Sunday, May 10, 2020

Post #23 - June 17, 1941 What Friends are Doing and Lack of Letter Worries

June 17, 1941 

My dear hubby, 

I wonder if you understand my previous letter. I was rushing like hell and I wasn't very explicit. If I remember clearly, when you filled out your questionnaire and made your appeal, you were living on Chestnut Street at a lower rental and the board knows nothing of your real circumstances preceding your induction and following. This may also help. Mr. Mitosky informed me that married men with or without children, regardless of when they were married are not taken into the army if they show they have dependents who will suffer or who actually are suffering as a result. He said he can't understand how I am getting along on $10.00, unless my family or yours is helping me. If I can show no one is helping me, I stand a good chance. I have been thinking seriously of quitting my job in order to help the case along.  (Would you have any objections?) If you could get out of the army as a result, I wouldn't have to work for a while. Things in general would be better all around. Phil, I feel as if I could burst. There are times when I feel I must talk to you, so I write a letter. But that doesn't help very much, although I feel easier when I know a letter is on its way to you. Tonight is one of those nights. If I could see you or maybe talk to you for a few minutes things would be brighter and I wouldn't feel so blue and let-down. Ah, what wouldn't I do for the nearness of you. How have you been feeling, sweet? Gee, if you were only here now I would make you lie on the couch while I stroked your hair and covered your handsome puss with kisses. Well, I can dream, can’t I? It looks as if you are in for some real trouble according to the enclosed letter. Phil, would you want me to send them a letter explaining what has happened and offering to return the books, or do you want me to send them some money—on account? Whatever you decide, please return the letter to me so that I may have it for reference. I called all my friends last night:

Jean—Everything O.K. Nursing course coming along fine. Wants to see me. Has very little time. Sends her regards.
Helen—Going out and having a swell time. Can't find time to come out to see me.
Ann—Her engagement ring is nicer than mine—from her description “Everyone thought I was getting a little ring, but I fooled them.” 
I said (meow) that I evidently started something with my ring and everyone was out to beat me. She wouldn't commit herself. Thanked us for the telegram. Got one from Mickey (who didn't show up). Got lots of gifts. Very happy but worried about the draft.
Lil—Sent you another package (towels, soap, blades, etc.). Maybe Eddie will drive down to Ft. Meade some Sunday—she hopes. Says there is a good chance. Hopes you are feeling better. Has 12 hour duty. Her affair is coming along swell.
My Mom—Got herself a suit. Imagine! Got me the wrist watch. Thought your telegram to my Pop was beautiful.

I tried on the red peasant dress we saw in Foster's window. They are made very short and I looked like a 12-year-old. It was cute though. I'm so busy at work that I don't even have time to go. Harry was offered $20.00 a week, but refused the job. He told them he was getting twenty dollars here and didn't have any expenses. If they would have given him something over $20.00 he said he would have accepted. I think he was foolish to refuse since he will have expenses when we move to the new house and this is a better company with a chance for advancement. I am sitting in the parlor with my head in one hand and writing this letter with the other. Hence the the carelessness. I feel lousy this evening. It's probably due to my oncoming illness—I hope. Cheering—ain't I?

Everyone here is fine, but they are all wondering what the hell I have to tell you that is taking so long. Jakie is bothering me for the pen so he can write to Lenny. Incidentally, Lenny is coming in this weekend with two fellows and Mom is “up in the air.”  They have dates for Saturday night and all day Sunday. I'll content myself with writing to you, or should I say scribbling. Let me know if you are in need of any money. Please don't borrow. And now the perfect ending for an imperfect letter. Phil, I love you dearly.

Lonely as 
”Ev”   er
P.S. Cute, ain't I. Incidentally, I didn't get the dress. Fooled you.

Tuesday, June 17
7 P.M.

My Dear Ev, 

When I received no mail from you this morning I was disappointed, but now that the evening mail has been given out and still no letter, I don't know what to think. Frankly, I'm worried. I can't imagine what would keep you from writing, especially since I emphasized only last week-end the necessity for writing every day. Beside all that, you promised to let nothing prevent you from doing so. Can you blame me for being worried and afraid? I know I won't be able to keep my mind on what I'm doing until I hear from you and that will be Thursday at the earliest. We leave tomorrow morning for an overnight maneuver and we won't be back ’til then. The prospect of spending two days wondering at the cause for the absence of any word from you, dear, is far from pleasant. I wish I could sleep until Thursday. Right now, I should be rolling my pack, but I just can't get my mind down to it. I earnestly hope that there is a perfectly good reason for your remissness, but since my mind can't conceive of any legitimate reason, I get kinda sick when I think w———— I’d hate to say some of the things that plague my imagination. The knowledge that you didn't write last night, Ev, for whatever reason has put a lead weight inside my breast and I'm stuck with it until I hear from you, sweet, that everything's O.K. Please, baby, don't let me down. I love you so. 

Yours forever,