The week’s pay that Ruth received is already spent; she is in her third week on the night shift. Lydia is still sick and has had a cold for 6 weeks now. Dave confesses that he’s been no saint, but since losing his job in 1929 and being unable to find work, he’s mended his ways. He hints that Ruth is a “keeper”. Ruth has moved to Jay St. in Albany and has a new landlady, Mrs. Conlon.
February 17, 1935
Sunday, 12:20 a.m.
Dear Dave,
Just by way of making this a you owe me situation, I will spare a little of my valuable time and write about three words to you.
Mrs. McCreedie had a lot to say because I received another letter from you this morning. She sure does check up on you. At least you satisfied her curiosity last Sunday thanks to Lydia.
I think I will have to speak to Francis about getting Lydia in earlier. She tells me she has had a cold for at least six weeks. I threaten to take her to see a doctor, but she says she is o.k. Looks like I’m the only one in the crowd who can take it. Lydia has had a cold all winter, Fran gets crabby because he has to lay off smoking and you develop a case of the aches. As for me, well, let’s skip it.
Jack just came in and if he dares come in here and wake his mother up, I’ll throw him out the window or sompin’. She didn’t sit up today after all. Doesn’t look so good for that thar nurse of hers, does it?
Listen, don’t be mentioning hoarding to me. I didn’t have the first week’s pay long enough to find out what it looked like. Maybe they won’t even pay me this week because last night I missed the trolley and didn’t get here until 9:05. Oh yeah, speaking of being late, Lydia tells me that I wasn’t worried at all the night I was nearly an hour late. Holy cats, if I wasn’t worried, I never want to be.
What on earth have you been working in the woods at? Don’t try to tell me they have to have fuel in Middleburg. Have you been in swimming yet this year? I mean other than the time you chopped the hole in the ice.
Tonight starts my third week of night duty. At this moment I have put in just sixteen days and four hours of my practice work. How is that for keeping track of the time? I sort of like working at night now that I have gotten used to it. When I finish this case (if I ever do), I think I will ask for a night off before they put me back on register. After all, it wouldn’t be bad to know how it seems to sleep at night once again. Please note that I said I was asking for a night off so I could sleep.
Here is a little advice which I feel wouldn’t come amiss at this time. In as much as you have had so much to say about Francis going to a show and not knowing what it is all about, you had better check up on yourself. The next time anyone mentions something that seems like Greek to you, please don’t confess you never heard of it. After all, it might be something you failed to see in the show. I have come to the conclusion that your eyes are very bad and I believe your glasses do need changing, but still there is no excuse for your hearing going haywire. So kindly remember, when in doubt the least you can do is remain silent. If you do, you may spare yourself a little kidding.
Here it is only 1:20 and I am hungry again. I guess I’ll take a squint at my patient, slip on something and go downstairs. If I find any coffee to brew, I may let you smell of it.
It’s winter again, or should I say yet. It is snowing a tiny bit up here so you are probably having a blizzard in Middleburg. Take it easy, you know you promised not to say anything about Adams Center.
Now that you owe me, I won’t need to write again for a couple weeks.
R.J.P.
February 18, 1935
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dear Ruth,
Arrived home shortly after two a.m., rather earlier than usual. Lydia was still with us when we drove by your place. I didn’t dare pull the same stunt I did the other Sunday, however, I did tell them when we got on Brookline that if they sat in the car too long, I would have to drive back on New Scotland again.
We went over to cousin Nellie’s and stayed there until shortly after twelve. Had quite a pleasant time. Lydia and I took a back seat (not in the car) and let Francis do most of the talking. We had only been there a short time when Nellie’s husband brought out a bottle of wine and gave each of us a wine glass full. I guess Fran was more surprised at that than either Lydia or I because when he used to know them they were dead against anything like that and he took particular pains to remind them of the time when they were.
They want us all to come over next Sunday and go to a show or sumpin. They also suggested that if you didn’t have to work, we might go to Schenectady to some sort of a spiritualist meeting. Can you feature that one? However, Fran and I both know something about the crowd we would meet if we went there so we will stay clear of that. We got in on one of their parties by accident once before and it was plenty wild. Fran says that is where Nellie must have got in the habit of smoking and drinking.
Well, Stubby, it is now 5 p.m. and I suppose you are just about getting up from your daytime snooze. Did you sleep any better in your new room and have you seen the other nurse yet? You probably spent all of the morning getting settled and will just about get your usual three or four hours sleep. I never want to hear you say anything about getting in early so you can sleep because now I know you can get along without it. Of course that only goes in case I ever get the chance to keep you out after nine o’clock. And that brings me right back to the same old subject: Resolved that—I shall come to Albany to see you despite your protests to the contrary. I must say it was awfully nice of you to think of it and put it up to me the way you did in that letter last week. However, I still think that the pleasure I get in seeing you is well worth the time and effort spent in doing so. You see, Ruth, I seldom go out myself except on Sunday and I don’t feel like giving up that one pleasure. I don’t mean that I couldn’t go out more if I wanted to but in order to get in with most of the young people it seems as though you just have to be able to take a drink and dance or else you don’t belong. Since I don’t have the desire for the drink or the ability to dance, I usually stay at home.
Maybe this will make you think I am trying to paint a picture of myself as being the perfect gentleman or something of that kind, but I’m far from being anything of that sort. In fact to borrow a famous phrase from Mae West and put it in the past tense, “I have been no angel.” I’m not at all proud of the kind of life I led from the time I got out of school until late in 1929. When I lost my job then and there wasn’t any more work to be found, I had to cut out the fast life and since then I guess I’ve had plenty of time to think it over and see the error of my ways. It isn’t every day that one can go out and meet a girl of your type. So now that I have been lucky enough to meet you, can you blame me for wanting to keep on seeing you as long as you will have me.
(intermission)
Two hours later and I guess it is a good thing I had to stop for supper or I would have had this letter filled with dry reading for you. But you mustn’t mind me, Stubby, once in a great while I get to thinking and if I happen to be writing at the time, the thoughts just seem to follow down my arm and right out of this confounded pen. I’m not just sure there is such a word as I just applied to this pen and I haven’t a dictionary handy to look it up but I don’t think it is swearing anyway.
However, I did let one get the best of me Sunday night. Lydia said she was going to tell you so I guess I had better confess. We stopped at the gas station just after we drove by your place and the man who put the gas in told me the cap was gone from the tank. I can’t remember just what I did say but I do know it wasn’t anything I ever learned in Sunday School.
Francis decided to go to work today after all. I don’t know what changed his mind. I had to go to Cooksburg (the first city below Preston Hollow) this morning and on my way back I met him going down. When I got back here there was a fellow waiting for me who wanted me to take him to Middleburg so I did practically nothing today but run around. This same fellow wants me to take him to Albany Friday afternoon. I didn’t promise that I would but if it is decent day and he doesn’t find some other way, I will. If I do, I’ll give you a call. I didn’t write that number down but I think it is 35859. Am I right?
Guess I’ll have to cut the chatter or I’ll have to send this in a package instead of an envelope. I’ll glance thru the paper and by that time you’ll be ready for work and I for bed.
Yours ’til the kitchen sinks,
Dave
February 21, 1935
70 Jay Street
Albany, N.Y.
Dear Dave,
Looks like I’ll have to chuck this night duty so I can keep you straight on Sunday nights. You can’t realize how badly I felt when I learned that you had been a naughty boy and used profanity. Now I shall have to wash your mouth out with soap of the hardest kind. It will hurt me to have to do it, but I feel you must be taught that it isn’t nice to swear. Maybe if you promise never to do it again, I will let you go this time. Maybe you were justified this time. I think I lost the cover to the gas tank on our Essex once. I can’t remember that Bill swore, but it probably wasn’t because he didn’t feel like it.
What I would have given to have been along Sunday night just to have the pleasure of seeing you and Lydia endure hearing someone else talk. So you indulged just because I wasn’t there. I can see where the crowd is going to the dogs if I don’t come to the rescue.
Listen, my deah Mr. Coffin, what I couldn’t do to you for taking that proof to have a picture made. Holy cats, why did you have to take that awful looking thing? If you say that was a good picture, I insist that your eyes are in a bad way and need immediate attention. The proof that I sent back wasn’t quite as bad and you could have gotten that from the “Art Union” as long as you say you had to have one. If I remember correctly, on the proof I sent back there was the trace of a smile so I didn’t appear so crabby. I thought once if the picture looked fairly decent after it was finished, I might get some individual ones. But now I think I’ll wait until I can have my picture taken in my white uniform (if I ever get it).
Wow! Did I get the compliments about the snapshots I sent home. Someone said my feet showed up good and Eva’s husband said it was a good looking uniform. I says nutz to them. If they don’t like the looks of me, they know what they can do.
Thanks oodles for reminding Lydia to call me. She called last night and maybe I wasn’t tickled. She said you told her to call. I haven’t seen anyone I know to talk to this week so the first person I see is apt to get a lot of talking at once when I do see someone.
The landlady introduced me to the other girl Monday night but I haven’t seen her only once since. She is gone in the morning when I get home and I leave shortly after she gets home at night. I guess I sleep as good there as I can anywhere in the day time.
I do feel sort of lonesome about five o’clock at night, but I soon get over it as I have to get ready to go to work. Large families are nice but, believe me, it is darned hard to stay alone after being used to having so many around. Mrs. Conlon brought your letter up about twelve-thirty and pushed it under the door. I was supposed to be asleep but it didn’t take long for me to get out of bed and get it. I also had a letter from Lydia tonight in which she sent a letter received from Eva, one from Jo and a letter sent to Eva by my mother. Gee, it was almost as much fun as a Christmas tree.
Well, I take it you are coming up Sunday afternoon. I guess I have exhausted my supply of arguments. “So what am I supposed to do about it?” I must say you are pretty good on the comeback. I bet you could win most any debate.
Gee whiz! If I don’t do something about that Lydia, I can consider my complexion ruined. I guess I’ll equip her with a safety valve. I told her she was like the parrot. Remind me to tell you it is ok because it is a story one of the doctors told at graduation in the presence of a minister. Oh yeah, I have a cute one to tell you about one of my girlfriends who had her mouth washed out with soap suds when she was little.
I have a bone to pick with you. You see it is like this, you had me to believe that Fran hadn’t done anything on his station. All those would-be smart cracks I made were all uncalled for. I think he has a cute little station, and now I have to take back everything. Just to pay you back, I’ll start checking up on the chick house. Sounds to me like some of it at least is still in the can. Some Sunday afternoon before long I think we should round up a crusade to go to Middleburg and inspect your creation. What do you think?
“Read it and weep.” I mean the following. I had a letter all written to Florence and Lydia forgot to give me her address, so now I’ll have to wait another week to learn how she casts her spell over Ben. That lets you out for another week at least. However, I will find out sooner or later and then things will start happening (probably to me).
Congratulations on accomplishing something I thought was impossible. How did you ever get Lydia in so early?
You have the telephone number, right? I can’t even remember it. The name is Conlon 3-5859 but I can’t find it in the directory.
By all means, call me if you are in town Friday afternoon. I will be up not later than 4:30 and probably earlier. I’ll tell Mrs. Conlon to call me if you call anyway. If you should happen to be near the house, you might stop in. You needn’t feel that you are making me lose any sleep as I am getting up early so I can go up and have Lydia wave my hair. I did plan to go downtown Friday afternoon, but it suddenly dawned on me that since it is Washington’s birthday, the stores will probably be closed.
Guess what? Was I surprised, they told me that there was some ham in the refrigerator for my lunch. Miss Fulder says it is against their religion to eat ham, but the younger generation eats it just the same.
I managed to get that Greyhound check cashed. I sure did work it slick. I went into the restaurant on Lark Street Monday night and when I went to pay the check, I gave him the check. He looked sort of dubious, but I sort of carried the idea that it was all I had. So he decided if he didn’t cash it, he might be out of luck. I could have paid for my dinner without having it cashed, but I wasn’t telling him so.
Listen “big Boy”, me thinks you had better lay off the flattery, after all, I’m not much different than any other girl. You know you would feel bad if you thought you were the cause of me developing a superiority complex. You can’t tell me much about the things a person has to do in order to be popular. Somehow I know what it feels like to be a black sheep or sompin’. I recall a short time ago of being in an apartment where there were eight or ten girls present. I guess there were two who didn’t smoke. I don’t see any harm in smoking and if I liked to, I would. But I’m not doing anything on the sly that I wouldn’t do in the open. I’m not narrow and I think if anyone likes to drink, that is their own business. They aren’t hurting anyone but themselves. If I liked to drink, I would do so, but I can’t bear the taste of the darned stuff. I don’t believe this generation is any worse than any other. There have always been the two classes of people and probably always will be. I am sorry I never learned to dance. I realize that I was a sap not to have learned when I was in high school. Come to think of it, I don’t believe there were hardly any of the members of my class who danced. I don’t know why either because they were always having dances at school. Someday I may learn to dance yet (if I’m not too dumb).
Something tells me I have bored you almost enough. I guess I have discussed everything in this letter from the price of pigs to the evils of swearing. I wish I could write a decent letter, but I ramble on and skip from one thing to another and when I have finished, I haven’t said anything. Looks like I should take a lesson or two from you.
I almost forgot to tell you that I guess Lydia plans to go down to Slingerland’s Sunday. So if I don’t hear from you before, maybe I’ll be seeing you about 3:30 p.m. Sunday.
It is now 2:05 and whether I have done anything else or not, I have succeeded in passing two hours away just writing this letter. I’m not hungry yet, but just from force of habit, I’ll go downstairs and attempt to scare up something to eat.
Au revoir,
Ruth
Graduation June 27, 1933, Union Academy, Belleville, NY; Ruth Parker is in the back row, 3rd from the right.