Dear Sons, January 1959
My Dear Sons, I am writing this letter on a Friday evening in January 1959. It is not too cold outside my office in the restaurant building. Upstairs, people are working, customers (fewer then in past years) are eating. Mother is at home. It is rather late 12:30 am (Sat.). She is probably watching T.V. and waiting — as she has waited there many years — for me to come home. It will be 2:30 am before I do get home. You three are asleep now, and I can picture your cherub
faces as you lie there in your warm covers. My wonderful, wonderful sons! Another day of exuberant play and coy mischief over. And soon you’ll be up and at it again. What joy to watch you!! And what a contrast to the busy, hectic, tension-filled days and long worrisome nights, immersed in the necessary struggle to provide the better things of life that your Dad and Mom want so sorely for you, as well as for ourselves.
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