Letters To Home

I received another swell letter from my brother, Cleon.  I appreciate his taking the time to write me so often.  I suppose he’s very busy with one thing and another, just as I was last year.

Everything is buzzing over here, as might be expected.  There was a very interesting article in the paper yesterday called “Occupational Hazards”.  It seems that the chairborne troops have had their first casualty.  One of the paragraph-troopers broke 2 fingers when his typewriter jammed unexpectedly.  Too bad.  But, what the hell, this is WAR!

Every new day brings us a new angle on the second front.  One paper editorialized: “Speaking of the second front, boys, remember, it’s Leap Year!”.  Maybe they’ve got something there (but I doubt it).  All this talk about a second front reminds me of a steak I had last week.  What a tussle!  That was by all odds the toughest steak I ever bit into and couldn’t let go of.  After 10 minutes of harassing tactics, which served to wear him down and tire him out, I delivered the “coup de grace”.  Steaks are much too scarce to give up without a fight.

Did you hear the one about the soldier who said, “What a New Year’s Eve celebration!  That’s one night I’ll never remember!”?

I’ve written home before speaking about Joe.  He’s a very smart boy.  I told him that Cleon was putting in some time on qualitative analysis and also some calculus.  Joe has completed 2 years of junior college and is familiar with both subjects.  He assumed that Cleon was attending college, and was very surprised when I told him that Cleon was still a senior in high school.  Joe took qualitative analysis and quantitative analysis in his second semester of college chemistry.  He said it wasn’t any picnic.  Paulsen used to tell our class about it too.  (We didn’t listen to him, though).

Joe didn’t find calculus difficult for himself, but said he could see where some people might have trouble with it.  I’ll wager I’d have trouble with even algebra now.  This army is making a dumb-bell out of me.  It’s not easy to keep up on things like that if you don’t use them regularly in your work or otherwise.

I expect my accounting course to come any week now.  Joe and I went to the library the other night and I found some books on bookkeeping and accounting.  Very elementary material so I’m using it as a review for the next section of my correspondence course, which is Auditing Procedure.  I’m anxious to find out how much I’ve forgotten about the subject in the past year.  Not too much, I hope.

So I wonder if the income tax has my folks and my bother in its grips.  I wonder how much Cleon is going to have to shell out.  I’ve been wondering why he didn’t “pay-as-you-went”.  Maybe he didn’t you make enough in any one job to come under the plan.  I have advised Cleon to be sure to use the simplified income tax form.  It automatically allows him deductions equal to 6% of his income.  Or at least it did last year.  Very few taxpayers can qualify for deductions in excess of that.  So, Cleon and dad had better get a tax instruction book and get to work.

I’ve got a letter written now for Cleon, but I’m in doubt as to whether I should mail it.  In his December 22nd letter he said, “I was sick when your letter came, and became worse as time passed”.  They have that effect on most people.  I can’t figure it out.

[letterstohome copyright 2008]

I received a letter from Mom and Dad, dated January 4th,, the day before yesterday, and there is one part of it that I am not very pleased about.  What in the world could they possibly want back in Colfax?!  If either one of them is the least bit serious about it, I’m just plain disgusted.  I don’t see how they could even think of such a thing.  I may be all wrong, but somehow I’ve been going along under the assumption that their home was in Spokane.

Now about the matter itself, it is important and I don’t blame them for worrying over it a little, but leaving Spokane is not the solution.  Staying there is.  It has more to offer than any small town around it, in good times or bad.  During the years we lived in Colfax, there was more than one time that we wished our home were right where it is now.  So let’s leave it there, shall we?

Well, tonight I got two more letters.  They are old-timers, December 12th and 14th.  As if , that isn’t bad enough, they were dated them November 12th and 14th.  Ha Ha!  In fact, practically all the letters Mom and Dad wrote last month were dated “November”.  The days must be rolling by very fast for them, I am thinking!

It looks like someone is at last appreciating Twinkle.  I know I’ve always had the idea that he was just a little different from other cats.  There’s something about him– One time Mom and Dad said he had sort of taken my place.  Does that mean that they don’t put him out in the cold anymore?  What a time we had with him at 808 Mansfield in that garage.  I don’t think Northern Ireland quite has its share of cats.  Must be the weather.  You know how they hate water, and around here, it’s sink or swim.  There is a little black-and-white kitten at our site, and he’s into everything.  He’s wild, though, and won’t let a guy get near him.

I was very gratified to learn that all my parent’s friends and relatives are concerned over my well-being. I’ll ask Mom and Dad to tell them that nothing could be better.  Not counting an honorable discharge after the war.  Mom and Dad telling me that this will end sometime and then we can make up for lost time reminds me of something I read in Yank.  It said that this being in the army so far away from home is very much like having the dentist drill around on you.  It’s bearable only because you know it can’t go on forever.  That applys more to the boys who are actually fighting than it does to us.  We’re certainly not suffering.  You know what they call us, don’t you?  Chairborne troops and paragraph troopers!  All I can say is, “It’s good work if you can get it.”

Guess who I got V-mail from Friday?  None other than Mrs. Busby.  I sent out quite a batch of Christmas cars to her and some others, and she promptly wrote back.  She said, “Very pleased and surprised to get card.  Can you tell what you’re in—flying or what?”  I know she would like nothing better than to find out I’m buzzing around in a P38 or making commando raids on the French coast.  That’s the kind of person she is.  As soon as she gets to know you, she decides that you are a certain “type”.  Then if you do something that she would never expect your “type” to do, she is delighted.  I’m afraid I can’t giver her that pleasure.  Ha Ha!  She also told me about several of my old classmates—where they are and what they are doing.  My, but I’d like to be in college “debating” with Doris Pierson.  Woo-o-o-woo-o-o-o-o-o ! !  (That almost got away from me, didn’t it?).  At the end she asked me to write and let them know how things are going with me, which I think I will.  A couple of years ago, we were pretty thick and she probably wants to check up on my English.

When I look back to high school, there are 4 teachers that I remember before any others.  Mrs. Busby, Miss Howard, Mr. Moses, and Mr. Peterson.  They are tops.  Very few parents realize the influence and guidance they exercise over their students during the years when every experience has its effect for good or evil.  I will never be able to repay them for what they did for me.

[letterstohome copyright 2008]