April 1, 1947
Pub. in the kitchen: Weather: Stinkin'
339 Frost Ave. Editor: Genevieve
Rochester 8, N.Y. Publisher: Charles
Well, kids, another month has rolled around and I don't know about you but
me, I'm squashed right under it! March came in like a lion - one with two
heads, yet - and since I'm one of those foolish people who put their faith
in the wisdom of the old proverbs, I settled down in the midst of my aver-
due-pwa and waited for the lamb. March 21st was lovely and I was out in
shirt sleeves inspecting the spring flowers which the melted snows revealed
up brave inches. That's all, brother! Spring came and went. It's been
snowing, freezing, thawing, backing and filling ever since. That's one
thing we have up here - weather.
One sloppy Saturday I went 2nd-hand shopping, however, bound and determined
to get a dining room table with elbow room. I climbed up into all the
lofts and down into all the cellars but finally found just what we need -
probably the very one the March family had for all those little women but
we mix 'em up , little men and ditto women. It's big enough for eight
comfortably just as is and with two leaves in it you could feed an army in
a couple of servings. Nine bucks - delivered. Walnut.
Hunting for that I also found something we've wanted for these Indians for
a long time, too. Howdie is 6 1/2 and we've wrecked four sets of kitchen
chairs. Don't ask me how because I don't know. They just fall apart. But
I fooled them this time! I got four ice cream parlor twisted steel wire
ones! They are going to be cute when they're painted red because Charles
cut circles of the red Spanish tile linoleum we used for the kitchen floor
for them and even painted brown they look gay.
Finally got the linoleum down on the kitchen floor, too, and 6 inches up
the walls with a steel trim to go on shortly. Between the floor and the
kitchen unit Charles built all the way across the long side, plus a coat of
paint all over, the kitchen is a far cry from the wood shed and summer
kitchen that it used to be, I'll tell you.
The linen closets and catch-alls are built along the bathroom wall, too,
and are painted with one coat. Gives the impression of a streamlined train
a little but we can sure stick a lot of stuff into all that extra cupboard
space, chillun. The whole bathroom has a coat of paint - ivory - too, so
that a person can hang up a towel without worrying about getting sick
looking at it against that robin's egg blue.
FOOLISH QUESTIONS: People are forever writing, "I don't see how you find
the time..." Let's get this straight once and for all, we don't find the
time. We steal it. Instead of staying up late for card parties, or
lifting a few with the boys, we stay up and work. Same difference except
that we do have something to show for it besides the circles under our
eyes! Personally I think 24 hours in a day is a short-sighted arrangement
anyhow. We have plenty of pep to work more than 16 hours but we do not
know the secret of sleeping QUICKLY. Once we get that one figured out
we'll be in the clear.
SECRETS: Since we cannot afford a research dept., I don't know whether I
have explained this printing process or not and surely you don't expect me
to look through all those back issues. So, I'll tell the story once more
and we have
no patents on it, so those of you who wish to go and do likewise are
welcome to it. One thing: practice up on your typing so that yours won't
come out like this one does. Sometimes I marvel that I used to earn a good
living at this! So:
Get a can of Hectograph Jelly at any stationers' and a cookie pan at any
hardware. Buy a dozen sheets of Hectograph carbon while at the former
establishment and some cheap bond paper, such as Badger, and you're all set
to go. Follow the directions on the can and pour the stuff into the cookie
pan. Let it stand 24 hours. Meantime type up your words of wisdom and
then place the carbon copy of same upside down on the gunk, press well
unpeel and then get as many duplicates as you wish up to our total - 40 -
by placing a clean sheet of paper on the thing, rub gently and peel again.
That's all there is to it but let me warn you: You'll probably start out
with a dozen, as we did and inch up to 50.
Say, that reminds me of a good question: Where do you people find time to
read this every 30 days? (Don't answer that, Doc!)
VITAL STATISTICS: We're down one and up one again since the last issue. I
did tell you the guest room is free again, didn't I? Well, our extra man,
Rudy, was moved, by request, to another home. It's a long story but this
isn't an invalid home for delicate children nor is it a club for their
footloose parents. Anyhow, he left. Then somebody down at Catholic
Charities turned the sign around so that it read: "Angione's Bed Is
Anyhow, after a week of comparative peace, they called and asked us to take
in a little guy named Sam who was just heck out of luck for a place to put
his head until they had time to dig one up. It developed that I couldn't
say "no" and mean it, so Sammy moved in and TOOK OVER. He's a born Top
Sarge, that guy. Sturdy as an oak stump, bright as a pistol and raised on
Full O' Pep or I'm mistaken, he decided inside of a couple of hours that he
wanted to stay here until he was a man. "You're just the kind of a lady I
like," says he at supper. "I love you already. And I love that big girl
(Chris!) and the dog love me already, too. Did you know that? He kissed
me!" He was born in August like Howdie and living with the two of them is
like being locked up with Father Time and his brother. Some of the things
that come out of those two!
Inside of an hour he had taken Howdie's place as the "father" in playing
a house game and at supper he told us, "I'm the father and that girl
(Chris) is the mother and he (Howdie) is the salesman. He's trying to sell
us things for our new house but we aren't going to buy much - we've got
almost all the stuff we need!"
And instead of saying "Rudy, stop playing and eat your supper!" we now
say in chorus, "Sammy, the house isn't on fire and you aren't catching a
train! Take your time, boy!" Mo matter what we get after this it will
strike somewhere between those two - they are Alpha and Omega, period!
INCIDENTALLY: Did it ever occur to any of you folks that out at your own
orphanages there are probably children without a known relative to take
them "out" as they say even for Christmas and Easter and a Sunday now and
then? It wouldn't hurt some of you with cars and no children to go out and
get acquainted and give the poor little kids a day in a home. We had a
little guy "out" last Sunday and we're having him for Easter, when
Dynamite Sam will be at his grandfather's and we've promised to let him
come here for his two weeks' vacation this summer. Take the hint, folks.
THEATRE: The Community Players are reviving "Hasty Heart" from last year
the Rotary Club benefit. Haven't been over to see a rehearsal yet but I've
heard it's very good and the cast has even been improved so the kids should
have a nice pile of long green to run their camp.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR: (Note: somebody suggested this and believe me,
people, I'll pick extra good or extra nasty ones only!)
Monett, Mo.: Renew my subscription quickly. Am in love with your newsy
sheet." Ed.Note, That's what we like to hear (but frequently don't!)
Poughkeepsie, N.Y.: "A little while back I was hoping to see them (the
children) in person, in ..... but unfortunately (if that is the word!)
Genevieve did not have to go to the hospital." Ed.Note, Get him! Guess
I'll put a good Webster on the Christmas list!
Winston-Salem, N.C.: "Enjoyed your March Bulletin, look forward to them
now..." Ed.Note, Like sulphur and molasses - gotta get used to it!
WARNING: I'd better hear from Pittsburgh about those African violet leaves
that found themselves roots somehow or other or there is going to be
something to pay and you all know what.
NOTE: Looking over the mailing list I discovered so much cloth on it that
I'll have to brush up on polite cussin'. There are an: S.J., C.S.P., O.P.
(he's the guy with the printed matter at his disposal which we get instead
of letter! God bless him, the lazy!), C.S.C. and a plain Rev.
BROTHER IT'S NO CINCH DEPT: Broke down recently and bought a book on how
to fix up your broken down shack to look like a million dollars. It cost
me a buck but we got one good idea out of it anyhow. We're gong to make
the stairs go the other way. No kidding. Unless you've served a couple of
hitches in the Navy on active duty you can hardly get back down stairs
after you once make it up there. So, we're going to turn them to go down
the other way to a landing in what is now that closet in the Play Room (see
diagram in Feb. issue). Then we can have a step or two down to another
landing under the playroom window and a last step from that. It will put
the clothes closet in the living room where it will be handy to both the
front and dining room doors, too.
NUTS: Those of you who subscribe, as I do, to the Woman's Home Companion
have no doubt noticed the article in the current issue about the house in
Connecticut that two dear people made over. Looks and sounds lovely but
don't overlook two things: the nice hardwood floors in the "Before"
shots, the two fireplaces, etc. And second, the gimmick in the last
paragraph about the film they made of their work and progress with "the
cooperation of the Pittsburgh Plate Glass Co." Phooey!
They should have started with an old 65 years young joint like this, honey.
And take my word for it they wouldn't have had time or patience to make a
movie of their progress at 4:00 a.m. any more than we did! I got a plate
glass mirror for over my dining room server, too, but it isn't a mile
square and I got it with coupons from the grocery store premium parlor.
And instead of building glass "powder rooms" in a nice tile hall with a
good oak turned stairway already in it, I'd like to have a movie of them
building a kitchen unit like we did out of old bed frames, orange boxes,
porch roof boards, bureau drawer fronts, plywood and heaven only knows
what. I love these people who make their bid when they start out with a
nine card suit in their own hand and then pick four more in the dummy!
Brave little things!
Holy cow (both ends of it, too!) I'm going to have trouble with the
printers' union. Four pages and Charles will turn handsprings in the
coalbin. Well, what can a wind do but blow? He knew all about it when he
married me because I wrote him long letters and he looked forward to them.
But this month I'm going to have to leave off the personal notes on the
backs of these things. That takes another couple of nights, do you know
that? Consider your letters answered in toto.
MEDICAL: Heaven help us all, the flu got us, too. Had Charles home for
two days in bed after he finally decided he couldn't like walking around
only half alive. No Howdie is laid low but he is so noble about being sick
that he kills me. Charles just sleeps but Howdie is brave. Oh, dear and
the girls keep going up to keep him company so I'll have them on my hands
Holy Week. me, I've got a sore throat but I gave myself a new bob and then
a shampoo and wave this afternoon, so I'll probably be okay by tomorrow.
If I take care of myself something terrible happens.
And today, while cutting the wig back to normal proportions, it suddenly
dawned on me that there are still extant some of those who knew me when I
first cut my Rapunzel locks years ago in good old Pittsburgh. Say, where
has all that time gone? There's been millions of minutes since then,
people, a lot of them misspent, too. But praise the Lord and never mind
the dye, I haven't many gray hairs yet and not store choppers, either.
Considering it all, I have nothing to complain of, even if my creditors do.
HARD LUCK: One blight has appeared recently however. The Boy Scouts got
their hooks back into Charles and he is on the Bishop's Committee of
Laymen, so I can be grateful I like to knit, radio, sew, etc. because I'll
have plenty of time while he's out organizing troops - for free.
But I'm resigned to some things. He's stayed home nights for nine years
and I think that's something of a record in this day of matrimonial merry-
go-rounds. I think it's safe to let him out. Maybe, like the Prodigal
Son, he'll be glad to get back home after his fling.
Life will, if you let it, teach you many things. Take my laundry hamper.
Anybody who doesn't believe in miracles would definitely believe in the one
about the loaves and the fishes if they'd see my hamper. I do! Yesterday
I washed again and the cellar is full. But the hamper is full, too. As a
matter of fact, I'm inclined to believe I have here that very same cute
little basket we've all heard so much about. Only the lack of any odor of
fish convinces me that it isn't.
Now I must quit. A very happy Easter to all of you dear people. You know,
we have met in our travels some of the nicest folks and you can all take a
bow before the nearest mirror because we do mean YOU. We're glad that we
know all of you. Remember us in your various kinds of prayers and we'd
like you to know that the whole family here prays for all of you every day
before our lovely Christ Child of Prague. God bless all of you at this
lovely season of hope. All our love, too.