Dave and Francis take apart the Essex to replace the clutch. Dave is frustrated about not being able to get work; Ruth sympathizes with him about that and his car troubles. They talk about her coming to visit Middleburg, which probably won’t happen until July.
March 7, 1935
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dear Ruth,
Guess it is time I answered your letter if I am going to get it to you this week. I can’t consider the one I sent Tuesday as an answer because it was written before I received your letter.
Thanks a lot for writing it, also the special effort you made so I would get it by Tuesday. Even at that you see it didn’t accomplish one purpose you intended it to, that of stopping me from saying I was spoiling you.
It is now two hours later than when I started this letter. Haven’t I done well? However, I had to stop for supper and after that came a full hour of radio entertainment. I guess you know the kind I mean. While that was going on I read the paper and worked the crossword puzzle. Then came a session of algebra. LaVere had some problems he couldn’t do so I had to come to the rescue. Now if I don’t get all mixed up with Rudy Valle’s crooning, I may be able to finish this.
Rudy Valleé, (1901-1986). American singer, actor, bandleader, and entertainer.
I was down in Preston Hollow Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday. Put in part of my time helping Francis and part of it tearing the car down. Boy did I rip things apart. I never knew there were so many bolts and nuts in one car and if I ever get them back in their right places, I’ll consider myself a magician. Anyway I have the clutch out and all I have to do now is wait until I can get some of that material called money so I can buy a new one.
Fran was moaning all day Wednesday. It seems he went to the P.O. before coming to work and it wasn’t open yet. However, he could see a letter in his box and he just knew it was from Lydia. It sure didn’t improve his good nature by having to wait all day for it.
Winter is here again. I just looked outdoors and it is snowing hard. I had hopes we weren’t going to see any more this year.
Say, wasn’t it rather a coincidence that we should both be running out of ink just as we were finishing a letter. Of course I only had to walk downstairs after more but I figured I had said enough so I let it go.
So, you don’t think it would look so good for me if I had been the same place you were after the banquet. I don’t know about that. I might show up to good advantage in an apartment with a bunch of girls, say about eight or ten.
I’m afraid this letter will be rather short. I can’t seem to think of anything to write about especially since by your edict I am not supposed to say anything that might tend to flatter you and my own resolution not to get over too many slams. That cut down considerably on my scope and leaves me with practically nothing to say.
By the way, was I right in gleaning a faint ray of hope from your letter that you might stay for a while after your course is finished? I hope I’m right in that but if I’m not I don’t want to get all my hopes up and then have them suddenly dashed to pieces by your departure. You speak of July as being a long way off but believe me it will go fast. Take it from one who knows. We should be able to have quite a few good times this summer. There are plenty of places around here where one can go and enjoy it providing you are here and I have work, for as you say it does take money to run a car. However, I never begrudge anything I spend along that line. The trip to Albany really doesn’t cost so very much. When two go together as Fran and I, it is much cheaper than one alone.
Gosh, does my mind work slow tonight. It is nearly ten o’clock and I haven’t written much of anything. You will have to excuse it and wait until I feel more like writing.
I’ll be seeing you Sunday.
Dave
March 8, 1935
Friday
Dear Stubby,
Just received your lengthy letter and also the gum. Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to chew it for a week. Maybe ten minutes after dinner. Will that do?
I must also contradict you for the last statement in your letter. I think you said a lot and the time wasn’t wasted.
I’m taking a big chance taking the time to write this as it is quite late and if I don’t catch the mailman, you will just naturally have to wait till Sunday before you get this.
However, if I didn’t let you know I had received your letter, you would say that mine was written first and I would still owe you.
Yes, I’ll take the blame for starting you on the letter writing, but I’m not sorry and I don’t think you are. How about it?
Dave
March 8, 1935
70 Jay Street
Albany, N.Y.
Dear Dave,
So I’m not the only one who was out of sorts last night? I guess the only difference between our spells was that you had something to be mad about and I didn’t. I should be ashamed of getting disgusted so easily. However, I think it did them good because I found the patient much better tonight. They sort of cut down on the callers today. I sure do hope she gets better soon.
What was the blue mood all about tonight? It seemed to come on quite suddenly. Never mind telling me, I think I know. It is enough to make anyone blue to be without a job and then to suddenly have the car go on the rocks. Last winter the clutch on the Ford got to slipping and I didn’t dare drive it very much alone. It also made a heck of a noise. Fortunately my big brother took it to the garage and they fixed it. As far as I know, it hasn’t bothered since. Gee, I hope there is a little something left of it when I get around to using it again. Probably by that time it will be valuable as an antique. It is old enough, but up until this winter, it has had pretty good care. I imagine Bill has been quite careful of it as my mother has a habit of looking out for my welfare. I can’t say much as he let me drive his car to school all one spring when it was new and after all, twenty-two miles a day, five days a week, isn’t any little thing.
The reason I have given you letters on Sunday isn’t just so you will have to write first every week. Of course, I will admit I sort of like the idea of getting a letter Wednesday instead of waiting until Friday, but you see writing letters seems to help keep my eyes open.
I can’t have you saying that you are spoiling me so I have decided to put this in an envelope when I get home in the morning and make a special trip to the mailbox. I wouldn’t do it only since you are afflicted with a spell of the blues, I have decided to humor you a little and with good luck, you should get this Tuesday morning. I am of the opinion that the blues will fade now that your mother has returned, or has she?
I may be compelled to cut this letter short as I forgot to re-fuel my pen today and I have to have enough ink left to fill out my chart in the morning.
This will seem like a long week as I won’t be seeing Lydia on Thursday. Maybe Friday or Saturday I’ll have to go up and get another wave. Not that it does any good, but it at least gives me an excuse to go up.
It is twelve o’clock already and the Heys hasn’t appeared yet. Seems like my pals have forsaken poor little me.
Don’t worry about the kidding bothering me. I am used to it or at least I should be since I have always gotten it in a big way. A person who kids others has to expect a little in return. What do you think?
Did your feet get warm yet? Mine were warm once but now they are cold again. I think I’ll park on the radiator for a while.
Gee, if I could only go to bed now, what a snooze I could have. By the time I get home in the morning I will be wide awake. I haven’t had a night’s sleep since the first of February. I wouldn’t dare ask for a night off for fear they would give me a permanent vacation.
About going back to Adams Center after I have finished, with steady work I won’t be finished before the first of July. I agree with you that there isn’t much work around home, only relatives and they aren’t much profitable patients. After spending money to take the course, I hardly feel like playing the Role of the Good Samaritan. I did do that for nearly a year after I graduated from high school. Every time anyone got sick, they always depended on the little sister for relief. This year they have had to find relief elsewhere.
Pardon the interruption, but my attention had to be given to a car which went up and turned around somewhere near the hospital. May I ask where you have been all of this time? Ok, skip it. I can tell by that look in your eyes that you are about to reply this, “the same place you went after the banquet”. If you did, it doesn’t look so well for you. It wouldn’t surprise me much if I heard you had a date with that waitress, after all she bestowed a swell smile on you tonight. (All the scratches and blots represent absent mindedness.)
By the way, I don’t believe in getting personal or anything, but any time you feel that you can’t afford to come up, don’t be afraid to say so. After all when one isn’t working, the finances can’t help but dwindle and I’m not blind enough to think it doesn’t cost something to make a trip so far. You see, I have driven a car occasionally myself and I know that you just have to have money or they fail to function. It isn’t hard at all for me to understand.
Tomorrow morning my month is up and I have earned $64 and by the time I pay my room rent and for a few other things, about all I’ll have left is the memory of it. I wouldn’t feel happy anyhow unless I was broke.
Ye Gods! I have been among Jews so long that I am almost as bad as they are talking about money all of the time. Seems like everything they speak of is measured by money, and I do get sick of it.
Something tells me that the ink is getting scarce, so I’ll have to discontinue and I hope this letter finds you with the blues vanished and I think it will.
So long,
Stubby
P.S. Monday 10:15 a.m.
Just got up in my room. It was 9:30 before I left Finklesteins only because I hung around and visited for an hour. Then when I got here, I had another visit with Mrs. Conlon and a spell of fooling with the dog. I guess I’ll go out and find me a mailbox and then see how chances are for a little snooze. I suppose you have decided by now that I must be an awful gossip. Don’t forget U.O. me.