Chuck Jones’ letters to his daughter, Linda

Friday, January 12, 1953(4)

Post #49

Dearest Child;

You last letter was a sort of puzzling one and I’m not going to attempt to analyze it yet.  Keep us informed what your thinking is though.  I’ll never hold you to a chance remark as being some kind of gospel, yet such offhand opinions in aggregate often give a much clearer idea of the conditions that exist and the state of your feelings than some carefully considered statement.  Catch?

As Dottie told me she told you we are again in the throes of the good old Academy.  We have a good cartoon up, the one I narrated for you about a year ago concerning the little boy who day-dreamed:  “FROM A TO Z-Z-Z-Z”.  It is, I believe, a happy compromise between the stylized limited UPA-ish approach and the Disney tendency to over-animate.  It was received well by the academy judging committee and I have received several enthusiastic calls from friends who saw and like it.  All this adds up to the possibility of it perhaps failing to even be nominated, but I do believe that it merits that.  Once again, as it must every year, we will just have to wait and see.

I woke up last Saturday feeling somehow different.  I knew there was rain in the offing.  Not that day because it was absolutely cloudless and sparkling, but soon, of that I was positive.  Then while I was shaving I suddenly realized what was different: my hair was lying down.  During all this very dry, cold weather it had a tendency to be very floaty and impulsive and get all charged up with electricity, but today it was acting like hair, very orderly and mannerly.  The odd part was though that I knew it meant rain, and soon.  So I told Dottie that it would rain within three days and I’ll be Billybedamned if Monday it didn’t cloud over in a lovely storm and just beat its brains out raining. Now how the devil did my hair know two days in advance and how did it know to tell me?  Real bright hair.

How did the poor old woman make out?  I meant to tell you that you are under no obligation to use it, show it, or preserve it.  Things that are fun to do are not necessarily fun to use.  I enjoyed doing it because I felt like it, but it won’t hurt my enjoyment a bit to have it incinerated or anything else that seems proper and fitting a fate.  [an illustration of the song, The Poor Old Woman, She Swallowed a Fly]

Heard of a man in Greenwich Village in New York with a diabolic sense of humour who inserted an ad in a newspaper the day after Christmas GOOD PRICES FOR USED CHRISTMAS TREES and added the address of a friend.  There was a traffic jam to end all traffic jams.

I love you with a curious detached fatherly attitude untouched by criticism.

Your devoted sire…

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