Chapter 30 Repeat IV from scratch

March 27, 1917 AD Hello dears! Just to repeat the basics: I arrived here three years earlier than planned - August 2nd, 1916 - but would still like you to pick me up on the same day a full tenth Earth year after dropping me off, and also That is August 2, 1926.This is the sixth repetition.The rendezvous location and alternate timings are the same as before.Please emphasize to Dora that this error was due to me entering incorrect data into her, not her fault. I have a great time here.I closed my business, tracked down my maternal grandfather (Ella Johnson), and through him met members of my first family — thanks to a horrible whopper I told.Fortunately, my family resemblance led my grandfather to think I was the illegitimate son of one of his (deceased) older brothers.I didn't say so; it was his own idea, but it was a solid fact.Now I'm a "long lost relative" in my first family.I didn't live with them, but they welcomed me, which is nice.

Let me briefly describe this family, because all of you are descended from three of them: Grandpa, Mom, and Woody. Justin described Grandpa in his book.The real person is no different from the description, Justin, except for the part where you describe him as two meters tall and solid as granite.In fact, my grandfather's figure is almost the same as mine.I spend every minute with him as long as he allows, mainly playing chess with him a few times a week. Mom: Add five kilograms of meat to Razu and Laurie where they should be fuller, and then make them fifteen years old, and add more noble temperament.

Dad: He's not at home.I have forgotten what he looks like.In fact, I can't remember anyone's face except my grandfather (who looks exactly like me).But I saw a picture of Dad, who kind of looked like President Ted Roosevelt—the one named "Theodore," Athena, not "Franklin."If there are photos in the memory bank, you can take a look. Nancy: A remake of Lazu and Lowry three years before I left.Not so freckled, though, and very regal--except when not so regal.She already has a strong sense of the attractiveness of (young) men, and I think Grandpa is already urging her mother to tell her the rules of the Howard family as soon as possible to ensure that she can marry members of the family.

Carroll: Another Lazu and Laurie double, but she's two years younger than Nancy.Like Nancy, she was interested in boys, but always had trouble; her mother put some restrictions on her behavior.Her jaw would quiver with anger, but Mom always ignored it. Brian Jr.: Dark hair, more like Dad, a young, fledgling capitalist.He took a newspaper delivery job along the same route as his other job lighting gas lamps by the side of the road.He also signed a contract with a local movie theater to help them distribute leaflets.He gave the latter job to his younger brothers and four other boys, and paid him in movie tickets.He also keeps some tickets for himself and sells the rest of the movie tickets at school at a discount (four cents to the original price of five cents) to other people.In the summer, he would open a small corner shop selling soda pop (a sweet, fizzy drink), but he planned to pass the business over to his brother this summer.He has another business in the pipeline. (For as long as I can remember, Brian became rich at a young age.)

There is something else I would like to say about my family.By the standards of the time and place, our family was relatively well-to-do—not ostentatious, but in a big house in nice surroundings.Not just because Dad was a successful businessman, but also because, in terms of purchasing power, the Howards subsidized newborn babies at this time—and Mom had already given birth to eight.For all of you, being a member of the "Howard" family has the advantages of genetics and healthy heritage, but here and now it also means the rewards of having children.This is a thoroughbred breeding program, and we are the thoroughbred.

I figured Dad must have invested the money Mom earned from having children instead of spending it all.This situation is also consistent with the vague memory in my own mind.I don't know about my siblings, but I remember receiving some start-up money to start my own business when I first got married.I didn't expect to get this money at the time... and it had nothing to do with the Howard family allowance my first wife received for being fertile and willing to have children.I got married during the recession, so having that money and not having it made a big difference.Let's go back to the kids.Boys don't work because they like to work; they have to, otherwise they have nothing but clothes and food.The girls have a little pocket money, but they are required to do housework and help with younger children.This is because in this society, it is very difficult for a girl to earn money, but there are infinite opportunities for a boy who goes out and tries hard. (This changed a lot before the end of the century, but it was still the case in 1917.) At home, all the Smith children worked (Mum would hire a washerwoman to work around the house one day a week , that's all), but a boy (or girl) who has found a paid job outside does not have to do housework.He doesn't work, and he doesn't have to "pay" the family; all the money he earns he keeps for himself, spends, or saves.But how much money is saved, the father will make up the same amount to the child' to encourage children to save money.

If you thought moms and dads were purposely raising their kids to be money junkies, you'd be right. George was ten years old and was little Brian's sidekick, follower and squire.That ended a few years later when George punched Brian in the mouth. Mary: Eight years old, a little girl with freckles and naughty like a boy.Mom is trying hard to turn her into a "lady". (Mum's gentle stubbornness—and hereditary traits—won out in the end. Mary ended up being the belle of the family, with suitors pouring down her skirts. I hated these people because there was a time when I was Her favorite little brother. Mary is the closest of my siblings. It can be lonely in a big family, which I am. I don’t feel lonely when I’m with my grandpa, for a while , I am not alone when I am with Mary.)

Woodrow Wilson Smith - a few months shy of five, the most annoying bad boy.It is unbelievable that this annoying creature would eventually grow from a weed to the most beautiful flower of mankind-that is, me, your brother.So far he's spat in my hat, which was supposed to be out of his reach on the hall hanger, and called me all sorts of insults, including "the one with the bowler hat The stinky guy is at it again!" was the lightest; he kicked me in the stomach when I tried to pick him up (it was my fault; I didn't want to touch him, but I decided to break myself this was nothing distaste for reason); he accused me of cheating in a chess game when he himself had cheated—first by drawing my attention to someone outside the window, then by moving my queen one square.I caught him on the spot and asked him to explain what was going on.Similar annoyances abound.

But I continued to play chess with him because: (1) I had made up my mind to be on good terms with everyone in my first family for a short time; , Woody just wanted to play chess, and the only people around him were grandpa and... I could play chess and put up with his bad temper. (Grandpa will beat him hard if necessary; I don't have that privilege. But I would have strangled him if I hadn't worried about what would happen next. What would happen? Will the lower half become unrecognizable to everyone? No, "paradox" is a meaningless word; the fact that I'm still here is a testament to my ability to hold back my temper until this little bastard shut his mouth).

Richard: Three years old, and he's as likable as Woody is.He loves to sit on my lap and listen to my stories.His favorite story was the story of two red-haired twins named Lazu and Laurie traveling through space in a magical "spaceship".I feel a little sad about this cutie, because he would (already) die very young, during the attack on Iwo Jima. Iser: The upper part of the body is an angelic smile, and the lower part is a wet diaper.Can't talk to her. This is how my (our) family was in 1917.I'm projected to stay another elbow in Kansas City until Dad comes home - which won't be long - and leaves; I'm a little nervous, but more excited.I might come back to them after the war--maybe not; I don't want to be overwhelmed by those who welcome me.

To make the above clear, I should explain the custom here.Until Dad came home, I was nothing more than a chess mate of Grandpa's; nothing else was possible, though he—and maybe Mother—believed that I was Uncle Ned's son.why?Because I'm a "young" bachelor.According to local customs, a married woman cannot befriend a young bachelor, especially when her husband is away from home.The taboo is so strict that I dare not even show the will to violate it.It's for mom's sake.Of course, she wouldn't encourage me to do that either.Grandpa would not allow such a thing to happen. Therefore, only by going to my own home in the name of visiting my grandfather will I be welcomed by everyone.If I call, I can only find him.Other cases are similar. Oh, and I can drive the Smiths home from church in my car on a rainy day.I can do pretty much anything for the kids as long as I don't "spoil" them - which Mom defines as spending more than a nickel on one of them.Last Saturday, I was allowed to take my six kids out for a picnic in my car.I'm still teaching Brian to drive.Both mom and grandpa thought my love for my children was understandable because I was "lonely" and as an "orphan" I didn't have a happy childhood. One thing I absolutely must not do is be alone with my mother.Nor would I go into my own home without my grandpa openly accompanying me; the neighbors would take note of such things.I've always been careful about things like this; I didn't want my mother to get in trouble for violating taboos. I'm in my apartment right now, writing this letter with a "typewriter" of a type that you can't imagine.I'm going to have to stop writing because I'm taking it into town, photoreducing it twice, etching it, rolling it, sealing it, and sending it to a post office that delivers delayed letters - it's going to take a whole day .I had to use a rented laboratory, and when I left I had to destroy everything I had left in between; I dared not leave them in a room where the janitor also had a key.When I get back from South America, I'm going to build my own lab that fits in a car.Over the next ten years, paved roads will become more and more common, and I plan to travel along these roads.I also want to continue to send out such mails at as many mailing points as possible, and hope that at least one of them can travel through time and space and finally reach you.As Justin said, the real hurdle for these letters comes in the next three centuries, and I can only hope that one of them will make it through.But I will keep writing. Give all my love to you all Lazarus