This Is the Old Timer Talking

The letters have been pouring in. Since I wrote Thursday night, 4 letters from Mom (plus one from Reuben and Leah) have come. And never have letters been more welcome than these, for I was eager, to say the least, to find out how things were and if they proceeded according to plan. Up to that time, I knew that Cleon was scheduled to leave on the 21st and that is all. The letters not only made good time, but they also came in the same order in which they were written, a circumstance as convenient as it was novel! (Even the post office dept slips up at times, it would appear).

And so, despite the fact that I am some 6000 miles removed from the scene of action, on this Saturday evening, the 8th day of July, 1944, I have a fairly complete understanding of the happenings which occurred at W. 703 Euclid Ave. during the latter part of June, from the gay celebration of Father’s Day and Cleon’s birthday on the 18th through the 28th, when Mom got the first news from the gob in the family.

My mood tonight is of a decided philosophic nature, tinged with nostalgia. All of which makes it no small mess! I hope Mom is in a similar calm state of mind. That is the best way. Ever since it became more or less certain that Cleon would be going into the service soon, I have been giving increased thought to the good times that we all had not long ago. The war has been an interruption, but that is all—just an interruption.

Some short time ago I reached the ripe old age of 21—that gives me 21 years to look back on, right? Those first years are dim, but I’ll bet you’d be surprised at some of the things that have come to my mind just lately. For instance: One of the earliest things I can remember is pushing Cleon back and forth in that two-wheeled baby buggy when we lived in LaCrosse. I must have been about 5 then. And now Cleon is a sailor at Great Lakes! Is it so surprising that his being there should seem a bit unreal to us? I think not. But we shall get used to it—and soon. That’s a good thing about people—they get used to things.

It wasn’t long after I “pushed Cleon around” that we moved to Clay Street in Colfax. I used to go to the store there, if I’m not mistaken. There is one night in particular I remember at Clay Street. The night Bonnie was born. I woke up with all the commotion, so dad and I went out and sat on the back steps. It was a very clear night. Of course, I didn’t realize what was going on, but I do remember the night. Soon after we moved to Meadow Street, Bonnie started to walk, and what fun that was. I was her big brother, age 7! And now Bonnie is a high school girl, playing tennis and going on dates, sometimes with a kid I used to “keep”. Yep, this is the Old Timer talking! Ha Ha ! Time staggers on. Well, looking back like that, I don’t have any doubts about our futures. We’ll all be back doing what we want to before we know it.

Just came back to the office from the mail room. Guess what? Got a letter from Cleon already. Dated June 25th. Will write him tonight, after the show.

[letterstohome copyright 2008]

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