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Another day, and although, strangely enough, the day of writing is eight days after this calendar day, the author (writer, to you) can still remember the main event of the day.

While I was washing my car, a motorcycle pulled in bearing a driver, Dave something, and my good friend and brother, Shorty.

We spent quite an enjoyable evening. We visited Jane and inspected the house.

It seemed providential that we should visit her together our last single night, as it was in the beginning.


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May 18, 1939 Herman Brackbill Journals May 20, 1939
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