WELL, SIR, THIS Mrs. Webb is the understandenest woman I ever run across. They ain't none other like her in my territory. It would sure make things easier if they was. The way things are now, it's gettin' so I just can't quite stomach this mail carryin' business. 'Specially since the war sneaked up on us. Seems like everybody is lookin' for a letter from everybody else. Mothers lookin' for letters from their boys, grandmas from the grandsons they used to bounce on their knee, daughters from their sweethearts, and the brothers and dads are in there too, but they don't pester so much as the womenfolk. Can't say as I blame 'em much, it's just human nature to worry about your kin gone off to some faraway place to dodge bullets of some kind 'er another, but dagblammit, they don't have to shove the blame off on me for the poor service they're gettin'. They just can't seem to understand I can't bring 'em a letter till somebody brings it to me. With the new help the government's using, expectin' a letter on time would be just like expectin' the war to end tomorra, Why, they even got me worryin' and frettin' with 'em. My wife sez I'm gettin' grumpy as a bitch with pups...
"The Understandenest Woman,"
Manuscripts: Vol. 17
, Article 15.
Retrieved from: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol17/iss2/15