February 28, 1944
I was unusually disappointed when the postman passed us by this morning, as it would have been four mail-less days. Imagine, then, my elation when the afternoon mail had your letters of Feb. 18 and 20 to offer. I read through them quickly, holding my breath and then inexpressive excitement came over me as I read of your meeting with Ed. I'm so happy for you and hope you will meet again. You also cleared up dubious accounts of Ed's whereabouts, bothering the family for some time. I saw “His Butler’s Sister” about a month ago and liked it as well as you did. When Deanna hits the high notes, my blood runs cold. The Criterion sounds swell, and I'd sure like to accompany you someday. I guess you've heard from Izzy by this time and I'm hoping you'll see him, too. I passed up “Hostages”—it didn't appeal to me and I'm glad I did. So you got a Valentine from Ruth—uh huh? Guess, I forgot all about it—or did I?
I feel as you do about v-mail, baby, and I can hereby assure you that I will never use it unless absolutely necessary. I shall have the typewriter repaired shortly, and if I should type single space, on the v-mail I could say plenty and I probably will. I'm invariably very tired and sleepy and there is little time in the evening (after I've gotten Adele to sleep) to relax, as you do, and just write my heart out. There are always interruptions, etc. and I lose my train of thought. I try to write most of your letters in the afternoon when Adele takes her nap to get a head start. Please, sweetheart, don't be too critical of my mail as I try very hard to do my best and you can count on that.
I didn't think you would approve of my going to Columbus. Ohio, and I can't say that I blame you. Yes, I'll wait till you come home, sweet.
I have a box of Stevens chocolates on hand to start my next package and will certainly include razor (double-edge) blades. Anything else you'd like to include? I called Dot and she'll be mailing out her package shortly. She also had a letter from you.
Adele looked positively luscious today. She always reminds me of a rosebud when she's wearing the pink sweater I made her. Her appetite has improved and so has her talking. She calls Ruth—ruf—says Jack—calls Goldie—dodie (she can't say “g” yet). She’ll be really talking any day. She says many, many things that escape my mind at the moment. She likes to rifle pockets—any kind—anyone's. When she sees a hanky or a Kleenex, she says “poo-poo,” meaning to blow the nose. When I'm feeding her, she'll stop suddenly, give me her fingers and smack her lips. She won't continue eating til I've kissed them. Same thing happens with her toeies when I'm dressing her. She puts her arms in her arm holes herself and when I say “feetsy,” she picks up her foot, so that I may put her overalls on. I still can't get over the way she says “shish” every time she has to go. She never fails to pat herself afterwards. One thing strikes me funny—whenever I get a letter from you, she always says “da-da.” She calls all pictures “da-das” now, but will kiss only one—yours! Now have I convinced you that she knows her daddy when she sees his substitutes? I always give her the envelope of your letter to play with while I read. She loves to tear paper. It works miracles when I wish to keep her occupied, except that she must be watched closely or she’d eat it. She takes everything into her mouth! Her hair is getting curlier and I have a helluva time combing the back—it gets that tangled. Her hair is much longer, (I think lighter in color) and her eyes look darker—more brownish black like mine. Her lashes never fail to attract attention. They are unusually long, curl just right and are very flattering to her large dark eyes. That dimple in her chin is quite pronounced and also very flattering. Gosh, but she's a lovely child. Life is ironical at times. Here is your dream come true and you can't see it personally! It kills me—so how must you feel. Harry is confident his will be just as nice. Several names they have mentioned for the newcomer (Goldie speaks mostly of girls names) Detria, Donna, Dennis, Daniel, Doreen and I just thought of a nice girls name—Delia—do you like any? The second name will be with a “J” after your pop—they mentioned the name Dennis Jay Strongin. Sounds nice, doesn't it? By the way, my board will now be $40 instead of $20 starting next month. Harry and Goldie will each pay $10 per week, and so will Mom, making a total of $40 per week. There was an announcement made that no 4-F’s will be recalled as the Army has had too much trouble with them.
Mom expects to spend at least two weeks at Ethel's when the baby comes. She will go there when everyone leaves for the hospital to care for Paul, which will be almost anytime in March.
I washed the multi-colored scarves I crocheted for our bedroom for the first time and they washed nicely. I washed and pressed all day long.
I'm listening with one ear to “Guadalcanal Diary” which has just come on the radio—the Lux theater.
Phil, (do you mind if I say your name again—It brings you close to me) Phil, darling. You are, according to the time, asleep at this moment. How I wish I could kiss the back of your neck to wake you. It's only a week to your 29th birthday, darling, and one month to my 22nd. It's going to be a year since our visit to Columbus. I was so terribly happy then and want so to recapture that feeling. I adore you, my darling Phil—here's 29 kisses for each year and an extra special one for good luck. I wish I could deliver them personally, honey, and pray that I will on your next.
February 28, 1944.
The fourth mail-less day, and since the “doings” of the day were just as yesterday—and all the other days, I'm really at a loss for words.
I might point out that tomorrow is Adele's fifteenth monthly birthday (still don't know there's 12 months in a year, I guess), and I'll bet she is some girl by now. I can hardly wait ’til I see that Clare Pruett picture you promised to have made this month. I'm hoping you surprise me with it as a birthday present.
Still haven't made an opportunity to write all those letters I told you about a few days ago. I do have slack moments during the day, but never long enough to get a letter off. Whenever I get ready to settle down to it, something else pops up. In the evening I barely have time to write “your” letter before lights out, and that's the way it's been for almost a week now. It's very aggravating for me and does my peace-of-mind no good. Then, too, my inability to send you any money, this month isn't too easy to take either.
Outside of these two worries, things in general are running smoothly. I'm still feeling swell, physically, which is rather surprising when you consider the vagaries of the English climate. I haven't had as much as a cold since early in September, which is quite an accomplishment over here.
Ordinarily, I would be looking forward to another two-day pass in a few days, but being temporarily all but disabled financially, I guess I'll have to let it ride ’til a more opportune time. Speaking of finances, Sweet, I was wondering just how we stand. I have only a vague notion as to the amount of our debts and savings. I would appreciate it if you would enlighten me. You must know that I give a great deal of thought to our post-war prospects and the amount we can manage to save is going to be an essential factor in planning the immediate future once the war ends and I am free to return to you.
Well, darling, I'm just about “writ out” again, but I promise you'll be getting some more “longies” as soon as your next batch of letters arrives. Kiss the punkin for me, give my love to all, and rest assured of the constant an everlasting love of