Showing posts with label O tempora. Show all posts
Showing posts with label O tempora. Show all posts

Thursday, February 9, 2017

February 9, 1917 - Call up The Yale Club and ask them to reserve my room

The feeling from the letter yesterday are still apparent in the long letter today. He works thru his feelings with Helen.





Friday evening.

My darling:

How near the end of the week is already, and yet how far? Tie but tomorrow and then I'll be holding my own little bundle of loveliness in my swarthy arms again.

We left the office after twelve last night, and we did work. Yizza boy, we sure did. And then some. And this morning, the day started out like a hummer. It is just 7:40 now and I'll start for home in about an hour and try to get in a real night's sleep for once in an age.

Do you really want me to get all fussed up in my dress suit? Golly, girl, hardly dare to try it on, since the numerous banquets of this week, for verily, I say unto you, the skin on a sausage will compare in fit as does Charles Chaplin’s trousers alongside the way mine will look and act, I’m sure. Still your persuasive smile and suggestions, may perhaps have their effects, and if I have an opportunity of getting near them so as to have them packed late in the afternoon, as I am about to start mayhap I'll do it; who knows?

By the way, will you be a good girl, and call up The Yale Club and ask them to reserve my room for me, stating that I'll arrive around 5:30 tomorrow. I think I have a reservation, but your call will insure it, in the event of a crowd.

I've gotten over my bum feeling at being called back last night, tho here and there there is a trace left. Charles has been very good to me all day, putting himself out many times to compliment on some things that I would finish, but my solitary answer was not to waste, my time with sweet words as rush of business required my immediate attention to the matter in hand.

A funny thing happened this afternoon, tho nobody has seen me smile a whole day. We were discussing certain fees in a matter Charles completed, and he suggested that perhaps three fifty would be reasonable tho the work really was easily worth twice or three times that amount, and he did not know whether our client would consider it fair or not. I said that it ought to be five hundred. "Consider” said I "that we spent a good part of last night and several other days on it and accomplished better results that any of us ever expected. Not only that, but I wouldn't take twice that sum for a little scare I really got when I saw the telegram with our own little private message to hustle home at once as we always understand it, and had to give up a pleasant evening with my girl, no siree."   He laughed at me, and said "so you're sentimental too." We talked but he wouldn't give in, so we had a pleasant little talk on what I thought, and if my advice was not worth considering, then why ask it at all. In his usual big brother spirit he laughed at the kid, and said that I'd get over it. Here is the funny part. Later in the afternoon, he came in the office and with the cat-swallowed-
the canary look, said that in talking it over with client the aforesaid client was very much pleased with my figure, and was really tickled at the reasonableness. So in came Charles, and said "It's a good thing to make you mad some­times; you really act sensibly."   I almost laughed, but didn't.

On the way home, he explained that he had received a telephone call from the middle west on the matter, and since it required both our efforts, he called me back, and told me to forget it. So I said I had nothing to forget; except that perhaps when I really start on my honeymoon (what's that) - maybe. Maybe a yoke of oxen, or a couple of freight trains, will be required to start me back home till I get good and ready, and that I'd make up lost time on that little journey. So we forgot it, and everything is serene again; except that it is snowing like the blazes out.

I make this explanation for many reasons. “One is that I feel like it. Want the rest? All right. I always prided myself on my good memory, but it fails me in recalling a time when we parted so quickly and so coldly and so unaffectionately as last night. And I didn't sleep well about it either, because I thought of how I broke up your evening's pleasure, and that instead of showing your girlfriends the ring you received and telling them all about your "feller" you had been afforded an opportunity of telling them what a mut he is etc. und so weiter. (etc.)

However, you cannot turn the mill wheel with the water that has passed, tho I would like to remove that pimple on the end of my nose with any kind of water, past, present or future.

You would be proud if you really had heard of some of the things accomplished in the last few days; but owing to the shortness of the recent visit, there was no time for any recitals.

Say, that taxi last night was about as confused and meshooga (crazy in Yiddish) as anything I ever saw. You know that he started down town. Well, when he started across 125th street, he turned off some­where, and I noticed that we were going anywhere but to the station. I yelled at him, and he said we were near 111th Street and ware heading for Grand Central. Can you beat it? "The lady said Grand Central" he said. "You big thick nut, if she said Honolulu would you start for that place, or would you go to the nearest station" was all I had to say to have him turn around and hike for 125th. We made it in time for the train, and with profuse apologies, he said we'll call it seventy-five cents, and "I begs your pardon sir". O tempora, O mores. Qui usque tandem etc. is how I felt.  (O the times, O the customs. To what length etc.)

You have nothing on me, for tho your letters may smack of French here, and there, what think you of my Latin?

I have a suspicion why it is, but I haven't felt much like feasting all day to day. I should not advise your mother in getting up too much tomorrow, for I am going to strictly get on to a pseudo-diet (how's zat) for a week or so.to get rid of some of my little red blotches.

With lots of love and kisses, and my statement that I'll leave at 4:10,

I am
Your
Joe

The next letter is February 12

Monday, December 2, 2013

December 2, 1913 - One of the weaker sex . . .

So here we are in December 1913,  almost at the end of the first year of Joe's letters. This month there will be three letters. This letter contains a funny story of a handkerchief.








December 2, 1913
My Dear Helen,
Strange what peculiar co-incidences occur. Last night my brother and his family and Dr. Rosen and I went calling on our minister.There were several more callers there and we had quite a party of it. Later in the evening, the hostess served refreshments, and in spite of the violent protests of Barnet's mother, I partook of my share. She claimed that it was not becoming to be stout. I agreed with her; only I added that stoutness while perhaps not becoming, had apparently come and was  here, so what's the use?

Well, as I started out to say, towards evening (11 or so) we were starting for home. I should say here that I happen to be wearing the same suit last night as Saturday. One of the weaker sex asked me what that black string was, and gave one yank. Out came the glasses and the embroidered edge of something I could not recognize. Of course, being in and from the country, they all in unison saw the same thing that I did! For a moment I couldn't tell where it came from; and then - Eureka!

You surely would have laughed at the fun it started. And of course the women and girls began guessing whose it may be. And the answers. O tempora, o mores! But the most surprising thing was how I should happen to have a girl's handkerchief in my pocket.

When I reminded them that perhaps they were overlooking the fact that it might be my mother's; someone suggested it might be; but it wasn't.  And then and there I made up my mind to re mail it to you in the morning.

And when morning came; your letter mentioned the  kerchief. So you will find it enclosed,unsullied. I was sorry to hear that your cold was so troublesome and was causing you such torture. But it's one of the things that this part of the country is famous for and we have all got to have them once and a while. There is a Yiddish play in town tonight, and I have been asked to review it for one of the papers. My brother, Doctor and I will go and see what's what and I imagine we'll have some sport out of it, at that.

Oh yes! One of my clients  told me yesterday that he, with  several others, were expecting to hear "Tosca" Saturday night because Farrar and Scotti sang the title roles, and asked whether I would be there with them. I replied that I expected to be in New York during the day on business, and had made no definite plans; and also that I had seen Tosca only a few weeks back. Comprenez? (Whatever that is).
Sincerely
Joe

The next letter will be on December 24th.