Dart writes that his homework is done, his typing practice is completed and there are 19 minutes left in the weekend.

His Friday evening was spent tinkering in the basement, laying more track and stringing trolley wire.

On Saturday, he and Pop helped Uncle Guy cut copper pipe for his new heating system and then hauled it out to the lake house in their rented trailer. While they were there, they picked up a beautiful buffet that they’d had to give up when they moved in with the Burke sisters during the Depression. “It rode beautifully in our bumpy little trailer on Cleveland’s indescribably bumpy streets. That is, until we were on the last 100 feet of bumpy street. Then our colossal stupidity showed. Not one of the three of us thought of laying the piece of furniture on its back and tying it to the trailer. As a consequence, we have a buffet, minus its four dainty legs.” He thinks they can fix it up by reaming out the dowels that hold the legs to the main piece and inserting new ones. The finish is also splotchy and needs to be stripped and redone.  “It’s a big job for our limited resources, but we think we’ll have a mighty nice piece of furniture when (and if) we ever get the work done.”

He tells Dot that Uncle Guy has sold the big brick house on Forest Hill and they’re all sad to see it leave the family. In his opinion, it is a much finer building than Guy’s new house on the lake will ever be. Dart had hopes  that he and Dot could have rented the third floor as their first apartment, if his parents had moved into the lower part. Now, that will never be.

Tom Reilly joined Dart for a movie on Saturday night. They saw the Marx  Brothers in “A Night in Casablanca.” Dart is a big fan of the humor and talent of the four brothers, and the two friends had a great time. “Of course, Tom and I would have had a good time anyway. We usually do. I met his parents  last night and they’re awfully nice. Just as humorous as Tom.” Dart learned that Tom had actually dated three girls from Greenwich; Pat McCullough, Barbara Leach, and Patricia Somebody. Does Dot know any of them? Tom liked the town of Greenwich better than he liked any of the girls.

He’s never noticed the lovely, fresh breeze that comes n over the city in the evenings, but he is sure enjoying it this summer. “Makes me awfully homesick for you, because I know how much we’d love being together, enjoying it.”

Apparently when he showed his folks Dot’s letter that had gotten him emotionally worked up, it broke the ice. Since then, they’ve had lots of conversations. Today, they talked about how it will be to get along on $190 a month. Many couples actually have much less income to begin with. He landed on that figure knowing that he’ll receive $90 through the GI Bill and he estimates $100 as the minimum that Dot will be able to make by working full time.

His folks have assured him that he and Dot could live with them, or refurbish the third floor into a place of their own. Everyone’s sure they can establish a living situation that would be agreeable to all parties. “Any arrangement could be modified, of course, until it worked smoothly.”

A nice advantage, in Dart’s mind, to refinishing the third floor is that they could begin to buy some furnishings and have a place to store them. They could furnish the place with their own things, in their own taste. He begins a little flight of fancy as he describes what he’d like to see in their little nest: a pair of big, comfy chairs, some good china, “maybe even an iceless (It’ll have to come eventually!), or a radiophonograph.”

He confesses to be a pretty poor financial “typhoon,” but he’s sure that with her in charge of the money, they’ll manage just fine. By the way, they have $34.05 in their little green toolbox now.

In the final paragraph, he crams in some quick responses to her recent letters. Citing her half page of Xs and Os, he says he liked them, but truly wishes they could be exercising the real things. I neglected to mention that, at the end of one of her recent letters, Dot had drawn three large, dense splotches of purple ink, labeling them “puddles of purple passion.” Dart was especially fond of those and confesses to having felt especially passionate and lustful for her today. Which reminds him of Ellie and Don – he is certainly curious about those two getting married in such a hurry. How he hopes things turn out in September so that she will be able to wake him up in person one morning – if not in Greenwich, then maybe at Sunapee. He wonders about her plans for that, though. She mentioned something once, a while back, that has him a little wary. (Well, that has certainly piqued my curiosity. I wonder if Dot will shed some light on that topic.)

That’s all he has for tonight.

#          #         #

Once again, Dot has been neglecting Dart, but she hopes to compensate a little by sending this letter via airmail.

She and 5-year old Gale spent a glorious day at the beach yesterday. Gale’s daddy had promised to get her a tube for her birthday in August if she could swim10 feet by herself. Dot was flabbergasted when the little tyke swam 20 feet to a dock, climbed up, and dove off! “Of course the dive was a little belly-floppish, but she kept on trying until she did two or three really good ones.” When Dot told the family about Gale’s feat, they all thought she was exaggerating, so El took Gale to the beach today where she proceeded to do 25 dives! “Maybe we’ve got another Esther Williams (hubba hubba!) on our hands!”

There was a huge, impromptu feast at the Chamberlains last night as Aunt Num, Waddy, and Dot and Leon Picard all came over for a lobster dinner. “There were 10 of us for dinner. We even had lots of butter to pour over them. (The lobsters, silly!)Dot was in heaven – partly because of all that company, but mostly because of the lobster. She laments the fact that Dart has no appreciation of good seafood, and urges him try try it just one more time. She wishes she could have saved a little of the lobster tail to send to Dart, Sr., knowing how much he enjoys it.

The party lasted until 1:00, when Dot drove Harriet and George back to their home. Dot wasn’t too thrilled when 8:00 am came around and Gale (who’d spent the night at the Chamberlain house) came in to wake Dot up. Dot pleaded for a half hour more sleep, so Gale sat quietly on Dot’s bed and colored while she waited.

Dot wasn’t too enthusiastic about getting up for church either, but she did. When she got home and Ruth wanted to discuss the sermon, Dot realized she’d not heard a single word of it! She’d been imagining Dart standing at the top of the aisle, awaiting his bride. When she began to imagine how she’d feel as she was walking toward him, her heart started to pound so loudly that she was afraid the entire congregation would hear it! “Gee, it was the most beautiful daydreaming I’ve done in a long while. When that day finally arrives, Darling, and our dreams become a reality, I’ll be the happiest bride there ever was or ever will be because I’m getting ‘the pick of the crop’ for a husband.”

The elderly Mrs. Reynolds didn’t need Dot this afternoon, so she went to the Miller’s home instead. Eric can melt her heart every time she sees him. “I hope he never catches on to the the fact that no matter how naughty he is. I can never bring myself to discipline him the way he should be.”

She was thrilled when 8-week old Cameron smiled at her today. She’s amazed at how much he reacts to things in his world at such a young age.

Did Dart see the moon last night? She was feeling rather blue until she remembered that in two more full moons, Dart will be with her and they can enjoy it together.

You may recall that Dot has a cousin Waddy, who has always reminded her of Dart. When Waddy kissed her good-bye last night, she tried to pretend he was Dart, but his kiss was not even a close facsimile to Dart’s. “I miss your kisses. I miss having your arms around me and feeling your breath on my neck. I miss everything about you more every day.”

“Please give your parents my love and remind them when I promised to write to them, I naturally assumed they’d answer. After all, you’re not the only one I look forward to getting letters from.”

Dart begins, “Only once, and that was 13 months ago, was there ever a bigger, brighter, more lovely moon than the one that dwarfed the trees as I put the car away tonight.”

“I had a letter from you today, but this is all the answer I can muster, and it is only because I love you so very, very much. I sure wish you were here to say, ‘Don’t stop now’, or to hold me ever so tightly for a long time.”

#          #          #

“I knew my disgruntled letter would bring some sort of reaction, but I never knew it would come in book form. It must have taken hours to write, and believe me, Dart, I very much appreciate that. Even though I’m still very much puzzled, it did a great deal to boost my spirits, which have sunk to an unusually low ebb this week.”

She notes that his opinions seemed to do a complete flip from page 1 to page 11, so she hardly knows what to say. Perhaps it’s best to let the matter rest for a while, although not long enough to ignore the issues.

She points out that while he advised her to talk with someone she trusts without letting them influence her or put words in her mouth, he did exactly that. He seems to have been greatly influenced by his talk with his mother.  She wonders if it was wise to show that letter to his mother. It isn’t one she was proud of, and she feels it gave his mother the impression that she felt unloved or unwanted by Dart’s parents. Because of their frequent praise and gracious hospitality they’ve always shown her, that thought never entered her mind. She does believe, however, that both his parents would be happier if she and Dart would postpone their wedding until he was done with school.

“If your parents don’t think we are ready to be married in September how do they think we’ll be any more ready by next June? Does the passing of a few more months prepare us any better, if in these months we’re not going to be together? Surely the letters we write to one another during these months aren’t going to get us any better acquainted. I don’t understand the argument.”

Did he really mean the question of whether or not they should get married at all? She feels they have both made their thoughts and feelings crystal clear on that score, over and over again. Was he actually wondering, or does he think that’s a question others are asking about them?

“I certainly don’t want anyone to think I’m forcing you into anything, but I do see more things in favor of us getting married in September than next June. … So far El is the only one who agrees with me, so we’d best forget the subject and start making definite plans for next June.”

Deftly, she writes that it is never her intention to blame others for her dissatisfaction, but she had sunk to a very low place when she wrote that letter. Those moods rarely last long, but lately they have been coming too frequently.

Having vented a little, she says it’s time for bed. She’s working at the Miller’s house early tomorrow, and then she’s joining Helen, Nancy, and Janie to see “A Stolen Life.” Her father has even said she could use the car, so it promises to be quite a night.

I’m glad Dot was able to push back a little on some of Dart’s arguments and observations. There have been times where it has seemed to me that the difference in their ages, or Dot’s assumption about Dart’s superior intelligence have caused a slight imbalance in their relationship. In today’s letter, by respectfully challenging some of Dart’s ideas and defending some of her own, Dot took a step to creating a more balanced, adult relationship.

No letters tomorrow, but we’ll all be back on the 17th.

Well, he finally did it. Dart dropped typing today, and now he’s half sorry that he did – leaving a thing not done goes against his grain.

“There was an article in the paper the other night ascribing most of our country’s marital problems to double beds! Who are we to believe? Those who claim that double beds are good because they make for so much more intimacy and companionship, and twin beds are bad because they set up barriers to the normal impulses and to the psychological theme of being closer by sleeping together; or those that say that double beds are bad for they force people to adapt their habits, their hours of sleep, even their restive moments to someone else, thereby creating friction of both body and intellect, whereas twin beds provide more room per sleeper, without interference from the one who goes to bed latest.”

“My own personal idea is that for a very young couple, very much in love, the double bed is the thing. Later, if we become less ardent in our desire for night-long embraces and nightly intimate indulgences, we can arrange for twin beds. I hope that it’ll be years and years before we need the twin beds.” (Hint: Mom and Dad never felt the need to replace their “marital bed” with a set of twins!)

Keeping up with her typing is a sound idea for aiding in a future job search, and as such, he believes a typing machine might be a good investment, indeed. He was thinking of Dot throughout church on Sunday, just as she was thinking about him. He was wondering what kind of parents they’d make. He was also admiring the full moon and hoping they’d get to enjoy it together at Sunapee.

He must sleep now. Late hours increase his longing for her. “I just want to be with you – always – forever – in every way possible.”

#          #          #

Dot didn’t write last night because she was in bed. Her “troubles” were no different from usual, except they seemed to hit harder this month. “I couldn’t keep anything down except my spirits. Naturally, I had to break my movie date with the girls.”

She’s sorry to hear about the broken buffet, but hopes Dart and Pop will be able to repair it. She wonders where they’ll put it when it’s finished.

“Whoa! What’s this about an “iceless and a radiophonograph? Remember, Dear, we can’t use the same dollars to buy these luxuries as we do to pay the rent or buy food. I’ve got big ideas as to how we can make our money go, but until we actually get it down to a science, we’d better not build too many castles in the air.”

She races downstairs to get this off to the mailman before going to work, but she writes again later in the day.

While Dot was at Harriet’s this afternoon her mother called to let her know that she got a letter from her “boyfriend.”  Dot was trying to figure out what boy might be writing to her, and then it dawned on her that Dart was a “boy.” That must be the answer to the mystery, because his was the only letter she received today.

Little Gale has a fever with headache and stomach cramps. She’s home in bed now, and Dot hopes it’s nothing serious.

This girl never quits! Even though it’s a playground duty day tomorrow, she’s getting up at 6:30 am to put in a few hours at the Millers before heading off to her regular job. When does she breathe?

“The last sentence of today’s letter made me ever so much more homesick for you than KI am anyway. If you remember the circumstances under which I said ‘Don’t stop now,’ you will recall they were too dangerous for comfort. Let’s try to be careful in September. It’ll be hard though, ‘cuz I love you so very, very much.”

It’s seven minutes past Dart’s arbitrary bedtime of 11:30, but his writing was delayed by unusual circumstances, which he’ll write about later. He cannot sleep until he has unburdened his mind of some thoughts that have been running wild since receiving Dot’s letter today.

The letter he’s referring to, of course, is her response to his epic analysis of the marriage questions they face. September of June? Listen to the advice of others, or not… Well, he has plenty more to say after reading about Dot’s thoughts.

Graciously, he concedes that her letter helped him see two truths about himself; one is that he has a tendency to project onto others the faults he sees in himself. “I’d warned you not to let other people put words in your mouth, or thoughts in your mind, yet my later pages showed that I’d let my own advice go unheeded.” By way of clarification, he points out that what he actually meant was that she shouldn’t accept as her own words the things that others have said which she doesn’t actually believe in. It’s something he has done in the past and occasionally continues to do, so he cannot be the critic here.

The second truth his letter revealed is this: “Quite often, the so-called logic or precise way of thinking I like to try to use often breaks down into purely emotional, absolutely unfounded, non-rational thinking, cased in high-sounding phrases which mean nothing. Only a cover-up of ignorance.”

I was intrigued by that statement. As I was reading his original letter of this recent chain, I was subtly uncomfortable with something about it. What I realize now is that the arguments he put forth, while well-stated, didn’t really make a lot of sense if one scratched them too deep. One of the greatest gifts of growing up as Dart’s daughter was how much he helped me learn to think clearly. If I was sloppy or lazy in my explanation of something, he would encourage me to go back and discover my gaps of logic, and fill them in. If my writing focused more on glowing vocabulary and flawless grammar, Dad would help me fine tune the actual meaning or intent of the piece. I guess I assumed he’d always had that ability to cut to the heart of a thing and express it well, but I’d not been around during his formative years when he was honing that skill. His letter of July 11, 1946 is an example of the not-yet-fully developed thinker he would become.

In today’s letter, he goes on for some pages about the September versus June wedding argument. While he acknowledges that Dot has good reasons for preferring a September date, he feels better about sticking to their original plan of June 1947. He points out that their parents would accept the marriage in either case, but would most likely be disappointed in their decision to move things forward to this September. He alludes to some other more emotional reasons for waiting until June, but invites Dot to write her counter proposal if she strongly disagrees.

“By way of clarification of one matter, I want to assure you that I do want to get married, and to you alone. Does that answer your question? Not only do I want to get married to you, but …I’d not think of it if I were not sure of my love for you, and of yours for me; and if I weren’t sure that we have all it takes to live happily, successfully, as man and wife and parents.” ‘Nuff said.

He’s terribly sorry to hear about her troubles on Tuesday. How he wishes there were something he could do for her on such occasions.

And now he explains the reason for getting such a late start on letter-writing tonight. At 2:00 AM,  the New York Central railroad experienced “one of the most spectacular and crippling wrecks in recent railroad history,” and tonight at 8:00 PM they were still clearing away the carnage. Homer, Pop and he all went to the site of the derailment and watched as the massive wreckers worked to untangle tons of crushed, twisted and scattered rail cars from across four tracks. It’ll be days before normal service is restored, but what a fascinating sight!

“One hour and five minutes of writing, and I’m late for bed. Are you coming? I wish you were. There’d be room for you.”

#          #          #

Well, since it looks like Dot’s going to be doing all the major typing in the family, she says she better start polishing her meager skills in that area. She wishes him good luck on the remainder of his poli sci and psych tests, now that he’s not carrying the burden of typing class.

Either there was a missing letter or these two had a phone conversation they didn’t mention, because Dot expresses happiness at the news that Burke is heading home. She wonders how long the journey will take and when his classes start at the University of Chicago. She can’t believe it’s been a year and a half since she last saw him and regrets she can’t be there to welcome him home.

Little Chris Miller is going through an unpleasant phase of defying all persons of authority. She’s not pleased with this development. Still, Chris promised her he would be a good boy  on Saturday if she’ll take him to the beach.

She’d love to write him a nice, long letter because she knows how good it feels to get one of those while studying for exams. But if she devotes her whole evening to writing, when will she get to that mountain of ironing that awaits her downstairs? If she doesn’t iron soon, she’ll have nothing to wear.

How she wishes the recreation board would come through with some paychecks! She’s only had one since she started and she really wants to get that savings account growing. If the back checks come this week, she’ll have $100 in the bank, with her goal of $200 in her sights. She’s even putting money aside for their vacation and to pay El back for a loan.

The other day a blood vessel in her eye broke for no apparent reason. It doesn’t hurt or effect her vision, but the white of her eye is bright red and it scares some of the younger kids at the playground.

Speaking of playground, she’s added another activity to her regular daily schedule – horseshoes. She’d never played this week, but there’s a new horseshoe court at the playground and she’s learning how to play. There are some old timers there who really know their stuff and they beat her badly every game, but she’s still the checkers champ.

She just heard that her mother is going to spend the evening making watermelon pickle, so Dot has decided to keep her company while she attacks her stack of ironing.

She wraps up this newsy letter by telling Dart about the little green spider that’s spinning a web around her desk lamp.

“Good night, Darling. I miss you very much. How soon after school closes can you come here? We’re signed up from the 9th to the 16th at Sunapee.”

The opening line of Dart’s letter brings news from the  Plain Dealer that a ship named the General William Mitchell was due to arrive in San Francisco today. The last word the Petersons had from Burke was that he was to be on that ship. They expect a call from him any day now. I find the fact that a newspaper in Ohio was reporting the arrival of ships in California to be most revealing. It shows the immense interest the entire nation had during the World War II era of the whereabouts of ships. That’s how far flung “the boys” from all over the country were. Do you suppose that in modern times the Cleveland newspaper still reports the arrival of every ship into the San Francisco port?

Anyway, that means that soon, Dart will have to return the pair of trousers he’s been wearing to his little brother and acquire a pair of his own. One of the surplus stores on Pawnbrokers Row, aka Prospect Ave. was advertising gray twill officer’s pants (summer weight) for $1.75 a pair. If there are any long, skinny ones left, Dart will try to grab some.

Dart and his political science class mates have endured two weeks of dire warnings from Dr. Heckman about their recent test scores. The results should be ready to share tomorrow, so unless Dart keels over from the shame of it, he’ll let her know then how he did. It seems, however, all the examples Dr. Heckman has been sharing with the class about what he didn’t like from the test answers could have been read directly from Dart’s own paper. He’s not anticipating anything good.

He’s been working on his train layout a great deal. The model railroad club meets at his house on August 16. Because so many of the guys will have to drive nearly 20 miles to see it, he wants to make sure there is something for them to see.

He writes a lengthy paragraph about the contradictions in today’s weather: hot as Hades when he went to church this morning, but then sort of “room temperature” in the afternoon; gray skies, but not really cloudy; not a breath of a breeze, yet the air felt fresh. It has hardly rained at all since Dot left, but he  hopes she won’t stay away on that account.

So many times during the day when he and his folks were talking about various things, Dart would wish out loud that “Dottie were here.” His mother suggested that he might be getting homesick for her. Gee, is she the mistress of understatement?

He goes on for some time about his daydreams of Uncle Guy’s farm, which is laying fallow somewhere in the outskirts of Cleveland (He doesn’t mention where.) He imagines that he and Dot could make use of it next summer as a kind of retreat – maybe have a house party there if they can make a few friends. He describes in great detail about the overgrowth of shrubs and forest as nature continues a relentless encroachment toward the house. The orchard that Guy Junior chopped down several years ago is now bearing healthy apples from spry young trees. The house is sparsely furnished, but has beds, an oil stove, a bathroom, electric lights, and a working well. Best of all, it has an RCA radio that lacks only a battery to make it sing again. The farm had been abandoned by Uncle Guy around the start of the war.

Recent letters have provided hints about Dart’s Uncle Guy – the only brother of Dart, Sr. We’ve learned of his grand new house on the banks of Lake Erie, a stately brick place on Forest Hill, and now this forsaken farm, with a house, a solid old barn and an orchard. Who was this man who had so much property? What did he do for a living? How was he so prosperous when his brother lived on the edge of penury? This story has the makings of a Dickens novel.

Finally, Dart gets down to the crux of the letter. “Darling, I’ve been making ‘small talk’ here tonight, trying to fill a letter without making it sound too mushy, but every few minutes, I stop and dream of us. Please be careful of me in September. I’m scared that I’ll not be able to keep my place. September will  be a chance for me to prove to myself that I am worthy of you. You’re good enough not to take the initiative in what we’ve done. If I can attain the point where I can neither ask you nor take the initiative without asking, then I’ll be a little more sure of myself. I’m a little scared of September for I think of it so much in the wrong way. Yet I want to be with you, to hold you in my arms, to have one of our almost inaudible conferences. But, if we do all that, we’ll be tempted to do the other, which we have promised not to do, and then broken the promise. There may have been a reason for our breaking it, but I think that I love you, and trust you, and feel so much more a part of you since our last nights together. That which we did seems to be the maximum expression of our love and trust in each other, except for the things which must come after we are married. I’d add ‘intimacy’ to that, but that beautiful word has been destroyed by modern meanings. Ours is as beautiful as all the loveliness those words can convey.”

#          #          #

Last night, Dot got home from the Millers so late and she was so exhausted that all she could do was sit in the living room and store up enough energy to drag herself up to her oven-like bedroom on the third floor. She apologizes for not writing.

When she got home tonight, her mother was reading a lovely letter from Dart at the dinner table. “Just proves you’re already one of the family, ‘cuz that’s how family mail gets treated.”

This afternoon, she is again acting as a companion to Mrs. Reynolds. “I used to have an ambition to live to be 100 years old, but since coming up here I’m beginning to think it might not be so much fun. Mrs. Reynolds is literally waiting to die. She has constant headaches, is very hard of hearing, and is generally miserable. She can navigate only with two canes and a person beside her to help support her. Up until last winter she did manage to drive around in her Buick, but now that’s out of the question. If the time ever comes when I am in such poor health and am a constant worry to my family, I hope I pass away quietly during the night. ‘Course, being such a healthy brat, I can hardly feature it. Still, I s’pose it’s quite possible that I’ll be totally worthless by the time I’m sixty – heaven forbid.”

She and her mother were discussing wedding plans this afternoon. Her mother thinks four attendants each is not too many. In a church as large and grand as theirs, one needs a bit of pomp in the ceremony. Even though the great day is almost a year away, it’s not too early to be asking people they want to be in the wedding party. El has been in so many weddings that she would really prefer not to be asked to be in Dot’s (I wonder if standing by when her younger sister is the bride, after she herself was “left at the altar” has colored El’s opinion.) Dot knows she’d like to have Cynthia as a bridesmaid, but she’ll be graduating next June and may still be in Ohio at the time of the wedding. The issue of distance may also play a role in getting who they want at this wedding.

She’s hoping that Dart will be in Greenwich on September 8. She and El will give him a few hours to rest up from his journey before they all head off to Sunapee at 4:00 AM. That way, they should be at the lake by around noon. That’s only 49 days from now!

This week will be extra busy for Dot. She’ll be babysitting for the Pecsoks and the Millers, and doing her regular job, which includes taking all her charges to the beach and teaching them how to dive, as well as organizing a horseshoe tournament! Phew! The only reason she bores Dart with this trivia is to warn him that her letters may be skinnier and more scarce that he’d like next week.

Betty and Gordon went on a picnic with two other couples at Lake Wacabuck today. Betty was as excited as Dot had been about a year ago when she got a phone call from Dart from Norfolk.

Dart has over 60 pages of class material to read tonight. He’s glad he dropped typing, now that he sees how they pile on the work in the final weeks of the courses. His poor study habits make him a slow reader.

He got two swell letters from Dot today, but there’s no time to write – very little time tomorrow, either. He’ll correct that situation as soon as he can.

#          #          #

Dot, too, is rushed for time. She has been elected by a 6 to 1 vote to prepare breakfast for 7 to 10 people tomorrow morning (Before she goes to work her regular job.)

Her room is slowly switching from a stilted boarding house room to a gaudy mixture of bright colors. She has painted all the handles and trim on her furniture bright red. “I also painted the knob on my closet door red. Now every time I go toward the closet, I stop and wait for it to turn green.”

She got two wonderful letters from Dart today. They contained just enough “warmth” to make her glow for hours.

She announces that she’s been working on her parents to let her go back to Ohio with Dart  on his return trip. It’s mighty indefinite at this point, but she’s at least focusing on seeing him in 45 days!

“God bless you on those exams. You’re best will be plenty good enough. I love you, Dart.”

Dart sounds as though he’s in a panic about his exams tomorrow. He’s looked over the lists of topics that might be covered, and he finds there’s so much he simply doesn’t know.

At registration for the second summer session today, the psych class he wanted was already closed. Now he must try again tomorrow to find a course that will fit his plan.

Burke should be home on Sunday or Monday.

How he wishes Dot were here to bring him coffee and cookies while he studied. Why not iced tea? Because it’s 53 degrees today and they’re chilly. If she were here, she could keep him warm while he slept. “IF you were here, and IF it were this time of the year 1947!”

#          #          #

Dot suggest that there be 48 hours in the day instead of 24. Then, maybe she’d get everything done.

After work today, she set Mrs. Miller’s hair as a birthday gift for her, since she doesn’t really have the budget to buy a gift. (Since when must one give a birthday gift to an employer?) As soon as Mrs. Miller left, Ruth asked Dot to help her hang some drapes. That task ended near midnight.  “The bags under my eyes are beginning to look like scaffolds holding up the ‘bridge’ of my nose!”

“If I promise to write a real letter tomorrow, will you forgive this short note tonight? If it helps to know that I’ve been thinking of you even more than usual during exam time, then let me assure you, I have!”

She loves him and is waiting eagerly for the days to pass until she sees him again.