Three nights ago I saw you in a dream and you seemed to be sick. Your face had a grayish look as though you were very weary, and you were dark about the eyes. I'm afraid now that you really are sick, so I'm writing to say I'm thinking about you. Still, I'm hoping that the dream was not "veridical", and that you are only very busy.
I'm judging a poetry
contest for the Poetry Society of Texas, and the stuff must be returned today. I've been their judge several times before, and always the poetry offered was better than I expected. Some was very fine. But this time I'm judging for only
one of various prizes, and I'm sure I have not the best offerings of the contest. My poetry class does far better stuff on the average. (I have two boys who can write poetry; with faults, of course!) There's only one really authentic thing in the Texas stuff. It's short, and it is entitled "Nobody Gathers
entitled Nobody Gathers Grapes Here Anymore. There is one on the battle of San Jacinto that is almost good enough.
Oh, Lucile, don't be sick!
I've thought of our Bancroft trip a lot. You remember I drew your attention to the old Post Office, don't you?
That used to be, and was for years, the most important place in my life. I lived on the mail, and I was was always there, ahead of time,
waiting for the mail to be distributed. My god! The heartaches I had in that building! Waiting, waiting — and then disappointment! And there were times of joyful triumph too. Generally, after the two Wubs could walk, I had them with me, regardless of the weather. In Even in blizzard weather they went along.
O I wish we could dream back the old days in Bancroft & Wayne together!! There is so much to remember.
Please don't be very sick, Lucile!
John.
Before I forget, I want to ask if you know the article I wrote about Sterling when the news of his suicide reached me, Nov. 07 18, 1926, on the Post-Dispatch. You should know it. The San Francisco Chronicle stole much of it & used without credit. The news reached me on Nov. 07 18, 1926, so the article must have appeared soon after. It is
Note on Sterling
a rather good thing, I suspect, for I was deeply moved. He and I were much closer than most friends.
John
[the?] novel.
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