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Erie, Pa,
Sunday, July 14, 1940.

I have had an awful job ridding myself of the worry of the DCC incident - I've had to argue and cajole and kid myself altogether too much. The thought that comforted me today was that Whitey's reaction and his first remarks to Cliff Clark in the Commodore Tuesday night coincided largely with my reaction and remarks at Schdy. With that thought I finally let the matter ride. But I [[underline]] must [[/underline]] smash this tendency to worry. Whitey was right. I have it and it must go. My worries are more of things that have been done than of things to be done.

We took a long ride today down to Meadville, over to Riceville, Union City, Waterford, home - a picnic lunch eaten down in the valley east of Meadville. It was a beautiful summer day - perfect, and it was good just to be alive and to forget Europe and hell. The Germans have not yet attacked England in full force and everyone wonders when it will come.

Spent a lot of time with Rog today flying a glider he made up out of two different ones he had - one metal, the other wood. The combination job was better than either of the originals and from the roof of the garage he could get flights of 60 to 80 ft. and perfect landings. I was the "retriever". I thought he was pretty smart and resourceful to make the thing up.

Roger's remark to Willie this morning about the poker game last night was that in his opinion it was simply "unbearing" - he explained later that what he meant was "unbearable." He and Bab want to learn poker now however.