Ruth pokes fun at Dave’s finger injury; Lydia has been sick; Dave and Francis can’t make the trip to Albany and miss Ruth’s graduation.
January 29, 1935
73 Brookline Avenue
Albany, N.Y.
Dear Dave,
Looks like I’m spoiling you by writing two letters in one week, but I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again. I wouldn’t do it this time, only you are an invalid and I have to give in just a little.
So you need a nurse to hold your hand. Ruth Distell is still on register. Maybe you could get her. Probably wouldn’t matter who the nurse was as long as her name is Ruth. What do you think?
I am very sorry you hurt your finger and although I don’t believe in babying people, I can sympathize with you. Once I had my finger shut in a car door and I pulled it out without opening the door. I was just a little girl, but I can still remember how it hurt and it didn’t come off at the time either. I suppose you had sort of a pale, pink feeling.
I also sympathize with your mother if she has to have you around the house all of the time. I think I’ll write and tell her to let you wash dishes. It might make your finger get better sooner.
I bet you boys were sort of chilly before you got home. Of all the saps I ever met, you two are the biggest. I didn’t get cold myself, but I guess Lydia was cold. You must have resembled an icicle when you arrived at your destination.
Mrs. McCreedie worried about me. She said she thought I might be frozen to death somewhere. She said she meant to tell me to have you kids come in the house as they usually go to bed early on Sunday nights. I certainly appreciate her good intentions, but we would have appreciated them more Sunday night.
Speaking of cold weather, if you promise never to tell, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Okay, remember you promised. I had a letter from home today and they said Sunday it was 32 degrees below and then we have a fit because it is so cold down here.1
I have to go to bed early tonight as we have a banquet tomorrow night. I expect to be bored to death starving between courses. The girls want me to go out with them afterwards but I don’t dance, smoke or drink so the invitation has to be turned down. Jane said I could have you come up and I asked her if she thought you were a sap.
Listen, will you kindly tell me what struck you Sunday night? I don’t mind dirty slams as long as I can keep nearly even, but when they start heaping up, I can’t take it.
Hey, you said you had a call to arms Monday morning, but you forgot to mention whose arms. Did you find Tommy, or is he frozen up too?
Of course Mrs. McCreedie had to get the mail this morning and you should have heard her laugh when she saw the letter from Middleburg. She seems to think you are in a bad way.
I was down to see Lydia this afternoon and she can’t talk very much. She says she hasn’t much cold but I can’t tell if she has or not. She did condescend to let me get some stuff for her at the drug store last night. She is afraid she might lose her voice permanently so I think she will take care of herself. I harp at her all of the time like I was her grandmother, but she isn’t scared much. I know she works too hard, but she seems to think if she doesn’t, she will never get the work done.
If it is very cold Thursday night, remember I don’t want you to come up. If that finger gets cold, me thinks it will ache worse than ever, so you might as well stay at home and keep the cat company. If you aren’t here by 7:30 p.m., I will leave the house as I guess I’m supposed to be there early (for a change). I can’t wear only about half of my uniform down as it gets all wrinkled. I act the part of a grandmother now and I look the part when I get that darned uniform on.
I hope your finger gets better soon and doesn’t pain you. After all, how can I pick on a cripple who can’t fight back?
“Stubby”
P.S. How do you like the paper? It seems to have become a habit with me.
January 31, 1935
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dear Ruth,
Well here I am way out yonder in the sticks, as you would say, when I should be in Albany. So the best I can do is write a few lines in answer to your very nice letter. If you had not been so insistent in that you owe me business over the phone tonight, I probably wouldn’t have written this so soon.
I am still in Fran’s house. Have to wait here until about 11 o’clock for my brother. He is playing in the band down at school tonight. We will probably indulge in a pinochle game to pass away the time, that is if Francis ever gets around. He is shaving here in the kitchen and Joe is doing the same to Schucks out in the shop.
Ida Coffin with her sons. Left to Right: Lavere, Ida, Ward, and David Coffin
I can’t begin to say how sorry I am about not arriving in Albany tonight. I really wanted to be there. Frank Spencer was supposed to go down and get Francis about 4:30 in the afternoon and I was supposed to stop here and get him at 6:00. Well when I got here Francis wasn’t home yet so I rushed down to Frank’s and his wife said he had just left a few minutes before. He had company in the afternoon and forgot all about the time so Francis didn’t get here until nearly 7:00. We could have come in just the same but it would have been too late for graduation and we wouldn’t have been able to stay much after 11:00 on account of the license. So after taking a vote we decided to use the phone and wait until Sunday.
I guess the shaving ordeal is all over and how well I know it. Joe and Schucks both stand here giving me advice as to what to write.
I tried in vain to collect enough money for a license today but failed so I just filled out an application and am leaving it here with Francis. He says he will have a license or know the reason why.
Well I guess I’ll have to close or these pinochle hounds will have me crazy.
So long, Stubby, see you Sunday.
Dave
February 1, 1934 (actually 1935)
Middleburg, N.Y.
Section #2, Paragraph #1
After writing that letter last night it developed that there was only one stamp in the house and as Francis wrote a letter to Lydia at the same time I couldn’t very well take his only stamp away from him. Result. She will receive her letter today and you won’t get this one until Saturday.
We played pinochle until 12 last night. A couple more fellows came in and we had a six-handed game. Of course I was on the winning side but even that wasn’t enough to lessen the disappointment of not being at graduation last night.
So you went out after the banquet. Well come across. Where did you go? What did you do? Who did you go with? How late did you stay out? Don’t be holding out on me.
You tell Mrs. McCreedie the next time she has any suggestions to make about our coming in the house to make them before we get back to Middleburg. I’ll say it would have been appreciated a lot more Sunday night than the next day.
So the truth is out at last and it does get cold in Adams Center. Well! Well! Who would have thought such a thing? It hasn’t been quite that cold here but even at that it is too cold for me. Sixteen degrees below was the lowest here. This morning it was 11 degrees below and no one has showed up to go to work as yet so I am improving my time by writing this.
I suppose it will be just my luck that you will be working Sunday. If you aren’t free by 8 o’clock someone is liable to be deprived of a nurse as I am apt to barge right in and carry you away. Speaking of nurses, it would make quite a difference which one held my hand. Just having the name Ruth wouldn’t do. So you see you can’t pan the job off on someone else. You’ll have to give it your personal attention.
Signing off for now and don’t forget U.O. me.
Dave
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Albany Times Union, Feb 1, 1935
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