Wisconsin R R-2
It is time I acknowledge some letters for readers. I find it hard to reply to all letters personally, so please excuse. Thank you.
In October of '73 I received a letter from Amwel D. Williams of Randolph, Wis. Yes, Mr. W., I did attend the Welsh Hymn Sing at Peniel Church. How those Welshmen could sing! The day was a hot one over ninety degrees.
Recently a letter came from Mrs. Leonard Sladky of Francis Creek, Wis. She sent me an up to date picture of my 'Huffa Huffa Boy' whom I mentioned in a column a short time ago. He is now a handsome lad of 9-1/2 years, so when I met him at Beaver Dam he must have been about 3. Thank you for writing, Mrs. Sladky. I assume you are his grandmother.
Bob Vilwock and his wife from Plymouth dropped by to chat lately. A nice surprise. Earlier this year we called on the Jerome Pfieffers at Belgium. Mr. Pfieffer has a well equipped shop, and was working on a 10 H.P. Reeves miniature engine which will stand about four feet tall.
On another winter day we drove to Waukesha where we spent some time with Rolland and Mary Buslaff. It was an eye opening experience to see what they have done with an old two-room school house. They have converted this into a combination shop and dwelling place. It is the home of the two of them and their grown daughter.
The feature that intrigued me the most was the little ticket window they pushed up between house and shop to relay their messages to one another. The telephone was here as well. They could shove it either way, and talk from house or dividing hall. The place was filled with antiques. Mrs. Buslaff is a skilled knitter and I duly admired her stocking caps of many colors. About a week later a package arrived in our rural mail box and here was a warm stocking cap to bless me during Wisconsin's cold winters.
Another feature in their home is an indoor porch swing . . . the wooden slatted kind. She has a long table in front of this, and here she swings and knits, swings and knits, and, I expect, studies her patterns between swings and knits. Than you again, Mary. I feel quite cocky in that cap.
In February I received a letter from a steam friend Rupert J. Jordan of Sycamore, Ill. Mr. Jordan was the first president of the Northern Illinois Steam Power Club, and has been active in it all these years. He has owned several engines through the years. But Mr. Jordan also writes poetry. I am passing on a poem he wrote in memory of his wife who passed away in January of 1967. I believe all you ladies will be touched by it, as I was. It is entitled