April
18
Dear
Robert[1] –
I carry my stationary along on the off chance
that I will have a stray moment that I can make use it, and here it is. Judging
the poetry contest at Ten— (held in the M.E. church which is now decorated as though
for a wedding or Easter) Very inadvertently I was early. I missed the time by
30 minutes which means I have 20 minutes to spare. This poetry festival is
really a lovely thing. Every student in school has a chance to participate— at
the semifinals three weeks ago some 70 kids read— and they differently weren't
the sissies either. The finals are held in some churches – the choir is in
their blue rubes— The contestants also robed and to organ music, the tech rough
necks come softly in by the choice of poems is rather good, too, although they
went rather strongly for "The Valley God Forgot" and “Patterns"
last time.
I do hope some of your packages have came
through by now. They were sent off rather sporadically so that you’ll have
Christmas for one week and fast days for month, I'm afraid. The books you were
asking about are Bacon’s Essays-evidently the only one in town, purchased by
Elizabeth because in your proceeding with letter Spring evidently invoked
thoughts of Bacon. My contribution is Wolcott’s (sic) “While Rome burns" which
if you’ve read it you probably won't mind taking on again.
Your
requests for something to help the bread slide down are also underway[2]. Though the jam isn't
included. I am a little cadgy as to its traveling graces.
I remembered hearing over the radio
about the block of bombers from Italy that had traveled up to Berlin (Palm or
Easter Sunday wasn't it?) and we wondered if you were along with them. From
reports of today you'll probably be able to walk triumphantly along Unter den Linden
any time you choose to go there. The end seems so near but seems so long in
getting here.
After a week the shock of Roosevelt's death
has worn off a bit. I objected violently to his election the last two or three
times but a positive and colorful figure has passed away[3]. Incidentally Truman seems
to be living up to the buildup given him by the radio and press.
Julius was home last week and was a big help
to mama in getting the spring cleanup on the way. I think you use a little unhappy
about his C.O[4].
status right now but I doubt if he'll do anything.
After a long cold winter or spring has at my
least come with a bang-we've been sweltering for the last week but what a joy
to be able to thaw out. The flowers have burst out in a riot of colors and the
other day I 18 greenish little strawberries for breakfast-with high hopes of
eventually getting more.
I'm going to S.F. tomorrow to a speech
meeting – a 28 hour Jaunt again but I feel as though I am going on a big toot.
Not a hotel room in S.F. available[5] but I'm going to sleep on
a cot in the lounge of the women's faculty club.
Good luck and a good time.
Love Cornelia[6]
P.S.
I'll take care of the Mother's Day present
[1] Envelope
is addressed to: Lt Robert B Richert 02071698, 99th Bm Gp. 346 Bm
Sq.,APO 520c/o P.M. New York City.
[2] Paul
Richert, Robert’s brother, loved grape jelly and sour dough bread from the
Basque bakery. After Paul’s passing, many jars of jam were found stored in the
kitchen.
[3] Even
Roosevelt’s detractors were shocked at his passing. Losing a sitting president
is never an easy thing, politically or emotionally, for a country.
[4] Julius
was a consciousness objector during the war and worked in the Pacific
Northwest. The cause for his unhappiness mention in this letter is unknown at
this time.
[5] The
housing shortage in urban areas was acute during the war. San Francisco, not
only being a major metropolitan area, was a major port and production area and
would have been especially impacted.
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