May 20th, 1944
I went to bed feeling very crampy last night and awoke during the night to find myself unwell. I didn't feel well all day yet I kept my promise by going to Ethel's with Gloria. Ruth wanted to get a dress (we weren't able to get anything Wednesday night) and we decided to try Frankford Ave. As soon as Adele was asleep, we left, Sarah having promised to dress her when she awoke. We took the “J” bus and exchanged to the 59 car. In between changes, we stopped at a few dress stores on Frankford Ave. where Ruth got a nice red, white and blue gingham dress for $8. I sent Ruth home to care for Adele and Glo and I went to Ethel's. We went to deliver the package Glo had brought for Stuart. We stayed about two hours, during which time Mickey showed us most of her wardrobe. Stuart is still ill and Ethel doesn't know what to make of it. It's over 10 days and the doctor insists there is nothing to worry about. He has a bad cold and runs a fever from time to time. I was supposed to take care of Stuart today as I told you, but naturally the whole thing was called off.
The ride to and from Ethel's made me terribly ill and nauseous. Phil, we must get a car someday or I shall be ill every time I must go somewhere. I can't stand the rocking sensation and it seems to get worse and worse. For a while there I was doing alright, but now I can't stand it at all. Ruth took Adele out while I was gone so that she would have her daily “airing.” When I got back, I managed to feed Adele and eat myself before I found it necessary to lie down. After a short rest, I felt a little better and got Adele to bed for the night. I still don't feel any better and I attribute most of it to my period.
Gloria took Mom to the Lindley to see a double feature and I didn't care to accompany them feeling the way I do. Mom, by the way, and I thought it best not to tell you, was very ill last month with a bad case of the grippe that kept us all on our toes. You know Mom—never fails to get a good cold each winter. She rushed the season by wearing a spring coat when it was too chilly. She has been fine of late. Goldie did the cooking and now helps Mom in the kitchen leaving her very little to do. Goldie does most of the shopping in the neighborhood. I usually do the “long range” shopping up to Broad Street, 11th St., etc.
Gloria’s short hair isn't as flattering as her long hair, but it is neat and easy to keep, which is just as important. She figured she'd do it while Jack was away to make it easier for her.
There isn't much else to say, sweet, except perhaps that Milt Brown won $400 in a crap game on New Guinea, which he sent home immediately for fear he would spend it in another game. Wonder how much he lost before he won that much? Keeping our date, honey, and hope that soon it will be for real. I adore you darling, and want very much to “demonstrate.” In the meantime, it's by the typewriter or pen (as you choose) —
21 May 1944
Couldn't write last night, 'cause I had a toothache that was too distracting to permit it. During the afternoon, the ache was negligible, but in the evening, it really began to hurt. I knew it was too late to catch the dentist in, so I called the hospital to find out what could be done. The assistant told me to come down and he’d think of something. So I hopped on my bike and rode down. The bothersome molar was the bottom left rear one. The cavity was hard to get at, at least too much so for the assistant’s capabilities. The ache was getting worse by the minute, and, to make matters worse, had brought on a splitting headache. I knew that if I didn't get relief somehow, I would be in for a terrible night. The assistant gave me six aspirins and a phenobarbital tablet and told me to take them all just before turning in. They knocked me out—but good! This morning I had one helluva time dragging myself out of bed. But the aches and pains were gone, thank God. At nine o'clock this morning, I went back to the dentist. He chipped away most of the tooth to see if it could be saved, but no soap—it was too far gone. So—I’m minus another molar. However, there is a bright side to the story. Do you remember, Sweet, that my “bite” was bad? That I could never quite get my front teeth to meet? Well, with the removal of this tooth I find I am able to close my jaws solidly, and that there is no longer that ungainly gap in front when I do so. Altogether, I'm happy about the whole thing.
Your V-mail of 13 May arrived yesterday, and that of the 15th arrived today. I had been looking for your letter of the 14th to inform me whether or not you and the Moms received my flowers on Mother's Day. But your letter of the 15th answers my questions on that score very nicely. You mention cutting the stems, putting a little salt in the water, etc etc.
Sorry that C.P. (Clair Pruett) is keeping you waiting for the pictures, but I can be patient now.
Glad to hear that Ed got his Cpl.’s rating. The son-of-a-gun owes me a letter.
Whatever happened to Ruth's letter containing the snaps? They are way overdue.
Not surprised to hear that Milt is in New Guinea—kinda figured he'd land there. Look for things to start popping down there now—what with Jack, Ben and Milt all there.
Seems like all you Moms fared O.K. on Mother’s Day. It was darn nice of Lil to remember Mom with a box of candy. I'm still waiting to hear from her. Why doesn't she write?
The Scarlet Fever injections you are so reluctant to impose on the punkin can wait, I think. I think your assertion that they make 99% of the kids sick, is exaggerated, and it really should be done, regardless, but don't let it worry you too much for the time being. Did you ask Doctor Gayl whether there was any point in giving her the “shots” in the summer time? I feel, as you do, that the Fall would be a more favorable time.
There isn't much of any kind of news around here, Chippie. Tonight the attraction at the Base Theater (just named “Thunderbolt Theater”), is Ann Miller in “Hey, Rookie!”—need I say more? Tomorrow, if the weather is clear, I intend to go to London. See you then, Sweet (wish I could change that “then” to “there.”)!
My deep and everlasting love to you, darling. A big hug for daddy's Adele—and my love to all.
P.S. Just remembered to include a request for more candy. Do you need one for the pictures? If so—here it is—right here—>(request pictures)
May 21, 1944
I still don't feel well. Headache and nausea have had me in their grip most of the day. I usually feel weak and crampy; this time, it's headache etc. I hope I feel better tomorrow. I hate to feel this way.
Today, nevertheless, was an interesting one. Ruth brought a British mariner, who will be 18 shortly, home to introduce him to the family. She met him on the subway and he didn't know his way about. We gave him a box of chocolates, a large box of ice cream, a glass of milk and cake. I even took a picture with him and Adele. Petey made several pictures of us, one of Glo with the baby, one of me, Adele and the mariner. He went for Ruth and took her to the movies this evening. He had many, many interesting stories to tell, and I was a most interested listener. He left his address, which is Cadet John Bingham Wheeler, Parkdale, Sedgley, S. Staffs, England. We gave Cadet Wheeler your address in the hope that he may contact you someday. He is a shrewd, intelligent fellow and I could scarcely believe he will be 18. He seems so much older and wiser. He said a few things that I didn't like. He said that his folks do not like Yanks, but that they had never met Yanks in the circumstances he had. He does not like the way our gov’t has sent so many Yanks to England. They, he went on to say, don't have enough to do, insufficient entertainment and therefore get into all sorts of trouble, especially with the girls. He thought it would be better if they had sent fewer, better trained men to do the job. He is very strong-minded and sort of reminds me of you in that respect. He comes from Birmingham.
Ben promised to get me a box of peanut chews and I secured it this morning. I'll mail them off tomorrow along with the pictures, sweet.
Adele called Gloria “doria” and then shortened it to “dah.” She pulled something the other day that surprised both Sarah and myself. Adele wanted Sarah to accompany us upstairs. When ready for bed, Sarah quietly said, “Well, I think I'll sneak out now to avert a fuss.” Adele came up with the big, “bye-bye” that shocked us all. I wonder if she knew what she was saying?
Gloria read us all your cleverly-written v-mail. You sure can be cute! She made the 7:30 train this evening. Gosh, but the weekend flew. Goldie's doctor called at the house today to examine her and save her the trouble of traveling downtown. He's very young and good looking. He thinks she'll hold out till June 9, the date he set.
I'm anxious to hit the hay in an effort to throw off this headache. If my letters seem a little dull I hope you'll understand. It's an effort to write it all. It's never an effort, though, to tell you how much I love you, my dearest hubby, and how I long to see and be with you. The mariner thinks, from personal observation and knowledge, that the war will last another two years. He was in a convoy to Murmansk and had plenty to say about it. We'll discuss it someday when you can disclose all you know—O.K.! Mind if I say I love you, sweetheart, just once more?
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