Jerry has been given special permit by the doctor to have coffee with me at 10 on Sunday mornings. His spice cake is delicious and Benguet coffee was an aromatic treat. Once a week I permit myself the indulgence of coffee.

Peg and Jerry talked about camp and democracy and how at last it seemed it might survive.

The doctor gave me bathroom privileges at noon so | have graduated. It makes quite a day in the life of a convalescent. My face in a mirror looks awful, wraithlike, still puffy and lined around the mouth, eyes very sharp. Jerry says, if it is any comfort to me, that my face is a great improvement over last week when my cheeks were swollen, eyes and nose bad and lip paralyzed, not to mention the drawn look around the eyes. So I have hopes
for next week! He says over 20 thousand camote roots have been planted and we are about to eat the first harvest which will give more incentive and zest, a less futile feeling about gardening. The old spirit of “we’ll soon be out and won’t ever benefit” has finally begun to die. It has been a drag on community spirit, a prop for the lazy and the grouches.

 

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