April 24, 1935
Another rainy day—it rained all day yesterday too. My shrubbery out in front is leafing out and am I proud of it?! Myron cut the old Spirea down to match the others so there will not be any flowers on it this year but it will grow I am sure.
Well bad luck has come again to Myron. At the Olivia game he broke his other ankle in the same way and place. So now he sits here again and we keep hot cloths on to bring down the swelling. Friday, Dr. A. may be able to bandage it. The bone is right in place as on the other one, so it won’t have to be set. I am going to ask Dr. A. if there is anything the matter with his bones. He’s real brave about it and seems resigned but his face was pretty white when he came home from having the X-ray taken. I hope he will stay in bed till noon this morning as it shortens his day some. I told him he had gone in too much for Athletics and it was intended to teach him the brain is much more important and useful—he never studies at home you know. He practiced on his Clarinet a lot yesterday. I told him “Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth,” and it was meant he should turn his thots to bigger things—all of which he meekly received.
Tomorrow is Idella May’s funeral at the Luth. Church—you know she went there to S.S. Betty called up this morning and asked to borrow Harriet’s white dress for Marjorie. The Junior girls are going to sing at her funeral. This will either make or break Ida—of course she is already a brave woman but it surely will do much to make her so, more.
Last night the school district voted on whether or not to build a Combination school and auditorium on the school grounds. There were 159 for and 123 against so guess it carried if the majority is one over half. Some say it should be 2/3 majority but Geo. Larson told me there’s nothing to that. So work will soon begin I suppose.
Tonight is book club up at Passoneaus. I am pretty well prepared with my report. Tomorrow I shall begin to sew on my green dress in earnest.
I went over to Dokkens to the League meeting for awhile yesterday. I brot my lunch home to Myron as I didn’t care to eat. He didn’t mind my going as he had the Radio. I came home once to get my book on taxes and he told me Frank Elstrom ought to be shot because every time Babe Ruth got up to bat, Elstrom started up his motor. Poor Daddy couldn’t hear the game—I wish he would get our home Radio fixed so he could have one at the Garage. They do enjoy it so. Love from Mother.
P.S. Your Friday and Easter letters here. We were as glad as you over your Easter trip. Myron found a picture of the 5th Ave. crowds that day in the paper and we imagined you one of them.
I haven’t given up hope of coming. Something will happen to make it possible. Just yet, the thing hasn’t happened—but we’ll wait and see.
Uncle ROC probably felt like I did the time I went out on the walk by the back porch and scolded Shirley and Stella for being mean to Conrad O’Hair, and I went over backwards on the ice. We also had a laugh out of the Cowgirl story. We received both your letters today so we feel we have been well treated.
Now I must clean up as I feel so dirty from cleaning up the house. I wiped up all the floors so as to have it look nice when the teachers and others come in to see Myron. Mother.