Monday, April 20, 2020

Post #4 - May 5, 1941 Evelyn’s Normal Life With Family & Friends During Philip’s Initial Training

Monday, May 5
7:00 P.M.

Dear Sweetheart:

“I hardly know how to start this letter.” The pen I am using is lousy, to say the least. (The  one my mother gave you). All I can really do is to repeat what you wrote in your lengthy & very, very interesting letter. I miss you terribly. You are at least kept busy, but I am not, not even at work. All I do the whole day through is think of you. (A poet, even if I have to say so myself). I never could lie about my feelings (especially to you) so I won’t now. I cried & cried & cried & cried. Mom never saw me crying, only Jackie. I didn’t sob, I just cried softly. That is how I spent Tuesday. How I ever got through the day I’ll never know (damn pen), but I did. Tuesday evening I came home, all tuckered out. Mom & I got dressed & decided to go to the movies. We stopped at the Wyman’s & never did quite make the movies, even though we wanted to go every night last week. Wednesday morning I woke up expecting to see you beside me. You can probably imagine how disappointed I felt. I was empty all over & didn’t eat a thing all week. I am now down to 110, but since the good news that you were to be stationed nearby came, I have begun to pick up weight & resume a normal life. Wednesday night Harry, Mom & I took a ride up to North Philly to pick up Tante Shush & Rae, who were at Ethel’s. They dropped me off at 8th St. & I visited my folks & Helen. They picked me up later in the evening & so to bed.

Thursday night I didn’t do a thing except sit, which also goes for Friday. When I received your cards, they made me feel even bluer. I couldn’t help but feel that you were homesick & lonesome.

Ann was surprised to learn that you were in the Army. You should see Ann’s place. They had parlor set covers & curtains made to match & the place looks like a palace. I went to the drugstore with Ann & while there I met Mickey’s sister, who suggested I stop over. As both Helen & Ann were going out & I didn’t want to be alone, I went over. I found out (from her mother, whom I chatted with for a while) that Mickey just recently got a job in a chiropodist’s office as a nurse for $18. Some people have all the luck. I left Mickey’s at 9:30 & went home, but all the kids & my mother were out, so I started for home. Earlier in the evening I telephoned home & said I would come home that evening, but didn’t say when. Your mother went to the Brown’s with the rest of the family. Sidney was in & the Brown’s were taking him to New York Sunday, so everyone went there Sat. night. I got home at 10:30 & was in the house all alone until 12:00 when Mom came home. I just can’t tell you how lonely I felt because I can’t find words descriptive enough. Mom trys [sic] hard not to leave me alone & I do likewise. We have been getting alone [sic along] swell & enjoy each other’s company. (This pen is really awful, it just scratchs [sic]). We went right to bed. I got up about 12:00 on Sunday & helped Mom about the house until 3:00 when Bob, Lena, Yale, my sister & the kids came. (We put the covers on the set, but they don’t help very much).

I hadn’t gotten dressed as I had expected to bathe first. I was wearing my green pajamas & my robe. Bob commented & he also did something which I never really thought he had “guts” enough to do. (I’ll explain when I see you.) Immediately after their arrival I bathed & dressed. Everyone left the house & went to the Wyman’s. I was alone again. That old feeling. A few moments later Bob walks in & says “Your old man is on the phone at Wyman’s.” I didn’t believe him but nevertheless I started over. Then he shouted, “Hurry up, what the h— do you think it is, it’s costing that guy a fortune.” So I ran like hell. Your voice was like a tonic. It made me feel good & I felt happy & contented for the first time in days. I wrote you a postcard Sunday night, but I don’t know if you’ll get it as the address was too general. Bob is getting a 1932 Studebaker, if his plans work out. When he does he promised me faithfully that he would take me down to see you. Jack was out in Upper Darby Sunday with the fellows & tells me that “our home” has attained a one-story height. We’ll probably have to make our selections for wallpaper, etc. shortly. I’m so happy about that, that I want to scream it from the rooftops. Gee, darling, if you were only home for good everything would be complete. I adore you, Phil. I just can’t wait until I can get myself encircled by your arms. Once I get you I don’t think I’ll ever let you free again. Sunday night Jack took me up to his club. (I hope you aren’t angry.) It’s very nice there. No one was there at the time but Eddie & another drip, who were playing ping-pong. Jack & I played all the popular recordings, played darts & played ping-pong. We even jitterbugged a little. Later in the evening (about 10:00) we went home & Mom, Jack & I each had a box of ice-cream. Umm was it delicious. I couldn’t help thinking about you, sweetheart. That was one time I would have gladly given  you some. Monday night after work I took your letter into the Wyman’s & read it to everybody, but there were certain parts which I omitted. It is now 8:10 & I am still writing. How come you are in the Infantry is what everyone keeps asking. Well, how come? Your mother was disappointed to learn this, but we talked her out of her bad feelings. Incidentally, both Harry’s were in Baltimore this past Sunday & nearly died when I told them that you were there. They even rode past Ft. Meade. They went to Baltimore to visit some friends. About my visiting you. I’ll come every week even if no one else does. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from my hubby. I’m making plans to have the gang out Sunday & will let you know definitely before the week is up. I’ll write every day, even if it is just a card. I also heard ”Intermezzo” at the same time you did. I sort of felt you there & actually expected to see something to the effect in your letter. You never let me down, do you? I love you so much for it. You seem to touch the right spots,—if you know what I mean. You’ve certainly gone through plenty. You must feel like a real man now, Pvt. Strongin. Write every day, will you? I always look forward to receiving some mail when I get home from work. I’m glad you’ve made acquaintances. They will at least keep you busy. Mom, the boys, the Wymans, the Pallers & everybody sends their love. I’ve enclosed a print of my lips, until I can replace it with the real stuff. 

Lovingly yours,

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