Hello, my friends! It is 4 p.m. Sunday - and the deadline is 5:40; so I must talk fast - and maybe stop abruptly. It may not even make sense, for I feel as if I am writing in Grand Central Station. We are expecting a train load - pardon me, I mean a car load of folks from Saltsburg most any time, and one desolate boy is about to leave for Fort Sheridan. Merle Deemer, of Salina (one of our favorite people), has a job in Cleveland and is at present making his home with us. We persuaded Marjorie Lemon to stay a second week; they and my husband and brother-in-law, Clarence Summers, celebrated the glorious fourth in Saltsburg and environs. Independence Day and the flag of our country, waving high, became more vital than ever before - to every home in the land; this home found a new awareness, as our new soldier son brought our girl home on that day. He is being sent to Fort Leonard Wood, in Missouri, this week, for an indefinite period. And so young hearts are being torn between love and duty; but, thank God, love of country comes first. The words of the English poet, Richard Lovelace, are just as true today as when he penned them, three hundred years ago: "I could not love thee dear, so much, Loved I not honour more."***
There is so much to tell you - and so little time. A week ago today Tom and Estelle brought me into Chicago, where I took the bus for Cleveland. We came into Chicago as soon as Tom was off guard duty - that we might look up my "glamor girl" of long ago, Dell McQuiston Harmon, and her husband and mother. The glamor is still there, I assure you. When we arrived, Mrs. Harmon and her mother were sitting in the park, which is only a step from the Clarendon Club, their present home. As Harmon expressed, "We sit here and watch the world go by." The eternally vigilant" and devoted daughter must be eyes and mainstay for her mother, who is quite feeble, and whose physical eyes see but little. Mr. Harmon (he reads the Saltsburg Press, so I dare not tell you how handsome he is - even after a very serious illness) - well, he took the young folks under his wing, and they loved it - and him. He regaled us all with his experiences in World War I, in which he served as major (brought out by Tom's questioning - but don't ask me what division), his subsequent travels in Europe, and the work so dear to his heart - the reclamation of so-called delinquent boys who came to the St. Charles School for Boys. At my request Mr. Harmon has sent me a good many copies of the school magazine - "The Boy Agriculturist," in which are glowing tributes to his work there. But I would know, without reading a word, that he is a great leader of boys, for he has the understanding heart. Many of his boys, who, in childhood, got off to a bad start, are now serving their country and some, with distinction. Mrs. Harmon told me how these boys write to him - from all over the world - telling him how grateful they are for his guidance.
Now, it is quitting time - and I'm not half through. Nor did I get to those four fine women that found the fountain of youth. But better luck next time. Hastily -
Sincerely,
Florence B. Taylor