April 10, 1944
Ylppee! I hit a sort of jackpot today, receiving four letters from you, I had thought I had all the mail written in March, but I didn't. They were your letters of March 23, 25, 26 and April 3 (to make up for your London letter). In one of them you were terribly disgusted with the mail situation and I don't blame you in the least, sweet. I have been too. However, my mail has been arriving more regularly than yours. I'd hate to think of how I’d feel if I didn't get some mall at regular intervals. So you saw "Madame Curie"? I’m sorry you didn’t care for it ’cause I did. Perhaps I haven't seen enough movies to judge properly.
I called Anne this morning, after reading your most welcome letters (and that took quite a bit of time), and arranged to go to Broad St. with her. Ruth had promised to mail your packages and didn't get around to it. One of the packages contained a box of peanut chews and a box of choc. almond bars, the other a box or Hershey’s choc. bars. The former was four ounces too heavy and necessitated the removal of three peanut bars to make an even flve pounds. You should understand, then, why one box is three bars short. The girl at the post office was good enough to allow me to unpack and repack it there. Then I went over to the bank and withdrew (without notice) the $53.82 to pay Adele’s ins. and am malling it off today. The balance in our account is $125. God but it feels good not to owe money!
Phil, do you have access to film and a camera? I'd like very much to have some snaps of you riding a bike, in the office, or such. Most of the gals have such snaps and I should like to have a few, could you manage it. I would try to get you some film if you can borrow a camera. I'm anxious for a glimpse of my adored in his present circumstances, if’n you don't mind, We’re having stormy, windy weather today, and it's not the type to induce me to walk to C. P. I've got my fingers crossed for tomorrow. I'll definitely go one day this week no matter what. I'm terribly sorry about the delay and hope you understand, baby.
I note in your letter of April 3, to wit: "I am almost broke". Does that mean that you cannot get through the month without borrowing? How come? I’m sure the London trip didn't cost you your entire pay, notwithstanding the bond deduction,
Today is Sarah's birthday. Petey (whose real name is Max) bought her a I lovely birthday card (something he has never done before) and enclosed a fifty
dollar bill. It’s the first time I ever saw a fifty dollar bill, though I have seen hundred dollar bills. Lou's real name is David.
Ethel bought a second-hand washing machine as she could not get the diaper service. She is on her feet already and shouldn't be. You know Ethel!
Glad, too, that you approve still further about single-spaced typed v-mails as they are quite lengthy. I'm in favor of them and I think they reach you in better time than the air-mails.
I'm hungry, so hungry, baby, for you and your love. The evenings are getting longer and longer and I get lonelier and lonelier for you. Gosh, darling, we were together in Columbus last year this time and I was able to hold you so close to your adoring
10 April 1944
Yours of 30 March, (V-mail) just arrived. I notice the V-mail comes through regularly while the Air-Mail seems to be snafued most of the time. Your mention of Stuart Chase is the first intimation I have had that Ethel’s “blessed event” is a thing of the past. I tender my congratulations and await the details. Where in the world did you get the impression that I'm “waiting patiently” for that Claire Pruett picture? The way I've been importuning you for it recently gives the lie to that statement. Really, Chippie, nothing is farther from the truth. I'm “waiting,” yes, but most impatiently I assure you.
Last night was another dull one. There was no show after all. Nor is there one tonight. Seems the projector keeps breaking down. Finished making up the payroll shortly after lunch. Also found time to write a long overdue V-mail to Phil.
You talk about playing “hide and seek” with the punkin. Do you suppose she might be able to seek out her dad? I'm dying to see her, and spend long minutes trying to picture her as she must look now. Now that Spring is here, my longing and hunger for my girls is intensified many-fold. I'm ever conscious of a gnawing emptiness inside me that refuses to be placated. Everything that happens to me is strangely insignificant without meaning and wholly unappreciated.Tthe desire to be with you, my darling, far and away transcends any hope or wish I have ever experienced. Warm sunlight; the wonder of creamy white clouds moving serenely through the turquoise vault that is the sky; the zephyr winds that are so many sighs of content; new-green grasses covering the long-bare earth with a lush carpet—are all segments of a frame that once encompassed a happier picture, and for that reason moves me only to sadness and a tearing regret that the vision of love and ultimate contentment that has vanished has left the setting without a reason for being. (A rather long-winded sentence to impress on your woman's consciousness, Sweet, the very simple, and equally painful fact that I miss you like the very devil—to use a “man's” phrase.)
I remembered yesterday, when it was too late, that I had failed to answer your “anniversary” letter. On reading it over, I find that it wasn't meant to be “answered.” My own “anniversary letter,” I think reflected all my thoughts on the occasion. I am a fool, I know, to admit it, but, believe it or not, I had completely forgotten that first anniversary present of Gladiolas and the moonstone necklace. Frankly, I don't follow your reasoning that leads you to say the army made a sentimentalist out of me. I won't argue the point 'cause I'm not entirely sure you aren't right, but if I am what you say, then I certainly got that way through three years of catering to your own leanings in this direction. As to my falling asleep later that evening, I can only say that if such was the case (and it must have perplexed you greatly that you remember it), it was probably a subterfuge on my part to get you upstairs to bed. (Well, anyhow, you can't prove it wasn’t!) At this point I quote a couple of your well-intentioned (I hope) sentences, after which I'll leave it to your sober reflection as to why I'm insulted. (Did I say your letter “wasn't meant to be answered”—I'm just getting warmed up!)—I quote “I never dreamt (the word is “dreamed,” dear) that you could surprise me so completely, and I loved it. Perhaps it was because I never expected it of you.”—(and why not, pray?)
Don't think for a minute, Baby, that I feel any resentment for any of the above. Your first paragraph told me very well what our marriage has meant to you, and I'm most humbly grateful for your kind words of tribute. I'm merely intrigued by your typically feminine little trick of teasing and flattering in the same breath, and I'm very curious as to the way and in what terms you will impute that I am the veriest doll for “misunderstanding” you. Ah, Evvie, you are so much the woman, and I love you so much for it!
Sorry, Sweet, but I've worked myself up to such a pitch (blame it on the Spring Night), that I find it impossible to think in words that would make sense—I can only feel—and to the exclusion of everything else in the world, I can only feel that I want you. Good night, my darling.
April 10, 1944.
Priding myself in the fact that I don’t indulge in hackneyed clichés and corny quotations, I won’t say “Sweets to the Sweet”—and I finally complied with your request for chocolates (neat, eh what?) At any rate, I hied me down to Loft’s today, trusting the pell-mell of Easter candy shoppers had subsided (which it did) and ordered some said chocolates—one box of assorted fruit and one chewy chocolate crap of some sort. Anyway, I do hope they reach you in good order (and service). I left the wrapping and mailing to the tender mercies of Loft’s Service de-luxe. Any hopes I had of using your request again vanished when I beheld the clerk circling your (well and clearly written) request to facilitate Postal matters. Anyway, I have hopes of getting a box of Hershey’s from a girl friend who works in a drugs concern—do kindly request this for future reference (Ev says you have a sweetness for this stuff, right?)
Didn’t think I had much to write when I started, which I haven’t, but it sure takes me a lot of space not to write much, so will have to continue this on another sheet—
To be continued—but you get this in sequence).
Get about one letter a week from Ev and guess you‘re better informed of news on the Strongin home front than I judging from Ev’s aerial letters. Of course, you heard about Ethel’s new addition so won’t go into that. Was in Philly 2 weeks ago and your wife’s family looked swell. Adelle Bara is a chip off the old block as you well know and is cute in spite of it all (heh, heh!). But you know about all this.
Jack is fine from what I gather and still Control Clerking—Imagine our Jackie a white collar worker in khaki (that was wicked, ’excuse please, just slipped out). He even likes it (so he says). He sent me some snaps which are witness to the fact of his daily swims and general unattire. In one picture, he looks as pleased as punch, wearing only a bath towel and a smile. I found a clipping in the Post War Program for Veteran’s and sent Jack a copy—Re: Aid Consideration in the Plan, Ev says you are thinking of taking advantage of it in regards to Journalism—a swell idea, I think, as you certainly have the literary bend. What do you think of Jack taking the Commercial Art phase of the Program?
Say—where did you learn to write so swell and get so much on one little V-mail form—next time I’ll write a letter and be comfortable (and that’s a threat). Please send a request for chocolates and, by the way, did you ever receive my Xmas package mailed from Krum’s Confectionary? Incongruous, but conserving space.