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Waco 52

In spite of all the pleasant times we had with new friends, the healthy out of doors, things didn't feel right with the boys. George came home more than once, looking so sad, and said that he just wanted to be near me, for he felt so lonesome. He wouldn't discuss it, but just holding me or buddie, on his lap seemed to ease his mind, and then he would go back and work. Our dear friend Mrs. Schmidt, died, The grandson of A.I. Root bought one of the ships. Philip Goembel bought the other, on which he later taught Sam to fly. Sam was seldom interested in making things work, and it was always up to Clayt to drive the Ford. Of course the state that Ford was in, with all its idiosyncrasies, would challenge an expert mechanic but not a technical man, except as far as analysis. Sam seemed to go out of his way to cheer me up, doing many little things to make me laugh, which I noticed, for Sam was unusually quiet and reserved, observing rather than participating, but alwys [[always]] ready with his gorgeous laugh. On Thanksgiving day, George and Clayt romped with Buddie while Sam helped me with the dishes, He admired the dress I was wearing, which was my remodeled Worth, and asked me if I liked the dinner suit he was wearing, (his usual dark blue matched combination), [[strikethrough]] and [[/strikethrough]] Then we were off, on one of Sam's whimsical imaginative sprees of humor. He would hold a glass he was drying up to the light, polish it some more, and recall [[strikethrough]] any of the times [[/strikethrough]] when his awkwardness, like tearing off a coat pocket on every door he went through, or my tripping on something and landing in a giggling heap somewhere, and then he went all the way back to the cottage memories on the lake, in Lorain. I remembered the first time that I had the boys over for dinner. A terrible storm had blown up, and I was pretty new at cooking, and the oil stove didn't help any. I was making a pie a day, so that I wouldn't lose that handsome husband of mine to some siren who could really make. good pastry. A bogey of my own imagining.