Dad made this cedar chest for Mom early in their marriage. This little chest became the repository for all of Mom's special treasures, particularly the letters she and Dad exchanged during those lonely long months and years during the Great Depression when Dad was away from home finding whatever work he could find wherever he could find it. Dad saved all of Mom's letters. Dad was not a great letter writer, and I can remember so many times that Mom watched for Ezra Lewis, our rural mail carrier, to see if he would stop by our mailbox with a letter. It was always hard to watch Ezra drive right on by the mailbox. When we were home, we children would sneak into Mom's closet when our parents were not home and open the ribbon-tied bundle of letters and read them. Perhaps we should not have done this, but we each learned poignant and moving things about our parents that were forever indelibly impressed on our minds. I have excerpted some of the most touching moments in these letters in some of my other writings. I cannot think about those letters and the struggles and devotion they so earnestly and eloquently portrayed without tears coming to my eyes.