March 4, 1941

Mon. Eve.

Dear Fran : -

Please excuse me for not writing at an earlier date, but this is the first chance I have had to let you know, that i am still thinking of the most beautiful, most precious, one and only, piece of humanity in the United States, including Canada, all points, N.E.S. and W. Hi honey.

Boy oh boy, what a weekend, snow shoveling from 6:30 Sat morning until 5 Sat night. I don't care if I never see snow again. There wasn't a bit of snow in the fields, it all seemed to drift out on to the road.

Coming home Sat morning I tried to drive around one of the drifts and skid into a ditch, so there I was at 2 in the morning, a mile from home and without a shovel. The next time I will listen to Mother. So I left the car sit, and walked home, boy my ears are still thawing.

It took the neighbors, a tractor and about 3 hours of shoveling to get the car out the next morning. After that we had to open the rest of the road.

The neighbors sure had a swell time kidding me. But I told them the date i had the night before was worth it so that shut them up.

How about seeing you again Friday? Or do you work that night? If so, write and let me know what night suits you best. They're all the same to me.

How's everything in N.O./ including yourself? And how did you make out with the night operator? if I can work the same hours as you do, I'll take the job. Providing I can do the work with one hand.

Well honey I guess I had better close and hit the hay. it's 12:30. If you can't make this out, blame it on the shoveling. so long Fran.

Love

George

P.S. a few pills, for your strange illness
xxx

February 26, 1941

Tuesday

Dearest Fran

Received your letter yesterday, which sure was a surprise, and this is the first chance I have had to answer it. I was going to write last night but I worked until 12:30 disinfecting chicken fountains for the peeps, then I had to get up early this morning and help load hogs, with the boss. A swell job before breakfast, you should try it some time. I believe you would eat better.

Fran, I am glad to hear that your Mother doesn't worry when you are with me. It makes a man feel good to know that. I know that my Mother thinks a lot of you because she is never up when I get home, as long as she knows that I am going out with you, everything is ok. As far as our not so pleasant moment that you call it Fran, it looked alright to me at the time, because I sure do love you Fran, and I believe that you feel the same about me, at least I hope so. A fellow and girl can't go around all the time praying, after all we are only human. But i guess we can find other things to do, to keep us occupied, when we are together. And I want us to be together for a long, long time.

Things out here on the farm are moving along rather nicely, we are beginning to see some sure signs of spring. Five of the hogs are getting ready to have pigs, and incidentally we had twin lambs today. Mother and children are doing ok. That's three lambs out of two sheep, not bad. Six more sheep to go. Well honey I have lots more to tell you, but will wait until I see you. It seems that Friday will never get here. Good nite Fran

Love George

February 24, 1941

Friday You Won't Get It Till Mon.

Dearest Frances

Once more I sit at home, all by myself, in a dark, dark, mood wishing my Fran were here to put me back in the pink. Gosh how I do miss you Hon.

Dad and Jim came up tonight, and after supper they went to look at tractors, taking Mother along, and dropping her off at Bermudian for a lesson in knitting, or what ever it is she is doing. So here I sit, with hundreds of beautiful young hens out in the chicken house and not a hand anywhere for me to hold. By the way Fran, how is your hand? I am awfully sorry I acted so beastly last night, and I won't do it again. (Till the next time) Which will be Friday. If I am not over there by 7:15 I will see you in church, so leave room in your pew for me.

Well this morning at breakfast i asked Mother what she thought of my honey, she just gave me one of her sly smiles, and said she wasn't ready to make a statement, but that it was all right if I brought you around again, I believe she thinks you are swell, only she won't tell me. One of the pups you were holding last night, asked me this morning who the swell girl was, and if you were going to be around very much, I said what do you think I'm praying for. Rain?

How did the church dinner go today? If I would have had time I could have gone for some oysters, but as it is I don't believe I will get there at all, such is life on a farm, you get about one night off a week, and then when you go to see your one and only best girl in the wide, wide world she sends you home in 3 1/2 hours. I believe I will strike for longer hours. Would you mind?

Well it's time to turn the lights off the chickens, and start scraping eggs, 4 baskets to wade through, so I will close, and remain, with all my love

George

*letter pictures to come*

February 10, 1941

Sunday Night

Dear Fran:-

Just finished checking on the incubator for the last time and before going to bed, to toss and turn, thought this would be a pretty good time to dash off a few lines to my dear Fran, a swell girl.

This morning after coming home from church, and eating a quick breakfast, I dashed down to the incubator room to check up, as usual, and much to my surprise, there were a few chicks hatched out, so I guess it won't be long now, tomorrow is the 21st day, and I expect to be the proud father of 1500 chicks. I will bring you a cigar Saturday. That was one of the reasons why I left church so quick this morning, and I also knew if I did see you Fran, I would want a date, which I can't have now until Sat. the 15, only six more days, but each one like a week. I sure will enjoy seeing you again, and I'm hoping that works the other way.

When Mother came up from York today, she said that she expected to see Frances here, I think that she is getting anxious to meet you Fran, and I know that both Mother and Dad will like you as much as the rest of the family. Swell people at times.

The girls, also wanted to know when I am going to bring you to dinner. So we can get together and pick a date, for a Sunday if it's okay with you. I have lots to tell you, but I will keep it until Saturday when I'll see you about eight or a little after. I want to go to church first.

Goodnight and lots of
Love
George

January 25, 1941

Dear Frances,

I believe at one time I told you that I did not like to write letters. Well you can start calling me a liar. Because here I sit, trying to think up some excuse for writing to you. The only thing I can find to blame it on is the snow, (10 inches of it) which will keep me from seeing you for a few days. But I have some wonderful memories, which will hold me for awhile.

Things sure are a mess out here in the sticks, with all the roads and lanes drifted shut. I suppose we will be shoveling the mile and 3/4 into town tomorrow morning at day break, so the farmers can get their milk out, and bring feed in for their stock. Lots of hard work, but you get something out of it that you can't buy for all the money in the world.

How is everything in New Oxford? I was looking for you Sunday, but you kept your word and went to late mass so I was disappointed once more. Such is life. But I am looking forward to the time when I can be in some ones company whom I enjoy very much, meaning F.M.W. What does the "M" stand for?

You sure did make a hit with my sisters, the other night at the church meeting. When they came up here Saturday, they told me all about the wonderful speech you delivered. I wish I had been there, but I can't bake cookies.

If you can make this letter out, and would like another, let me know. Hoping to see you soon, I remain, with love,
George C DeVine