Dart writes this letter from “the most refined and neighborly service club in San Francisco,” where he came today simply to escape the soggy, dismal mess that is Camp Shoemaker. Except for a brief respite yesterday when they all dug the drainage ditch, it has been raining for days at that dreadful place.
He’s happy to report that just after finishing his letter to Dot yesterday, the heating stoves at his quarters kicked back into action, so no one froze during the night.
Several of the guys have received food packages from home lately, similar to the one Dot sent Dart. Because chow was such a disappointment yesterday, Dart and five or six other guys pooled their bounty, added some crackers they filched from the mess, and had themselves a grand feast. The cheese, Vienna sausages and deviled ham from Dot’s package were big hits. “As yet, I haven’t found a way to fix up that cocoa you sent, but never fear – a fire control man must be a man of ingenuity, never stopped by lack of proper equipment.”
Of his trip into ‘Frisco, Dart writes, “When I crossed the Bay Bridge at about 5:30 this afternoon, the Bay was more beautiful than I’ve ever seen it. If it weren’t for the many things wrong with this state, and the fact that I want to live in Ohio with the girl of my ambitions, I might be persuaded to live here. The beauty of that scene is Heavenly, peaceful, indescribable by adjectives.”
His final paragraph sends a little stab to my heart as he writes of his loneliness and homesickness. “I knew it would be this way. (“Mother told me there’d be days like this.”) I wish you were here, or more rightly, that I were there… Every time I think of you-your expressions, your laughter, your gentle (sometimes) sarcasm, our water fights (and wrestling matches), our embraces and our kisses, I think of the day when we can make those memories everlastingly our own possessions.”
Dot writes from another babysitting job for a new customer, 3 1/2-year old David. As with all her charges, she decrees he is “as cute as can be.” To prove it, she tells a story about him. He was playing records on a little portable player when it was time to go to bed. He immediately put the records away and went upstairs. When Dot told him to get ready for bed and to call her when he was done, he replied, “I’m sorry, but I’m too sick and tired from playing records to work at this ungodly hour.”
She thinks it’s wonderful that Dart will be placed on the kind of ship he wants. Now, she hopes no “wagons” or “flat-tops” become available until the war is nearly over, so that the Navy will be able to tell him, “Just stay home. We don’t need you out here anymore.” She certainly has a rich fantasy life! But she has a basis of reality on which to place her hopes – that’s what happened to her father in the last war.
With 19 shopping days left until Christmas, Dot’s feeling the strain. This is the first time she’s been on the receiving end of a mob of shoppers. When Mr. Goldstein went to lunch today, 15 customers swarmed the Young Men’s department all at once. She announced to them that since there were 15 of them and only one of her, they may as well accept the fact that they would have to wait their turn. They all agreed and were most cooperative. Still, she knows she cannot rely on those same people coming in every day between now and Christmas, and she expects “a good deal more trouble with the next crowd.”
She thanks him for the picture postcards of the San Francisco area bridges and agrees with him that they are quite beautiful. She doubts she’ll ever see the real things, so the pictures are even more valuable to her. I’m pleased to say that many years later, she and Dad made it to SF and he was able to share some of his favorite sights with her.
She’s listening to some Strauss waltzes and trying to stay awake. She fills the remainder of the page with a sketch of the lovely fireplace in this home where she’s babysitting. Maybe her sketch will make its way into Dart’s dream home design.
