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  • Flea Market Love Letters

November 21, 1939.



Dear Betty,

Once more I lift my trusty pen and try to do justice to a letter. This time competing with Hanks style and manner makes me feel I will come off second best so bear with me while I do my bestest.

Perhaps my first duty is to again apologize for Hanks not writing, but before I do that a bit of an explanation is due. From the card received (for which many thanks) it seemed you thought my brother was on the road to recovery. Such a state of affairs was far from being correct, he having an elevator complex (up + down).

For the past 7-8 weeks he has been in bed with occasional good moments. However, three attacks of pleurisy have left him in very bad shape. A visit from a specialist to-day sees him again on his way back to Lenox Hill Hospital. So you see he is not a well man and has not been able to engage in the niceties of correspondence.

By the way, Mrs. Buchard dropped Hank a line. As it does not look as though I’ll get that for in writing, perhaps you would be kind enough upon meeting that “gal”, to send our best wishes for a happy Thanksgiving (whenever celebrated) and tell her that the number of girl friends here had been limited since once more becoming engaged to Miss N.Y. U.

At this point my mission having been performed it is best that I cease giving you [unreadable] you drop this letter with relief at its completion. How are your folks and brother? (Not to forget your own charming personage.) I can imagine it is quite cold up there by this time, although the coldness is probably cheered by thoughts of turkey and the forthcoming visit of the good Saint Nick.

Should you find a few spare moments tucked away – please forward a few cheering words to my brother – it will be greatly appreciated by myself – and of course by Hank.

My best wishes to you and your folks and brother – and a real Happy Thanksgiving to all –

Sincerely,

Bill

P.S. May I ask one wee favor? I thought you’d say yes (oh yeah) Please convey the ews of my brothers condition to my aunt and uncle. They’ve probably been wondering how he is. As we say in la belle France – “Merci” – (That’s about all the French I know)

P.S. P.S. Well, Beautiful you see I’m [unreadable] again. The novelty of going down is wearing off which is my dumb luck.  Hang on, I’ll write you in about a year – (I feel I need some time to get back on corresponding stable). At least I have hopes of walking good before that time.

Regards to all,

Henry

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