The Mueller-Harder Family

Dearest Mother:

I am so clean I squeak and have on a new pair of purple pajamas — is that stylish enough to write you in? What you spose we had for supper last night? Wild duck sandwiches! Yes-ir! We went rowing on the river Saturday afternoon — it was a gorgeous clear day — and on the way back found a wounded duck floating on his back. We scooped him up and the boatman said he was one of a kind they’re not allowed to kill. Lew cut his head off and we roasted him and ate him! He was good, too, fat and everything. That same eventful trip we took Perry. He wouldn’t stand still in the boat, and finally covered himself with glory by tumbling head first out of the bow and coming up under the boat. He swam like a little fish and we hauled him all drowned-rat-ish, and wrapped him in Lew’s overcoat. I don’t think he’ll do that again soon! He’s getting awfully big and clever and naughty — he knows to ‘Howdy’ and to ‘charge’ and to ‘bring it’ and occasionally to ‘come’. Everyone spoils him, but he is cute.

You sound too tired and busy, Mother, you just mustn’t let yourself do all the working. You’ll be down sick and then what would happen? Is Jean really ill? Her letter sounded as if she had one foot in the grave, has she? I’ll send some sheets for the crib right away. I sent the zipper thing in desperation because I didn’t know what in the world she wanted and they said that would wash and wasn’t too heavy-weight. Send it back if she can’t use it. What sent Bill to Detroit? Do they build boats there? Do you have to do all the doing that’s done around there? No help or nothin’, Mamma? How much would a ‘cullud girl’ cost? Would you hire one if I sent you the money to do it with? I hate to think of you working so hard down there!

What was that magazine that Bill like to have and couldn’t afford to subscribe to? Would he like to be sent it for Christmas? Can you send me any ideas for people’s Christmas? I so much want to send things you all want, and am so sunk when I don’t know what those things are! What would please Grandma? Don’t tell and don’t read this out loud, and I’ll tell you what I’ve thought so far. The Readers’ Digest for Dad — would he like that? Clothes for Jean? What do you just need? Lew wants to know too, so could you write us a letter that talked a little about such things? Please! We do so want a letter from you — even if you are tired, wouldn’t it rest you to write us a little bit of a note now and then? Do you know it was just exactly a month from the letter saying there was a baby to this one from Jean telling us how fearfully hard you’re working?

What are you-all doing Thanksgiving? Lew’s mother and father are coming down to dinner and I’m stewing. How do you make cranberry sauce? How do you make stuffing? I know I can’t roast a turkey in this oven and I don’t know where to get a good turkey, anyway. Could you send me some very specific directions — for a wood-stove household — on how to get a Thanksgiving dinner? I have my lovely tablecloth and napkins but no table to put ’em on — only this little breakfast table that you can almost use a bridge set on. Oh, well, it’ll all come out in the wash, but I’d be so thrilled with a recipe and a suggestion or two. I cert’ny need you!

The landlady let us have an old rather disreputable looking table of hers, and Lew took the leaves off it and put a superstructure on it with a shelf in it and a pigeon-hole, and we painted the whole thing green, and now we have the best-looking desk you ever saw. Didn’t know I married a carpenter, did you? I had a letter from Jo today and she said the baby laughs out loud now, so maybe——. I sure hope so.

Lew’s father hurt his hand at the mill and has been in the hospital more than a week. He’s going to lose the finger — a little one — but the infection’s stopped and they’re expecting him home soon. Accident insurance took care of all the expenses for him, but she’s been terribly worried and we’re awfully glad to see him getting over it. Did I tell you that we went to Portland last week-end to sort of comfort and console her? I do so wish you could see our house — Lew’ll draw a plan. I hope you like house-plans, we seem to be always sending ’em to you.

I must hop to bed. You remember that when you went away you promised you’d write no matter what, and really, we do worry a bit when you don’t. You stop working yourself to death and take time off to say ‘hello’ at us anyway — we miss you such a lot! Gobs and lots of love to you all, Dad too, and a special gob for Munner.

Betty

P.S. We love you!

775 Bellevue
Salem, Oregon
November 6

Dear Mamma,

How in the Ding ding are you, anyway? We haven’t heard from you in so long. We had a letter from Jean the other day, and she said you were working yourself skinny. Mamma, you mustn’t; you might as well be a matron. We felt exceedingly bad that Jean didn’t even consider the very smart name we suggested, and we’re sure that everyone will think Jan was born in January. I wish you could visit our latest domicile. I’ve got the funniest little house, full of the dearest wife, and the cutest pup, and the homiest atmosphere!

The weeks are clicking past quite smoothly at school. Gerry, Wilbur, David, and Betty and I were the committee for the Halloween party. We put up a ballyhoo sign for the masquerade two weeks in advance, stirring up enthusiasm, by announcing prizes, etc. A couple of days before the party we put up another sign, reading “Live and Die in Zilchville.” Everyone responded by being frankly curious, and puzzled. We fixed the gym up as Zilchville. The piano corner was “Zilch’s Dance Hall.” The near, right corner was “Zilch’s Pool Hall”; here one could play anagrams, checkers, or cards. The far right corner contained “Zilch’s a-er-ah Tea Room.” The tea room consisted of a bar, upon which rested a barrel, from which cider was dispensed throughout the evening. It was also the point from which emanated at one time in the evening paper plates of ice cream, and big trays piled high with doughnuts. The fourth corner, the far one, we transformed into “Zilch’s Marble Orchard.” I covered a big expanse of the wall with yards and yards of white grocery paper, and painted on it a background of a creepy-looking dead tree with with a yellow moon coming up behind it. We made six tombstones by covering cases of soap with paper, and one monument by similarly treating a big box of Braille books. On the monument sat old man Zilch himself — the skeleton from my schoolroom. His epitaph read: —

This is Hiram Zilch, who built the town —
Nothing but bones, and a proper noun.
Nevertheless, he runs the show;
If you’ve any complaints, here’s where to go.

The other stones bore epitaphs, surrounded by appropriate decorations. I’ll see if I can remember some.

Here he lies, in sweet repose,
The noble chieftain, Manuel Mose.
He was feeling fine, till one fateful day,
Someone said, “Work” — he passed away.

This Orval Nunn was a big gun,
Who blew the saxophone for phone.
He blew and blew without cessation,
Until that last and sad occasion,
For which we now so deeply mourn,
When he blew himself right through that horn.

Nellie Bales was one of those frails,
Who blush and pale and bite their nails,
When confronted by admiring males.
Timid, shy, mild, and meek,
She hadn’t spoken for nigh a week,
When suddenly she sat upon a mouse,
And gave a shout that rocked the house.
Maybe she died from lack of breath,
But many believe she was scared to death.

Underneath this dreary spot,
Lie the remains of one Faye Scott. —
Little, and pretty, and not so dumb,
But everlastingly chewing gum —
Really a most annoying habit,
Her imitation of cow, or rabbit.
The facts of the matter can’t be hid;
She had to quit business when Wrigley did.

Here he lies, loquacious Whetstone,
Who most vigorously did intone
Pig-latin, Gibberish, Choctaw,
Till the day he got the lockjaw.
The end of him came with the end of his buzz,
For the wagging jaw was all there wuzz.

’Neath piles of stones in these chill banks
Do rest the bones of Ada Willbanks.
Aching, and groaning, her joints all loose,
Too old and squeaky for further use,
She now finds comfort, solace, rest,
In a subterranean cedar chest.

We also enhanced the whole room with an abundance of crepe paper and pumpkins. The little kids masked too, and came to the first part of the party. The costumes were excellent, and the whole affair went over quite well.

I was going to tell you some more things but Betty has already taken her bath and is waiting to add to this, so I had better let her start as I don’t want her to get cold. Maybe she will tell you the story of how the dog fell in the river, and how we found a duck.

Very much love,

Lew