Dart writes again from the USO, having come to town for the main purpose of calling Dot. He had no letter from her today and he’s eager to learn how she’s doing with her flu. Sadly, a fleet of ships came in from Pacific duty today and the town is overrun with sailors. There is a delay of five to eight hours on all calls to the north and west. He’s frustrated.
He brought his little camera to town with him and took lots of pictures of the old section. Now he only hopes he can smuggle the camera back on board without it being confiscated by the Marine guards. While he was walking around, he bought another Christmas gift and a box of Christmas cards.
He wrote a little about why the houses of Charleston and Panama resembled each other so closely. Both were built in a design that would take best advantage of the tropical breezes for cooling the interiors. He drew a very elaborate sketch of a typical Charleston style home, complete with ornamental railings. I had no idea my dad had any sort of artistic ability, because I never saw him doodle, draw, sketch, or paint. In fact, the occasional illustrations in places in these letters have revealed that he had a knack.
The USO is hopping tonight. Across from where he’s sitting, Gershwin plays on the phonograph. The lounge plays host to a stumbling, uncertain boogie beat. The hallway channels the noise of shuffling feet, clicking heels, and voices. Overhead, “the ceiling thrumps with the rhythm of a band transmitted by the feet of dancers.” Underscoring the cacophony is the PA system squawking for “Joe Zizzokus to come to the telephone centah.” He can’t take any more, so he closes the letter.
Gee, he wishes he’d been able to reach her.
Dot saw several of Dart’s relatives today as they stopped by the Peterson’s apartment to borrow something or to have dinner. She felt a little shy when meeting his cousins Jim and Dot and she’s sure they left feeling very sorry that Dart has saddled himself with such a dumb female for life.
She cheated a bit on the book report. With no time to read plus prepare the oral report, she managed to finish the Reader’s Digest condensed version of “Good Night, Sweet Prince.” Now she must memorize the report by Monday morning. “And I’m still asking, ‘Why did I come to college?'”
Next Tuesday, she’ll have her final theme exam. She’ll have to write a 500 word theme in class. If she misspells three words, writes one incomplete sentence, ends a sentence with a preposition or has three grammatical errors, she’ll fail the theme and must continue writing until she can pass.
She’s frazzled and tired. There’s no more time to write.
