Dave continues to cook for everyone while his mother is still away. Ruth gets an offer to work day duty, catches up with old friends, and worries about her patient, Mrs. Finkelstein. Dave is concerned that Ruth wants to return to Adams; it’s too far from Middleburg and he thinks she would never find work up there. He’s also annoyed that the clutch on the Essex needs to be replaced.
March 1, 1935
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dear Ruth,
Seems to me I’m the one that is doing too much giving in. Writing this letter for instance. I should let you wait a week or so but since I know you are probably lonesome there all by yourself I’ll give in once more.
This probably won’t be very long as I haven’t much time before the mail goes back. By the way there must be an awful crack under that door of yours.
Boy, am I getting along swell with the housework. Not a case of indigestion has yet developed, but I imagine everyone is getting tired of a steady diet of ham and eggs or bacon and eggs. Guess I’ll have eggs and bacon for a change tonight.
I still don’t know a thing about whether I’ll be in Albany tomorrow or not. Haven’t seen a thing since Monday of the fellow who wants to go.
Speaking of pictures you should have one of me the way I look right now. Haven’t shaved since Sunday and boy what a brush heap. Think I’ll give up shaving. You won’t mind will you?
Thanks for all the gum. I’m chewing it now. I still say I didn’t get you in the gum chewing habit. If anyone is responsible for that it is Francis. I didn’t chew gum myself until after October _____, 1934. I’ll let you fill in the date and see if you can get it right this time. That date you put in your letter was a little off. Put on your thinking cap and get it right.
Yes, I saw you when we went by Sunday night. Fran waved a cigarette at you from the back seat. I smoked a couple myself after you left. However, I haven’t made any vows to stop smoking. I am merely trying to cut down on them and I am succeeding very well for me. I used to smoke a pack a day and now it is a pack a week.
I agree with Lydia that it takes too long to change from a dress to a uniform, so stick to the latter on Sunday nights. I’d rather see you in the uniform and have that much extra time with you.
You would write a roasting letter to Ruth Distell. You should be ashamed of yourself and write a sympathetic letter to make up for it.
So you like our tropical weather. Glad to hear it. What gets me is how you keep from freezing to death when you are home (Little America) all winter.
Well, Stubby, work is calling me and the mailman will be here any minute so I’ll say bye, bye.
Dave
March 1, 1935
70 Jay Street
Albany, N.Y.
Dear Dave,
Talk about your spoiled people, what have I done to you? I suppose circumstances alter cases, at least they do in this case.
Talk about your breaks, did I get one. Tonight when I went to work they told me if it was satisfactory with me, they would rather try having me come day times for a while to see how it works. I was so tickled I had a bad time concealing it. So I fixed her for the night and will go to work at 8 in the morning. It will mean a lot harder work for me but I don’t mind work as long as I can sleep nights. Now I will get all my board, and that will save me about three dollars a week. I think they would rather I would have come at 9, but I said 7 or 8 was the usual time for day duty. They also said if it meant getting another nurse if they changed, they would continue with night duty because they were acquainted with me and didn’t want to change nurses. I assured them it would be lovely. You never knew I was so indispensable did you?
I thought you might be interested in knowing that at last you have your wish. Now probably you can’t come up at all. It would be just your luck. You certainly have stood the night duty pretty well and have been very good natured about it. If you can’t come up Sunday, this letter will probably be just an aggravation. They may decide they don’t like the new arrangement so I’m going to make the most of it while it lasts. Now I can take my dancing lessons.
Ruth’s classmates, 1935, Bertha Grosse and Phyllis McDuffy
Tonight when I was coming out of the restaurant, I didn’t see anyone but I heard a chorus of “there is Parker”. Upon close observation, I found that the noise came from the lips of two of my old pals, Bertha Grosse and Phyllis McDuffy. They invited me over to see them some night, so now I can go.
Oh yes, I had a visit with Ida Leonard tonight. I think I’m going to like her a lot. She is originally from the back woods, too. So we really have something in common. Her home used to be in Malone, but now it is Selkirk. Not much difference in climate, but then some people think there is.
I have written two letters to Lydia this week and as yet have received no response. If people don’t stop neglecting me, I’ll clean up on them, and that includes you, Mr. Coffin. You haven’t sprained your wrist or anything have you? I have commenced to worry. From now on the letters written by yours truly are going to be few and far between. My evenings are going to be spent in doing things from now on, if you get what I mean.
Ruth Parker, 1935
By the way, did you get that picture of me framed yet? I think a nice place for it would be between the last page and back cover of a nice, thick dictionary or sompin’. My theme song from now on is “how about a picture of you”.
I think I’ll draw this epistle to an end and try my luck at sleeping at night for a change.
“Stubby”
P.S. I have written so many letters this week that I think I’ll let you do all the writing next week.
……………………
This letter was never mailed, but handed to Dave. The address reads: “Mayor Mr. David W. Coughin’ Esq. of Sleepy Holler; This side of the equator. The land of fair weather.”
March 3, 1935
70 Jay Street
Albany, N.Y.
My dear Mr. Coughin’,
How do you like the title? Anyway it doesn’t sound quite as dreary as your own.
You don’t know how lucky you are not to be around me right now. Boy, am I mad or am I mad! I could have a fight right now and I know I could win. Mrs. Finklestein has been fine all the week and every day I could see an improvement. Today all her family had to come home and besides all the rest of the Jews in Albany had to come in to see her. When I came on duty tonight she was so weak she couldn’t raise her hand. All she could do was moan. They all wonder why the sudden change and expect me to do something about it. I told everyone who asked me what was the matter, that the only thing that ailed her was too much company. It took me just exactly three hours to quiet her. I was so darned mad I saw red and after I got over feeling mad, I felt just like crying. I suppose I shouldn’t care, but I do and I can’t help it. Gee whiz, that crowd would drive a well person nuts, not to mention a person her age who has been as sick as she has for a month. I guess I have bored you enough with my tale of woe, but I have to let off steam and since I have no one to talk to, I have to spill it in a letter.
What do you mean, you are “doing too much giving in”? Listen, when I get my own way as much as you do, I’ll stop even mentioning it. Kindly bring this subject of letter writing up sometime and I have about a dozen arguments all ready, so you don’t stand a chance.
You can suit yourself about shaving. I don’t mind at all, but remember there are always means by which one can get even. After all it would be rather heartless of me to insist that you shave off your beard in such a cold climate. Yeah, I got the slam on “Little America” ok and if I wasn’t afraid I would hurt your feelings, I could say something mean about Middleburg. However you know how considerate I am of other’s feelings.
About the date I started chewing gum, you told me it was October 2. That is what I get for taking your word for things. You should at least give me credit for getting the month and year right. If it wasn’t October 2, maybe it was October 7. At any rate, you started me chewing gum! So what?
I suppose at this time you are having a swell snooze for yourself. Probably dreaming of the time when your mother will be home and your cooking career will be ended. I hope she decides you did so swell while she was gone that she will let you keep the good work up. Me thinks it is good for what ails you.
One morning I smelled toast burning and I says to myself, I bet he gets a good scrape on the toast this morning. How many can openers have you worn out this week? I bet you are a swell tin can cook.
You had better warn brother Sprague that if he doesn’t quit kidding me, that I aim to get even with him. How? You see I have been trying to think what I could contribute to the furnishing of the little love nest in Preston Hollow. After considerable thought, I have decided that a rolling pin is one of the most essential things. If he decides to stop kidding me, I will purchase a wooden rolling pin, but otherwise I fear I will have to invest more and make it a glass one. They tell me a blow struck with one of these will produce unconsciousness for a period of several hours at a time. There are only two blows struck, when she strikes him and when he strikes the floor. Something tells me her aim is pretty darned good and she always gets her man, so to speak.
Listen, are you sure you didn’t get your Ruths mixed and ask for a picture of Ruth Distell? I would laugh myself sick if you would get her picture instead of mine. Speaking of pictures, you are darned sure to get one of me, but I suppose I might as well whistle as to ask for one of you.
Now, Angel, don’t try to tell me you didn’t swear when you had the flat. If you didn’t, it was because there was no one around to hear you. I have had a little experience along that line myself, only the Ford is even more disgusting, because by the time you get stopped by the side of the road, the tire is off and the tube is in one big tangle.
Stationary detail, “The P stands for perfect“
Oh yeah, how do you like the investment? I mean the stationery. The P stands for perfect, meaning me, of course. I also bought me a new Easter outfit which consists of a pair of shoe laces for my barges, tug boats, snow shoes or what have you. I spent half the forenoon cleaning my shoes and the other half putting the laces in like you have them in your shoes. They are in, not saying how, and I’ll bet you will tell me they are in wrong. By the time I got to work you would never think my shoes had been cleaned. When I started out, Mrs. Conlon told me how nice I looked and I told her if she wanted to see me at my best, she should look at me by tomorrow morning.
The more letters I write, the worse they get, so from now on, you are going to write all of the letters and I am going to read them. For once I am going to have my own way and see how it seems for a change. Lydia was responsible for you having your way Sunday night, cause she told Fran to stop. There isn’t anything fair about three picking on one poor, little, defenseless creature and it will have to be stopped. Something tells me that I have spoiled you, or at least if I haven’t accomplished it yet, I am fast doing so.
If you can dope this manuscript out, you are pretty darned good and before I make it any more difficult, I will quit.
The meeting will be called off until later in the day when we will discuss the subject of who shall write the letters from now on. At present, I crave me some calories, so what? You guess the rest. It is now 2 a.m. Twelve hours from now maybe I will be snoozing.
Stubby Parker
March 2, 1935
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dear Ruth,
So, you think you’re smart don’t you. Well this time I’m just one jump ahead of you and when you have finished reading this, it will still be U.O.me. Anyway who started this bizness? I think you did so you will have to suffer the consequences. I had a feeling you would hand me a letter just so I could start the week off again. Maybe you are writing it the same time as I am writing this. I have this dated March 2, but it will be March 3 before I finish it. Only a few minutes to go now.
I am in one of my black and ugly moods tonight so don’t be surprised at anything you read in this letter. I get this way once in a while and when I do I’m liable to perform some desperate deed, such as jumping off the bottom step of the stairs or pulling two or three hairs out of my head. I’ve just finished amusing myself by stepping on the dog’s toes and pulling the cat’s tail. Not only that but I’ve gone way over my quota of cigarettes today. I’ll have to suffer for that next week by going without. Also, if I don’t get some work pretty soon, I’ll have to cut out eating as well as smoking.
That car going on the bum just topped the day off nice. I hate to think of what it will cost to put a new clutch in. Too bad someone in this family doesn’t own a Model A Ford with red wheels so I could have a substitute for the Essex. Maybe I’ll buy me a pair of hiking shoes and try walking to Albany. Would you mind doing your riding in a streetcar or bus? Probably I would have some trouble keeping you away from the conductors and drivers. How about it?
Well now that you have read this far, how do you like this mood I am in? I think it is getting blacker all the while, so I’ll just help it along by thinking about some more unpleasant subjects. I guess the worst one I can think of is that comment of yours in your last letter about hurrying up with your work so you can return home. Do you really intend to go back as soon as your course is finished? It seems to me you could find work here easier than you could at home. After all you know since there are only a dozen people up there you couldn’t expect them all to take turns being sick just to provide you with work.
Seriously, though, I do hate to think of you going home. It is quite a distance from Middleburg to Adams Center and I’m not quite wealthy enough to become a commuter between the two points. Guess I’ll have to start a “Keep Well Campaign” in Albany or sompin. If I can get everyone in good health, it will take you a year or more to finish your course.
Well, let’s see, what’s next? Can’t seem to think of anymore unpleasant things, but here is something I have to mention. You will have to stop trying to kid me into believing that I can write a letter that even approaches being good. I have written enough of them to know that I can’t so those consoling remarks of yours are going to waste. I can’t even understand where I get ambition enough to write as much as I do. I know it always used to seem like an awful job to fill a couple of pages. I know when I first went to camp I received an awful lot of mail. In fact one day I set some kind of a record by getting eleven letters in one mail. I only answered about half of them and some of them with only a card. People soon got to know me I guess, and at the end of the enlistment I was doing good if I received one letter a week.
You can give yourself a pat on the back for being able to get all these words out of me even if they don’t make much sense.
By the looks of the clock I had better retire if I am going to get any sleep tonight.
Maybe I’ll get fooled and it won’t be necessary to give you this letter. If I do, the joke will be on me this time.
Dave