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Cabins at Cazanovia whom I had wired from Ticonderoga, stopping for supper in the much berated Dibble's in Utica where, at least, I had two very refreshing glasses of beer. Between a radio, a phonograph and the bartender dropping all the bottles in the place, it was scarcely conducive to smoothing jangled nerves. It was nice to relax on the porch of our cabin for an hour before retiring, I with Rog, Wil with Bab.

My only regret (not very serious) about Basin Harbor was that I never got acquainted with Eileen Kent, the daughter of some people staying there. It is a silly thing but there was something about that girl, maybe twenty years old, that appealed to me greatly. She was a tom-boyish type, brown as a berry, beautifully set up, an athlete, full of deviltry, with a bright, smart face not too pretty, keen eyes, well spoken, well mannered in an easy-going way. The nearest I ever got to her was swinging her a couple of times in a Virginia Reel. Probably never see her again and will soon forget her, but when she was within sight up there, I always was conscious of it, not from the physical standpoint but something more subtle than that; I often wondered if she felt the same way about me. Probably not - just another old man up there with his wife and children. Oh, well, something like that occasionally makes life more interesting.

And so ended our 1940 vacation, cut short a bit by the Defense Program, but still a very fine vacation and one to remember. I hope to God we may have more of them just as good. What the future holds, no one can tell.