Post #295 - February 14, 1944 My Dad is Accepting the New Position and “My Kingdom for a Cook”

 

February 14, 1944 

Darling,

I liked the enclosed dress and fully intended to buy it. Sarah and Betty were in town today and promised to see if it was as nice as it looks. It's a black and white check, trimmed with red grosgrain ribbon and buttons. They said it was so raggedy looking they were shocked. By the way, Lit Brothers called me today saying they were sending me a coin to open a charge account. I said it was okay. It doesn't hurt to have a charge account, especially if I need something and don't have the cash on hand at the time. I'd like to know whether you like the print dress. It's rather different, and since I was unusually curious as your opinion, I hope you'll give out and not get the wrong impression. It sort of seems as though we're shopping together. 

Adele received an unusually sweet Valentine from none other than Hal Cohen. Mom received your letter, one from Zelda, Jack and Gloria. She hit the jackpot today. Zelda was shocked, as who wasn't, by the passing of Tante. My mother acted like a 16 yr. old today. Reason: My dad sent her the lovingest valentine—“to my sweetheart—my wife.” My dad is accepting the new position, hrs. 8 to 6 daily, 8 to 12 Saturday, somewhere in the forty bracket per. The owner is a resident of Logan (4800 or 4900 9th St.) and can take my dad to and from work in his car. That's not all—think of the advantage to us—we can get everything wholesale. Yeh man!! Both my mom and dad are elated. Need I say more? My dad couldn't have picked a better line to fall into as both my family and “us” need to completely furnish a house. Now I will change the subject. 

Adele seemed much better today, though her nose is a pain to both of us. It just doesn't seem to stop running. I've done nothing but rest most of the day to get on my feet. I'm also writing to Jack N. this evening. 

I had hoped to go to Clare Pruett this week, however, with Adele’s cold and my next “due” Feb. 18 I think it will have to wait a short while. Rae hasn't brought me the candy, so I can't send off the package yet. 

Yesterday the kids were really something. Snuff has taught Hal the art of balance and he (Hal) stands on Snuff’s hand, arms outspread, while Snuff raises him almost to the ceiling. He throws the kid around like a rag doll and Hal loves it. Adele called him Harold. Adele has been saying many new words, not distinct yet ,such as “ba-a” (butter), “tie,” “arah,” (Sara), and those are all I can remember at the moment. Dot, incidentally, paid me a compliment—“you're looking better than I ever remember seeing you.”

Today Mrs. Frommer came in to visit us and Adele (I only kept her in bed in the morning), walked over and sort of said hello. A few minutes later, Mr. Frommer walked in. Adele walked over, greeted him with a sort of hello sound and then pointed to Mrs. Frommer as if to say “here she is and bade him to sit down beside her. She knows them well, knows they belong together, and sees to it that they are. Gosh, she surprised me! 

Goldie stops working tomorrow. Harry (after much persuasion), is going to buy a much-needed coat. And now, my darling valentine, I love you, I adore you, I am 

Your Eve 

February 14, 1944

Darling Chippie, 

No mail today, so I'm back to V-mail. Last night I wrote a lot in answer to your mail, but I failed to get around to telling you what I've been doing these past few days. Not that there is anything out of the ordinary to write about, but I may as well keep the “record” straight. Let's see now—Yesterday was the regular routine day. In the evening, Red and I went to the Base Theatre to see Charles Coburn and Marguerite Chapman (very, very lovely) in a light comedy about an English novelist and his daughter who come to America. The title: “My Kingdom for a Cook.” Very entertaining and containing some rib-tickling situations. After the show we stopped at the Snack Bar for a coupla of sandwiches and “cokes.” Then back to Barracks, where I managed to get off the five pages of yesterday's letter. And so to bed. Today—the same old thing during the day. After work I got to feeling lazy (remember?) so I took a nap for about an hour and a half. I woke up feeling very chilly, so I got up and stood by the stove. There are only four of us in the hut tonight, and between us we managed to make a conversation. Then I decided it was high time I attended my “daily stint”—and this brings me right up to the minute. Good-night for now, my Sweet. I love you so much! A kiss for the lass. My love to all. 

Always 

Your Phil

February 14, 1944 

Dear Phil:

Not waiting to receive an answer to my letter in which I disclosed why I couldn't meet you I rush this new address to you which, starting today, is my new one. 

Everything is fine. Heard from Eve and all the folks. Last few letters I received came over in five days. Hope you are in good shape. 

As Ever, 

Your Brother-in-law, 

Ed. 

Post #294 - February 13, 1944 I Feel I’m Cheating You When I Send V-Mail instead of an Honest-to-God Letter and a Letter to Phil’s Mom from Cousin Anne Furr

 

February 13, 1944 

Dearest,

Today, I’m as happy as a lark—(well, almost). The afternoon mail brought me four eagerly awaited letters: yours of 27, 28 and 30 Jan., and Ruthie’s of 29 Jan. Your personalized stationary is very smart, Honey, but don't be too sparing of it on that account. By the way, how many sheets and envelopes did you get? Is that all? And how long do you expect that to last? Or are you going to “ration” me to a single sheet per day? (At that, I prefer it to V-mail). Y’know—the more V-mail I get, the less I like it. I feel cheated—just as I feel I'm cheating you when I send V-mail instead of an honest-to-God letter. Your solicitude for my “jealousy” is very sweet and touching, Baby, but I think you misunderstand the reason. You evidently think that I am not sufficiently convinced of your love and devotion, and probably attribute my jealousy to that. It isn't that at all, Sweet, God knows you have tendered me every evidence of wifely affection and devotion a man could possibly wish for. No—it’s something deeper than that—something that defies elucidation to an “un-jealous” person such as yourself. However, the important thing is that you reckon with my jealousy—and I know you will. I know, Sweet, that you had no idea what your innocent remarks were doing to me—and I hold no brief with you for it. To close this subject, which is as distasteful to me as it must be to you, I want you to know that I'm humbly grateful for your understanding and unhesitating desire to cooperate. Thanks a million, Chippie. 

I note you're still teasing me about the “next one.” Don't stop it, Baby, I love it! Coming from you, that particular brand of “music” is the most wonderfully exciting it has ever been my privilege to hear. Nevertheless, to get back to earth, in this case, “actions speak louder than words”—and I refuse to be convinced by mere talk and protestations of willingness. (Now, who's teasing?) But we shall see—we shall see. 

Your paragraph about Harry and Goldie is very confusing and contradictory—as I shall someday point out to you. 

I don't exactly know how I can get that discount for you on those Combevita Tablets. I would suggest that you call Mr. Kerr at Sharp & Dohme (sales dept.), identify yourself, and ask him if it would be possible for you to procure a few bottles at the old price. If he can't oblige you, forget the price angle—and get some anyhow. Sounds to me like you need them, Sweet, and I think they did you a world of good when you used them. After all, what's a few paltry dollars where your health is concerned? I won't tolerate skimping on your part in this instance—I'm warning you! 

If Harry and Goldie show a reluctance to discuss a name for the newcomer—just forget it. After all, it's their baby; but I don't know why they should feel that way about it—and deprive me of my fun. I think it's very narrow of them. But if they aren't interested—then I'm not either—so there now. 

Yes, Chippy I have visited the “nearby towns and villages,” but I am not at liberty to tell you about them, and that's that. 

The picture you draw of the lassie—rubbing the sore spot when she faws down—kissing you voluntarily in the morning—is almost too sweet to be borne. I get an overwhelming urge to hold her in my arms and sample some of that sweetness. She is precious beyond words; therefore, just reading about her is just so much whetting of my hunger for her. It leaves me maddeningly unstated. God, what I wouldn't give to hold her close just for an instant. I'm still congratulating myself for realizing in time that I would be doing myself a favor if I didn't let myself become “attached” to my daughter—my very own child—Phil’s baby—Philip Strongin's daughter—it's no use—no matter how I look at it, it still doesn't seem real. I hate to imagine what my feelings would be at this time had I “let myself go” when I was seeing the punkin every so often. Bless her little heart—I'm afraid you're going to have some real competition for my time and attention when I come home to you, my beloved girls. 

That letter of mine that reached you within five days must have broken all records. Too bad that kind of speed is the exception, rather than the rule. 

I'm going to hold you to that promise to have Clare Pruett make your picture. Don't wait so long that I have to pester you for it. 

Sorry, Sweet, but it's “lights out” for now, so I'll close with a great big hug and kiss (where did I hear that before?) for you, your daughter and mine, and my love to all the folks.

Yours,
(as of yore)
Phil

Sunday, February 13, 1944

Dear Baila,

Received your letter and it was good hearing from you. I’m glad to hear that you are going to be a Grandma again—wish you lots of luck and happiness. How does she feel, Goldie, and I bet Harry must be very happy. How’s Evelyn and her baby—her baby must be adorable. When does Ethel expect her baby and how are they all. I know it’s a long time since you heard from us. Mickey was supposed to come and visit us and then she was ill and I haven’t heard from you all since. Well things are not so pleasant with us here. Jack is in England and I’ll write his address at the end of this letter and you send it to Philip. My brother-in-law is in England also. My husband is in ?[hole in paper] since October but expects to leave from there—for all I know he may be on his way somewhere. I guess you know the feeling. All we could do is pray for their safety and quick return. I got a V-Mail from Harry N. Yuman, but I can’t make out the return address—so will you please send it to me. I’d appreciatae it. Also Phil’s and Jackie and Ben Wyman’s address. And I’ll write them.

Ma is not feeling so well about coming to Philadelphia. It’s very hard for her being that I’m working and Papa. She can’t leave the house because because Pop comes home very late at night and leaves very early in the morning and he must have a hot meal anyway. Betty is coming in this week from Springfield to stay for a week or so and Sol will come down for the weekend. Did you know that Emma and May were in Florida and are due back this Saturday. Why not come down here. It would be swell have you. Rose Emma’s met Gloria’s sister. She’s going to have a baby also. Not Rose, follow me.

Well, I guess you’d be glad to hear that Sheldon is going to school now. He in the first grade and does he enjoy going to school. George expects to enlist in the Navy in April. Seems so impossible but it is so. That’s about all the news and I hope this letter reaches you all in the best of health.

Regards to the Wymans and Evelyn and Harry and Goldie.

Your loving cousin,

Anne

Jack’s address
Pvt. Isadore J. Gutkin 3125 0260
97 Station Complement Sqd.
A.P.O. 638, C/O Postmaster, N.Y.

Post #293 - February 12, 1944 Harold is a Regular Grownup Kid Where Adele is Still Quite Babyish and I was Actually Homesick—Painfully So

 

February 12, 1944

Sweetheart Mine, 

Had a nice letter from Jack N. and he finally consented to suggest a birthday gift. He wants a khaki shirt (not an OD), but neglected to mention his size. Enclosed is his letter. The part about the gift was written on the back of the envelope. 

Evidently the Good Lord thought we didn't have enough snow, for today, it snowed again. It snowed all morning and called it quits by noon. Ruth borrowed a sled from a neighbor. Adele was dressed in a long sleeve jersey, overalls, fine knit long sleeve sweater, snowsuit, and outer sweater, knitted cap, mitts and a scarf and no less than four large blankets bound about her and placed in the sled. The sled had a back against which we placed Adele and then strapped her to it. The sun shone brightly, the wind was high and mighty, and we ran all over the place, Ruth, Adele and I like a couple of six year olds having a helluva good time. Adele loved it and I would have kept her out longer than a half hour if the wind had not been so powerful. Adele did something else today, that is something new. Betty held her hands and danced the while, lifting one foot and then the other, when Adele suddenly did the same. We all got quite a kick out of it as you can well imagine. 

February 13, 1944 

As you will notice, I didn't manage to finish this yesterday. It was clear and sunny today and, in spite of the snow covered grounds, Dot and Snuff showed up as per schedule. Harold, whose picture is enclosed, is really sumpin’. He's a regular grownup kid where Adele is still quite babyish. She, however, wasn't in the least timid and shoved him all over the place. Adele got mighty excited when she saw him and we all enjoyed the “show.” I’ve little time to write again, as they just left and I’ll describe he kids more fully later. 

(Please don’t let Jack N. know that I told him your birthday date; after all, his intentions are good.)

Adele had me up all night and I could barely stand up this morning. She had been bothering me entirely too much these past few nights, and I suspected that she was not feeling well. Today her cold broke out and she was miserable and whimpery most of the day. It's very hard on me when she's ill and I'm dog tired, too tired to continue writing. That's my trouble, I'm too tired to write clearly. I know I can do better. The spirit is so willing, baby mine, but the flesh is weak. I know you will bear with me. I love you so terribly much Phil. I was interrupted by Adele while writing this after each paragraph and it's got me thinking of one thing—that I love you, I love you, I love you! More tomorrow, sweetness. 

Your Eve 

February 12, 1944

My Sweet,

Your V-mail of 29th Jan. arrived today—and I'm reciprocating in kind. Dottie's V-mail (same date) arrived at the same time. She says she hasn't heard from me since September. That isn't true—I've written at least four times since then—probably more than that. As a matter of fact, I wrote to her just lately and was awaiting her reply. Talk to her, Honey, and set her straight will you? I'll drop her a few lines tomorrow. 

Still nothing of interest to report. The day was spent just as usual at routine duties. Today, in Yank magazine there was a pin-up version of Olivia to Haviland, and there was a disturbingly familiar quality about her legs. This evening I had a rare case of the blues and couldn't understand why—until I happened to note those legs again. I was actually homesick—painfully so—for another pair they reminded me of—which I knew so well—it seems so long ago. I find I'm perfectly content and carefree—until I start remembering the delectable Chippie I left behind. Then I'm so filled with conflicting emotions, with loneliness and longing predominating, that I'm very sorry I “remembered.” Memories are OK, I guess when one is in happier circumstances, but under existing conditions I can only crave the reality those memories once were. Goodnight, my lovely. 

Your Phil

Post #292 - February 11, 1944 Someday We May be Mighty Grateful for All It Taught Us and Some Day, Sweet, I’ll be in a Position to Tell You Some of the More Interesting Aspects of “War”

 

February 11, 1944

Darling Phil, 

Today we had a small blizzard. I was supposed to go to Miss Hahns this morning, but had no intentions of going out into a blizzard to do so. She rearranged her day so that I could go this afternoon instead. I’ve thought of something I'd like very much to have for a third anniversary—a stripe, a repetition of our second anniversary gift—if it's at all possible. I started the second paragraph with Ruth’s pen—or did you note difference. 

While waiting for the bus, I met Mr. Weiss, formerly of the candy store, at 7th and Louden and he asked me to send his regards. We chatted a short while about the Strongin boys. An oncoming car lost control and skidded all over 10th St. before regaining control. 

I borrowed a book from the neighbors—a best seller—”A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” I hope to read it shortly. I understand it's very risqué with lots of descriptive language. Yeh, man! 

Now that I've got those few irrelevant subjects off my chest (lest I forget), I can relax. Still up to my old tricks, did you say? I'm used to getting mail regularly and miss your daily communique keenly. I find it difficult to write without a letter from you at my side. I was awakened by “Her Majesty” several times last night—on second thought, I'd better not complain, for she did her ablutions, etc. in the bathroom, instead of her bed. I arose at 7, dressed us both, gave us breakfast, cleaned “our” room, the dining room and living room, washed a few personal pieces, etc. Miss Hahn had saved her important work for me and was disappointed, to say the least. I made arrangements for Ruth to take care of Adele when she got home from school, and worked from 1 to 5. Anne ordered the stationery I bought in blue with blue printing. Sarah took care of Adele til Ruth came. Adele has acquired a mind of her own, and it's difficult to swerve her train of thought. She is determined and when refused takes a tantrum of sorts, by laying down on the floor (rear raised) and bawling for all she's worth. I pay no attention to her at these times. When such is the case, she looks to someone else for sympathy. Not so dumb, eh? She was over-elated to see me and when I put her down, only to remove my outer clothes, she clung to me for fear I would go away. I'm surprised Miss Hahn had any use for me at this late date and I'm sure she will not need me again. Her business has slumped, and I'm only an overhead she really cannot afford at this time. Perhaps there will be one or two more occasions, though I doubt it. Hope that covers any illusions you may have had. Don't worry, Sweet, I don't go out of my way to leave Adele—I hate to. There is another question—what are we supposed to do about our income tax? Is it alright for me to fill it out, if I can? It's a complicated mess, that I detest. Hm—maybe poetry is my line. 

Mom is leery about receiving your allotment. I said she required approximately $60 to live, as previously I had written approximately $140.00 for her, Adele and myself. If she should continue to receive the allotment as she did last month, ($37 from Jack and $20 from you), where would Harry shine in (from their standpoint). I stated our income as follows: 
    Harry $120  Goldie—I explained about her in the “remarks” 
    Mom $20 (from Jack) plus $62 for Adele and me
The form asked your contribution to her. I merely put “total earnings” $120, and board, etc. $120 meaning that you contributed your entire income to the upkeep of the house and its occupants for I do hope everything favors continuation of the allotment for her. 

I'm wondering whether or not Dottie will postpone our visit this Sunday due to the nasty weather. 

Mr. Weiss was telling me that Phila. will be the APO for all packages due for shipment overseas. Good ole Philly is gettin’ places or is it? 

After “talkin’” to you awhile, I get very lonesome. I want to cuddle up and feel you close. Oh God, please make it soon! I never cease wishing—that's about all I do these days. I love you, looks good enough on paper, yet I want, as you do, to tell you or even show you. I'm not going to let you out of my sight for a second when I do get you back, sweet. Don't think me queer if I persist when you are home to keep you ever before my eyes, for I know I shall. I dreamt of you all night (or whenever “Her Majesty” permitted) and you were close and I touched you, yes, really touched you and that feeling of deliciousness has kept me in a reverie all day long. Again, I repeat—I adore you my sweet, more and more as the times between us grows. That is our compensation for our long wait and who knows, someday we may be mighty grateful for all it taught us. A warm, heart-given kiss from 

Your Eve 

February 11, 1944 

My Darling Chippie, 

Today, just when I was more or less expecting a pile of mail—nothing! C’mon tomorrow! Finished up on the payroll this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll take care of the Officer’s pay vouchers and the most pressing business of the month will be completed. I mention this because I want you to know that I will be leaving for London on the 11th with a clear head and nothing on my conscience. Now if both Eddie and Izzy will show up, everything will be hunky dory. 

Nothing new to report tonight, Sweet. Life is strangely uncomplicated around here, as I've told you repeatedly. When something out of the ordinary does happen, and there are “incidents,” occasionally, we are permitted to talk about it. By the same token, the work we are doing—the very reason for our being here, is impossible of enlarging upon without risking the displeasure of the censors. Therefore, while I would very much like to tell you what “our” planes and “our” boys are doing, (and they're doing O.K.), I have to settle for nondescript items of news—such as what I had for lunch, the unexciting routine of the Orderly Room, etc., etc. Someday, Sweet, I'll be in a position to tell you some of the more interesting aspects of “war as she is fought in the ETO.” Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to be content with my usual dull brand of blather. 

I always leave an inch or two at the bottom of the form to bid you a fond good-night, and to remind you to give my love to the punkin, to the folks, to remember me to all our friends and neighbors, and finally that I am, indubitably 

Your Phil

(or had you noticed?)

Post #291 - February 10, 1944 My Grandmother Keeps My Mother Up All Night With Her Heart Attacks and Right Now I am Visiting Red in Hospital

 

February 10, 1944 

My Sweet Hubby, 

Yours of Jan. 31 brought my mail from you right up to date. The creases at the bottom of this page were made by Adele, who unsuccessfully tried to grab it and tear it. Guess she doesn't think much of my letters, huh? Your letter was so charming and tender that I hereby bestow a kiss on each precious finger and an extra special one on your well-loved lips. When you write of the uncomfortable cold, I want to run out and catch the next boat or plane for England. I'm sorry you had so much trouble deciphering my v-mail of the 17th. I use v-mails only when time is lacking and the days is too routine to encourage a regular letter. Excuse, please. 

As far as birthday and anniversary gifts go, I hardly know what to suggest. I've already mentioned a pin and earrings (gold with a zircon-colored stone), but I’ve priced them, and a good looking pin of the type I'd like runs into $50 and that's entirely too much for imitation jewelry. If you see anything nice in a pin, earrings or bracelet, okay, though I'm inclined to believe that items in England are costlier. I'd love to have a pair of good satin lounging pjs, but I'd much rather go shopping with you for such an item, and besides, I'm leery about the fit. If you decide to send cash, I'd settle for a dressy suit of aqua color to go with my aqua hat and gloves. On the day I see you again, I want to dress and be very like the girl you married one March 20th. I’ve shopped around for all items mentioned in my letters and find merchandise is “shot,” hardly any selection and no quality unless you pay extremely high for it. If I have the money I can always buy when I see something suitable. However, I've not really come across anything I'd like to buy. 

The heater has been “percolatin’” fine this year and it runs on 72 constantly. The house is much warmer than I ever recall it being when you were home. You needn’t be a “worry-wart” either, for Adele is permitted freedom to a certain extent. She falls many times a day herself, and there are many falls that cannot be prevented. As long as she doesn't really hurt or bruise herself I’m getting used to the idea that children will fall many times, and that's that. I'm jittery when I let her walk outside, but not when she walks in the house. I work hard to keep the rugs and sundry immaculately clean to be sure she won't pick up any foreign matter. I have to laugh at a remark Goldie once made—that I rush too much and do too much. Wait til she has a baby to care for! I hate rushing, but if I didn't, Adele and this house would be filthy. I can never accomplish anything without numerous interruptions, which I detest, so naturally, I try my utmost to finish whatever is at hand to be done in the least possible time. Reminds me of your “files.” 

Rae bought Adele six Hershey Bars and Adele warmed up instantaneously. Rae slept over and went to work from here. As soon as she has the chocolates for me, I'll send off the next package. I'll try to include everything you asked for and I promise to take that picture shortly. 

Betty was laid off as the company had been trying something new and having completed the project, no longer required the services of a few girls. A few days ago, Betty fell in a bus and banged her head when the bus stopped short. Today, the PTC paid off —$15. 

Did I tell you that through my mom, who has become quite friendly with a woman with good connections, politically and financially, my dad has an excellent opportunity to change his job? The position in question pays well; day work with a wholesale furniture house that sells everything from soup to nuts. If the deal goes through, my dad will quit Parkway very soon. By the way, he took your moth-eaten pants to a weaver, and they only wanted $18 to reweave, same. He did an expert job on them himself and that covert suit looks wonderful on him. 

Miss Hahn called to inform me that my double order of stationery had arrived and since I intended to call for it, I'm going to work four hours tomorrow morning while my mother cares for Adele. My grandmother keeps my mother up all night with her heart attacks. Consequently, they visited a doctor today and I don't know the outcome. 

Adele was “making believe” today. Sarah gave her a clean plate and Adele made believe she was eating. She would reach out, take imaginary food off the plate, chew it, and repeat. Then she would pretend to lick the plate. I can't get over how she says “sh” every time she has to “go.” It never fails for her to pat her cheek when she has “made,” and this habit is very lovable and cute. She sort of “crows” when she's especially excited. And she adores dancing—anytime, anyplace. She swings her arms as we dance and looks so dreamy. 

The last few days we've had freezing weather. I don't take Adele out when it is so cold. Mom sent Jakie, a Jewish letter as he said there was a fellow in the company who reads and writes Jewish. 

I've got a great big yen to love you up, so look out mister, ’cause here I come, ready or not. I love you so much, Phil. Started out like a lion, but I'm only a lamb at heart.

Your Eve

February 10, 1944

Ev, dearest, 

The big news today is that I received your two lovely letters of 31 Jan. and 1 Feb. But “first things first”—and I want to explain something in yours of the 8 Jan. that seemed to puzzle you. That phrase “your lover, as always,” was one I had never used in a complimentary closing. When that particular evening, I had typed a V-mail letter for Sgt. Trombetti, and he had used that closing. When I wrote my letter—I was stuck for an ending, so I “lifted” the phrase. Hence the (Courtesy Sgt. Trombetti). Fershtay? O.K. Your letters reached me in such screwy sequence, that I don't really know what goes on. Yesterday, your V-mail of the 25th told me that Jack had come in and that you were all going out in Milton's car. Naturally, I could hardly wait for your next to learn where you had gone, and what you had seen, and how you had enjoyed yourself. So what happens? So today I receive your letter of the 31st. But where are those of the 26-7-8-9-30? Do you understand how annoying this sort of thing can be? Don't get the impression though, Sweetness, that I didn't enjoy the letters I received today. Quite the contrary! Your description of “Miss America” and her amusing antics and her almost mature understanding of “what it's all about” makes very entertaining reading. You might send that stationery along, provided it's not too wide (like this), nor too heavy. 

You want to know what you can send in your next package. Once and for all—CANDY! (as often and as much as you can send). Don't forget there are about a dozen guys around to help me eat it—so you can imagine how much I get out of it. Of course, the “arrangement” is reciprocal, and I help them dispose of their spare chocolate when they get some. 

There is really very little to write it about around here. Can you imagine? I almost forgot to tell you that I received a V-mail from Richie Lieberman. I can now definitely assure you that he is still in Iceland. How in hell did that other rumor ever get started—anyhow? 

Right now I am visiting Red in Hospital. He developed a bad cold shortly after getting back, but he's O.K. now and will probably be out tomorrow. 

Sorry I have to sign off now, Baby, but here in Hospital they put the lights out at 10 sharp and it's now 10 minutes of. I'm sending all my love, and returning that big kiss, you sent me. Lady, just you wait until I get my hands on you—! Better start looking around for a muzzle, Baby, 'cause I'm gonna eat you alive. Better hide the punkin when you see me comin’—she's only one good mouthful. Love to all. I am, hungry 

As ever,
Your Phil 

Post #290 - February 9, 1944 Your V-Mail of Feb. 1, 1944 Came Through Today Setting a New Record and A Concert with Piano Soloist Iso Elinson at Royal Albert Hall

 

February 9, 1944

4:00 P.M. 

Dear Sweetness, 

Your v-mail of Feb. 1, 1944 came through today setting a new record for delivery of your v-mail. I don't know why you left yourself so low on funds. I'd rather wish you wouldn't. I said before that I'm not counting on any special amount, just as long as you send whatever you can conveniently spare. I want to save, yes, but I think you are entitled to more than $19. Thanks for your sweet thoughtfulness, darling, and your unselfishness. I'm surprised you were able to remit in amount of $75, as you said you could only send tens. I really only expected $60 and I'm a bit surprised, as you said that the check would be in that amount. I'm in no dire need of cash at the moment. (I was last month, but working for Miss Hahn saw me through) and expect my large check on March 1. Consequently, the complete $75 will be turned into a $100 bond. It is the most we ever saved at one time since our marriage and it makes me very happy. I hope you feel the same. That night you mentioned when Red came in, is very vivid in my memory, and I, too, would love to relive it and soon. Adele and I were building houses with her blocks today and she kept throwing down what I laboriously built. Rae is coming to dinner tonight. I ordered another box of chocolates for you from her. I love you, sweet. 

Your Eve

February 9, 1944

My Darling, 

This is the first opportunity I have had to continue, as you shall hear—at length. I just finished reading over what I had written—and was appalled that I had covered so little ground. I will “pick up the thread” where I broke it. Leaving the Baths, I went directly to the Hans Crescent.—Still no Eddie. So I engaged a bunk for that night and took off for the Eagle—where Junior had said he would try to meet me for breakfast. He didn't show up either. I ate breakfast, therefore, with only the newspaper for company. After that I stuck around in the lounge until noon, which was the “deadline” Junior and I had agreed on the previous night. When my wrist-watch (still running like a charm, incidentally) showed 12 o'clock, I preceded ’round the corner to the Odeon to see “Phantom of the Opera.” I was remembering your raves about it and looked forward to a truly wonderful picture. Well, Chippie, I can appreciate why you thought so highly of it. After all, it was very colorful and lavishly produced, and the music throughout was edifying (if unexciting), and Susanna Foster is very lovely, and her voice leaves very little to be desired. But, Chippie, you didn't see the silent version of this one with Lon Chaney, and couldn't, therefore, make any comparison. I, on the other hand, remember it vividly because it made an indelible impression on my mind at the time. I assure you, speaking strictly from the point of entertainment value, the silent is by far the better effort. The element of horror and mystery that is meant to be the dominating motif is subdued almost to the point of extinction. Lon Chaney was very effective in the title role. I remember Harry got very sick when the mask came off and the “true” face of the Phantom was revealed. Women in the audience screamed and fainted so horrific were his features. The “chandelier” sequence was a thing of heart-stopping suspense—not the rather silly theatrics of the current picture. On the whole, Chippie, I was mildly entertained and very disappointed with the sacrificing of the qualities that could have made it a great picture.—To get on.—Whoa! Sorry, Sweet, I put the cart before the horse. I saw “Phantom of the Opera” in the evening. The afternoon was spent at Albert Hall. This time I got a seat close to the stage and got a close up view of the Orchestra and the Soloist. I am enclosing the program, which was as delightful as it was varied. “Till Eulenspiegel” especially, caught my fancy. I don't think I ever heard it played so effectively. Iso Ellison is the “typical” long-haired musician. He appeared to be an eccentric, and to have copied his attire and big bow tie and thick bushy hair warn long in the back, and neat Van Dyke beard—from the comic strips. He is in his fifties and stockily built. As you can see by the program, he played Mozart. For your information, Sweet, Mozart's piano music is very distinctive. Its main qualities are lightness, capriciousness, and a very listenable tunefulness. What I'm driving at is that Ellison didn't look the type to play that kind of music effectively. I felt when I saw him that I was in for  a disappointing performance. However, I had forgotten that appearances are often deceiving. I was soon reminded of it though, 'cause he gave a flawless performance of technically difficult music. More surprising, he played with a true feeling for the grace and charm that is so much a part of Mozart's music. Everyone likes to be pleasantly surprised—and I'm no exception. I enjoyed the concert very much—as per usual. Someday, Sweet, you will have as great a liking and appreciation of symphony as I have. I've made up my mind to “educate” you in this respect, when I once again have the opportunity. Are you willing, Baby? 

Well, I've already explained that I went to the cinema in the evening, but between the concert and the movie, I managed to stop back at the Hans Crescent to see if Eddie had showed up yet. Before that, I had supper at the Eagle. After the show, I again returned to Hans Crescent—still no Eddie, so I had a snack and settled down to write in the “writing and music” room. I completed the first seven pages by 12 midnight, and I would have written as much more in spite of the time had I not run out of stationary. 

I spent a very restful night at the Hans Crescent, sleeping like a log, and dreamlessly. I woke at 10 A.M. I felt fresh and well-rested, so I dressed and got out of there. I stopped at the desk long enough to leave a fresh note for Ed. Then I went to the Eagle Club for breakfast. I had to make a five o'clock train, which gave me ample time to see one more movie. This one was by far the best of the three. “Thousands Cheer” is the best musical I have ever seen. It's in Technicolor and so many M.G.M. stars that I don't want to take the time to enumerate them. You probably know who they are, anyhow. Suffice it to say, then, that each and everyone is at his best with the result that the picture is just about the best of its type. So much did I enjoy it, in fact, that I sat through two complete showings—and might have made it three were it not time to catch that train. See it, Honey. I’d hate to have you miss this one. You'll love it! The trip back was uneventful. I read detective stories all the way and the hours flew by. And that, Chippie, was the end of another “London pass.” 

Next morning I was very disappointed because no mail had arrived from you in my absence. However, there was a “consolation prize.” The Fanny Farmer chocolates, Hershey Bars and Chewing Gum had arrived the day before. The package was most welcome, but I think I would have traded it for a nice long letter from you, Sweetheart. But I guess that would be asking for too much. Thanks a million, Baby. By the way, weren’t hankies supposed to be in the package? Or am I confused again? 

Tuesday afternoon (yesterday), I received a letter from Ed explaining that he couldn't make it because he couldn't get a pass. He was disappointed, too, of course, but he asked me to meet him in London on the 17th, which I'm making every preparation to do. But I told you all about that in yesterday's V-mail. Today I got a bright idea and wrote again (I wrote yesterday) to Izzy telling him of my plans for the 17th and asking him to try to join us. If all goes “according to plan,” we'll have a regular reunion. Nothing else of note has happened since I got back, except that I had gobs and gobs of chocolate ice-cream yesterday. And when I say gobs and gobs—I guess you know that's a lot. 

I haven't yet answered your “longie” of 8 Jan. in the manner it deserves, but I will tomorrow. Your V-mail of 25 Jan. (can you imagine?) arrived this afternoon and I was delighted to learn that Jack N. finally got around to see you. Hope you had a swell time that night, Honey. I'm eagerly awaiting your letter(s) telling me all about it. 

It’s now after eleven, and the boys want to know “What the hell you writin’—a book?” So—I guess it's time to call it a day. Hasta manana, carissima mia— kiss my daughter (you oughta see my chest swell whenever I write it) for me, her ever-lovin’ daddy. My love to all. I am just as always, 

Your adoring hubby, 

Phil 

February 9, 1944 

Dear Phil, 

How are you? I received your letter of January thirtieth and as usual was very glad to hear from you. Those cards you sent me some time ago are certainly going to come in handy. In history, we are going to study about some of the historical scenes in England, Ireland, France, and many others so I will be able to take them in for optional work. Boy! Do we have some queer teachers over at Olney. One teacher, instead of teaching England, she walks around singing “Pistol Tootin’ Momma.” I have a nifty Math and Bookkeeping teacher, but our history and biology teachers are miserable. Do you remember Kitty Kallen? The one who used to live around here and her father has a barbershop at Eighth and Louden? Well, she used to sing with Jimmy Dorsey and she and Bob Eberle were a team until recently when Kitty decided to go on her own and sing with Bing Crosby. It looks like Logan is getting classy, huh? That's about all the news for now, but as soon as something pops up, I'll try to beat Eve to it. 

Lots of Love,

Your sister, 

Ruth

Fancy, ain’t I! 

Post #289 - February 8, 1944 Details of a Typical Day for Evelyn and I’ll Do My Best to Complete the “London Letter” Tomorrow

 

February 8, 1944

Sweetest Darling,

On file today are yours of Jan. 26 and v-mail of Jan. 30. I don't usually write v-mail either, unless there is little to write—or a little time to write. I do have quite a bit to say: First: Richy Leiberman is now definitely in England and you may contact him with the address I sent you. He said he visited a town called Hampton or something like that, according to Lena. Secondly; Dot, Snuff and Harold have promised to visit me this Sunday and stay for dinner. We ought to have a grand time watching the kids. They're so funny, especially when they are together. Thirdly; we had a nice v-mail from Jack S. and he hopes there will be two Cpls. in the family shortly: Fourthly; my mom got your letter and will reply shortly. Thanks for the compliment, baby. Consider yourself soundly kissed. I'm just as happy as you are to know Red is back with the company and on the road to complete recovery. Give him my best, will you, sweet. 

I've shopped for a coat, having time when in town recently. I haven't found anything I could really go for. I've decided I'd rather have a gray color, and if I can't get what I want this season (reduced), I'll wait til next season when I'll have a large selection to pick from at regular prices. The only reason I write of my desires isn't 'cause I want to hurt you in any way or your position as “provider,” but to tell you of my plans or desires. Don't worry, dearest, if I want something badly, I'll get it. Mickey liked her fascinator immensely. I’ve completed half of the back of Mom’s sweater and it's coming along nicely. 

I might say that Adele is sleeping more soundly these nights, and consequently, I'm feeling rested. When I sleep straight through the night, no matter how little sleep I may have, I feel rested. I can't stand the constant interruptions. They kill me. I'm happy to say that my appetite is better and I feel generally more healthy and well. In fact, I've almost decided not to get the vitamin pills except that they will do me no harm and if you can get them for me, I'll buy them. 

I'll give you an idea of what I did today. Arose at 7:30, fed Adele breakfast (I usually wash her and bring her down in her sleepers) consisting of orange juice, prunes, cereal (finally got her to eat it), a soft boiled egg and as much milk as she'll drink, usually a half glass. I had breakfast; half a grapefruit, glass of milk, two slices of toast and butter. Clean up the kitchen. Dress Adele and get dressed myself. Washed floor in our room, also general cleaning. Went to 11th St. to shop for Mom. Cleaned downstairs, folded and put away clothes my mom washed last night, pressed. Adele had lunch of squash, beets, veg. with lamb, apricot and apple sauce and a glass of milk. Yesterday, she had her first lamb chop and liked it. When she particularly likes a food, she rubs her chest, “ah good manner.” She runs all over the place and makes everyone nervous. She's up the stairs, in the kitchen, trying to pull out all the pots and pans, in the dining room closet to rub her nose in the fur of whatever coats may be hanging there, opens the doors of the secretary and makes a good mess, turns the dials of the radio, opens the doors of the buffet and almost catches her fingers, shoves the walker all over the place and bangs into whatever stops it and I could go on and on. I want her to get used to walking about in the house for when the warmer weather sets in she’ll want to walk about outside. If she falls in the house, she doesn't hurt or bruise herself as she would outdoors. She darn near yanked all of Mom’s hair out today. She also likes to open tied bows, etc. She gets bashful at times, and when she does, she opens her mouth to its utmost and it sticks for a moment. When very excited, she makes a shrill drawn out laugh-like sound that is very pleasant to the ear. At 5:15 she had a dinner of chicken noodle soup (slice of bread soaked in), cup of junket and glass of milk. When bathing her (usually daily), I place a blanket on the bathroom floor and all items necessary for her toilet on it. I sit her on the blanket, undress her with her cooperation and bathe her in the tub. I place a small blanket on the base of the tub which prevents her from sliding all over the place. I soap her from head to foot, lay her down (her head resting on my arm) (I'm on my knees) to get the soap out of her hair. Back to the blanket. Dried, powdered and dressed. I sort of set her hair, rock, her a bit and flop her into bed. Then, after cleaning up, polishing Adele’s shoes, I either do the dishes (very seldom in the evening as they are usually finished when I am), and go right to work on my correspondence. Tonight, I took time to come out my hair thoroughly as I had set it last night and hadn't had time to comb it properly. Must write to Jack S. and Syd now, so I'll close with my deepest love and a long lingering hugs and kisses for you, my sweet. 

Your Eve 

February 8, 1944

Dearest Darling,

This V-mail is in the way of being a temporary expedient. At the moment, I have eight pages of the “London” letter finished, but so far I've covered only the first day. I figure it'll take at least eight more pages, but rather than keep you waiting for it and I don't have the time to complete it, tonight I decided to throw in this V-mail as a “filler.” You will learn from the letter that Ed was unable to get a pass, and the long-awaited reunion didn't come off after all. However, I have good news to make up for the bad. Today I received Ed’s letter explaining why he couldn't meet me and asking if I could get a pass on the 17th. I showed his letter to the 1st Sgt. and he said O.K. This time I hope we make it. I'm flat broke (for a change) and I'll have to borrow to “finance” this pass, but there are times when one has no alternative and this is one of them. In this case, money “cuts no ice” whatever. I also managed, during the afternoon, to knock out a few lines to I. Gutkin. Of course, I wasted no time at all sending off a letter to Ed telling him that the date was “on” again. Please forgive the scantiness of my messages lately, Sweet, but I know you'll understand why it had to be so. I'll do my best to complete the “London letter” tomorrow. Goodnight for now— my darling. Kiss Adele for me and give my love to all. 

Ever, 

Your Phil

February 8, 1944 

Dear Ev,

Received your swell letters today and sure got a great kick out of the self-patting little princess. 

Your observations on the Ev Phil Jack letter situation are wrong in that I have no compunctions about your reading first, what I write to Phil or vice versa, except in rare instances, and then I can't exactly say why. Perhaps that's what you said when you said “I don't think it right.” Then you're right, I'm wrong in saying you're wrong. Oh hell! Let's do as you suggested, and skip it. Sorry, I started it. 

I've just finished a letter to Phil in which I thanked him for the swell V-mail personally printed Happy Birthday, Jack. 

Ev, you must forgive me for not remembering  yours or Phil's birthday. Without feeling egotistical, just matter of fact, I know by my feelings for you that I'm held in your esteem. Why then, shouldn't I bother to remember that which is so important? The only excuse I have to offer is this. My mind is not, as yours and Phil’s arranged neatly. It seems I allow too many things to occupy it at the same time and never discard or rearrange thoughts that gather there so that I may have room for important details. Is Phil’s Mar. 16? What's yours? 

Gee, I was sorry to hear your last pictures were disappointing, film being so elusive these days, to say nothing of the green lucre. 

With me, there is nothing new. I'm sitting tight and learning the meaning of patience, the hard way. 

About Adeline it's this way. She answered my letter the first night that came along after the day she received it (Same day.) Stupid wasting all these words. This, she did because in her words, “I wasn't able to think of a solitary excuse for not writing that very same night.” 

Someday, I shall show you her letters and I'm certain you'll be amazed at the similarity in phrasing and asides between her letters and Phil’s. Need I say more as to how delightfully, she writes. 

As to her feelings for me, I evidently haven't aroused them. But by her questions as to how this and that is turning out and the obvious inference that I let her know, it makes me feel she isn't in the other extreme, disinterested. Let's say she's passive, and if I know anything should remain so to all the boys til this is over. Quien sabe? Maybe I will be the lucky one. 

About her being or going to be your closest friend, it warmed me to know you feel that way, and so it shall be. 

Well, if I remembered how I closed that last or next to last letter, I might try to do as well now, but I can't remember it so I'll just say g’bye now and my love to you all. How's Goldie? 

As ever 

Jackie