The Hand That Fed Me
Isaac Rosenfeld
Dec. 21
Dear Ellen,
It was very sweet of you to send me a Christmas card. It was
really a wonderful gesture, and so simple! When you prepared your
Christmas list you included me-and that's all there was to it.
You know, in that one day of ours I never did manage to find
out who your friends were (not that I wasn't eager to!). But I
imagine your list went something like this: aunts, uncles, cousins; girl
friends; boy friends.
It
amuses me to think that I must have been
included in the latter group, in the company, let us say, of John,
Bob, Steve, Chick, etc. I am quite willing to share the honor with
them, even though the names of my colleagues must be entirely
imaginary and even though you probably put my own name last on
the list. But perhaps you had me in mind all along, knowing what a
gesture that would be! Naturally, you must have assumed I'm not in
the army. I'm not quarreling with you, but there's something a little
glib in that assumption. Why, so far as you are concerned, should I
not
be in the army? Do you follow me? Is it simply a habit of think–
ing so that whenever- rarely !- you do come to me, you immediately
say, "Joe? Oh, he's still around." I can see no other way, unless, God
save my mind, you've taken to obtaining information from my friends,
whom you have sworn to secrecy. But how should you know who
my friends are, since I never found out yours?
Of course, I may have mentioned Otto to you-he was very
much on my mind that day. Would you believe it, while we were
walking down Hoyne Avenue and I was, permit me, impressing
you with all I had, I kept wondering what Otto would do in similar
circumstances, and I was gloating, sure that he would never have
been able to give such a fine account of himself! Furthermore, I still
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