Friday, Sept. 25, 1942
Chicago weather was turning bitter. The high was 46 and the low 30.’ There was a light dusting of snow.
Now, my father had warned my mother back in August about Chicago weather: “Bring everything you own – I don’t think you’ll be going East soon – until November anyway. …No matter how hot it is in New York – take a light coat on the train as it is frigid at night.”
She had planned to return in the late Fall for her winter wardrobe when it might still be mild on the East coast. She hadn’t reckoned with the Midwest climate. Perhaps she could buy something to tide her over until that trip. The Chicago Tribune was full of advertisements for stylish Fall clothing at sale prices.
A fur coat on sale at Evans for $149? Hardly.
Maybe the wool coat only $49.50 at Maurice L. Rothschild.
Meanwhile, the apartment was cozy. She would make dinner and light the Sabbath candles. Then she and my father could curl up together on the sofa and listen to Kate Smith sing “When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain” On “The Kate Smith Show,” 7 PM on WBBM.
Tomorrow would be my father’s On Duty service at the VA. He’d be gone for 24 hours. If they had been able to buy a chicken to roast for the Sabbath meal, she could make chicken soup with the carcasse while he was away.
It was another day without mail.