After a short date and a long drive home, Dart squeezes a short letter out f this day. His drive home was uneventful, except for the flat tire in Bedford. He’d just picked up some youthful and energetic hitch-hikers who were helpful in getting the tire changed. I hope he can afford to replace those miserable tires soon, because the one he replaced the flat with was that dangerous bubbled one he took off a few days ago. He doesn’t complain much about the financial straits of his family, but a guy needs decent tires if his best girl lives an hour’s drive away!

In his opinion, the date and the subsequent “good-night bidding” were far too short. He believes he might be losing some points with Miss Olin because he stays at the house too late. He thinks maybe he’ll bring her some candy next time he comes.

Dart claims that he agrees their separations are a good thing for their relationship, but he misses her terribly and he wants her to come to Cleveland more often. I suppose they think it’s good to spend less time together lest temptation wear them down and they come to regret their actions.

His mother called Cleveland while Dart was away tonight. Flora’s doctor says she’ll be gone in a few days, if she lasts even that long. He cautioned the family that if they come out to see her, they should use the back door because Flora is in the front room and should not be disturbed. Dart just hopes her death is not too hard on his mother.

“That’s all, Dot. It’s after 3:00 and I’m tired. I wish we were sitting downstairs right now. Even though we’ve not ever gone to bed together, it seems that I miss you as I go tonight. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and to start now. I’m lonely, and very much in love.”

#          #          #

Dot’s postcard is dated April 12, but I believe it was actually written on the 11th. She mentions that she’ll see him in 3  hours but she’ll get the card in the mail before he arrives, in hopes he’ll get it tomorrow.

She developed the pictures she took at  his house and they came out fairly well. She’ll show him when he gets to Kent tonight. She loves him and can’t wait to see him.

In this earnest letter from Dart, he poses some difficult questions and a possible solution to one.  He prefaces all of that by telling her that he is filled with a sense of nervous apprehension about her well-being. There’s no discernible reason he should feel that way, and he hopes she’s alright. He tries to chalk up his foreboding to missing her too much.

Meanwhile, he and Pop drove out to Ashtabula today with Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary to say farewell to Aunt Flora. Her sedatives are not working anymore and she suffers from great pain in her chest. Meanwhile, Dart worries about his mother who has spent 24 hours a day for two weeks tending to her sister. She’s exhausted!

Now, at the risk of Dot thinking he’s trying to postpone their wedding – which he assures her he’s not – he asks the question of where they might live when they are married. It must be close to wherever he might go to school, and wherever she might find a job, so that they can save money on transportation. He stews about finding any place, because the papers are full of ads looking for houses, apartments, rooms and hovels. He doesn’t expect the housing shortage to be over by next summer. He knows they’ve agreed that living with parents is the least favorable solution because they want to be free and independent as they begin their life together, even though his folks’ apartment has a semi-finished third floor which might be converted into suitable living space for very low rent.

The Burke siblings own their home on Elsinor St., and he knows his Uncle Tom built a spare bedroom in the attic years ago. They might be approached with the idea of allowing Dart to finish out more of the space with a sitting room, storage and a small kitchenette, thereby enhancing the value of the house. Still, living with a group of unmarried eccentrics  might have it’s own drawbacks. They may not be too keen on having a young couple upstairs. Plus, what would they do with all the ancient junk stored in the attic now? (I should point out that both of the “third floor options” Dart has mentioned would involved sharing the home’s only bathroom with the other occupants of the house – far from an ideal situation.)

True to form, he includes a sketch of the attic floor plan, with some idea of where to place storage, etc.

Dart is clearly nervous at the prospect of saving enough money in the 14 months they have until their intended wedding. Even simple remodeling and furnishing of a small attic space would take money, added to the cost of a wedding. How will they manage?

He hopes she won’t think him too pessimistic, or imagine that he’s trying to postpone the thing he wants most in life, but they must be practical and come up with a plan soon, if any solution is to be found. He implores her to think about these questions and send him any ideas she has on how they will manage. “Above all, Dot, I want our married life to begin on a sound basis – economically, socially, and psychologically.”

#          #          #

Dot went to bed at 3:00, worked from 11:00 to 2:00, and again from 5:00 to 10:00. Now it’s 10:30 and she has three hours of work to do before going to bed. Then it;s up early for church and off to work again. She’s not complaining, because she loves being busy and earning money. She’s not sure exactly when she’ll study for her three upcoming tests, but the time will have to come from somewhere.

Although she was hired to just work banquets, her boss is so pleased with her customer service that she’s now being added to the regular waitress staff, too. She’s flattered, and thrilled at the prospect of making more money, but she’s sad that her new schedule will cut into her time with Dart. Her plan is to save enough money to pay for her mother’s trip out to Ohio at the end of the school term, as a surprise for her mom.

She mentions his humdinger of that letter about his hobby. She’s kicking herself about making that sarcastic comment about him “playing with trains,” because he now believs she has no interest in his interests. She loves to hear him talk about his fascination with model railroading, and she gets a big kick out of helping hunt all over town for one particular part that he needs. “I’m thankful you’ve chosen a hobby that will be so much fun for both of us. … In fact, it’s high time you learned that I love you and all the things you and I do together, whether it’s sitting on the couch having one of our long talks, or driving across Cleveland in search of parts of a narrow gauge railroad.”

He was absolutely right about her disgruntled mood after their date. She’s grateful that he knows her so well and can explain things so clearly. Here she is, trying to be a good Christian, and trying NOT to be a hypocrite, and she fails at both. She needs to learn not to be so judgemental. She surely hopes she her apology will patch things up with Ellie.

She wonders how long she can go on loving him more every day before something breaks. So far she’s managing, but her love grows deeper everyday and something’s bound to give! She doesn’t know if she can bear it until they are together again a week from tonight.

Phyll has asked if Dart had any reviews of the date. Apparently Al Frobush was able to come to Kent with Dart and he escorted Phyll to the weenie roast. “Phyll wants to know what the bold ones are like if Al is an example of a shy individual. She liked him a lot cuz she thought he was so easy to talk to. Do you think he’d really like to come down for a dance sometime?”

Now Dot wants to clarify for Dart why she hasn’t been coming to Cleveland so often. “I thought you understood the set-up until I heard the doubt in your voice tonight. In the first place, it is a kind of discipline which I feel I must impose on myself. Oh, I know you drive down often enough that I see you almost every week, but it’s hardly the same as sitting up almost all night until it’s nearly impossible to go to bed alone. In the second place, I am really serious about earning enough money so that Mom will be able to drive out in June. In case you weren’t aware of it, I want her to come out very much – so much that it’s worth  sacrificing some of the weekends I would ordinarily spend with you. I don’t like it one bit, but in the long run, I do feel it’s better for both of us. ”

“I worry that you ever doubt my love, even for the slightest instant. I realize my description is inadequate, but the love is there, in a most concentrated form, if you’ll just look for it. ”

As she drops off to sleep she’ll be thinking of how sweet he is, and how much she loves him for it.

Dart begins this letter innocuously enough. He was surprised when his non-churchgoing father asked this morning if it would be okay if he accompanied Dart to church. Of course Dart was pleased to have his company, as they slipped into the last two available seats in the sanctuary. He also tells Dot the times of the Sunday services at the Congregational Church this weekend, suggesting they try to attended the earliest one. He took his watch to have the crystal replaced and is using an old pocket watch in its place.

Then the mood of the letter changes. Its contents are so deeply personal, so incredibly intimate, that I hesitate to even comment on them. I will tread gently.

His first paragraph of this part of the letter sets the mood. It’s also possible to quote this passage without violating the tender privacy of these young lovers. “Golly I’ve been lonesome tonight. I wish our tires were in shape to make a trip to Kent. I surely would have been there. A nice moon, a nice balmy night are just made for nice walks in the country with the nicest thing of all – a girl like you. (Don’t place the wrong emphasis on ‘thing’). Of course, a girl like you might be okay for other guys, but none of that ‘like’ stuff for me. It’s got to be YOU, or no one. I’m getting tired of it being no one, too. I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

He continues by telling Dot that he believes she expects a visitor while she is in Cleveland next week. He sympathizes because he knows she considers this visitor to be problematic, especially when she’s away from home. He also frets that the visitor brings her such terrible pain and discomfort for a couple of days. He recalls how alarmed he was in the past when she dozed off in his arms and murmured for her mother in her sleep, such was the level of her pain. He only hopes that having him around brings some measure of comfort during those miserable days each month.

And then he begins his written reminiscence of that Friday of Dot’s spring break – a time they have both eluded to in their letters. He speaks with such tender passion and awe about an incident that happened between them that the reader knows it was perhaps the second most meaningful event of his life thus far, after meeting Dot.

I suppose modern readers might say that much of his letter was his attempt to “process” the magnitude of the event. He writes an allegory of a city surrounded by a very high wall, into which is placed a single glorious gate. The wall is not too high to scale, and indeed, many people enter the city by doing just that. Still, in Dart’s story, he and Dot approached the wall together, long ago, and quite far from the gate. They vowed that someday they would enter the city, hand-in-hand through the gate. Yet on that Friday night, they climbed high enough up the wall to glimpse the city within. Lots of people were urging them to climb over and join them, while others urged them to come through the gate. Dot and Dart had long ago committed to the gate, and he knows deep in his heart that they will do just that.

He wonders if their actions have broken the trust of some people who love them both, but he has no regrets. The intimacy of those actions have given proof of their abiding love for each other.

“Every effort I can muster, and I know the same is true for you, is being used to find and follow that allegorical path to the gate, so that we can both enter that gate, arm in arm, without looking back and without either of us watching the other coming from outside the gate to met the other within. I’m so proud of you, Darling. That pride inside me sobers me at times. It’s something I’ve known from the start, instinctively, yet I was thrilled to hear it from you the first time, and I will always thrill to hear it. I have deserved it, thus far myself, and for that, I am proud of myself, too. Thank you, Dot, for being as you are, and for loving me and for accepting my love for you. I can think of no greater honor than to be in love like that.”

#          #          #

Dot’s letter today is actually written on a tiny note card, with a picture on the front of a sweet girl ironing a basket of clothes. Inside, she writes that she and Phyll served a firemen’s banquet today and they each made $2.05 in tips for 45 minutes of work. If she adds up all her tips from the past 48 hours, her mother is $4.80 closer to Ohio. (Shhh, it’s a secret from Mrs. Chamberlain.) When you add the $.40 and hour that Robin Hood is paying her, she’ll be in the clover in no time. She’s sending along $2.00 so that Dart can buy his mother flowers or a plant for Easter. How she looks forward to attending church with Dart next Sunday!

She loves him so much that she can think of nothing else. That’s what makes it so hard to study for her upcoming tests.

In an 8-page letter, Dart is able to cover a lot of topics. He sure takes advantage of that here!

He and Pop did more work around the house; laundry, painting the kitchen ceiling and washing the one in the dining room. Then Al Frobush stopped by for a visit. He’d had a tire blowout, replaced it with the spare, and then the spare went flat. He was walking home past Dart’s apartment so he decided to drop by a rest his weary feet. (There’s an epidemic of bad tires in the neighborhood! I wonder if it’s a sign of hard economic times or a shortage of tires as the nation recovers from the war effort.)

While he was there, Al and Dart discussed the date at Kent. Not only did Al enjoy meeting Phyll t the weenie roast, but he’d like to go back for a dance. He suggests they might go down early on a Saturday or Sunday so they and the girls could spend a whole day together. Dart’s job is to coordinate the plans around Dot’ and Phyll’s work schedule sometime before school is out for the summer.

The next topic is Dart’s purchase of a couple of basic tools. He got a great deal on a decent drill, and managed to find a so-so deal on a hacksaw. Both tools will come in handy when he builds his railroad, remodels an attic apartment, or repairs a home of their own.

He also made a rough guess of how much lumber he’ll need to build his railroad. If he gets to it soon, he’ll be content with used lumber, since new lumber cannot be found at any price. (Another shortage!) Now that he’s dreamed up his train layout, he suspects he’ll need to suspend the dream until they’re in their dream house.

Next he launches into a dissertation about fraternities and sororities. He has much to say on the subject, but the upshot is he’s not a fan.

He’s happy she took the time to explain to him in greater detail why she’s so intent on spending more of her weekends in Kent than in Cleveland. When she told him in person that the decision was really about making more money at the restaurant, he sensed that she was hiding the real reason. Now he understands that she also feels she must impose some self-discipline. “I’m proud of you, and I have even greater faith in you for telling me about, and using, that self-discipline. One of us needs to keep us both straighter, and you’re the one who’s started. I admire and respect you for it, and I thank you for explaining it to me.”

He’s glad she told him to keep her plans for bringing her mother out in June a secret from her mother. He also agrees with her that it’s easier to accomplish things when one keeps extra busy. He’s relieved that she’s interested in his hobby of model railroading, and he wishes he could become a better swimmer so he could share in her love of water activities.

In response to her thoughts on trying to be more of a Christian and less of a hypocrite, he has some interesting comments. “One thing about the adulterated Christianity I seem to practice is my smugness and narrow-mindedness. All it does is prove that I’m not practicing as truly as I’d like to, nor am I as good or as intelligent as I give myself unthinking credit for being. Too many Christians are like that. But there I go, criticizing when there’s room for so much improvement in myself. In other words, I’m a 60-year old hypocrite in a 22-year old body. That ain’t so good.”

Aunt Jo and a nurse from next door went out to Ashtabula to help his mother with Aunt Flora. Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom came back today with news that Aunt Flora is resting more comfortably, but it’s taking more opiates to keep her comfortable.

“Good night, Dot. I love you always. It seems that my last paragraphs of soft words have nearly disappeared, but I try to make each and every whole letter evidence of my continuous, far-reaching, and all-inclusive love for you. Thank you for being my Darling.”

#          #          #

Much of Dot’s letter is spent in answering Dart’s recent ones. She’s still awaiting Al’s assessment of Phyll so she can tell Phyll whether she’s “in” or “out.”

He shouldn’t worry that he has lost Miss Olin’s favor. It’s her job to make sure all the boys are gone and the girls are home by the appointed hour. Since she is the most liberal housemother on campus, they should try harder not to take advantage of her good nature.

She writes that she never knows what to say when someone is dying. She doesn’t know his Aunt Flora well, except that she is a gracious and likable person. She feels a little guilty about only writing to her once since she became so ill. His mother has certainly been an angel of mercy, and Dot hopes she’ll soon have a well-earned rest. Is he certain Dot won’t be a bother this weekend in Cleveland?

“Strange that you should have felt so strange about me Saturday night. As a matter of fact, I was upset. But how did you know? Must be that you possess the same kind of spiritual body that Miss Olin says I have. That’s what makes it possible for you to know things are happening without being able to actually see them.”

As it turns out, she was upset about the very topic Dart addressed in his letter – namely the difficulties they face in getting married when they want to. From where she sits, 14 months seems an eternity, but she half expects that next June will get here before they’ve resolved any of their issues.

She decides to be quite frank about his idea of living in the Burkes’ attic. She recalls that when he and his family were living with them during the Depression, the Burkes had plenty of suggestions in how Dart’s parents should raise their children and live their lives. Dot’s concern is that they would feel equally entitled to give her and Dart ideas about how they lived their lives if the newlyweds were occupying the third floor of their house.

“True, I don’t think it’s a good policy for a newly married couple to start out living with their parents. On the other hand, it depends a great deal on the parents. Both Harriet and George and Gordon and Betty started out in one of our spare rooms at home and neither couple seems to have any regrets. Naturally, you know your parents better than I, but from what I do know of them, I don’t think they’d interfere in any way with our ideas of how we want to live. Of course, we must consider what they want. It may not appeal to them to have us living in the third floor.”

Now she regrets writing her ideas until they’d had a chance to discuss them face to face. She understands that being married takes a lot of money, and she has no idea what kind of a job she’ll be able to get. She doesn’t care a bit what kind of job she has, as long as she makes enough money for them to live on while he finishes school.

“Did you happen to notice the moon tonight? While I was walking home from work everything seemed so quiet and peaceful it was impossible to think that there were so many unsolved problems with which we must cope. Everything was so completely serene. I am aware that the problems do exist, however, and will try to keep from being swept away by the beauty of God’s handiwork.”

A letter from her mother brought the news that Ruth is once again sick in bed. Dot is concerned that scarcely a week passed this winter without someone in the house being confined to bed.

She has three more nights in her big, comfortable bed before she is once again sleeping in a smaller, but equally comfortable one in Dart’s room. She misses him so much that it’s all she can do to wait until Friday.

In his opening line, Dart exclaims what a perfect night for a date this would have been, with a perfect moon overhead. That sets his mind to wondering about other perfect nights. I’ll quote most of his letter directly.

Tonight’s the kind of night that stirs up imagination, memories and emotions. It stirs the emotions of love, loneliness and desire. I guess we never did decide what it is about full moons that stirs  young couples, but we do know that it seems to have an effect. The desire it stirs is for you; the loneliness because we can’t be together enjoying it; and the love, Darling, is always here, just for you.

The memories a night like this stirs are many and varied. They often are of peaceful scenes, for this is a peaceful night. On a night such as this I looked down from the tallest building on the highest hill in San Francisco, and saw the lights and shadows of a fabulous city; the shimmering darkness of a busy, censor-cloaked harbor; ships at anchor, their dark forms in sharp silhouette against the twinkling water of the bay; cities on a black hillside, overlooking that bay, their streets and houses defined by orderly rows of lights, as though the stars of the Milky Way had been placed in lines for better guidance  of the traveler; the inspiring man-made spider web of a bridge carried tiny rows of lights from the city below, across the bay, across the ships, across the very ends of the moonbeams to the fallen Milky Way in the distance.

Yes, and on nights like this, a group of frantic youths, some spending their last living moments with their friends, drove on country roads, in crowded but friendly automobiles. They turned off headlights for a thrill, to let the silver of the moon guide them on their road. Why were they frantic? Did they know that some of their number would heed the call of God in the course of answering the call of their Country? Did they have premonition of it as they told their stories and jokes, as they made the loaded car rock with their laughter? Were they whistling in the dark?

And in my mind I see a sailor. He has just come into port. It was a port far from home, but friendly and safe, with lighted windows winking from the hillside across the water to the dark form that was a valiant ship. That entry to port was a homecoming, even though it was half way around the world from home. It was a beautiful, touching sight. There was no war. Not here. Not with these lights, these ships, those murmuring airplanes. Not with the great green island turning black in the waning twilight and the rising moon. Yes, the sailor came home that night, for in the light of that kindly moon, he read the letter from his sweetheart saying that she’d be more than his sweetheart: his fiance! That moonlit night saw no war. The war was over. That sailor had come home, to his life and to his beloved.

Before me is another scene. In it there are two shadows. Is that our sailor? No. The sailor is no more, perhaps a temporary being. The body, the face, the mind all characteristics of one of those shadows bear relation to the sailor who has come home. The other shadow? It is the image of a lovely girl, the same girl who became the sailor’s fiance. No longer the sailor’s absent sweetheart, she is the real, warm, live being, reclining on a couch with him who was a sailor. They glance only occasionally at the chilling specter of the moon. They are in love, locked in an embrace they have dreamed of for countless lonely evenings. Let us not disturb them further.

A flash! Back to the days at sea. A little ship sails without sails across a windless ocean. A little ship, yes, but how much bigger it is than the three tiny wooden ships which sailed ever westward long ago on another ocean. The ship is small, but the sea and the sky have taken pity on it, for they are being gentle. A sailor lays down his pen, stretches his aching back and collects his writing materials. He steps outside where the moonlight inspires a mixture of reflections, much as these tonight. He watches the canopy of the sky as the mast, with its rigging and eternally  revolving “bedsprings” point first one direction, then sweep slowly across the sky to point another. Suddenly – a clamor! Running. Whining engines. Hurried preparations for battle.Clicking of guns as ammunition is slipped into cocked mechanisms. Then, silence. Waiting. The ship slows. First one vibration – then another, then a pair of flashes as depth charges are hurled out at the sea. Beneath the black water, six brilliant green sunbursts are synchronized with six heavy blows which seem to lift the ship out of the water. Tenseness. A cheer as a bit of phosphorescence shows astern. It is a submarine. Weird, luminous water cascades off the decks of the undersea monster. The path of the moonbeams is split by the ominous thing. A few seconds of screaming, silence, a jolt, a crash. One ship is still afloat, one is sinking. A great, joyous hearty cheer rises from the those aboard the ship that floats. The wicked black bow of the submarine lunges into the air, then slips silently, surely, forever beneath the black water. The moon shines on impassively. The memory remains to haunt the minds of the men who were there that night. Some are haunted no more. They have not lived to remember, or tell. 

The memories pile up. They’re not all nice ones. Some are fearful ones. Some are peaceful. The peaceful ones recur at welcome intervals. The fearful ones are put aside with a shudder.

Imagination? Is not memory a kind of imagination? Perhaps, but a moonlit night like this brings other types of mental imagery. I see a happy couple, watching the first full moon of their married life. Water, mountains, trees, a lighthouse.

In all, we are together, Dot. In all, we are in love. In all we are embracing, or are about to. It is you and I in all those anticipatory images. What a night!

#          #          #

Dot was thrilled to hear Dart’s voice when he called her tonight. Phyll was also delighted by the call because she learned that she had earned Al’s approval and that these four kids were having a double date over the weekend. Either she or Dot will be sleeping on the floor, but neither of them seems to mind the prospect.

She had “loads of fun” at P.E. tonight. That fun included playing basketball (boys rules) which resulted in Dot nearly losing an eye and breaking a leg. That was followed by volleyball where she only suffered a possible concussion when the ball hit her full force on her “dome.”  But the pay-off came when they went swimming and she tried to do a back dive off the edge of the pool. “At the rate I’m going, I’ll have a broken back, for sure!” She did a jack knife off the edge of the pool, but her form was bad. She wishes she could spend three hours in the pool every day.

By the time Dart gets this letter, there will be only about 30 hours until they are together again. She has missed him (and Cleveland) something awful these past weeks, but she heard his voice tonight, and that will help get her through until Friday.

Dart is sending this short letter so Dot may have something to read on Monday, after their weekend together.

On Friday, Pop will be driving Aunt Jo and Uncle Tom to Ashtabula. Jo will stay behind to care for Aunt Flora and Helen will return home for a much-needed break. That leaves Dart to clean the house and wash some windows in preparation for Dot and Phyll to stay over. He still hopes to be in Kent by 4:00 to pick the girls up.

Today, Dart had the recent flat tire repaired and had motor supports installed. While doing the job, the “grease monkeys” left a wire off the spark plug, and the car ran very rough. While He and Homer were out cruising the east side of Cleveland tonight, a gas station attendant found the loose wire, reattached it, and sent the boys on their way in a smoothly operating car. With a set of used tires costing $42, Dart has come to the realization that they cannot afford a car.

Nothing more to write because he’ll be seeing her in just a few hours.

#          #          #

Last night while the rest of the house went to social dancing, Dot and Dorie went downtown to pick up hamburgers for all the dancers to have when they came home. Dot has noticed that the person who goes to get the bags of burgers often ends up on the short end of the deal; people promise to pay later, but never do, people complaining they didn’t get what they wanted, etc. But Dot had a plan.

Before the girls came home, she pulled  a dresser across her bedroom door, forming a kind of counter. Then she brought in the stack of paper plates left over from the weenie roast, a box of tissues for napkins, and “set up shop.” As the girls arrived, they lined up outside her door, placed an order and paid Dot the amount due. Only then did they get their food. “It worked beautifully, without a single black eye. I’m proud of my brainy idea, except now I’ve been elected to always get the burgers and set up my little hallway hamburger stand.” See, all those retailing classes she took at Andrews paid off!

Her class schedule is abbreviated on Friday, so she can leave campus earlier and extend her visit in Cleveland. Dart can get there any time after 3:00, or she’ll take the 3:00 bus.

How she loved that letter about “Moonlight Memories!”  That’s one thing I’m going to miss after we’re married. Think I’ll go away every once in a while so I’ll get some mail from you.”

Because it’s late, she wishes Dart good morning (just to be different) and heads off to bed.

Of course, because they are spending the weekend together, there are no letters for the next couple of days. I’ll be back on the 21st with a short one from Dart.

To ease his loneliness for Dot, Dart rode out to Ashtabula with his folks. Helen is returning to care for Flora, but has told Flora’s husband that this must be her last week of nursing duties. The strain is taking a toll on both her and her family. Sadly, Flora still lingers, restless and in great pain, despite the massive dosage of opiates. Dart’s Aunt Mary has too big a job to leave work for more than a day or two at a time. Aunt Jo does not have a nurturing personality, nor can she seem to follow anyone’s orders or wishes. Aunt Elizabeth is too old at 67, and too nervous to be of any help.

Dart received the money order to buy 6 tickets to a play at Hanna Theater. Homer is pleased by the progress Dot has made on Janie, and Al has already paid Dart for the tickets he and Phyll will be using.

On the long drive today, Dart commented often to his parents that he wished Dot were with them to enjoy the beautiful signs of Spring. Orchards were full of fresh new color, and people were working in their velvet lawns to coax more flowers from the ground. Dart enjoyed seeing the old dilapidated farms as much as he liked looking at the neat little houses along the way.

He doesn’t recall all of the songs she sang on the drive back to Kent last night, but he knows he enjoyed them all. “Oh, we’re so lucky to be in love the way we are. Gee, I miss you! This weekend was one of the best I’ve ever spent (all of them with you, but this was even better than most), and surely the finest Easter ever. It seems that we are happier all the time. It sobers me to think of it, for I am impressed with God’s goodness in making such things possible for us.”

#          #          #

This quick, late night note from Dot establishes that all the girls in the house agree her Easter corsage was more beautiful that anyone else’s. Thanks, Dart!

She and Phyll decided that the fudge would taste extra good on Wednesday, around 7:30 or 8:00 and they would be happy to share it with Dart and Al if they’re able to make the trip for an evening of dancing. “Don’t worry if you can’t make it. I just thought you’d appreciate the suggestion.”

Now she must hurry off to swimming class, even though she is not allowed to swim today.

“All my love, all my life, Darling. I’ll never forget this Easter. Thank you always for everything that makes you so wonderful.”

Today, Dart and fellow model railroader, Homer Singer, went on a merry chase all over Cleveland, looking for parts and pieces for their train sets. Dart was especially focused on finding the parts he needs to complete the little red interurban trolley car he’s building from scratch.  He’s happy to announce that his little car now has wheels.

He had a phone call from one of the older members of a local model railroad club, inviting him to a get-together of some other members on Friday night. He and Homer hope to attend, if possible. He may even have his red car done by then, and could take it along for a kind of show-and-tell with the other “boys.”

When he drove past Fred’s house today, he saw that the star was gone from the window (apparently indicating that there was no longer an active service member in the household.) He stopped in and found Fred at home. He was in his room, which was filled with empty whiskey bottles, sorting out his pre-war junk, just as Dart had done not long ago.  “He looks bad, and has a big scar on the right side of his face. He surely has changed. He’s not as spirited, nor as argumentative as he was.”

“Mather came up when I was there. He and Fred have double-dated since Fred got back (a week ago). Of course Fred had tales of his drunks and then he and Bill got together on theirs. Liquor and women became the topics of discussion. Mather had to tell all about how he worked up to his “first time” and all the others since then. At about the fourth shot, and umpteenth cigarette, I excused myself and left, having had no shots and no cigarettes.”

When I think back to the marvelous letters that young Dart and Fred exchanged during the early months of the war, I feel a little sad about the distance between them now. These two bright, culturally attuned, intelligent young writers had  such sharp, lively exchanges in their letters. But time and war can change people, and friendships come and go.

He misses Dot terribly. He had hoped to drive to Kent tonight, but it was raining (bad tires, remember) and he had a headache, so now he must simply content himself with telling her he loves her – which he tells her 10 times in his final paragraph.

#          #          #

Even with her grueling schedule, Dot manages to write two letters today. She gets an early start on the first, beginning it just after midnight. She has so much to say, and expresses it all so well, that I’ll copy her first letter nearly verbatim.

Besides the fact that it’s late anyway, and I have the usual tired feeling, tonight I have an added weariness. I worked steady from 5 til 9 tonight on a banquet. Phyll, Joyce and I served the whole business ourselves. It was on the second floor above the cottage room, and we had to set up tables, carry up all silverware, glasses, plates and food, and to top it all off, there were 72 people with different ideas of what they wanted to eat. So instead of having their meal given to them, no questions asked, they had their choice of chicken, ham or beef. That made things even more complicated, but it was fun, to a certain extent. It was some sort of church affair, and we don’t think they left a tip. Something tells me I’m going to fast become an atheist if someone doesn’t come across with even a dime! Carrying those heavy trays upstairs and down is not what I would call child’s play. I’m going to work tomorrow night, but not ’til 9:00. I hope.

Did your mom go to Ashtabula as planned this morning? Hope she won;t have to stay as long this time. She certainly looked tired when she was home this weekend. Say, I meant that about darning socks. I love to darn ’em, so if you come down soon, why not bring a bag of wholey socks with you? I’ve got all the necessary equipment here for darning, but I will need some socks to work on ‘cuz I’m all caught up on mine.

How can I ever live this summer when I won’t be able to see you for three months, if I come back to school, and even longer if I don’t come back? I’ve missed you so much today, it has become almost unbearable. Sometimes I hate this place, with its giddy, superficial she-wolves. Talk, talk, talk all the time, about the same thing – – men! Oh, I don’t mind it to a certain extent, or when I can keep track of the conversation, but this constant jabber about a million and one different men is beginning to wear down my nerves. Every day I find new things, which although very trivial, bother me no end. More and more, I find myself living up to my nickname of “old maid.”  At my age, that’s a heck of a reputation to acquire. Especially when in most cases, I’m a bigger, more devilish brat than any of them.

Can’t keep my eyes open any longer. My flowers still look and smell gorgeous. I love you very much, Dart.

Dot wrote her second letter on this date as the day was winding down.

Your unexpected letter was here to greet me when I awoke this morning, and altho’ it can’t take the place of having you wake me up, it was a mighty pleasant surprise. Thank you for doing all those little extras that mean so much.

We served another banquet tonight. This time it was a bowling team and we each made $2.00 on the deal.The Sunday school teachers did leave a tip last night after all – $1.36 each. Hardly what we thought we earned for 72 people, but a great deal better than nothing. They’re having a Junior Chamber of Commerce banquet tomorrow night, but Phyll, Joyce and I said we wouldn’t stay past 7:30, so we won’t have to serve it. Just in case you and Al do come down for social dancing, we don’t want to be tied up at any old banquet.

We have a biology test tomorrow, so I must at least glance over the 50 pages I have (supposedly) read. I like biology this quarter, and it was all I could do to bear with it last quarter. Guess the change in profs has a lot to do with it.

Are you enjoying my fudge? You may as well, cuz’ I’m not. Can’t let it go to waste, especially mine. Every time you take a piece, think of me fading away to a mere ton.

Dart, you wanna know sumpin? I love you more with each breath I take. No matter what I do, I do it with you in mind. Today I was slouched in my chair in typing class and I thought to myself, “Now how would it look if Dart came to the door right now?” I immediately sat up straight and stayed that way the rest of the period. Why don’t you come down during school sometime when I don’t know you’re coming? Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it, but heck, you’ve got to see me as I really am sometime.

I now have $16.45 in my “Mother’s Coming to Ohio” bank and $.04 in my penny bank.

I’m struck, as I often am with Dot’s letters, that she was a very hard working young woman. Do you realize her share of the 72-person banquet was 24 people? That means her tip was less than six cents per person, for four hours of hard labor, performed with a smile on her face. Remarkable! Also, she’s always thanking Dart for his thoughtfulness, yet she’s the one who sent money for his mother’s Easter corsage, is toiling away at the restaurant to surprise her mother with a trip to Ohio, and is always doing nice things for her housemates. Truly, there are two kind and thoughtful people in this relationship. Undoubtedly, that’s one of the ingredients that combined to make theirs a wonderful marriage.

No letters on the 24, so I’ll see you back here on April 25 with a letter from Dart.