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[[underlined]] To Mother, June 19, 1927 [[/underlined]]: As long as Stella is not taking care of getting the Yellowstone trip ticket, we have asked the railroad here to take care of it. We are both so happy to know you will be with us next Saturday. ...... I spent yesterday afternoon cleaning the carbon out of Dodgem and then gave him a thorough greasing, thereby eliminating numerous squeaks. We are gradually getting Dodgem in shape for this summer's trip. ...... The Luthers will be leaving in July, I presume. We shall miss our bridge sessions with them for they always play for the sake of really playing and make the game the chief object of their attention. Luther is certainly a clever player--can bid on almost anything and usually not only makes his bid but game besides, taking a couple of tricks with "seven spots" at the last moment much to everyone's surprise. ...... At present about half my time is spent on "consulting work" on the gas-cars, the other half being devoted to two 65-ton combination trolley-battery locomotives for the Chicago North Shore and Milwaukee Railroad, and one locomotive for the Hershey Cuban Railroad. As soon as I get these locos out of the way, I expect to get started on some of the New York Central work, following along with Bredenberg until I can stand on my own feet. While you are here, we can probably get a look at the "Great Northern"--you will be amazed at its size, I think. The first one is about ready to go to test now. ...... We went to church this morning and heard Mr. Dutton preach about Lindbergh's feat. This afternoon we are invited to the Macloskies for tea. It was to have been for tennis but the rain prevents.

[[underlined]] Note [[/underlined]]: The diary now resumes and will be sandwiched in between the letter entries.

Erie, Pa.,
Sunday, July 31, 1927.

What is there like a diary to thread together all the incidents, thoughts, dreams, disillusionments and lessons of a life, no matter how trivial, how inconsequential to the world that life may be. Most life is inconsequential to the betterment of the great world, but every life, to itself, by itself, is a great drama unfolding to some climax, be it sad or the consummation of a great hope and effort. Life is dull to those who, in their blindness, fail to appreciate the commonplace as well as the spectacular. And so here resumeth my story, by myself. As in the past, I know this little record will help me to better appreciate this wonder that is about us all--this life that we all have and so few properly appreciate. It will help me, as it always has before, to keep myself in tune--to keep myself nearer to the middle of the road where life is good indeed.

And as I sit here now, in my own house, I am listening to the lovely harmonies of a Chopin walse, played by one who loves me much. It reminds me of all that has passed since I last wrote