July 11, 1916 - I played too much pool with your father.

Reading between the lines in the letter this is at a time when Helen's father John Rosenstein was working in Connecticut. This gave Joe an opportunity to see him and get to know him separate from the family. Sounds like they got along just fine.

July 11, 1916
Helen dear,
Of course, it's just my luck, that I played too much pool with your father, and hurt one of my eyes. I had some terrible stuff put in last night after a day of torture, and feel good again. But tomorrow, I get another treatment, and one more Friday, to make sure that the strain or whatever effect there was, is removed for good. Thus, we learn, that we are punished by our sins, not for them.

Perhaps you are aware, that it poured all forenoon, and cleared up with a warm streak that has well nigh melted me into a little puddle. And now, I'm told I must go to New Haven this evening, so take the opportunity of writing now, rather than lose the chance later.

The carton by Goldberg about the idea that might have been a good one, if the author had not forgotten it, recalls many famous speeches we have often thought of, but couldn't think of even a sour pickle when called on to speak. Some one remarked that the best after dinner speeches have been delivered in the back homeward bound. This naturally refers to the auto taxi days.

I couldn't help recalling Hubbard once saying in East Aurora that he never cared much whether people agreed with what he said, so long as it made them think; and provided they ate enough, slept regularly, and worried not at all, they would reason most generally correctly. And so this recurred when you described reading "Little Journeys" with one hand, and looking up words with the other. Isn't that a fine figure of speech?Wasn't that an inspiring story, that of old Zeller or Zelter, Goethe and the youngster?

What makes you think that in this fine weather, anyone could catch cold? Certainly I've kept out of drafts, and so am still without one.

There has been a little talk of my being in New York Friday, but it's very indefinite yet. Still, I think I could come down Saturday, provided I wasn't induced and forced to play much pool. But I'll let you know later as to that. Suffice it to say, that the poem of "The Manicure" made me laugh, for why should any one think less of women if they manicured you any more than we do of men who shave us. The secret of course is not in the touch of hands, but in that of minds, or hearts so to speak. It's a cold business proposition, just like buying a soda check, or a subway ticket.
Sincerely,
Joe

The next letter is July 18.