67 Fire truck goes to the wrong house

January 1, 1935

Dear Corinna,

New Year’s Day—We have had no company. I have just finished my seersucker dress. H and G say it is very pretty. H went skating and Gloria and I delivered papers.

Elvira came yesterday to see if H and G would sing at the W.C.T.U. at Edith Strong’s Thursday. They are practicing that lullaby, “Now the Star’s Wink”. While Elvira was here, Art Anderson came to sell his extracts etc. She bought some coffee and Daddy came just then—and Art asked Daddy if we’d take some stuff for the bill he owed at the garage. Daddy agreed so we got a few articles. Daddy was real kind to Art and you know sometimes he isn’t. Then Art couldn’t get his car started so he came in again (it was so cold out) and had a cup of coffee with Daddy and when Howard Reamer came to get Elvira—Howard pulled Art’s car home.

Yesterday at noon the fire whistle rang and the cars all went past here—the fire truck was full of men all looking so important as they went by here. They just sort of tickled me because you could see they were enjoying it—well they went way up the street and then the last stragglers didn’t follow them, but these went down past Ed Miller’s and to the place where John Miller lived. Well that wonderful fire truck had gone to the wrong house and had to turn around and come way back to the Lutheran Church corner. I suppose they had been told it was the old John Miller house and they went up to Edla Miller’s home as her father’s name was John Miller. There is a rough family living in the John Miller house now by the name of Woodruff or something like that. When the firemen finally got there they couldn’t find any fire—the chimney had been smoking upstairs and the family thot they had a fire. Young John Miller’s have moved out on the Cederstrom farm.

Myron went to Willmar last night to celebrate New Year’s Eve with his girl—he wore his new scarf—it looks so nice with his brown coat (she said it was the nicest scarf she’d ever seen). I am trying to get him to write his Thank you letters but he can’t seem to get up any ambition for anything. He is so pleased about his pen and pencil. He says he won’t have to borrow anymore.

I have made out an order to Sears for some curtains with blue in them—Betsy Ross style. I want to have some to go with the BedSpread when the League of Women Voters meet here this month. They are only 31 cents apiece so I guess it won’t break anybody up in business. I needed new ones anyhow.

Alma called up one day lately to thank for the hanky I sent her. She said I should greet you.

Rev. Robertson preached a New Year Sermon last Sun. eve. When it came time for the sermon he couldn’t find his notes so he strode down the aisle chuckling and asking if he’d left his notes in the pews. They were under Attorney Swenson’s coat so he took them and went back and then of course he had to tell a story. He said a young minister on the prairie once had his notes blown out the window by a strong draft of wind. He said the minister excused himself—went out and caught the papers and came back and preached his sermon. Rev. Robertson’s text was 12th verse of the 90th psalm—and a good sermon it was. We didn’t get the mail today and I am quite sure there was a letter from you. Well, we will get it in the morning. I want to make the blue dress Aunt Frances gave me next. I don’t really need it now with the black one I have, but I think it was so lovely of her to give it to me that I want to make it right away. Have you any suggestions as to pattern—you and Aunt Evelyn? I am going to write to Aunt Esther now. Goodnight, Love from Mother.


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Atwater, Minnesota: 1934-1935 Copyright © 2019 by Ruth Dukelow is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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