[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.
