The Mueller-Harder Family

[10 October, 1933]
[Salem, Oregon]

Dear Mamma,

You should see me swell up with avuncular pomposity — married only nine months and an uncle already! Don’t take up wearing black taffeta because you’re a grandma; keep your hat on one ear in your own swanky way. I certainly wish you were here to bring home from church or something every now and then. When I go around some corner like Ira Jorgensen’s, that we used to walk around, it seems funny to think that you are on a corner so far away.

The new matron is a good sport, and has brains and humor. She and Kal and Effie were over last night and we had toast and jam. I am hunting a play for the kids, but so far have found only one for the faculty. It’s about three scrubwomen, in a stockbroker’s office, who play the markets from the quotations left on the board, and from the psychological evidence of half-smoked or badly-chewed cigar butts. I think maybe the matron, Beth, Ethel, and I will do it as a complete surprise to the rest of the faculty and the kids. Betty declines to act, but says she will be stage-manager. We can practice over here at our house.

Our house is a lot of fun. I get a kick out of splitting wood and making things in the wood-shed — I’ve always wanted a wood-shed and never had one before.
Well, I must take this up to the P. O. and go to the library.

Very much love from,

Lewis

P.S. Of course you will convey my greetings to the new parents and my beautiful young niece.

[10 October, 1933]
[Salem, Oregon]

Dear Grandmother and Grandfather:

Are you behaving with the dignity proper to such elevated stations? We got Mother’s letter yesterday and were properly thrilled and excited — as was the whole Blind School. We didn’t expect it quite so soon. They are all right, are they? I’m glad it’s all over, but I spose you, Mother, will go right on working too hard just the same. I wish you didn’t have to! Will Jean be well and strong now after while? I do hope so. If they lived by themselves she’d have to be, I spose. I hope you’ll let me know what I can make or buy to send her for the baby — I do so want to do something and haven’t known what to do at all.

Before I forget it — our address is 775 Bellevue St., I thought I’d told you. We like our little house more and more, though it’s still in an awful mess. Housebreaking two animals at once when you have to leave them alone all day and trying to get settled at the same time, doesn’t leave one much time to fool around. We got rash and bought a new lamp and a rug the other day. That is, we turned in the old green table lamp on a new bridge lamp, very simple and quite good-looking and not expensive, and then we just out and out bought a rug. It’s deep green with a little rust in it, and we think it’s awfully good looking. We are slowly getting our rust curtains finished, and we have a corner now, with the couch with my gray and green Chinese couch cover — you remember the scratchy one — and the little table Lew got from the Deaf school with the lamp Jean and Kenny gave us on it, and the green rug on the floor and the tall lamp nearby. There’s a window by the couch and it will have the rust hangings, and the little book-rack is across the room, and altogether it looks cheerful and nice. We bought a new baby-ben, too, the old one had finally given out. It’s copper and has two tones to alarm in and really looks quite imposing.

We’ve been fixing the kitchen a bit — Lew put up a shelf and some hooks and we hung all our brand-new aluminum pans up in a row. Lew insists on using them for a zylophone, and they look like a million dollars. Things at the school are about the same. I told the new matron you were jealous of her, Mother. She comes to me to ask about what we did about so many things, neither Mr. nor Mrs. really knows much about any of ’em. The Drys seem really trying to be as nice as they can be, and we try hard not to get into any situations. We’re fixed so that we read to different groups the same weeks and Mr. Dry said we might as well take our suppers up there that week, so it’s really as nice as they could make it.

We’ll send you a draft right away. Meant to get down to buy it any number of times and will really get it off to you soon. We corralled your napkin ring, and told Miss Hadyn we wanted the blotter and the recipe book. She’d found the book and we’ll get it one day. Effie is much the same — so happy because her Carl seems really a changed boy. He’s so different you’d hardly know him and we’re all so pleased, though we’re still holding our breath.

I really haven’t much to say — I just wrote a note to Jean, and this is just to tell you our address and to tell you to write oftener. We really get kinda worried when we don’t hear from you for too long. How’s Grandma? Tell me about her, Mother. You just say a little bit now and again that makes me wonder and not understand. How’s Evvie behaving or don’t you see anything of her?

Dad, do you ever see that Spaulding man? He doesn’t need any new teachers, I take it? We can hardly write him again, I spose, we acknowledged his acknowledgement and that seems like about all that one could do. Do you like being a grandpa? Why couldn’t you have had a grandson? Aren’t you about fed up on ladies? You wait till Lew and I start — in about 1946 — and we’ll have six boys, all at once! How goes the Shrine job? All right? We are hoping hard not to have to come back to this one this next year, but so far haven’t any prospects of anything else. If you ever get any inklings of anything that seems at all worth even writing to, why be sure and let us know. To get out into the public school field is what Lew needs and wants, of course, so that when he has his Master’s he’ll have some public school experience to help him into a small college job. There’s no hope of Rollins, is there? I had some work under a Rollins man this summer, but he’d never even heard of Tampa University.

I must cease. My love to you all, and our address is 775 Bellevue St. Don’t forget it — we like to get mail in our nice white mailbox.

Betty

[10 October, 1933]
[Salem, Oregon]

Dearest Jean,

How proud you sound! If you knew how cocked up we are to be a nuncle and a naunt, you’d think we’d had the baby. I’m so glad she’s here and that everything’s all right. What does she look like, aside from being the most beautiful and marvellous infant in existence? If I remember, you were very red and unattractive for a long time after your arrival — is she? Now, maybe you’ll tell me what I can send! I’ve been chewing my fingernails out here, waiting to hear some kind of suggestions as to what the well-dressed baby will wear for months! What does she, or do you, need? Or would you rather I sent sillies? I’d love to, but I’d felt rather guilty when I knew how strapped we all were. You better say, or I’ll be sending her pantie dresses and bathing suits!

And now as to names. Lew is having fits for fear you will have named her before he gets his perfectly wonderful suggestion in. We couldn’t quite tell from Bill’s letter whether you had or not. He, Lew, thinks that the young lady should be named Betty Lou. Not because he’s conceited, oh, no, a far better reason than that. You see, he hopes to have a boat some day — made by Bill, of course, or at least designed by him — and wants to name it the Betty Lew, but he’s afraid that that would sound odd, naming a boat after ourselves, and so he wants a nice little niece to name it after. Complimentary to the niece, you see, and a grand name for both boat and niece. Don’t you think that’s a brilliant idea? Or are you naming her after her grandmothers? We had a letter from Mother just exploding because we were uncle and aunt, but never once commenting on the fact that she is a grandmother! Does she like the honor? And as for Grandma being a great — hevings!

Mother’s letter came to the school and so we told everyone and they were all so interested and pleased to know the lady was here and you were all right. You’d think they knew you — but then they do know your picture and have heard Mother and me talk about you a lot. You’ll have to bring her out here on a trip some day — sort of a second honeymoon or something like that. Just think what a lot of geography she’d learn! Are you going to hurry up and have a boy now to keep her company and teach her to be a good sport? They say that while you’re having ’em you might as well do the job up brown.

I’d like to talk about our dog and our cat, who are both very superior animals, even if the cat has gone off somewhere and may be lost, but in the face of a real live baby girls, I don’t spose I dare mention ’em. Anyway, they’re almost housebroke, and I bet she isn’t!

I hope you’re strong enough to write us soon, though we enjoyed the letter from Bill — first real one we’d ever had — and will tell us all about her. I’m so very glad for you, dear, and know she’ll be just the nicest baby ever. Let us hear all the things she does and looks like, and most of all, what you want for her.

Much love from Uncle Lewis and Aunt Betty!!

Betty