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Morowski
Farm, Schenectady, N.Y.
Tues., July 21, 1925
Perfection
is short lived. Late that evening a thunderstorm came up,
raining cats and dogs all night, the first chance to test
our new tent, especially its guaranteed waterproof canvas
floor. We had always dug a ditch around our army pup tent
for drainage, but naively, we imagined this to be unnecessary
with our miraculous new one; that we could even pitch it
in a puddle and remain dry. We soon learned the truth, however.
Feeling the dampness seeping through, I awakened Bill. Whereupon,
donning his waterproof zippers, he bravely launched forth
into the rain and discovered that the tent was standing
in a small lake, three inches deep, in a clay-like hollow.
The canvas floor hadn't done too badly, after all. Sponging
up the puddle and pushing a mass of ferns underneath to
raise the floor off the ground, he then ditched the tent.
Inside, dry newspapers and shelter halves kept us fairly
dry the rest of the night.
But what pleased us most about the test?run was that the
window I had meticulously made similar to windows in Abercrombie
tents did not leak a drop. It is equipped only with mosquito
netting but a waterproof shade, conveniently pullable from
the inside, and running between outside flaps--thus preventing
wind and rain from blowing inside. Pretty trappy, I can
tell you, both inside and outside!
In the morning the sun and wind dried everything thoroughly.
But we have learned a lesson--always ditch the tent, even
a grand new "explorer's" one with a canvas bottom
and a window!
Near Schenectady we obtained permission to camp on an attractive
looking farm. The presumably Polish family--father, mother,
three daughters and two sons-is cordial and helpful. They
all seem devoted to the younger boy, Leon, obviously sub?normal
and decidedly unprepossessing. He fell on his head when
six months old, they say. The parents run the farm while
the children, except Leon, work at the General Electric
plant, helping with the chores when they return.
After pitching the tent under a large oak in a field and
buying provisions from our neighbors, we built a table and
bench for eating and cooking, from boards Mr. Morowski gave
us, so we are quite elaborately established.
Yesterday and today we both looked for jobs in town, as
our capital has sunk to $4. Work is slack and the G.E.,
as well as other companies, is laying off employees. I tried
for a sales-clerk's job in a department store, but the man
would not take me on my face alone, telling me to come back
tomorrow with references, and if I had experience in selling
linen he would take me immediately. My selling experience
being as non-existent as my references, I am out of luck.
A sign hung in front of a restaurant saying, "Dishwasher
Wanted," but I simply could not bring myself to go
in. I had had a theory that it would be interesting to take
any job that came along, for the experience as well as pay.
But reality often explodes theory. At any rate, after three
days neither of us had yet found a job.
Leon has been a big help, bringing water and keeping the
stray cows and boys from disturbing our things. His conversation
is unique. "You wop?" and "When ya goin'
to git married?" comprise most of it. He is a good-natured
and the pet of the neighborhood. The girls never return
from work without bringing him candy, or some trinket.
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