Shelby, Ohio, September 16, 1920

My dear Eugene:

Bet you're just havin' an awful old time with the new school. Bet you're studyin' just as hard as sixty---and I bet you're havin' a good time, too, sliding down the slides and playing tag and things like that.

I sort of wish you wee a little nearer, so I could see you now and then, but I guess I'll have to wait till Christmas comes. But I tell you what we can do---we can write nice letters to each other, and I don't know of anything I would rather get than a nice letter from you. You can write pretty slick letters for a little feller, so you just get busy and write your old dad one of the nicest letters you know how.

Tell me all about your school and how you like it going to school in Beloit and how well you like the teacher and what her name is and how ell she likes you; and you can tell me about grandpa and grandma and what they're going, and about going to the farm on Saturdays and things like that.

To-day I watched the draymen pack your bed in a car, and there was a tag on the bed to show the railroad people where to take the bed. So one of these days soon you will get your bed and there will be a lot of other things, because all the things that you used to see around the house have been crated and boxed and packed and are now in a freight car. You can tell your mother that everything has been shipped, and the freight bill was $84.04.

I gave Jack your wheelbarrow because it is too small for you. And I gave John Van Wagner a pencil, and another boy a ruler. And yesterday I had some crackers and I treated George and Offal. They thought the crackers were pretty good, I guess. Boys, generally, like crackers---or anything good to eat, for that matter.

This morning when we were packing the goods in the truck Mack stopped in to say good-bye, but I told him I wasn't going away right away and I guess he was pleased. You know, Mack is a pretty good pal of mine.

I packed your wagon and tricycle and skudder car and sleds all in one big box. I didn't leave anything that belonged to you except the old high chair and the little wheelbarrow. I guess you won't need the high chair, though I can send it if you want it.

Well, Gee, old horse, I won't write any more to-night: but it you write ME a nice long letter I'll just spread myself writing to you. Now, what about it?

Lovingly,
Dad