August 24, 1936
What do you suppose would be the best thing to do with me. I have a notion to get behind a wicked horse and ask him to kindly oblige by giving me partly what I deserve for neglecting to write. I received your letter about four weeks ago and I certainly was glad to get it. I’ve been pretty busy and haven’t had a very good opportunity to write but of course that’s no excuse. I suppose I had better start at the beginning and tell you some of the things that have been happening. We went to the stampede in Rimbey and it was really good. I was thinking I’d like to go and ride some of them but I had my good clothes on so I didn’t try it. It was a good excuse, anyway.
English: Blindman River, near Rimbey, Alberta (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Well, kid, how’s it going with you? Have you got a school, etc. I hope you don’t have to say no. I just hired with a dairy farmer here the other day and he wants me to stay all winter. Should I should, or should I shouldn’t? I wonder. If Marg is going to be away from home, I might just as well be. I haven’t decided yet but you’ll let me know what you think, then I’ll decide whether you’re right or not, eh?Last Saturday morning I got a telephone message there was a wiener roast in Springdale and oh boy did I have fun. I almost forgot I wasn’t with our own crowd at home. They’re surely full of fun here and everybody enjoyed themselves. There is one big trouble with this country and that is the mud roads. They’re fine when they’re dry but when they’re wet, oh boy, watch out. The car just goes about where it wants to. Harold and I were going into town the other night in the rain and we were driving pretty carefully behind another car and that other car took the ditch over the river bank. Well that gave me a start, and how. Nobody hurt – pretty lucky.
They all piled in with me and we got to Rimbey and home again safely and was I glad! I thought I did pretty well to keep on the road when the other fellows couldn’t. On the way home from the wiener roast the rain came down in torrents and I was alone so I stopped for a while. When it was over I started on again but the road was so slippery I got square across the road and had to back into the ditch to get going again and nearly didn’t get going. I was afraid to go down the river hill when it was so slippery in the dark so I stopped and went to sleep in the car until daylight.
Then willy wouldn’t start! Oh oh! I got a guy out of bed and he gave me a pull with a team and I got home about ten thirty. Did I get razzed or did I. That’s enough of muddy roads for me. If it gets wet, I stay home.
I think I’ll sign off for tonight and go to bed. Maybe I’ll think of something more to write before another evening, so Good night kid. Hank.
Smithson Museum in Rimbey, Alberta (Photo credit: Sherlock77 (James))
And here I go again. Nothing much out of the ordinary happening, except that I was the object of an accident yesterday while riding the plough. I was standing on it striking out a land when i hit a stone pretty solid. I fell forward and hit my face on the iron rigging in front and you should see me now. I look somewhat different. It doesn’t hurt anymore but still looks bad. Of course it isn’t nearly as bad as your accident with your hand last winter.
There is supposed to be a dance in Springdale tonight, so I guess I’ll go. I don’t know what a person would do in this country if they didn’t dance. Things would certainly be dull.
I’m going to try another page. I surely wish I could write letters like you do, kid – they’re great. The crops aren’t very good out here, in fact they’re so poor that the boss and I invented a rig to use without twine. We have a platform fixed on behind the binder and there I ride and fix the stuff into a coil then shove it off. It was rather hard work the first day but I got used to it and it’s nothing but a day’s work now.
We don’t believe in hard work out here, they even have rigs to put hay on a stack without using the wagon. It is pulled into the stack by a large rake affair and put on a stacker which throws it about twenty feet high. All the forking is in making the stack.
Say kid, do you know if Newton is going back to the same school? I’d like to see him. I wouldn’t go to see him if I didn’t know for sure he’s there.
I can’t think of anything more to write except I’d like an answer lots sooner than I wrote. You can send my letters to Rimbey in care of Irwin Budd, or to my farmer address – either one will get me.
I guess there’s no use writing when you’re out of things to write, so signing off for this evening.
With love and kisses, I remain, Hank