The CCZCC starts over at 1 with this letter.
Dear Mother and Mike,
I warn you that this will probably be a very gloomy letter. I wouldn't even be writing you today except I need to send this check quickly. Just keep in mind that my "depression moods" pass and I'll probably be laughing about everything in a couple of days.
Firstly, I am depressed because of the broken gifts. I was very proud of what I bought for you and I got the new baby the "very thing" I wanted for his mother. I fought traffic, crowds, sneering clerks, and a crowded post office to get them bought and mailed . . . then to have them arrive at their destination broken was more than I could bear. So I am through with my great plan of sending everyone something "special from L. A." and the family will each get one lousy Christmas card - and it will probably be bent from the rough handling at the post office.[It sounds like Mom mailed not only the baby food warmer she has been mentioning in previous letters, but also some Christmas gifts for other family members in Texas. And she is more than a little upset about some or all of it arriving damaged.]
[Also, did you catch the important clue about a recent event in that paragraph? In previous letters you can tell Mom did not know the gender of the baby my Uncle Wayne and Aunt Linda (Linda Kay) were about to have. The most recent mention was in the letter postmarked October 24, when she said, "Well, I'm getting anxious for Linda Kay to have my niece or nephew." Now do you see the clue in the paragraph above? "I got the new baby the very thing I wanted for HIS mother." Now we know they had a boy, who happens to be turning 50 years old today (November 8). Happy birthday again, Steven!]
Now for the solution to the broken gifts. Since it will be impossible for Linda Kay to buy another feeding dish, I'll ask you to get one for her (it's a GE and they carry them at Penney's - It's electric and cost $10.98 here).[$11 in 1967 bought about as much as $80 in 2017.]
You take the broken one and I'll use it. Now, don't let Wayne know my plan or he will stop you - he told Dave on the phone for me not to buy another and that Linda could use the broken one. But this is Linda's first baby and my first nephew, so we don't want anything broken - especially not a gift. With the money that is left (I hope some is left) buy something for Linda - flowers, candy, gown, bed jacket, anything you think she'd like. But make it something just for her to enjoy. Everyone will be getting things for the baby, but I don't want her to feel forgotten - after all, she had it. If you need more money, just let me know and I'll send it. I hate to put you to this trouble, but with me out here in "the land of sun" (Ha!) there's little I can do, so I wind up depending on Mother.
Mother - with the two broken Christmas packages! There is little excitement in waiting until Christmas to see what broken trinket you are receiving, so go ahead and rip 'em up. Let me know the extent of the damage, which will be absolute, I imagine. I can buy more glass and since I bought these from the man that makes them, he can show me how to install the glass. Thank God, he's one of the few store owners on Olvera Street that speaks English - my luck wasn't all bad. I will not send more glass through the mail, but will carry them home when we come. Then I can repair the damage - I hope.[I think Mom might be referring to some black metal lantern-like things with colored glass inserts. Seems like she sometimes mentioned those came from Olvera Street. I know there are still two of those hanging from the patio cover at the house where we grew up in Farmers Branch. (My sister lives there now.) Mom may have purchased some for my grandmother as well.]
Secondly, I am depressed because I can't be there to join in the excitement of a new baby. I would love to see, hold, cuddle, and spoil my nephew. I would like to compare notes with Linda Kay and make sure she did everything properly. And mainly, more than anything, I wish I could see Wayne enjoying his new role in life as daddy. I can imagine how proud and happy he is over his first son. You don't see Wayne really happy and this happiness is something he'll never talk about later and no one can describe it to me. It's something one would have to see and I'm missing it.[I can see where she was coming from regarding Uncle Wayne. Although he wasn't an exceptionally emotional person and almost always spoke calmly and evenly, it wasn't terribly rare for him to get a chuckle out of something. (That's him sitting on the couch smiling at me in the photo posted with the July 17, 1967 diary entry.) But (and this might be true for most people), I can't imagine him coming close to describing what he was feeling immediately after the birth of his son. Mom knew she was missing out on an indescribable one-time event, and given how much she relished experiencing the joy of others I can tell in that paragraph how much it was killing her. Reading that paragraph was sort of an "aha!" moment for me regarding Mom, as it helps explain why she always wanted to know the details about how people reacted to something good when she wasn't there to witness it herself, such as a birthday party or opening Christmas gifts. She hated to miss out on the emotional reaction of the moment.]
Thirdly, I am depressed over Dave's diet. Now, I guess that sounds crazy, but his damn diet is causing a family crisis. The vegetables Dave will eat on his diet - spinach, asparagus, broccoli, green beans, cauliflower - are the ones that David Wayne hates. They are both so stubborn and hard-headed that any kind of compromise is out of the question, so I feed them separately. I know that it's silly, but every meal was ending up with David Wayne in tears, Dave mad at both of us and stomping off to bed at 6:30, and me mad at both of them and not going to bed at all. Oh, I tried the "three bites" bit, but that was "spoiling" the child to Dave and David Wayne wouldn't even eat one bite without spitting it out! See - no compromise.[I think I've talked about this subject before. I don't remember having these food fights when we lived in Los Angeles, but I remember them from when we lived in Carrollton after moving back from L. A., and later when we moved to Farmers Branch. I have no doubt Mom's description is fairly accurate. I was certainly a picky eater at that age and I hated to try new foods. If they ever did get me to try something I didn't want to try I would usually just sit there and chew it forever and never swallow it. I guess I would eventually spit it out on my plate after Dad got upset and left the table. It seems as though most parents go through the same thing with picky eaters, so here's my unsolicited advice to avoid such conflicts:
1. Young children can't starve themselves. They will eat when they are hungry. 2. Parents can't control what their children eat. They can only control what's available for their children to eat. If you don't want your child to eat something, don't make it available.]
Fourthly, I am depressed because of my condition. I can't feel any movement at all which the doctor says I should. David Wayne bounced, rolled, and did somersaults while I carried him and this baby stays on the left side and hasn't stirred. I'm beginning to think the doctor made a mistake and instead of being pregnant, I've got a giant tumor. I warned you, this would be gloomy.[Spoiler alert: It's not a tuuuumor.]
[This is a good point to end Part 1 of this letter. Hopefully Part 2 is a little less gloomy.]
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