May 10, 1944

Dear Dad: Your birthday isn’t it? I rolled my sleeves up and sat in the sun this afternoon awhile. Horridge and Hollis were finishing the yard and planting flowers in a circle we left unsodded in the center. They planted pansies and, of course, that name brought forth some satirical remarks from some other men. The sod is beginning to root. Had a good frost a couple nites ago. I see by paper you did too. Got your Apr. 28 letter to-day and an Apr. 27 V-mail from Chris & Jo. Also got a letter from Arlan and his new address. Are the strawberries doing any good this year? Sounds like the politics around there is taking on some intrigue. You might send the column about Men in Service in the “Industrialist” and please send them $3 for another year. My subscription run out in Oct., it seems. I think Arlan is now about as far from the army as one can get without being out of it. Sounds all right. Am now reading “Days of ’49” by G. Young.
                                    Yours truly, John