Sunday, August 1, 2021

Post #388 - June 9, 1944 Life is Still Very Young for All of Us, and Who Knows What Fruits of Love and Affection We Have Still to Reap?


9 June 1944

My Dearest, 

Just received your three V-mails of 31 May, 1 and 2 June. Having just completed a letter to Jack N., I am now ready to get this off to you. 

When I was writing the date above, it occurred to me that this is the day I'm supposed to become an uncle. I'm wondering right now what my status is. Guess it'll be about ten days yet before I'll know. I'm still host to the conviction that it will be Dennis Jay—and not Diana Jean. Incidentally I think they are both lovely names. Since nothing of moment occurred (that I could write about) today, I shall now look  thru your recently arrived V-mails to see what I can say about what you said (silly sentence).
Your first sentence in yours of the 31st hit the nail right on the head, as you well know by now. The mail from England was “frozen,” and when you guess in your next that it “has something to do with the invasion,” you scored a “bull” again. Why, Chippie, if you are so discerning, do you rant so against the Army for holding up the mail? Knowing, or guessing the reason, and realizing the necessity of it, you should be more resigned to mail-less days. I suspect you should have heard from me by this date. As closely as I can figure, you should have received about ten letters at once. Now will you be good?

I hope Dr. Gayl knows what he is talking about in the matter of Adele's feet. I myself, would take her to clinic, if only for the added re-assurance they could give. However, since you are satisfied that there is no cause for concern, I am too.
It's good to know that your checks are arriving so regularly. I notice that Seymour goes into the Navy today. I'm hoping he’ll adopt the habit of writing to you regularly as have at most all the rest of us of the family in Service. When you have occasion to write to him, Chippie, wish him well for me. Don't let your mother worry about him, cause if I know Seymour, and I think I do, he'll love the Navy. 

It was nice of your Dad's boss to give you the clock as a gift, even if his generosity may have been prompted by an ulterior motive. 

Yes, Baby now that you mention the address, I remember Mr. Bellet’s place, Didn’t we also try the place across the street at the time we were shopping for the crib? Happy that you found the work interesting, Honey, and more than a little proud, too, that he liked your work enough to make concessions in the matter of working hours, etc. I feel a lot better about your going to work, knowing that Mr. Bellet takes you and your Dad in his car. However, and I’m most curious about this, do you really think it's worth your while? As far as I know, you'll clear about 23.00 for 34 hours' work—out of which you'll realize about 13.00 after paying for Adele's care. Of course, if your main purpose is to get away from the house for a while, or to help Mr. Bellet out of his present difficulty, that's another story, but I just can't see you going out of your way for a measly 13.00 per week.

I would have given much to see you jumping "double-dutch,” Chippie. Bet the other ladies the neighborhood, if they saw it, had plenty to say about it. I can just see them wagging their heads disapprovingly. For my part, I like to think that you are still young enough, and light-hearted enough to amuse yourself in a “little-girl" pastime. As for the punkin not wanting to stop—well, I just can't believe she even started as precocious as she no doubt is. Care to clear up the picture for me, Chippie?

Mr. Silver must be overjoyed to have his son back with him so soon. I must write to him again some day soon. 

You end your letter of the 2nd with a reference to our date at 5, and add "if you only knew what I were doing to you- - -.” Mind if I guess? Lets see now—you're- - - no, I can't write that! Let me put it this way—you're- - - no, I better not write that, either. Oh, hell, you know I know that you know that I know that you—(there must be an end to this someplace!) Lest you think it's beyond my capabilities to convey—you're doing exactly what I see you doing at that very moment (at least in your mind’s eye). If that doesn't convince you that we see "minds eye to mind's eye” nothing ever will!—If I only knew—! Indeed! 

And with this pleasant thought (to put it as mildly as know how) to mull over, I leave  you for the nonce.—Just remembered something I haven't thought about for months and months. It just flashed across my mind. Scene: Chestnut St.—my room—I’m sleeping (or pretending to ) with Jack N.—when you come in, I’m hoping like everything that Jack is really asleep—but you, my darling, either don't give a damn, or—you just don’t give a damn! (Or should I have forgotten the whole thing?) Oh, lady, lady—If I loved you for nothing else—I would for the memories (you count ’em!) Guess what, Chippe! Uh-huh! C’mon sumpin! I adore you, my little——, but no less than I love my wife, or my Chippie, or Mrs. Philip Strongin, or my mother's daughter-in-law, Evelyn; or Adele Bara Strongin's “mommy;” or Jack N's buddy's wife; or some others I could name, but the strange and exciting thing is—contrary to what you may think—to me, they are all separate and distinct individualities! I wonder if you ever knew this, my Ev. And knowing, does the fancy intrigue you as much as it does me? The grand thing about all this is this, (and this should interest you), that if, conceivably, I ever stopped loving one of “you,” it would in no way reflect on all the other “yous".—But it seems to me I was about to end this a coupla paragraphs back. So—good-night, my darling(s). My love to Adele Bara, who, as yet, and unlike her mother, has only one hold on my heart—that being that she is the daughter of the love I bear you. But life is still very young for all of us, and who knows what fruits of love and affection we have still to reap? And,—oh yes! 

Your Phil 

June 9, 1944

Dear Phil:

Again my inability to express myself handicaps me, but as soon as you get a chance, drop a line this way.

Everyone here wishes you loads of luck in whatever you do and wherever you are.

Snuff didn’t leave yet, and we are still waiting for his notice.

Took pictures of the baby, and shall send you one as soon as they are ready.

The Postoffice wouldn’t accept your package, so, I guess we will have to be a little more patient. You’ll get it someday.

This is not a newsy letter, but its main purpose was accomplished——That of letting you know that our best wishes are with you.

As ever,

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