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I saw this family. They were looking at Macy’s windows which are all decorated for Christmas. The woman was about my age and pretty enough, but her husband!!! Was he a doll! He could easily have been in the movies. And they had these two cute youngsters, a boy and a girl. I have to admit I envied that woman. Oh well! Maybe Prince Charming is out there somewhere among these millions.
    Do you remember me telling you about Marty and Ida Hirsch who run a theatre group? They asked me to read for a part in a play they’ve written, and a week ago I went down to this place on Houston Street. It’s just a big hall on the third floor of this old factory, but they’ve made it into a kind of auditorium with a stage and a lot of chairs. There were about thirty people there and they call themselves the New World Players. They are planning to put on a series of one-act plays this winter on what they call social realism. They are nice enough people but very serious about politics. Before we started reading for the parts, there was a meeting and this guy gave a talk on how things are done in Russia. I didn’t catch his name but he writes for a newspaper called The Daily Worker . He talked about capitalism and Communism and how there is no unemployment in Russia because the people there are looked after by the government.
    Do you follow these things? History and civics were never my strong points in school. Anyway, I read for the part and I got it. I play this rich man’s daughter-in-law. He owns a big factory where the workers are so poorly paid that they go on strike. His son has an argument with him because he thinks his father is being unfair and so he joins the strikers on the picket line and he’s killed by a gang of thugs hired by the father to break the strike. I have a big speech over his dead body about exploiting the workers and so on. To me, the play is awfully preachy, but everyone else seems to think it’s wonderful.
    I’m keeping busy with the doctor show and more commercial work. The Wintergreen Toothpowder people really like me when I say, “Wintergreen makes your teeth shine, shine, shine!” There’s a cutelittle tune that goes with that. You would HATE it!! Evelyn is worried that my voice might become a little too familiar on the air so she’s after me to be choosy about what I do. “Fair enough, Evelyn,” I tell her, “but I have to eat and pay the rent.” Evelyn lives in this swanky apartment overlooking Central Park (Jessica Dragonette lives in the same building, for goodness’ sake), so E. tends to forget that poor working girls like me have got to earn a living. Jack and Doris have been terrific about inviting me to dinner, but I don’t want to wear out my welcome. I don’t think I could have survived without the Halperns.
    What a fuss they made down here last week over that little French-Canadian doctor who delivered the quints! His mug was in all the papers and last Sunday night he gave a talk in Carnegie Hall. Carnegie Hall!!! They put him up at the Ritz-Carlton and practically gave him the keys to the city. Of course, when you tell people you’re a Canadian, they think you lived in a cabin like Madame Dionne. Personally I think that having five kids at a time is too much like a dog having a litter of pups, but people down here just think it’s the cutest thing and Doc Dafoe came across as a kindly old gent full of folksy wisdom. I’m beginning to sound like Evelyn. You should hear her go on about Shirley Temple.
    I think I’ll buy a radio with the money you sent, a nice little table model. It’s funny. Here I am working in radio and I don’t even own one. So I’ll say goodbye for now and take care of yourself.
    Love, Nora
    P.S. Why would you write a poem about that dirty old Henry Hill and Father’s overcoat? Aren’t there nicer things to write about?

Whitfield, Ontario
Sunday, December 16, 1934
    Dear Nora,
    Just back from church and thought I’d drop you a line. Mr. Cameron