TRANSCRIBED FROM THE COURIER DEMOCRAT MAY 30, 1918 P 3
Camp Beauregard, La.
May 11, 1918.
Mrs. A. W. Rogers,
Russellville, Ark.
My Own Dearest Mother:
Tomorrow is Mother's Day and tho' I am not in a place where I can send flowers or some other token, yet I can pay tribute with my pen.
Mother dear, eighteen years and six months ago you gave me birth, and I was only a lowly babe, yet you loved me as only a good woman and a good mother can love. I think that "mother love" is the nearest thing thing to God's pardoning love that ever existed.
And Mother, thru' all those days of my childhood you watched for me where I could not, cared for me, endured patiently my little childish cruelties. In a word, always patient, always loving, always yearning --- the very embodiment of mother love. God judge the man who does not appreciate what a mother does for him, and does not love his mother enough to always conduct himself properly as a clean man should.
As I look back now, Mother dear, I marvel at the patience you had with me in the days when I began to aspire to manhood, my boyhood days. It was then that I began to think that I was old enough to be independent and tried to cast off the necessary little yoke that parental hands had fastened on me. But in those days of rebellion, Mother, I believe you were sweeter to me than at any time in my life. I will never forget it,---how you always had a smile for me, so easily forgave my little shortcomings, always so kind and gentle with me. It was then if not before that I began to appreciate the dearest mother in the world and when I began to love you, Mother dear, not as a child loves, but as a man loves; with reverence.
And then, Mother, you were called upon to make the supreme sacrifice--to let your baby go to the service of his country. Did you hesitate or refuse the sacrifice because you loved the lad? No, you sent the boy to his duty with a smile and brave words of cheerful advice and love, when your heart was sick with a great dread. Isn't that so, Mother? I could see the pain behind your eyes when you laughed and sent me on, tho' I did not say so. But the brave mothers who were willing to offer the greatest treasure of their hearts will be remembered in the tomorrows and their memory will remain just as sacred and more so than that of the boys who die on the battlefields of Liberty. And it is because of your love for me and your ambition for my advancement and to see me make something of myself that I have striven to make good in my chosen field.
And when this struggle is over and I can return home for good it will be my greatest ambition to make you happy always. And I know that the best way to do that now is to be a good man myself and always do my duty.
I can truly say, just as the revered George Washington said, that "all that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother." For if anyone ever had an angel mother it is I.
Love as always, Mother, and write to me often.
Your loving son,
DONALD.
NOTES: This letter was written by Donald Dowell.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Camp Beauregard, La.
May 11, 1918.
Mrs. A. W. Rogers,
Russellville, Ark.
My Own Dearest Mother:
Tomorrow is Mother's Day and tho' I am not in a place where I can send flowers or some other token, yet I can pay tribute with my pen.
Mother dear, eighteen years and six months ago you gave me birth, and I was only a lowly babe, yet you loved me as only a good woman and a good mother can love. I think that "mother love" is the nearest thing thing to God's pardoning love that ever existed.
And Mother, thru' all those days of my childhood you watched for me where I could not, cared for me, endured patiently my little childish cruelties. In a word, always patient, always loving, always yearning --- the very embodiment of mother love. God judge the man who does not appreciate what a mother does for him, and does not love his mother enough to always conduct himself properly as a clean man should.
As I look back now, Mother dear, I marvel at the patience you had with me in the days when I began to aspire to manhood, my boyhood days. It was then that I began to think that I was old enough to be independent and tried to cast off the necessary little yoke that parental hands had fastened on me. But in those days of rebellion, Mother, I believe you were sweeter to me than at any time in my life. I will never forget it,---how you always had a smile for me, so easily forgave my little shortcomings, always so kind and gentle with me. It was then if not before that I began to appreciate the dearest mother in the world and when I began to love you, Mother dear, not as a child loves, but as a man loves; with reverence.
And then, Mother, you were called upon to make the supreme sacrifice--to let your baby go to the service of his country. Did you hesitate or refuse the sacrifice because you loved the lad? No, you sent the boy to his duty with a smile and brave words of cheerful advice and love, when your heart was sick with a great dread. Isn't that so, Mother? I could see the pain behind your eyes when you laughed and sent me on, tho' I did not say so. But the brave mothers who were willing to offer the greatest treasure of their hearts will be remembered in the tomorrows and their memory will remain just as sacred and more so than that of the boys who die on the battlefields of Liberty. And it is because of your love for me and your ambition for my advancement and to see me make something of myself that I have striven to make good in my chosen field.
And when this struggle is over and I can return home for good it will be my greatest ambition to make you happy always. And I know that the best way to do that now is to be a good man myself and always do my duty.
I can truly say, just as the revered George Washington said, that "all that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother." For if anyone ever had an angel mother it is I.
Love as always, Mother, and write to me often.
Your loving son,
DONALD.
NOTES: This letter was written by Donald Dowell.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD