DIY History | Transcribe | Nile Kinnick Collection | Nile Kinnick correspondence, March-October 1943

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Nile Kinnick correspondence, March-October 1943

1943-04-24: Page 03

any event she preferred it to living in the city, especially New York where she had been visiting. (Now grandma, if this gives you any ideas about returning to Adel, I shall never forgive myself for writing this little story!) From her window she was wont to watch the airplanes passing overhead and driving through their various bombing exercises. They provided a certain, strange companionship, and would even more so now that she knew me. Just before we pulled into New London she asked if she might have my name and address. Under the circumstances it seemed an odd request, but her simple sincerity quashed my condescension, and I wrote it out for her. In a neat, legible hand she did the same for me, and in a way so gentle and good that I felt ashamed I had not made it easier for her by asking her to do it. As the train rolled on I saw her walking off across the station platform with her small black suitcase in one hand and the battered pocketbook in the other. But that is not the end of the story as at the time I thought it undoubtedly was. A few days later, when I had all but forgotten the incident, I received a sturdy little package mailed from Niantic, Conn. It was a full pound box of delicious cashew nuts of which I am extremely fond. I find it difficult to say exactly what this experience has meant to me, so pregnant with kindness, generosity, love and sacrifice. Surely, it is

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any event she preferred it to living in the city, especially New York where she had been visiting. (Now grandma, if this gives you any ideas about returning to Adel, I shall never forgive myself for writing this little story!) From her window she was wont to watch the airplanes passing overhead and driving through their various bombing exercises. They provided a certain, strange companionship, and would even more so now that she knew me. Just before we pulled into New London she asked if she might have my name and address. Under the circumstances it seemed an odd request, but her simple sincerity quashed my condescension, and I wrote it out for her. In a neat, legible hand she did the same for me, and in a way so gentle and good that I felt ashamed I had not made it easier for her by asking her to do it. As the train rolled on I saw her walking off across the station platform with her small black suitcase in one hand and the battered pocketbook in the other. But that is not the end of the story as at the time I thought it undoubtedly was. A few days later, when I had all but forgotten the incident, I received a sturdy little package mailed from Niantic, Conn. It was a full pound box of delicious cashew nuts of which I am extremely fond. I find it difficult to say exactly what this experience has meant to me, so pregnant with kindness, generosity, love and sacrifice. Surely, it is