“Your nice letter came this morning—also mother’s postcard telling me how nicely Billy was doing. It made me feel mighty good to hear that Billy was feeling so well after his operation, and to see what a fine letter you can write, and how well you are doing at school. I know you will be a good boy and help mother all you can while I am away. You must pay lots of attention to dear little Billy while he is sick, and help entertain him. You must also watch sister, and not let her run around too much and stay up late at night. Tell mother she must take good care of herself and not get sick, for we can’t afford to have more than two sick at one time.
“I am getting better, but it will be some time before I can come home. But I get very homesick and want to see you all so badly I hardly know what to do. The weather is still warm and sunshiny. I wish you were here to go walking with me over the hills and through the woods. We would have a good time. They have a lot of turkeys and chickens on the grounds here. Yesterday a turkey gobbler and a rooster got to fighting, and they had a great time. Then afterward the rooster came around where the turkeys were and four big gobblers got after him and got him down, and were about to kill him when some of the boys drove him away. Then the rooster got up and crowed just as if he had whipped them all.... I had a letter from Judge Anderson this morning saying that my cases in his court could wait until I got home to be tried. I must close now to get this in the mail. Tell mother and sister and Billy that I love them very much. You know that I love you, don’t you? You must write as often as you can and take care of things while I am away. With lots of love, I am, your
Father.”
During his Asheville days Mr. Kern spent every moment that he could in the open air and soon developed into a great pedestrian, trudging all alone over the hills and through the woods and into Asheville, where he made friends and renewed old friendships. His appetite returned and he slept well. As he felt his strength returning his anxiety to get back home and in the harness intensified. Toward the middle of February we find him writing in homesick vein to John, Jr.
“My Dear Little Man:
“I had your picture of Hiawatha in her tent, and also the other pictures made by you and I think they are fine. I am very proud of you, and know you are going to be a good boy and a good man. I can’t tell you how much I want to see you and dear little Billy and mother and sister. I am very lonesome away down here by myself. But it will only be a few weeks until I will be at home, and I will be so happy to be with you all.
“I am feeling pretty well this morning. It rained yesterday, but the sun is shining now and that always makes me feel good. You must not let Billy forget his daddy. I expect you will both be grown so I will hardly know you. Kiss mother and sister and Billy for me, and then make them kiss you for your father.”
In March he left the sanitorium and went home for a visit, without being dismissed, and did not return until his last illness ten years later. The separation under such tragic circumstances had served to draw him even closer to his home and family, and it is probable when he crossed the threshold of his home on that March day in 1907 it was with the determination to put behind him political aspirations and to conserve his strength for the service of those dependent on him. Little could he have thought at the time that in scarcely more than a year he would be again drawn into the vortex of intense political activity, and that his career as a national figure was just in the dawning.