Writing again from Grand Central Station (and do I love it! - being in G.C.S.). Come to think of it, autos don't land in such a place. Well, let's call it a tourist camp - "All the comforts of home." Hot and cold water. Innerspring mattresses. Quilt padding on the floor for the overflow. At 5:30 Friday evening Merle received a call from a Cleveland cousin, that he had a chance to go home with another relative, and come back with this cousin. At 8 o'clock he was on his way. Come 11:15 that night, the 'phone rings; it's Western Union, with a telegram from Tom, at Fort Leonard Wood, M. "leaving Sat. afternoon, ankle express - arrive Sunday eve." (Which shows complete faith in passing autoists).
Saturday morning, at 10:30, the 'phone rings again. "Long distance call from Conneaut Lake." And there was a feminine voice with a distinct Saltsburgian accent. Yes, it was Martha Robinson. She and her family had come to Conneaut for a weekend holiday - and they didn't like it a bit. Dirt roads and noise, etc. So Lloyd said, "Let's go to Cleveland." Well, they are the right kind of visitors. When they come to "duck dinner," they not only bring their own duck, and most of the trimmings, but the lady of the visiting family cooks the "duck." We went out to Euclid Beach last night; where Billy and Stanley and Chuck ran along the sandy beach, watching Lake Erie dash in over the sand, flip her skirts, and run back again. A huge U.S. Navy blimp glided in majestic solitude overhead, patrolling the shores of Lake Erie.
It was Scotch Day at Euclid Beach Park; as soon as Lloyd had parked the car we heard the bagpipes playing. We followed the sound of the tuneless bagpipes, which emanated from the large "log cabin," which the Scotch clan had taken over for the day. Guilelessly we walked right in, to show the visiting boys the bagpipes and the musicians in kilts and full Scottish regalia. In answer to my query a badged and beribboned woman told me that we were not allowed in there unless we paid fifty cents apiece. Who's going to pay fifty cents to listen to bagpipes? Just as we left, they shut (the big doors) tight - to shut out all intruders. "Just like the Scotch," growled a man, who wanted to watch from the outside. We walked out on the pier, where patient, hopeful fishermen were waiting for a nibble. But one old man said the fish don't begin to bite until the lanterns are lit at night. Such tedious waiting! Billy and Stanley think Euclid Beach is pretty grand. They rode the "thriller" (roller coaster) four times - and I don't know what all. Stanley was loath to come home at 10 o'clock, for he had not yet spent all his money (his very own earnings). But his father assured him his money would keep. We oldsters sat in the balcony and watched the lively orchestra and the dancing below - and sighed for the good old days when we had fairly willowy figures, and could do the light fantastic. The sky buckets emptied themselves, but nobody seemed to mind. Now the visitors are on their way home, taking my husband with them. (Lucky man!) Another visitor has cut my writing time down to zero. So I must close. But I send warmest greetings - by auto and letter.
Cordially,
Florence B. Taylor