Hotel Buffalo, Buffalo, N.Y.
Mon., April 12, 1927
Bill had to make an emergency trip to New York by train Friday morning, and I am expecting him back any minute now. It has been lonely without him, but I have seen a lot of Ruth Shattock, which has been nice.
Ruth teaches in a public kindergarten, where I visited her. In the afternoon I drove her along the shore of Lake Erie. After dinner we went to a lecture on Psychology; rather pathetic, I thought. A lot of disappointed, disillusioned people, trying to find something to which to cling. Of course that may not have been it at all, but it seems so to me. A number of faddists were present, vibrationists, spookists and thought-healing-ists. The boy who talked was most interesting, enthusiastic and likable, but seemed a bit hazy on the logic of what he was trying to put over, so tried to give the impression that it was all very abstruse, and above the heads of his audience.
The weather Sunday afternoon was wonderful and I drove out to the falls by myself and met Ruth at the Hotel Niagara. The mounds of ice below the falls were nearly as high as the falls themselves. The sun, shimmering on the icicles dripping decoratively from the spray-wet trees, was dazzling. We drove along the river, past the lower rapids and whirlpool, to Youngstown, where the river empties into Lake Ontario. After going through old Fort Niagara, we had dinner here at the hotel.
Although I had occasionally driven the motorcycle alone, up to this week I had never driven a car alone and it gave me a great feeling of independence.