The Stitch

As many know, I collect old letters as a hobby. I arrange them by date. I read them over and over. Sometimes I post them to my journal. My goal is to return them to the rightful owners (descendants), if I am able to locate any. I've done some searching for relatives, but I've come up short in most cases.

I have decided that I will add a page to my website to announce "The Letter Project." By doing this, I hope that any descendants who may perform internet searches for the people named in my letter collection, "The Letter Project" web page will be pulled up on the search engines and they can make their claim.

If you have in your possession old letters, and would like to accomplish the same goal as I am attempting, please email me with a list of names from your letters and I will post them on "The Letter Project" page, with your contact information where descendants may reach you, either by email or by telephone - whichever you prefer.

Another offshoot of this project is to encourage people to write letters instead of sending all communication via email. I am going to set up a program to connect people who wish to have a pen pal. If you'd like to participate, you can read all of the details here. As I've mentioned before, I honestly feel that letter writing has become a dying art and that we're losing a very important aspect of recorded history with the convenience of email. Don't get me wrong - I love technology and what it has done for my life and career - but I also enjoy history and want to do my part to contribute.

For those who wish to help preserve history through letter writing, I'll connect you with another like-minded individual, and the two of you can write real paper letters and send them, with pictures and postcards through the good old USPS to one another. The only requirement is that you preserve the letters you receive so that someday you can pass them on to the descendants of the person who is writing to you, thus preserving a tiny slice of recorded history.

I'm also going to give this a try, and I've found another willing participant, Geoff Roecker, a theatre student at Vassar and Civil War reenactor, who seems to like the idea of the project too. In fact, Geoff has a collection of letters written by one of his relatives, and took the time to transcribe over 50 pages of these letters from Phil Wood to his mother and his sister, from 1941-1944. Geoff has generously granted me permission to post these letters here in my own journal for you all to enjoy - and I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have.

Without further ado, here are the first two letters of the series from Phil Wood to his mother and sister, Gretchen.

Yale Law School

Sunday Dec. 7, 1941

Dear Mother,

It’s here at last – all our vague hopes of my being able to stay out are gone; I feel sure I will be called by summer, though not before the end of the semester, certainly. I still refuse to volunteer, though there are some boys here who are going to.

It’s hard on you girls, I know; the delay in my education can do none of us any good. I wish I could be there just to talk it over with you. Needless to say, it leaves me very low – I had been hoping against hope that it would never come; it may well mean the end of much of the world that we knew. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.

My love to you both,

Phil

***

Quantico, VA

July, 1942

Dear folks,

All safe and happy so far, by God! We’ve been on the go every minute – have had everything, but no physical and no shots as yet. Uniforms, haircuts – don’t even recognize myself! And a large issue of clothes, two rifles, Springfield and Garand, bayonette, hats, etc. And I’ve never had my stuff so neatly put away before in my life – every under drawer folded just so. And these Marine Sgts. are every damn thing they’re cracked up to be. I haven’t incurred their wrath yet, but several around me have, and it sure puts the fear of God into me. His first words were "Well, you dumb sons of bitches, I’m your Jesus Christ now!"

Jack Stock of Yale Law is here, and Sabini – though I haven’t seen much of either of them, and nothing from Winnie. Guess he didn’t make it somehow.

Our quarters here are just like gym lockers with double deckers set in between – fourth floor of an enormous building. I’m in an upper, damn it – damn it because the fellow under me has some nervous disorder and twitched all night. This is only [a] light frame, and it felt like a rolling sea up here. But I know that by tonight I won’t notice it. We were up at five, and by the time eight rolled around I was ready for lunch – wonderful food so far, but maybe that won’t last.

Our uniforms are khaki, quite mundane looking, but lightweight, except for the shoes! And our only fancy article – an exotic-looking tropical fibre helmet with the Marine emblem. Can’t be worn off the post.

All my love,

Phil