Ruth is still working the night-shift, but this time with a different patient, Mrs. Finkelstein. She says Lydia is concerned about her never getting enough sleep; she writes to Dave during the wee hours to keep herself awake. Dave doesn’t get to see Ruth when he makes the next trip to Albany with Francis, and describes what he did instead.
February 7, 1935
73 Brookline Avenue
Albany, N.Y.
Dear Dave,
So it was 12:20 when Lydia got in Sunday night. She told me if I didn’t believe her, I could ask McCreedies as the dog barked when you went by. I asked McCreedies when the dog barked and they said 3:30 a.m. Seems like I have the girlfriend bothered. I suppose I will have to believe you, but remember there are those who wouldn’t.
I’m still doing my stuff nights from 9 p.m. to 9 a.m. It isn’t as hard now as it was at first to keep awake. There isn’t so much work, only the general care night and morning. My patient is a lady who had had a shock. She is seventy years old and hasn’t much use of one side. She is helpless so there is plenty of lifting to be done, but being a farmer, I have lots of strength so we get along swell. I don’t know whether they will keep me more than a week or not. I sort of think it might be a long case. I had just as soon it would be because I don’t like to change so often.
Lydia and I had a slight argument this morning about whether or not I should go out Sunday afternoon or not. She thinks I should sleep and I say if I sleep six days a week, I should be able to chizzle a little on Sunday.
I usually get to bed about 10 a.m. and get up at 5 p.m. It is awfully hard to sleep on swell days like we have had this week. By the time I get home in the morning, I am wide awake and don’t feel like sleeping.
Regardless of what Lydia says, if you should happen to be around Brookline Avenue Sunday about 4 p.m., I might go out. I’m going out whether you come up or not. I can’t stand the life of a hermit much longer. If you come about four, that still gives you “five hours to waste.”
How is the finger? I meant to tell you to eat plenty of spinach and by all means don’t hold your breath. I believe if you follow my advice, you will soon have a new fingernail.
I told Mr. McCreedie tonight that you got the cap off the rubbing alcohol. He didn’t say much, only that I didn’t give him a chance. Probably it should have been parked on the radio for another week. I also reminded him that you had a sore finger.
We got the pictures that we took of each other last night. Talk about compound nuts, wait until you get a look at my picture (if you ever do). In one of the pictures I have a double chin and in the other my mouth was open (as usual). I can still get a chill when I look at them. We would pick the coldest day for me to be outdoors in short sleeves.
Ruth Parker, Albany 1935
You would have to show your mother that crazy looking picture. I think you picked the worst one in the bunch. If she made the remark you say she did, it was due to the relief she felt when she found I wasn’t quite as big as Ruth Distell.
I talked with Jane tonight. She has gone back to school in the new class. Gee, I’m glad I’m not taking the course over again, but I guess she doesn’t care much. Miss Distell is working in the hospital now. I bet she doesn’t feel like going out to spend the night now.
Goody, there goes the first milk wagon. When I hear the wagons start going by, it makes it seem more like morning. I have just finished my lunch. I’m supposed to eat at twelve, but usually wait until two. Mrs. Finklestein is usually asleep then and I don’t like to leave her when she isn’t.
When I came at nine o’clock, they said they thought it would never get time for me to come. She was restless and two of them were trying to quiet her. After I fixed her for the night, she went to sleep and is still sleeping soundly. Must be my magic touch that cast a spell over her.
They have a toy bulldog here instead of a cat. They think she is the cat’s neck tie, but I bet my dog could eat her before breakfast.
Lydia tells me Fran is coming up Saturday night while Spencer and Co. go to a meeting or sompin’. I think I’ll stick around until almost nine o’clock and haunt them a little. She also says he called her this week. I forgot to tell her (yet) but I think the only reason he called was because you called me last week and he doesn’t want you to get ahead of him.
Listen, “Wise Guy,” you will keep on making remarks about the “Black River Country” until I say something about Middleburg or worse yet, Ravena. You know how I would hate to be forced to do a thing like that. Anyway, even if the mercury does drop up there, it doesn’t seem as cold because our air is dry but not hot. There is one thing I can’t dope out and that is how you can be cutting ice in such a warm climate. Oh well, I suppose it is better for you that it doesn’t freeze much, because if it did freeze more than six inches thick, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.
I haven’t heard the latest development (if any) on the boyfriend’s gas station. I suppose he has it all finished and ready for business. Someone said you finished it up one night last week after work. Wow! If Fran ever hears that, will I get a slam.
This night duty has me writing letters so the Sandman won’t sneak up on me. Any mistakes you may have found you can lay to the fact that my eyes went shut.
I hope you didn’t hear me swear just then. I would swear more about this ______ pen if I wasn’t a lady. The darned thing just blotted and went on the letter and my uniform and, of course, I have no blotter. If I don’t chuck this pen before long, I’ll swear worse than a sailor’s parrot.
There goes the fire engine. The fire chief will go by just about every Sunday afternoon, so you may see him if you happen along.
I guess this is too much hooey for one night, so since this is the end of the paper, I’ll quit. If you come up Sunday about four o’clock, Lydia might let me go out. I’m getting up at 3:30 anyway. You can stop at the house and I might persuade Lydia to be there.
“Stubby”
February 11, 1934 [actually 1935]
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dear Ruth,
Just sat down to write this letter and a cat immediately jumps in my lap and is trying to find a comfortable place to park. He will probably decide this paper is the best place and plunk himself down on it before he is thru.
Say, am I tired or am I tired. My wrists ache, my legs ache and my back aches. Guess I need a nurse or “sumpin.” I have been down to a neighbor’s place today sawing wood on a buzz saw and we sure put in a day’s work. I am going to hit the hay as soon as I finish this and see if I can sleep the clock around.
You must have been rather sleepy yourself when you got home this morning if you didn’t get any sleep Sunday. I’ll bet it was a long night for you.
Did you see us when we went by on our way home? We went by, turned around and came back and blew the horn. I could see a light up there and someone moving around, but couldn’t tell if it was you or not. Anyway Lydia can’t say you were the one to keep her out late last night. She did say, however, she was going to tell you I was to blame because I wouldn’t bring her home any sooner. Francis also gave me the devil for waiting until we left Lydia before driving up there. He was driving when we came out of Brookline and he started right for home, but I reminded him of the promise I made you about coming back and that is when he jumped all over me. He said I should have gone up there before we left Lydia because she would think we were trying to get rid of her. However, you can tell her that was not the case. I just let it go until the last thing so you would know what time we started for home.
We picked up Florence and Ben at the station right after we left you. Ben hadn’t had his coffee yet so we stopped at the “Greasy Vest” in Troy and had some.1 I guess we spent most of the time in there. I know we sat there talking for a long time.
Florence and Ben are rather a queer couple according to my way of thinking. I think if I was Ben, I would tell her a few things. She just snaps the whip and poor Ben jumps.
Say, Stubby, here is a bit of friendly advice or warning, whichever you prefer. Take it from me brother Sprague is out after your scalp. He swears he is going to get even with you for all the slams you have given him, especially the ones in that last letter. I don’t mean that he is sore, in fact he likes it quite well, but he is doing his best to try and think of something to come back at you with. So you had better put on your war paint and prepare for battle. Maybe that crack about the gas station took effect, at least he went down by here on his way to work before I was out of bed this morning, and speaking of him, there he goes now on his way home. He sure put in a long day. I guess I haven’t anything to complain about after all.
Well, Ruth, Rutsie, Stubby, Fanny Farmer or what have you, how is the Hebrew lady coming along under your tender care? I hope you have luck enough to get away from there on a day case by next Sunday. Or better yet, have next Sunday entirely free. However, I suppose it would be just my luck to find you on a case where you had to go to work about six or seven.
I am taking so long in writing this letter that my mother has started making suggestions as to what I should write. She is afraid I can’t think of enough to say. She even suggested that I draw a picture of the cat’s paw which is resting on the corner of this paper.
Well at last my duty is done and U.O. me even though this may be rather dry reading. I’m now going to wind the cat and put the clock out so good night and pleasant dreams.
Dave
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