Tuesday, Nov. 10, 1942
After that short note yesterday, my father described his anxiety about the coming trip and anger at his mother’s doctor:
“I’m getting a little cranky these days – impatience at the way time creeps along and batting down all sorts of queer ideas that pop-up in my mind have me on edge – I wonder if you’re pregnant — I don’t think so but I wish you were. I wonder how my mother is going to act when she meets you – I’m pretty sure it will be pleasant – I’d like to meet that doctor who encouraged my mother in the idea that aggravation exacerbated her rash – It’s the first thing I’ll have to bat down when I get to New York – I’d like to tell him some things – and I don’t think I’ll let my mother continue under his care.”
Still more from this long letter tomorrow.