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September 16, 1912

September 16, 2022 Helen Goldsmith

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Uncle Harold is still in New York. I never think of him except when a letter arrives. The letters are always for Grandmother, never for Grandfather. When Grandfather sees one, he just says, “Well how is the schaf?” A schaf, is a German sheep but not a very smart one.


It’s good to know that Harold remains far away. Hilda defines “schaf” very well. Google Translate suggests: sheep, dope, and twit.

In Before 1919 Tags Hilda, San Francisco
← September 17, 1912September 15, 1912 →

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