NAWSA GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE Svehla, Edith W. Beacon Hill, Boston July 10, '43 Dear Miss Blackwell;- It was delightful reading your note in reply to mine. The effort that it took proves that you are very wonderful, to try. What a wealth of thoughts you have to keep you contented, if, of course, you can possibly bear this Hand of Mars :the mail fist. If you need a helping hand for a bit of copying, most anytime at all, I'd be glad to bring my "portable" and type something for you, of course, I mean, if you haven't someone near you who can conveniently. I used to write a few things for GRAM and some for mother. 'not a typist but I POKE OUT such things as the enclosed when I get a thought. (This time I thought that the lowly CHAIR was neglected except for WORK.) For my own amusement I scribble down things that POP in my head. This is the first time that I have not been in business, since I left school, a long time back. I guess one gets used to being in the HARNESS. Last fall I finished my tenth year with the Maverick Dispensary as clerk-book-keeper and now I'm taking a long vacation, IF, home keeping can be CALLED "NOT WORK". Yesterday I saw a two year old tot playing "PATTY-CAKE" with her REFLECTED hands in a store window while her mother talked to a friend. She was adorable. Please, my dear, don't make the effort to reply unless I might be able to make it more fun, when you feel like giving a word to the press or a letter to a friend. Otherwise, believe me to be an admirer of "what you write the press." Very Sincerely, Edith Wrenn Svehla Wrenn Svehla #1 Revere Street, S. 3 Boston, Massachusetts Now I must wish you good health and then: I'll "down" the hill with "one swallow" which is quite a feat for this wren(n.) There are still some purple (lavender) glass windows here that "reflect" the "shades" of our ancestors. They seem to send messages to the "inner sanctum", our hearts. Sincerely, Edith Wrenn Svehla (which haven't a squeaky door.) (Radio style EWB) The Annunciation, by Lu Hung-Nien Original painting lent by Dr. William B. Pettus United China Relief 1790 Broadway, N.Y.C. Svehla Saturday Morning, May 20, 1944 Dear Miss Alice Stone Blackwell, I've thought of you often these nice warm days as they passed by not at all conducive to strenuous things and 'hoped that' your spring and winter have been happy and comfortable. Today is chilly. 'Season's Greetings' I always think of you when I sit here, at my desk, especially now, as your very nice photograph is on the lower shelf of my secretary, right in front of me. There are all in the "Beanie"-hat. Too, I have squares of pale yellow fine linen. I cut up an old fashioned handkerchief linen 1906 long dress - which will still make a house blouse and sixteen ladies handkerchiefs - pickup work while George, my husband listens (me too, I can't help it, even if I would escape to quiet.) to our favorite progams (Mondays' especially.) Isn't this some amount of decoration for one desk. I dared not mention the pidgeon holes but the center has Addison's picture (my nephew.) This all comes of living in a large studio-one-room apartment. Our kitchenette is really big enough to turn around in, (once!) It is getting "smaller" everyday as I seem to put on weight daily. (now 168.) a warning that I'd better "cut down" somewhere on dietary substance (to say the least.) You too are a Cliff Dweller, aren't you? The friend, (Mrs Minich), who delivered your Easter card for me, said that a gentleman at the elevator was "going up" and said he "would gladly take it up to the ninth floor" - if I remember correctly. I too like hills and high places to live. One gets all of the sun and fresh air in the summer and a good percentage of the fresh air and sun (sol), (although his ardor has cooled,) in the winter. My! I'm more than taking advantage of the white space on this card which I found in a shop on Massachusetts Avenue near Belvidere Street, (one street down from Boylston Street.) The Chinese Christian version of the Madonna. The Happy Earthbound Boy of old - grows up to swing anew. Happy clings the boy who swings. "Ahoy!" He sings with joy He Clings ('Til a decoy for dinner rings.) Oh, Boy!!! Forgetting wings, Drops from the sky. (Down the rope.) Telephone rings. "War!! Boy!" World Dings: (A decoy!) Boys wings, a new toy He swings! Now, Boy He "Bings" (Bombs) the Convoy. Boys die For other's sins. The Heaven Sighs. "Ahoy!" He sings. "Our Boy" With plane wings. A new toy. "Hears" ol' decoy. For dinner rings. Home! Oh, Boy!!! Mrs. George L. Svehla 61 Revere Street, Suite 3 Boston 14, Massachusetts March 18, 1947 Hello! I hope you are fine. I got as far as here and stopped when guests arrived unexpectedly and never did get to thank you for your nice and very thoughtful Easter poem. You are always up to date, and I having been ill at that time, shall probably get your Easter gift there by the Fourth of July. Please forgive Mrs. George L. Svehla 61 Revere Street, Suite 3 Boston 14, Massachusetts Sunday, September Fourteenth 1947 "Congratulation" -- My dear, Miss Alice Stone Blackwell: -- This remembrance of and for your birth anniversary, in the figure of a lady, may seem an odd one but I, really, believe you deserve at least, one statuette to your 'youth' through to full womanhood ripe with memories as well as your active thoughts and words of today for a life dedicated to womanhood's advancement. I think of you, so often, but really neglect you only because of life's speed and demands of health. (I'm a Sissy!) My wish to you today is good health, everything else stems from that. I hope my lady may top the book of your Mother & Dad and yourself. With great affection, Edith Wrenn Svehla II my delay. Lahey Clinic is hunting for a "Hidden Something" that "Raises Cain" where "Ned" should be. You can't know how many times I think of you in your Tower in and of Ten Ten. I look at your Likeness picture, that you were so nice to give me (one "Alice" to Another's daughter), and "think" on the things your Mother and father did for the world and your aunts, and these dwarf not at all your own accomplishments for this same III world. Ever since I was a little girl — I've thrilled whenever I have seen "Alice Stone Blackwell" after an article (or in it.) It has each time been worth very much to "listen in." Don't you be surprised if your Easter gift comes by hand in the summer because I am that far behind in most things that I want to do, things on my "must" list. Keep fine! Ever yours, Edith (Alice) Wrenn Svéhla May 4th 1947 . . . . . "Pull up a CHAIR" . . . . . (another scrap for the basket.) Close together, side by side, sat the groom and his bride, unaware that their chairs, set row by row, would witness joy, have naught of woe. Another day, that is, to-morrow, claims them for the SEAT of SORROW, or, the warriors greet with banners flying; the jurors meet, someone their trying. Poor CHAIRS! Facing a lecture of Travel; the weight of State or the Political Gavel. An auctioneer with his rasp of a voice bids rows of people to make their choice. Grandstands are filled with CHEERS and CHAIRS; they're in churches hearing prayers. Rows and rows of chairs and chairs; the tent's in placed and the lion's lairs. Chairs when placed, row after row, give rest to friend or FOE; the Manager's seating his sales GROUP to explain hoe he would make a COUP; old Doctor Therapy with his static chair will continue to daily raise your HAIR. These poor chairs still groaning with pain, "HEAR" the teacher, her lesson, explain. In a factory of Tailors' WARES there are rows of SWEATSHOP CHAIRS. The MUSKETEERS, spectacular THREE, used a SEAT around the ROYAL tree. No matter where you go to SEE a film or play, there will always BE: chairs and chairs in Rows and Rows, embracing you and all of THOSE. Some CHAIRS bring COMFORT, friendly SEATS; others PROD the very back it GREETS; for the TIMID a chair with a SLUMPING BACK, though DIGNITY for others 'twill LACK. A concert given near the river's BANKS, your old FRIEND is there, containing the SWANK". A hundred more of thoughts, they SOW: Chairs and chairs, row by ROW. Our PRESIDENT would speak to-day; they'll all be there in gay ARRAY. If HER MAJESTY reclines in her lounge; a CHAISE, the KING sits in state on a DAIS. If intend, you do, to get much KNOWLEDGE, you must get a good SEAT in your COLLEGE. When WALL STREET you expect to CRASH, you'll first BUY your SEAT IN CASH. When you travel by PULLMAN or PLANE, friend CHAIR is there PLAYING the GAME. Who watches over you when you slumber? A chair, my dear, made of real wood: LUMBER! Waking you'll find a CHAIR or TWO, keeping VIGIL beside you. A TRUER stauncher 'FRIEND" on EARTH, you'll never find ONE equal in WORTH. 'twas Egypts' SAGES: WISEMAN, WHOM, wished these FRIENDS IN their TOMBS, not for GREED, just love of THOSE: CHAIRS and CHAIRS, ROWS and ROWS. (over) When weary and lonely and hard to PLEASE, what "ARMS" caress as you sit on "HER KNEES"? She "SMOOTHS" your BROW and "DRIVES" out CARE. "Who" is it? I ask. "Why! Your FRIEND: the CHAIR!" When HEAVEN, I reach (I hope it's there I'll GO,) I'll be seeing you in the VERY FRONT ROW, SINGING CAROLS, sweet and rare, ********************************SEATED IN A WINGed CHAIR********************************** (I was born in Cambridge in 1893 and haven't been far afield since.) (BOY! Am I long on WORDS. This COULD go on forever! Chairs have so) (many uses. (My dad was a machinist and mother, a milliner. Most of) our forebears came to America in the 1635-40's and all English as) (far as I've ever discovered. I've "ridden" the HOBBY of genealogy) One of my homemade mottos is: "Let's stay on the GOLD STANDARD. Beware of the SILVER-TONGUED! SILENCE is still, (and GOLDEN)." And, ---- then I rattle on. This is the way I PLAY. 'Hope I haven't tired you. Bye, Wrennie (Svehla) Transcribed and reviewed by contributors participating in the By The People project at crowd.loc.gov.