Monday night (4/30/34)
Dear Mary,
And so your folks said “yes”!
I think that we’re going to have a lot of fun out of this Summer. Don’t you?
First there’s that long ride on the train. If you’ve looked through the little book (and I’ll bet you’re doing that just this minute), you’ll know where everything is, and how everything goes. It’s no trouble at all to travel. It’s just a matter of finding out what’s what and getting acquainted like moving into a new room at school. Seems funny at first, and then all of a sudden you feel as if you knew the whole business all the time. You just find your section (the porter really does all the finding for you), and there you sit, watching the world go by. Don’t ever tell on me, but when I was very little, it seemed to me that the scenery was just painted there, and somebody kept rolling it off one roller and on to another one very fast. That’s just the way it goes.
And then you wake up in the morning in your crisp fresh bed, and you wonder “goodness me!”… for here it is daytime, and the train’s going faster and faster. If you’re a real good farmer’s daughter, you’ll spot lots of dairy farms tearing past your window, full of Guernseys and Jerseys. Then you’ll fish out your watch and find it’ll be two whole hours yet before the train pulls in to the Union Station.
Somehow or other the green countryside turns into one little town after another, and pretty soon they all merge into one loooong town. That’s it. Looooong. The train seems to go higher in the air, and presto changeo! You are looking down on housetops, and the engine is whistling, and going down the track as if it were the only train in the world, and the engineer had to get home for breakfast or take a beating from his wife. And then when the hands of your watch crawl and crawl and never seem to get anywhere, your porter will come up and smile, and beckon you out into the corridor. With his big whiskbroom, he’ll swiftly brush you all off, and get rid of the specks of dust that somehow or other have managed to get through onto your coat.
You won’t have much trouble in finding Mother and me. Just look for two big grins, and there we’ll be. Will I know you? Sure. I’ve got your picture, remember. And you’ve got mine, and Mother’s too. And after all, that’s all you need.
I wish that you would write me two or three times before you come, and see if I can answer any of your questions. You’ll probably want to know lots of things about we city folks. You’ve got to put up with Mother and me, you know, and you’ll want to know what to expect.
I’m sending you a book of pictures about Chicago. It’s about two years old, though, and there are a lot of changes. It hasn’t anything in it about the Fair, but you can get acquainted with some of our other places.
Write me soon, and tell me all about it.
Much love -
Glen
