Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 1, 1939

Fiddling around at noon, [O.A.] stopped a moment on his way to his cottage at Lime Lake. I was shocked at his appearance. I remembered him, when I knew him at Birge’s, as taller, heavier. He always impressed me as rahter stolid, snug, and on the beefy side. But today he seemed all shrunken together, shorter, thinner, grayer and old. He told me his wife had died in April, after a five year’s helpless invalidism.

At the factory, our relations had been none too cordial – on his part, he was jealous of me, because he had longed for the job I came to fill; and on my part, his gross materialistic outlook repelled me; in addition to that, rumors of his contempt of my design work were continually reaching me.

But today as I looked at him, I felt guilty somehow for my past opinion of him, and pitied him.

Charles E. Burchfield, July 1, 1939