This is an unusual letter from Dart. It begins with his musing about having nothing to write about. He wonders about his next visit home; Who will he see? How will his beloved city look to him? How much time will he be able to spend with Dot? Which of his buddies will also be on furlough at the same time?

Then he glides into a poignant trip through some memories he has not shared with Dot before. The source of these particular memories are a time just after high school graduation when he and his chum Mac worked the 4 PM to midnight shift at Cleveland’s war plant. He does not mention what the work entailed, focusing instead on what happened after their shift ended.

They would get to Mac’s house around 12:45 AM to pick up his car. There’s no mention of how they got to Mac’s place – whether by foot, street car or some other means. They sometimes took the Peterson family car, but Mac’s car was newer, faster, and all his own, making it the preferred chariot for their midnight roaming. Dart mentions one particular night when they drove out to Conneaut – about 60 miles east of Cleveland. Mac’s older sister lived there and was sick enough to need a ride to the hospital. They stopped at a drive-in restaurant for some burgers to take along, and made the trip to get Mac’s sister. (I didn’t know there were late night drive-in burger joints way back then.)

Another time, Mac and four other friends picked Dart up and went driving all over northern Ohio in the wee hours. Dart recalls they put 200 miles on the car in four hours, exploring small towns and back roads.

I was deeply moved by one paragraph. “These were happy times, whether they look it now or not. They look pretty weak on paper, but we were all just out of high school, had our first high-paying jobs, gas and tires could be had for the asking, and our time was our own.” Our specific memories may differ, but don’t we all have memories of those times when life was easy and exciting and full of possibilities? When good friendships and easy conversation fed our souls?  I am so grateful that these young men who were about to fight a long war had those precious care-free weeks during that summer .

Dart ends his letter as it began – apologizing for having nothing to say.  Said he, “Lots of paper used up to chatter about nothing, isn’t it?”

I have to disagree.

Here’s a long letter from Dot, once again showcasing her joyful spirit, easy humor and gift for making simple daily activities fun to read about. Dart must have loved getting this one.

She talks mostly about her trip into Cleveland with roommates Cathie and Andy. This is a long weekend break for the students at Andrews, and these three friends didn’t want to waste a minute of it.

They took a train into Cleveland (that suburb of Willoughby, in Dot’s words) and grabbed a nice big breakfast. After stopping by a popcorn shop, they crossed the street to the movie theater to see “Last Angel,” starring Margaret O’Brien. Dot was very impressed with the little six-year old star.

The friends emerged into the sunlight at 3:20 and glanced down the street. The film “A Guy Named Joe” was playing nearby. The three girls discussed whether or not to go see it, all the while walking toward the theater. The theater was packed, and they were relegated to sitting in the balcony.  They loved the film, which starred Spencer Tracy, Irene Dunn and Van Johnson. Ronald Coleman may have a little competition from Spencer for a spot in Dot’s affection.

Dot explained to Dart that she called his mother while in town. She was tempted to go for a face-to-face visit, but strongly feels Dart should be present when Dot and his parents meet for the first time.

Back on campus, Dot had the luxury of sleeping late for once, before returning to work the next day. She sings the praises of Mrs. Woodworth, the world’s most perfect housemother, who is spoiling the eight girls who are spending their break in the house. She does all the cooking, which is a sure way into Dot’s heart.  She describes the bountiful meal Mrs. Woodworth prepared for the girls. “It looked like an almost perfect replica of ‘The Horn of Plenty’. When you see things like that, it surely is hard to believe there’s a war going on, much less that it’s involving our own families and friends here at home. Guess we’re all a lot luckier than we give America credit for.” I love the natural state of gratitude in which this young woman spends her life. She sees blessings all around her and is a natural at expressing her appreciation of them.

She mentions that Dart’s mother told her there is a chance he could be home in three weeks. Dot’s very happy to think about it, but doesn’t want to get her hopes up.