DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds correspondence, April-December 1919 | 1919-07-18 Conger Reynolds to John and Emily Reynolds Page 1

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Conger Reynolds correspondence, April-December 1919

1919-07-18 Conger Reynolds to John and Emily Reynolds Page 1

July 18, 1919
Dear Fambly, -
It was bad enough when Conger used to do this typewriting stunt thru necessity, but now here comes the in-law member of the fambly, doing the same stunt.  She has orful good reasons, tho, one being a total absence of anything like fountain-pen ink in the house, and another being economy.  Because looky how many more words I can squeeze onto a page this way than I could if I wrote with a pen.  I will admit that there is a bottle of very ancient purple ink here, which must have been of the 1870 vintage, and I have used it at various times, with the result that I was simply buttered with it.  I want to really tell you-all (deliberate this time, I assure you) something of what we have been doing, and I don't want any Louis 14th pen to stand between me and my purpose.
I told someone in a letter the other day that we were all going to the opera.  Conger gets the tickets thru the Trib, so we have a swell little box and get in on our faces.  (Somebody please shut Fred off.)  The opera was Faust, and we enjoyed it, even tho it is one we've all seen more than any other.  As usual - the audience was largely American.  It's hard to see any difference in the number of Americans that swarm the streets, even tho many are leaving all the time, but the most we see now are Y.M.C.A. people, and what they do the Lord alone knows.  The one thing I find they are really keen on is buying up all the good seats to everything, so that they seem to own Paris.  That is the impression they give to many French people, too.
We all went out to the Sanborns' Tuesday. Norris and I went with Almer at noon, and Conger, because of his working days, came out about six-thirty.  We didn't go home until the next afternoon and we were dead tired. There is so much to do out there that I am always tired when we come home.
The next day was the real treat.  I had been looking forward for some time to seeing the real battle fields, and now that I have seen  a section of it, I don't care for any more.  That is the way I feel now, but I suppose when Conger makes the trip to Rheims, I'll be stumbling along at his heels, just as I was this time.  By the way, after listening carefully, I find they pronounce that place so that it rhymes with "pants" rather tan the way we had been calling it at home.  Now let the fambly poet, in the absence of the fambly idiot, get busy with the tip I've given and write a stirring thing to Rheims. -- To resume - we planned to get up very early and get away by nine o'clock (missed it both times, didn't I?)  Conger had a letter to the officer in charge at Chateau Thierry, which would get us a place on the truck load of Red Cross and Y workers who would be going out there.  We didn't get up early enough for our train but we found later that one left about eleven o'clock, so we made tracks.  
On the way, we stopped at the Express Co. and got the mail, which consisted of a very nice letter from Malen (which I'll be answering soon) one from Mutt, and several from Dooley.  One was a regular letter, all full of news and prunes and things, and the rest held the recipes I've been wanting.  I didn't waste any time - used two of them today.  I havn't an oven to the gas, tho, and since we can't afford wood for the other stove, nor $11 for a little gas oven, we do without lots of things we like. It doesn't really matter, when we have each other, whether we have cake and baked potatoes. It will be nice when we can have those things too, tho, blee me.  'Way off the track again, hain't it?  Well - we got the train alright, and it was such a wonderful trip.  The country is so lovely and green with the growing things that it is very hard for the new comer to realize even a little of the things that really happened.  On the way we passed thru Meaux and Conger pointed out the direction of the place where he lived

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July 18, 1919 Dear Fambly, - It was bad enough when Conger used to do this typewriting stunt thru necessity, but now here comes the in-law member of the fambly, doing the same stunt. She has orful good reasons, tho, one being a total absence of anything like fountain-pen ink in the house, and another being economy. Because looky how many more words I can squeeze onto a page this way than I could if I wrote with a pen. I will admit that there is a bottle of very ancient purple ink here, which must have been of the 1870 vintage, and I have used it at various times, with the result that I was simply buttered with it. I want to really tell you-all (deliberate this time, I assure you) something of what we have been doing, and I don't want any Louis 14th pen to stand between me and my purpose. I told someone in a letter the other day that we were all going to the opera. Conger gets the tickets thru the Trib, so we have a swell little box and get in on our faces. (Somebody please shut Fred off.) The opera was Faust, and we enjoyed it, even tho it is one we've all seen more than any other. As usual - the audience was largely American. It's hard to see any difference in the number of Americans that swarm the streets, even tho many are leaving all the time, but the most we see now are Y.M.C.A. people, and what they do the Lord alone knows. The one thing I find they are really keen on is buying up all the good seats to everything, so that they seem to own Paris. That is the impression they give to many French people, too. We all went out to the Sanborns' Tuesday. Norris and I went with Almer at noon, and Conger, because of his working days, came out about six-thirty. We didn't go home until the next afternoon and we were dead tired. There is so much to do out there that I am always tired when we come home. The next day was the real treat. I had been looking forward for some time to seeing the real battle fields, and now that I have seen a section of it, I don't care for any more. That is the way I feel now, but I suppose when Conger makes the trip to Rheims, I'll be stumbling along at his heels, just as I was this time. By the way, after listening carefully, I find they pronounce that place so that it rhymes with "pants" rather tan the way we had been calling it at home. Now let the fambly poet, in the absence of the fambly idiot, get busy with the tip I've given and write a stirring thing to Rheims. -- To resume - we planned to get up very early and get away by nine o'clock (missed it both times, didn't I?) Conger had a letter to the officer in charge at Chateau Thierry, which would get us a place on the truck load of Red Cross and Y workers who would be going out there. We didn't get up early enough for our train but we found later that one left about eleven o'clock, so we made tracks. On the way, we stopped at the Express Co. and got the mail, which consisted of a very nice letter from Malen (which I'll be answering soon) one from Mutt, and several from Dooley. One was a regular letter, all full of news and prunes and things, and the rest held the recipes I've been wanting. I didn't waste any time - used two of them today. I havn't an oven to the gas, tho, and since we can't afford wood for the other stove, nor $11 for a little gas oven, we do without lots of things we like. It doesn't really matter, when we have each other, whether we have cake and baked potatoes. It will be nice when we can have those things too, tho, blee me. 'Way off the track again, hain't it? Well - we got the train alright, and it was such a wonderful trip. The country is so lovely and green with the growing things that it is very hard for the new comer to realize even a little of the things that really happened. On the way we passed thru Meaux and Conger pointed out the direction of the place where he lived