have a birthday snapshot taken to send it to you, Ced, in due course. Cards with birthday greetings from Aunt Betty, Elsie, Jean (Mortensen) and Dick, and a flashlight from Barbara (Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend) rounded out the day in a very pleasant manner.

The photos in your letter, Ced, certainly aroused quite a bit of comment. Dick and Dan as well as myself were especially interested to see the airplane view of Anchorage. Your tire trouble has a familiar ring. Just yesterday I had much the same experience myself and am now without a spare until Carl picks up a tire he expects to come in tomorrow which may serve the purpose. I am also going to see if I can’t get a Briggs filter to send to you as requested. There is also on its way to you a little birthday remembrance in addition to the Reader’s Digest, which I hope you will find interesting.

Attached you will find some round robins which you will perhaps appreciate all the more when I tell you most of the writers did not have to be urged, but in most cases, eagerly volunteered to add their bit when it was announced that you were to be the recipient.

About the only other incident I think of is that the man came to put our Stoker in condition yesterday, so with coal in the bin and the furnace ready for duty, the onset of winter can be faced with a fair amount of composure. Lad and Dan both go back tonight and probably will not be home for a week or so. Lad is now wearing his sergeant stripes and looks very well in his uniform. Both boys look very fit and Army life seems to be agreeing with them.

Have not heard from Grandma or the other Peabody’s lately so I assume no news is good news.

Write again soon and don’t forget to include further chapters on the plane rescue expedition.


Tomorrow, a letter from Barbara Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend, to Ced.

On Saturday and Sunday, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Ceddie, Dearie (2) – News From Friends and Family – September 13, 1942

This is the second page of a long, round-robin letter sent to Ced from all the young people gathered at the Trumbull House this Sunday afternoon, as well as a letter from Grandpa.



Ced – This here is me, little Dave. I ain’t got nuttin much to say, an’ if I did, I’d have rit ya a letur bifor. I’m back in scool now an’ lik it swal. The members of the choir, a part of which I have been for some time now, often speak of you and ask how you are. Today, I taught my first Sunday School class. I guess maybe I would find me a bit changed now, but I still stick to my good old habits of being in “crabby” moods, not cleaning up my room, and sucking my thumb. No kiddin’, Ced, someday, I’ll write you a letter. —Dave.

Dear Ced-

I am seating.   IAS

Dear Ced-.

As a matter of fact, I am still working at Producto !!!! Odly enough, I am also spending my evenings, usually with Jean’s very helpful cooperation. Charley Hall is home for two or three weeks before the fall session starts after having attended school all summer. Red had two weeks in June or July and will have another one next week. He and I planned to go camping at this time, but I decided I couldn’t take the time away from work. Tell Dick the socks I, or Jean and I promised him, are still a promise; but should mature before too long. Give my regards to Rusty and all others I knew. Here’s hoping I see you all before too many years have passed. So long, now,


Dear Box 822—–

About those socks mentioned above, I made those last Jan., but for some reason I never got around to sending them. So, would you please tell Dick that I promise to send them before the real cold weather sets in. Charlie Hall just came in, and he says “Hello Ced”. Jane just arrived on the scene, and it seems she has something to say to you.

So long,

Jean M. (Hughes)

Hi Ced,

I aint’ saying much onaccounta I think you owe me a letter, ( both of us ) I will condescend to say Hi tho’, like I have at the beginning of this little section of words so sweetly _____  _____  Charlie (Hall)

I will continue posting the next two pages on Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday, I’ll post a letter from Barbara Plumb,  Dan’s girlfriend, to Ced.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Rover Boys (1) – Trumbull – News From Dan and Ced – February 3, 1946


Trumbull, Conn., Feb. 3, 1946

Dear Rover Boys:

Well, here it is February again. The groundhog came out yesterday, glanced at his shadow and went back in again, until six more months of cold weather have passed and then he will peek out again to see if Dave or Dan have made any definite homecoming plans, and I shall be looking over his shoulder to see what he sees. As for Ced, with rocket ships making the trip from coast to coast in four hours, all we need do is wire him in the morning that another of the family has come home and he can be with us in time for supper, provided of course he doesn’t have to spend too much time shinnying up the front porch pillar to make a surprise entry as he did before (Of course by that time he may have thought of some other method of ingress). But as I started to say before that groundhog switched me off the track, this is a short month and less than four weeks from now we will be in March and that comes pretty near marking the end of winter and the beginning not only of the Spring season but that welcome time when Europe and Asia will loosen their grasp on the rest of the Guion’s, and (in Dan’s case) plus.

Yesterday, Dan, your blanket started on its overseas journey and next week we will start on the civilian clothes for you. By the way, yesterday, two government checks by your order reached me and have been deposited to your account. This restores a good credit balance again so you can keep right on ordering your Trumbull purchasing agent to function without letting your conscience bother you.

For the delectation of the rest of you, here is what Dan says in the two letters that arrived last week, which by the way, marked up a 100% record with letters also from Ced and Dave. But unfortunately I find I left part of these at the office, so that there will not be a complete quotation. Here is what Dan says: “Epinal, France, 1/17/46, This is one of those persistent notes which serve merely to assure you that I am alive and well. I expect to be here in the Moselle Valley for a couple of weeks. I see Chiche more often these days. She is still at Douai and both she and “Jean-Pierre” are doing well. Please include half a dozen bibs in the layette – even our baby will probably drool a bit, or spill things. I get homesick quite often these days  — conditions are far from comfortable, in spite of posters which have been appearing throughout France lately  “Ca va deja mieux” – it goes already better. Ah well, each day brings me 24 hours closer to home.

(2 days later) In this Yankee deserted town it has taken me two days to borrow a stamp to mail this letter. In the interim it has suddenly become possible (through the kindness of the establishment in this hotel) to have Chiche come here to stay until the survey is finished. Naturally I am all excited at the prospect, so if you no longer get a 5-page letter from me every day during the next couple of weeks, I’m sure you’ll understand. Received the “Christmas Report” and a card from Al and Marian. Glad to hear that Cedric is back among his klootches.”

And here is what Ced contributes: “Things have settled down to the old routine — drab and uninteresting and too darn much to do with too little time to do it. Sunday I begin the week to the sound of Big Ben’s sweet and faithful chime from its face down position on the dressing table. I quit work at 4 in the afternoon, go home and clean up, out to dinner at a local boarding house, where for a dollar one can get a good home-cooked meal and eat as much as he likes. Then I generally go out to visit someone I have promised perhaps a dozen times to drop in on. To bed fairly early as work starts Monday morning at 7 A.M.

Page 2   2/3/46

necessitating a 6 o’clock arising again. Monday night after dinner at the boarding house I have a couple of hours to write or do some other necessary chore, then at 8 P.M. to bed and up at 4 A.M. Tuesday and out to work at 4:30. Off at 2 P.M. in the afternoon, and by the time I warm up the T-Craft and put in an hours flying time, it is again 4 P.M. and I go home, clean up and go out to eat at Lomen’s boarding house. To work at 7 A.M. Wednesday, and as I’m tired from the 4:30 A.M. morning, I haven’t much ambition and usually content myself with a short visit with friends again, and turn in early. So goes the rest of the week until Saturday which is my day off, but there are only 52 Saturdays in a year and if one happens to be cloudy it is more or less lost for recreational purposes. That becomes far too inadequate for my peace of mind, and so far I haven’t any more than looked at a pair of skis. Of course any work on the airplane has to be done on Saturday, and with all the work necessary on the Buick, things are in one heck of a shape. What is really wrong, I guess, is that the days are still too short. I am always droopy on the short days. Last Saturday I flew for about an hour and a half in the morning then I tore the engine of the plane apart and ground a valve which had been leaking since somewhere in Canada on the way up. I guess there was too much high octane gasoline put into it on the Canadian leg of the trip. What I did to the engine fixed it up in fine shape anyhow, and in spite of the fact that I worked on it till 2 A.M. Sunday morning, I was pleased to have the job done satisfactorily.”