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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 084
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wife during visiting hours also came in and together we tried to convince the jew to settle down and he managed. But no, he was dismissed for lack of evidence. One of these two or three mornings he was a patient I asked him if he had had a good night. "Oh yes indeed," his very matter of fact answer, "I slept very well until around four when I had to get up to urinate." There was also the chap in the men's ward whom his wardmates called Dr Sawbones because he snored so terribly at night. The night nurse turned him over time and time again but always he turned up snoring more loudly than ever. It was rumored that he was second to none in this field. His wife and son came to visit him. The boy - the cutest little red-haired seven year old rascal you ever would care to see. His little upturned slit nose was dancing with freckles. Huge ears protruded form his head on either side; enormous liquid brown eyes centered a delicately toned face hardened by faintly traced brows. This lad played the violin. I quite fell fro the youngster at the very beginning and Victor consented to pose for me. He came - a frail lad - and sat swallowed up in one of the ancient rocking chairs by bony bedside while I did a sketch of him. He was so pleased and proud. Now at home little Victor is practicing faithfully on his violin and says he is going to put
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wife during visiting hours also came in and together we tried to convince the jew to settle down and he managed. But no, he was dismissed for lack of evidence. One of these two or three mornings he was a patient I asked him if he had had a good night. "Oh yes indeed," his very matter of fact answer, "I slept very well until around four when I had to get up to urinate." There was also the chap in the men's ward whom his wardmates called Dr Sawbones because he snored so terribly at night. The night nurse turned him over time and time again but always he turned up snoring more loudly than ever. It was rumored that he was second to none in this field. His wife and son came to visit him. The boy - the cutest little red-haired seven year old rascal you ever would care to see. His little upturned slit nose was dancing with freckles. Huge ears protruded form his head on either side; enormous liquid brown eyes centered a delicately toned face hardened by faintly traced brows. This lad played the violin. I quite fell fro the youngster at the very beginning and Victor consented to pose for me. He came - a frail lad - and sat swallowed up in one of the ancient rocking chairs by bony bedside while I did a sketch of him. He was so pleased and proud. Now at home little Victor is practicing faithfully on his violin and says he is going to put
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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