Monday Night.
Nov. 3, 1931.

Dearest Sweetheart:

Your letter of Thursday night came this A.M.

I know you are a busy man. Dr. Bishopp should feel very proud of the Charleston lab – especially my husband. It is lovely that he is to give the address to the Ent. Soc. of America.

You said you thought Walter White and I should arrive in New Orleans on the 20th. I’d love to see your exhibit if it is still up at the meeting when we arrive. Since we will arrive at 7:30 A.M. you may prefer that we make it the 21st so that we can leave immediately for Charleston. Either way will be alright with us. The main thing is to see you soon.

I’m so glad that Gilbert is manifesting so much interest in his night school work and is progressing so rapidly. I know it is a relief to you to feel that you can soon turn that sort of thing over to him. You have a lab force to be proud of.

Our son may be a musician. I don’t know for sure yet. He has learned to open the piano, climb upon the bench and my! how he does play. Tonight he played from memory for a while, then he stopped suddenly. There was no sheet music in sight, but he pointed to the front of the piano and said “onna book.” After I placed the music before him he bent over the keys and played, looking very intently at the music all the while. It was amusing to us, but he took it very seriously.

But our son will not be a barber. That is, unless he does it for revenge. His hair had gotten so long that Mama tried every week or so to trim it a little. The moment Walter White saw the scissors or heard the hair being cut he was up in arms. She improved his looks some but just a little at a time. We were explaining our difficulties to Bertie, so she volunteered to carry him to a beauty shop to have it cut. He thinks anything she says or does is quite right and we thought he would not be reminded of former ordeals if she carried him. Also, he might be less frightened if a lady cut his hair. She carried him this P.M. at 2:30. She said it nearly broke her heart when he would plead in a tearful voice “Down, Bertie down.” She took him on her lap and she, as well as everyone else, tried to divert his mind. He was pretty badly frightened I’m sure, but he must not have been as much so as usual because she said he had quiet moments during the ordeal. I did not go, but I might as well have gone because I felt almost as if he were undergoing an operation without my being there. It looks as if you or I or both of us will have to take lessons in barberism and care for his hair until he is old enough to decide whether or not he wishes to join the “Sons of David” or whatever creed it is that forbids cutting hair.

The article regarding tax on airplane gas indicates that South Carolina is a little heavy on her taxes. If the airplane gas tax is abolished I’m afraid highway #17 will suffer.

We love you lots & lots, Honey.

Good-night, and I hope you sleep good.

Always, your
Ina.