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May 6, 1944
Haven't written for some time and want to give the pen a break. Before anything, I want you to know that I didn't write yesterday 'cause I was exhausted by evening, took a shower, washed my hair and “hit the sack.” I did something I've never done before—I washed my hair, but didn't set it. Tonight it looks exactly the way you would want it to look—long, (hanging on my shoulders) very fluffy, shiny, wavy and thick. It's up in front (my ears showing) in a high pompadour. By the way, dear, I've been thinking of taking a permanent and wondered if you would like my hair shorter. Gloria took a feather bob and I'm anxious to see it. Goldie intends to cut her hair when…
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…or snack bar cost? Just curious about the prices charged for food.
I did a lot of heavy work yesterday. Among other things, I housecleaned and rearranged “our” room. I had Adele’s crib behind the door for the winter and changed it, putting it back near the window, as it was when you were home last summer. Gosh, Phil, dear, that was over nine months ago! It seems ages and ages and ages! Personally, sweet, I think we've got another nine to go, and perhaps a bit more. I have every hope of being with you next year about this time. Think I'm pessimistic?
Ruth gave me two cottons that are too small for her and a pair of shorts (one piece blouse and shorts—blue & white). One dress is a lemon yellow piqué and I'm wearing it this evening. It's the type you…
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…and white checked piqué, with alternating bands of the green and white check and plain white to make up a full skirt. The top part is also checked and is finished off with a white yoke. I doubt very much if I'll get any use out of it, as I'm not comfortable in it.
It was warm, but windy today. I performed only necessary duties this morning, planning to walk to Broad Street with Adele. I promised Sarah I would get her a few things at the H & H retail store (and restaurant) at Broad and Rockland. I decided, however, to stop first at Fay’s and say hello to Morris, who came in at 4:30 A.M. Friday. It so happened that he was driving (he has his brother's car at his disposal during his furlough) to Broad and Erie to stop at a ration board for something or other. Knowing Adele’s love of cars, I parked myself in the car and off we went to Broad St. Fay was busy with the baby and couldn't go along. Don't get any ideas (green-eyed monster take notice) as he has the same jealous disposition. You fellas ought to get together.
He watched Adele while I paid our telephone bill and shopped at H & H, whereupon we headed for the ration board. Adele sat and waited for him in the car. She had a helluva good time trying all the gadgets and sundry. When we returned, they invited me to go along to Ellie’s house just for a short visit, and I accepted. I returned home long enough to feed Adele and give Sarah her packages. I wish, sweet, that you could see the way Adele's face lights up when she enters a car and while she is riding. She's in heaven and looks it. Wouldn't mind looking that way myself, baby, how's about coming “home”? (I'm in a devilish mood tonight—darn it). You, sweetness, are fast asleep at this very moment. Where was I? Oh yes, the visit to Ellie’s was short and sweet. We got back about 12:30 and Adele went to sleep. When she awoke I trekked up to 5th and Olney to return the proofs. A sailor and his bride came in while we (Adele and I) were there and we were showered with the rice they attempted to shake off. Adele began to paw the bride's bouquet and they obliged by letting her smell it. That kid is a mess to take any place! She gets into everything! I stopped at a shoe store to try on a pair of red baby doll play shoes (ankle strap). They look well on my feet, but I didn't care for the shoes. They were $3.r5 and had “tissue paper” soles. No wonder play shoes aren't rationed! Next I stopped at a dress store which carries larger sizes hoping to get Mom something for Mother's Day. I couldn't buy as they would not allow returns. I saw something nice for myself (small size 14). I tried it on only to find it wasn't such a “small size 14.” Adele wouldn't stay in the walker, so I let her stroll about the store. She found a piece of tissue (used to wrap dresses) and began to “wipe” herself, thinking it was toilet paper. She had everyone in stitches. Oh, another item—no more playpen. Yep, the floor cracked and it's a wreck. My dad shall attempt to repair it tomorrow. I usually kept the playpen on the landing (where the bench is) and Adele played quietly alone for short intervals. Adele hasn't been sleeping much of late and I've got that “tired” feeling once more. I gather from your letters that your routine is light and not at all strenuous. I'm glad one of “us” doesn't have to “beat his brains” out to keep going. There are two things I intend to do a lot of when Adele gets older and the war is over—sleep til all hours and go out often. I’ve done very little of both for the past two yearsl Adele has a name for everyone as follows:
Mom—bu ba or Mom for grandmom
Jack—jack or dack
She uses the ah or eh sound at will, so I can’t be exacting. She nods “yes” every time she is asked whether or not she would like some Pepsi. Try and get the glass away from her once her hands grasp it! Man, she's strong! She goes over to the radio, turns it on and begins to dance and sing. She loves her bath. When I place her on the floor and finish drying her, I tell her to bend her head forward (so that I may spray her back with talcum) and she does so promptly. She leans back on me for the same procedure in front. She enjoys this and eagerly awaits til I get the powder can and give the order. Adele tries to fool me by yelling “sis” only to have me pick her up and she makes me plenty mad at times. She gets terribly annoying, at times, by crying in a moan-like voice or repeating the word “momma” til I feel I'll “plotz.” When I want to take her upstairs for the night, she shakes her hand (forefinger protruding) and says a very definite “nu nu nu” or “no, no no.” I'm glad you liked that snap I sent along. I believe Ruth has two more that were made at the same time and I'll send them with this in the morning.
Think I've had my say dearest, (don't you?) and rather than bore you with an account of my deep and everlasting love and admiration of you, my Phil, my ever-growing love and want of you sexually, not to mention physically, mentally, morally and spiritually, I am and remain
6 May 1944
A very dull day, with hardly anything doing worth noting. But I shall try, as per usual, to make a fairly readable letter of it.
The morning passed quickly because there were a few things that required my attention. After dinner, on getting back to the Orderly Room, I felt a chill. Because the weather was none too warm, and I had walked to the mess-hall and back—a distance of perhaps a mile, I attributed it to that. By 2:00 o'clock, though, I was acutely uncomfortable, getting colder by the minute, and I thought I'd better do something about it. Sgt. Castellano was close by, so I left the Orderly Room to him and went to my hut, where I bundled up under a coupla blankets and took a nap. I slept about 2-1/2 hours and awoke feeling normal again. I was, moreover, hungry; so I walked with Red to the mess-hall, where we supped on grilled frankfurters, baked beans, chocolate pudding, and coffee. The Base Theater finally got hold of a new projector. Having finished supper, with Reds latest and oddest “affairre de fille” as the sole topic of conversation, we decided to give the new projector the “once over.” Did I ever tell you that he was a projectionist in civilian life, among his other occupations, which number among them farming, upholstering, furniture manufacturing and repairing, and working in an air-craft factory? It’s no wonder he is handy at everything he turns his hand to. How unlike the mug you chose to marry!—Anyway, to get back to the subject—the picture was a class “C” affair with The Andrews Sisters, Harriet Hilliard (she never looked better), Mitch Ayres and his band, and a very personable young leading man to share with H. Hilliard the job of providing the romantics. I noted his name, but forgot it. I imagine he'll change it anyway once he starts to “go places,” and he will, undoubtedly. His present moniker isn't consistent with the best Hollywood tradition as applied to romantic lead players. The title—“Swingtime Johnny.” The Andrews Sisters are highly entertaining, as usual, if you like them and I dote on them. For the first time, Maxine, the one in the middle, reminded me strongly of Dottie. Something about her mugging—I think. The comedy was spontaneous in spots and “manufactured” in others. On the whole, though, a picture impossible to be bored with—if your taste runs to swing music and can-can. For my part, I'll settle for either of the two; both made it just doubly entertaining. The projector, by the way, is a great improvement over the former one. The picture was clear and undistorted, and the sound perfect!
On the way back to “Power River,” we stopped at the Snack Bar for coffee and cake. A G.I. played gypsy music on the ever-present piano—interspersed with some Mexican and Spanish tangos and boleros. I don't think, Chippie, that I need to tell you how much I enjoyed this impromptu entertainment.
Back in the hut, I got out the Stevens Chocolates and passed them around among several fellows who happened to be there, taking good care, I can assure you, that I got more than my share. The boxed chocolates, cookies, etc. are more or less “public property,” as far as I'm concerned, and I give away about half of it, but the candy bars are “private stock” and are strictly treated as such.
The boys are starting a game of poker, but they already have their limit of seven players, so I don't imagine I'll get into it for a while yet, or as long as it takes for a guy to go broke. So far this month, I'm holding my own—plus some of the other fellows!
There was no mail for me today, so this about winds up this particular letter.
I'll say good-night for now, Sweet, with all my love to you and the punkin. Keep well, my darlings, and never doubt the eventual return of your husband and father—
P.S. Love to all.
P.P.S. Not such a dull day after all—in retrospect.