When writing in pursuit of a payment on an overdue
note at the bank, he would ease the bite by asking the debtor's
"help" in paying for a daughter's wedding. Andrew wrote
incessantly. I suppose everyone wrote more back then, when
telephone connections were often poor and always expensive, but
stamps cost only 2 cents. Letters were also a form of
entertainment in those pre-TV days.
Much of his correspondence was business-related, and Andrew was
evidently a very busy man. But he could still find time to type
out a five-page, single-spaced letter of advice to the son of an
old friend who had landed in jail. He had never even met the
young miscreant. In that and other instances, Andrew's prose took
on new energy, stressing the therapeutic value of character and
principles, as well as a good laugh.
Long before I stopped reading that first day, I was hooked. This
stuff is priceless. Some of it might appear exotic or dated,
particularly to nonagrarian folks who do not know what it is like
to live off the land or reside in small towns where everybody
knows everybody else--but even satisfied urbanites may be
interested in reading about a different way of life. And they
surely will see similarities to their own situations in the many
stories about eccentric relatives, surly waitresses, guileful
politicians, child-rearing and money woes.
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