September 8, 1934
Daddy went up north about Thirty miles about five o’clock tonight so I am sitting down to the garage doing nothing although it is Saturday night. It is about seven o’clock so I suppose he will be back in a couple hours. School hasn’t been bad as yet but I suppose it will get worse. There is one thing that I am tired of and that is branae. In closing her eyes and looking at the ceiling while talking she would get on everybody’s nerves. Latin isn’t so bad but Darrell and I are the only boys taking it with seven girls. I am listening to the radio as it is sure dead. (I mean business).
The rest of the family went on a picnic with all the Halls (south of town) out to Lake Elizabeth, so I am down here all alone again today. I am listening to the Rosebud Kiddies (just as good as ever). Donald Ramey is here loafing around.
You may not think this is a long letter but it has taken plenty of time and plenty of ambition on my part.
Your brother, Myron C. Stafford.
P.S. I sold all your books and even rented out your Senior English book for Thirty Five cents. (Thank you). But I do have to buy two new Chemistry books as yours is too old.
I just found this letter laying here so will mail it. Will write soon. Your Dad.
[The above letter was typed by Myron while he worked at the garage. Handwritten postscript by Marvin Stafford.]