Letters: Jun. 13, 1927



I went to a movie, last night, and cried and cried—with joy. A big red-haired man with such a fine voice came out and sang a song about "Lucky Lindy . . Plucky Lindy . . ." all about "Lucky" Lindbergh, of course. Well, my son used to be called "Lindy," too, at High School, and it all just brought tears of pride to my eyes. For my son has been "Lucky" and "Plucky," too, and now has a fine position. Please print this letter, because there must be many mothers among...

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