August 7, 1931 - Friday

This was a very lazy day. Doro’s eyes are hurting her so I read to her this afternoon until she went to sleep. After supper wrote a letter to June then sat by fire until ten.

George's letter home:

Dear Mom,

Don’t know if I can stand it without my leather coat until you get here or not. The nights are freezing and below now. We all hug this big fire place as long as we can now, before going to our tent houses for the night.

I had an interesting experience the other day. I lost my watch my second day up here, and an old man returned it to me the earlier part of this week. He had found it and had been trying for three weeks to discover who I was. Darn fortunate my name was on it wasn’t it? Well nothing can be taken from one when it belongs to them.

This is my sixth letter tonight, and my eyes are beginning to bother me. The punk lights and this blue paper are a couple of poor combinations. Just like some of the salads we get up here.

I had to send my boots down by one of the stage drivers to be repaired. From what I can gather, they will cost about four dollars. Lewis is lending me the money; so I really ought to return it soon.

Take good care of yourselves you belong to me.

Brother.