"Bolo! Bolo!"

In a letter to his parents, Ned captioned this sketch:  "The Pacific Islands bandit and his woman.  They you always have with you!  This will give you some idea of an everyday sight out here in the place that God forgot."

In reply, his father wrote:

The Murray, 8-A
Sunday March 18, 1945

Dear Ned,

Well we went to Darien today, Mother and Paul and I, to see if we could find anything there that resembles the dreams of the waterfront house that we have been indulging in.  Needless to say, we didn't.  It is a strange thing that the closer you get to the water, the scrubbier the country gets.  You find a conglomeration of grand estates, and old brown shingled shore cottages on small plots, elbowing each other out of the way.  There does not seem to be any in-between class of place.  You have to go up-country to find what we are looking for.  So, for the time being, we are just where we were.

There is something that I have always forgotten to say in prior letters.  It is this:  when the time comes, and you may have a choice of means of travel, and you have a chance to go by air or sea, air or rail, please choose the slow and safe route on the ground or water.  Keep out of the air if you can possibly avoid it.  The planes are crashing all over the country these days.  No one seems to pay any attention to them.  It is quite the usual thing to read that a Navy transport has disappeared, or that one has crashed on the Pacific Coast, all lost.  Usually service men going on leave.  All over the country the same way.  I think it must be because the maintenance and inspection of these planes is at a low ebb.  War makes us casual about human life. They probably fly these planes until they fall apart.  If they fall apart in the air, it is just too bad.  So remember that, and stay on the ground if you can.

Your latest letters, speaking about the improvement of your ankle made good reading for us.  Thank goodness it was no worse.  Do take good care of it, until it is fully well.  Your sketches were fine, and gave us a clear idea of just how you looked while in dry dock in your bunk.  Hope you got some pleasure out of "Cloister and Hearth".

Paul drove the Buick up to Darien today, and back, and had a good time doing it.  He says he loves to drive.  We spent most of the time talking of you and John, and how you would like this place and that place.  Looks to me, as it is so hard to find a place, we will probably buy an old barge for the summers, and tie her up at Coenties Slip, down near the Seamen's Church Institute, and live there during the hot weather.  With a rubber plant, and a fox terrier.

No news from John, except that his address has been changed again.  It is now 4166 U.S. Army Hospital Plant, APO No 508, C/O Postmaster, N.Y.  This means that he has been moved to another hospital, though why we don't know.  Then again, his letters have dried up.  As though he is written out.  I can understand that too.  He has been writing fast and furiously, carried along perhaps by the excitement.  Now that he has been in hospital, a reaction has set in, naturally enough.  I pray that it is nothing more than that.  I am a little concerned, however, but there is nothing that I can do about it.  It is an ugly thought that I have not mentioned to Mother, that the strain of all that he has gone through may have got to him at last.  His last letters, much delayed, have been only a paragraph or so.  Maybe it is because he is writing a lot to a great many other people, trying to catch up on his correspondence.  Don't worry about this.  We know nothing definite yet.

Paul brought home from Garden City yesterday the news that John Foehr has been with the 5th Marines on Iwo.   So if you get up that way, you can be on the lookout for him.  Mr. Foehr has offered Paul a job whenever he wants it.  He says that you were the best worker he ever had in his shop.

Our radio has been going slowly to sleep lately.  Until Paul got here from school.  Well, he took it apart.  Then there was much running in and out to get spare parts, and to consult various experts.  Then he borrowed an electric soldering iron from Mr. Liggett.  You remember Liggett of Liggett's Nook?  The net result is that the radio has been fully repaired, and now works better than ever.  I don't know the answer but there it is.

The Buick ran very well today.  The battery was a little low when we started.  Indeed it was in order to charge it up a bit that I decided to go by car, our first ride since last Autumn.  By the time we got back to Pelham, the old charging needle was snapping back to neutral, showing that the battery was nearly full again.

Your recent sketches have been out of sight.  There is one showing a native and his woman in a dugout canoe, yelling "Bolo, bolo, geeve me monee" and it is a masterpiece.  It is almost my favorite.  As far as I can see, unlike other artists, you make no mistakes, and need no eraser.  You just start out with pen and ink, and put down what you want to, and there it is -- nothing to change or fiddle with.  Great stuff.  I wish I could do it.  I've never seen an artist yet who didn't have an art gum in his left hand all the time.  And as for drawing in ink without first lining it out in pencil -- unheard of!  Can't be done!  Well, you have done it alright.  So keep it up.  It will be a never ending source of pleasure to. you and everyone else.

Tonight Paul is at a hockey game, professional match, at the Garden.  The last of the season.  Paul wanted to see it to check up on some fine points of the game that he has been practicing all winter at Canterbury.  He seems really keen about it.

Today was the first Sunday of Spring.  The warm weather began with a bang yesterday.  It was the first fair St. Patrick's Day in years.  The Sons of St. Patrick had a grand day for the big parade.  And don't think that we forgot the day either.  Last night, before dinner, we all rose, and drank a deep toast to our Ned on his twentieth birthday, far off in the Pacific, but right at home always in our hearts.  And I was so glad to know, as mentioned in one of your recent letters, that my birthday letter to you had been received   I meant what I said.  All our love to you, and many happy returns of the day --

Love,

Dad