Sept. 25, 1922
Brooklyn and Home again!
Yesterday was a hectic day, my parents said: but for me it was filled with exciting things. While they worked getting everything ready to leave, I played around the house and garden, climbing steps and digging in the soft earth and wading in the deep, wet grass and walking up and down the road—and everything! —Then we went to the Inn for dinner and I sat on a regular chair and had a regular dinner like a regular fellow. —And then about 3:45 the taxi came and we locked up the house and said good bye to the dear place. —We made the train with just a minute to spare, and Father and Mother sat down and took the first restful breath they’d had in two days! The trip to Bridgeport was very pleasant; though all I had for supper on the way was a few crackers. There we had to change trains, and I was a bit scared when the great clanking, rumbling engine bore down upon us as we waited on the platform. But when I was taken into the chair car, a new thing to me, I was quite overcome by the wonder of it all: the colored porter and the bright lights and the rows of people: and for quite a while I just sat and looked and said never a word. After a bit, though, and while the car was moving, I got down from Father’s lap and walked the whole length of the car and back again, just to show Father how I had improved. and all the people were nice and friendly to me. —A hot box, Father said, delayed us a long time so that we arrived in New York fifty minutes late; and so we didn’t reach home until 9:30. And there we found Aunt Sara waiting for us with supper all ready, farina and milk and crackers and apple sauce for me, just as usual. That was splendid: and when I got to bed in my old carriage, I slept like a log all night.
Today I’ve been busy renewing my acquaintance with all the familiar things of home. But I miss Aunt Jane’s garden and the trees and the out-of-doors; and there is no Flight to Heaven to climb!
Sept. 23, 1922.
Father’s here again. Hooray! He came up last night after I had gone to bed and I was so surprised and so glad to hear his, “Good morning, Son!” this morning as usual. He has been busy all day helping Mother pack up [for we go back to Brooklyn tomorrow], but still he’s found time to play with me: and, my, how I love to romp with him!
This morning we three took our last walk together down the New Hartford road, and it was very lovely. There is lots of color on the East hill. We shall be mighty sorry to leave Riverton: and I shall be especially now that I am walking all about the place by myself and digging in the dirt and doing pretty nearly everything a little boy likes to do. It has been a wonderful summer for me.
Sept. 19, 1922
Been cold for the last few days. Frost Sunday and Monday nights, and the fire going all day long. I think an open fire is pretty nearly the nicest thing about a house.
Aunt Lucy is still here. She has learned, as Father and Mother have, to be sympathetic whenever I have a mosquito bite. Since I like sympathy, I always point out other bites, also: But sometimes I point to a dimple in my hand and then they laugh at me.
Sept. 15, 1922
Aunt Nora and Aunt Lucy came up today. Aunt Nora has to go back Sunday, but Aunt Lucy will stay longer. First time Aunt Nora and I have seen each other since July 4th, and she was so pleased and amazed at my development.—It’s nice to have them both here.
Sept. 12, 1922
Yesterday was a gorgeous day and Mother took me for a lovely ride down to the Bradys’ for vegetables. Then I climbed the steps to the bungalow—”The Flight to Heaven,” Father calls them—twice, walking both up and down like a grown-up, but holding on to Mother’s hand the while! I always try to pick out some of the stones Father put in to support the steps, but I’m not allowed to get very far with that. I can enjoy myself throwing away the little stones, however, and scraping the steps clean with my hands. It was so nice of Father to build the steps for me to climb.
Don’t get out in the garden much ’cause Mother is too busy getting things set to rights in the bungalow to play with small me. I always go up to the bungalow with her when she’s working there and the porch is a great joy to me. It has been pouring all day today, however, so we’ve both been confined to the house.
I’ve learned to go to sleep without much fussing, even as I did a year ago. Sometimes Mother jiggles the bed a bit, but usually she just puts me down, says “Good night,” and walks out. Generally I howl for a few minutes, but sometimes I never peep. ‘Tisn’t so pleasant as when Father carried me and sang me to sleep: but I’m too big a boy for Mother to lug around and so I’ve just made up my mind to be as good as I can be: but it’s very hard when she leave me and shuts the door!
Sept. 9, 1922
Rained yesterday: and today is cloudy and damp, so I’ve been in the house all the time. I’ve spent hours, I think, in the fire place in the north room, trying to pick out the plaster from between the bricks! It’s fun being in Aunt Jane’s house: there are so many new things to examine, so many new places to explore. And it’s so different from our house in the tree tops.
I’ve gotten kind o’ used to Father’s absence, but every time anyone goes by whistling I stop dead and look at Mother questioningly and stretch out my hands and say “Ah-h-h!” most expectantly—but Daddy never comes!
Sept. 7, 1922
Father went away yesterday and I miss him dreadfully. When he heft the house I cried and cried until Mother finally got me to sleep for my nap: and in the afternoon everytime I happened to think of him I went to the front door, out of which I saw him go, and leaned against it and cried some more. And when Mother was jiggling me to sleep in my crib at night a man went by the house whistling, and although I was almost asleep I stretched out my hand and said, “Ah-h-h!” for I though it was Daddy. It was very sad.
Today hasn’t been much better. I’m still mourning and full of sighs. I leaned my head against the front door several times and cried. And when Mother and I have been jabbering together and she mentioned, “Daddy,” straightway my smiles turned to tears. I wish he hadn’t had to go!
Sept. 4, 1922
Miss Lockhart went home today. —She is nice, as I thought. Took me riding yesterday and has played with me a lot.
Haven’t been in swimming for several days, as it’s been raining again. My, how rain interferes with things!
Rapidly learning new words these days. My method of pronouncing them isn’t the approved method, I know, but it suits me and my parents! My own name is “Gock-ń” and apple is “a-a-ap-ḿ” and orange is “ah-nwé” but Mother is “ma-má” and daddy is just “da-a-dý!”
Father’s vacation is nearly over. He has to go back to the city day after tomorrow; but Mother and I are going to stay here until the 24th, probably. We shall move down to Aunt Jane’s house, however, as it will be easier for Mother there when there is no big man around to carry water and to lug me up and down steps—when I’m not allowed to climb them myself, as I always want to do! —I don’t know quite what I’m going to do without Father. I’m almost sure Mother won’t roll on the floor with me the way he does, and I know she can’t carry me and sing me to sleep. —I s’pose I’ll just have to go to sleep without being carried, that’s all.
I weigh 34 lbs! Gained four pounds since we came here. I guess that’s pretty good for the second summer! —And I’m 32 inches tall.