Friday, Oct. 16, 1942
At last, a letter….
This one, from my father to his sister, proves that there was a lot going on even if those letters did not survive:
“That’s a very nice letter you wrote, and thanks very much for the wedding present (this is me personally talking) but why are you trying to keep me from coming to New York? – Why don’t you just come out in the open and tell me all about it – write me a personal letter. Did momma say she doesn’t want me to come to the house? Or is it your cute way of wanting to tell me that you don’t want to see me any more? As for my coming to New York – I have to come anyway – we have to collect and ship my wife’s furniture… and I need a vacation- but mainly I wanted to come specifically for your baby – and send that obstetrics manual – we want to study it before we decide to have a baby.”
Bantering aside, my father was still apprehensive about meeting his mother, let alone introducing his wife to her. But it was too late to turn back, the trip was planned and something, or someone, would have to give.
Maybe no letter would have been better than the one my father received.