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               Erie, Pa.
          Sunday, Sept.29.1940.
 After last night's frivolity we didn't feel like going to church this morning and again Rog was the only one to uphold the religious banner for the family by attending Sunday School. Bab was better today but didn't start Sunday School. I think we will start church soon however at the Covenant.
   This afternoon we all took a ride through the country south of town over the hills and partly over the back roads- home through Union City and Wattsburg. The trees are beginning to turn here and there in bright splashes of color. The fields are turning strawlike. The corn is bundled up. The buckwheat stubble is red and pretty. The clear, clean, cool air of fall is all around and it feels good to be outdoors- better than at any other time of year to me. A rip roaring "animal game" took place between Bab and Rog with the final score 196 to 192, Bab leading in an exciting finish on Erie city dogs as we approached home. The tide of battle seesawed back and forth throughout the contest and I found myself first feeling sorry for Bab and then for Rog as one or the other fell behind.
   I was just settling myself for some relaxful reading after the ride about 5:30 PM when the doorbell rang and it was Walt Scarborough who had come out on the bus to call. Somehow it was almost pathetic to me to see the once ultra-independent Walt happy to find someone at home to sit and chin with. I felt awfully sorry to see him this way and was mighty glad be stopped in. We persuaded  him to stay for supper and he spent the evening with us. In Walter's experience I can see a big lesson for me- to play my whole game as fine and as well as I know how, lest there be a slip and the disillusionment that comes with it.