Monthly Archives: November 2016

Friday, November 1, 1946

What a difference in Dart’s tone since a few days ago! This letter is 10 pages of happy chatter and news.

With Dart’s recent deposit into their penny account, their balance has now topped $40! Judging from the number of exclamation marks Dart added, he’s very pleased with that balance.

There’s more discussion of getting Dot’s photos, returning her negatives and sending prints of  his little trains. Dot will put the latter into a small book for Chuckie to enjoy.

Dart spoke with Mr. Kershner today, who told him he’d answered Dot’s nice letter with a 6-pager of his own. Dart jokes that he hopes his pastor is not “beating his time with Dot.”

He spent part of the day at the library reading William Byrd’s amusing histories. “Those pre-revolutionary writers were human, even if their style was a bit stiff. ” The book he’s reading is a history of the expedition that surveyed the boundaries between Virginia and North Carolina in 1728. “Very nicely done in two separate stories; the first one – the Secret History – sets down bare facts and many scandalous instances; the other – the History – names names, instead of nicknames, omits the scandal, and tells of the man’s remarkably keen observations about natural science (and a few sly ones about human nature.) They’re both dated day by day, with the Secret History on the odd pages and the History for the same day on the facing even pages so that the two may be compared. Either one alone would make peachy reading, and together they constitute a gem.”

Tonight brought a phone call from the “streetcar expert” from the Cleveland News. He’s the guy who once wrote a story about Dart and his model interurban cars. The journalist spoke with Dart for over half an hour. He has space allotted in Monday’s paper to report about the fan trip that Dart’s little train group has organized. Dart’s pleased that the man is going on the excursion and that his tribe of train enthusiasts will get a nice spread out of the deal.

It sounds like Dart had a lot of fun at the after-game teen rally at church tonight. There were 60 kids there, eager for food and fun. They square-danced all night, nearly wearing out the record of “Little Brown Jug.” Dart sold Pepsi for a nickel a glass  and wished that Dot was by his side. He thought it was cute that all the girls wore dungarees, plaid flannel shirts over white T-shirts, saddle shoes and babushkas.

Perhaps it is the proximity to Halloween that has Dart a little spooked by Dot’s apparent psychic abilities, but he asks her if any hunchbacked crone ever put a curse on her, or did anyone ever say “abracadabra” to her when she was a baby? He advises that she steer clear of Massachusetts (which is hard to do when one lives in Connecticut!)

Referring to her “confession” about Sonny Martin’s visit to her front porch, Dart writes, “It’s nice to know that Sonny Martin recognized you for being ‘OK, Chamberlain.’ I don’t know what Miss Miller thought after I didn’t take the hint when she turned her face up and said ‘Thanks for walking home with me.’ I said that it was a pleasure and good  night. Then I left. I felt good that I’d been able to refuse the hint and still not feel that I’d lost my nerve (as I’ve felt before I met you), or that I’d been foolish (as I’ve also felt before I met you).”

In a recent letter, Dot seemed surprised that all those little drawings he sometimes includes in his letters were not original with him. He thought he’d told her with the first of Kilroy’s drawings that they weren’t his. He has a whole book of them that are fun to insert into letters. “Kilroy was here in 1942 and then he left. I found his drawings in my dresser drawer and decided he wasn’t using them, so I could.”

He thought her voice sounded a little hoarse over the phone the other day. He hopes her cold hasn’t grown into a great big one, and her begs that she take good care of the girl he loves.

He ran into a former Case classmate, Bill Jackson the other day. Bill never did join the Navy and now he’s back at Case to finish up his final two classes for his degree. Dart hopes that he, Bill, and Tom Reilly can see a movie together or something, when Dart’s finances improve.

He also talked with a Shaw classmate, Bill Mathers in the line at the bank. Bill cussed a blue streak, bragged about which girl’s father might be coming after him with a shotgun, and generally made a fool of himself. Dart felt a bit smug after his conversation with Mathers.

What a sweet story he tells of a vignette he witnessed on the streetcar the other day. A woman boarded with her adorable young daughter. The little girl couldn’t see over the seat ahead so her mother suggested she sit on her lap so she could see out. She sat on Mommy’s lap and started to sing, “I can see out. I’m a big girl now.” She sang it several times and her mother shushed her. She looked up at her mother and said, very earnestly, very politely, “But I’m a big girl now and you said when girls get big they can do whatever they want!” Everyone on board snickered a little at the politeness and righteous earnestness of the little girl.

He liked her description of her walk. All the time he was at the football rally, I was thinking how nice it would be if you were there helping out. “Let’s volunteer for that kind of duty next year.”

He’s unimpressed by her glowing description of the new roomer at the Chamberlain house. “Even if you do have a minister’s daughter as a roomer, I still choose you. You have a lovely voice, you play baseball wonderfully (don’t you?), and among all your other virtues, you’re very attractive. …I think you’re swell. My judgement can’t be wrong with so many people telling me how lucky I am to have a girl like you.”

He tells her several times that he loves her. “…and you can put a string of ditto marks to the moon and back after that, and it still wouldn’t show how much I love you.”

The bottom third of the page is blank, so he fills in “Wassamatta? Ain’t you satisfied? Mebbe I should put a soot mit 2 pents on this pej  to mek it not so neked, yes?” Then he draws a coat, a vest, and two pairs of pants. These are not Kilroy drawings.

#          #          #

Dot is happy to report that her bank book is looking a little less pale these days. From now on, she hopes to see a steady climb in the balance, not counting the $100 she plans to lend to El. She, of course, knows her sister is good for it.

She deems the phone conversation with Dart last night “swell,” even though she didn’t say what she’d expected to say. She had been so excited to talk to him that she’d forgotten he had a late class on Thursday night. By the time they finally connected, she felt a bit deflated. It was good to hear his voice, even if he did spend most of the six minutes talking about “boy noises.” She had no idea what he was talking about. (And neither did I when he went on about “boy noises” in a recent letter. It had something to do with some papers Miss Talmage read aloud in class that offended many of the students. In fact, when the big gang left together and walked to a local bar, they were still talking about “boy noises.” Because there was no explanation of what that meant, I didn’t mention that part of the discussion.)

Her cold seems to have reached a climax and she’s very tired. She’s also gloomy at coming to terms with the fact that they won’t be seeing each other until next June. She can’t get off work to go to Cleveland, and neither of them has the money for train fare, anyway.

Saturday, November 2, 1946

Dart received Dot’s “confession” letter about the episode with Sonny Martin. It is the sole topic of his letter today.

“It’s so wonderfully unusual for a girl to be so conscientious in doing and talking the way you have that I feel like shouting for joy at the thought of knowing you and loving you and knowing you’re the kind of person that you are. Thank you, Dot, for being faithful to me. I don’t deserve it. You’ll see why very shortly.” (Those words must have sent at least a little chill through her veins.)

He tells her now that the letter he wrote about the group of students leaving class and walking together to a local bar was an edited version of the events. While his report was 85% true, he must now confess the remaining 15% of the truth. When the group got to the bar, both Dart and Miss Miller decided they didn’t want to go inside. She said that Dart could walk her home from the streetcar stop.

It was then that the subjects of engagements, mental telepathy, and psychic connections like the one he and Dot seem to have, came up. She told him she felt bad that she asked him to accompany her home, and that he didn’t need to do so. He thought that doing so would be disloyal to Dot, but it might also be considered chivalrous, so he agreed to do it. When they got to her door, she invited him in, he declined, they said good night, and he left.

“I’m sorry what you described happened to you, and I’m sorry about what happened with me. I’m glad you had the wonderful, lovable honesty to tell me about it,  and I’m sorry I wasn’t decent enough to tell you. ”

He goes on to say that while he didn’t kiss her, he did resist her efforts to hold his hand. Still, he couldn’t see a way to decently refuse to let her hold his arm when she grabbed it crossing the street. He says Miss Miller is an awful flirt, and not very attractive.

His letter ends abruptly at the bottom of the page with no closing or signature. I suspect the final page or pages of this letter have been lost, but it seems like there really wouldn’t have been much more he could have added to it that would have made much of a difference.

#          #          #

Today, after driving Harriet home, Dot stopped by the Pecsok house nearby. What started as an impromptu drop-in turned into a delightful long visit. Mr. P. walked in from the garden just as Dot was declining Mrs. P’s invitation to dinner.  Taking things into his own hands, he pulled Dot to his lap, put his hand over her mouth, and called Ruth to say that Dot would not be coming home for dinner because she was eating with them.

Suddenly she found herself as a dinner guest, dressed in dungarees, and old sweater and her straggly hair bending in all directions. The dinner was beautiful, followed by a fun time cleaning up the kitchen and playing with the kids. Next it was bath time for the kiddies, so all of them scrambled into the tub at the same time. “Gee, I love those kids! That little Billy couldn’t be more precious. He’ll be a year old Tuesday. Both Chuckie and Linda make such a fuss over him, it’s a circus to watch.”

After the children were tucked in their beds, the adults decided to have a concert. Mrs. Pecsock played the new piano they bought for their 10th anniversary, Mr. P wrapped a comb in paper and played that, and Dot tried to sing with her hoarse voice. “We sounded positively horrible, but we had such fun for the next two hours.”

She got a letter today telling her that the shorthand class at the high school was going to be discontinued because several students had dropped out. She’s very disappointed, and is going to see if there’s anything she can do to change that decision.

Last night she dreamed that Dart’s parents were with them on their honeymoon at Lake Sunapee. “They certainly seemed to fall in love with the place. It didn’t seem (in the dream) that they cramped our style at all, so what say we take ’em to Sunapee next June?” (Just 224 days until June 14.)

She loves him more than she did the last time she wrote that she loves him.

Monday, November 4, 1946

Dart borrowed some of El’s check for the photo prints and penny collection to pay his monthly installment for the typewriter. As soon as his VA check arrives, he’ll replace the borrowed funds and get everything into the bank.

He was sorry to hear that Dot’s cold got worse and he hopes it won’t get “more worse.”

Dart paid Dot a nice compliment, saying that while everyone he knows has occasional financial finagling, some people have the sense and judgement not to get overly excited by them. That’s something he hopes to learn from Dot because she seems to take it all in stride.

“In your letter you said that in the phone call you didn’t say what you thought you were going to. Just what, pray tell, was that? Anything concerning the letter from the day before? Or was it about my being out when you called? It’s too bad your spirits were so badly deflated. (Remember when I called you from San Diego?)

He hopes to write someday about the wonderful rail trip. They enjoyed beautiful shirt-sleeve weather the whole way. The club even made a little profit on the deal.

“I miss you very much, Dot. If I start telling you how much, I’ll never get to sleep until you come here and make me not miss you so much.

#          #          #

Dot was thrilled to get a nice letter from Mr. Kershner today, along with a monthly church newsletter and the bulletin from last Sunday’s service. She’s enclosing the letter so that Dart can read the third paragraph for himself. “See, I’m not the only one who is proud of you.”

She’s ecstatic about having no work tomorrow. She does, however, have a date with Dr. Howgate, her dentist. She claims she’d rather go to work. She vows that sometime she’ll have enough money to get a false tooth to replace one that’s giving her some trouble.

“I’m afraid I’m too thick to understand all this talk about ‘boy noises.’ Don’t be mistaken, though – I’m not asking you to explain it to me. I’d rather have 2 or 3 pages on a subject I do understand.”

“You don’t think I was really worried because you were out, do you? It would be a fine world if I should try and direct your every move from 700 miles away, before I even bear your name. I never want you to feel I need to know your every move, even after we’re married. But I’ll always be flattered whenever you share whatever you want with me.”

She asks him if he’s sure he doesn’t want to be a motorman on a streetcar. He doesn’t have to be rich and famous on her account – she only wants him to be happy in his work. She says he’s already made her rich in many ways by giving her his love.

In about a month, she’ll have the chance to work some extra hours and make time and a half. She’ll be getting a paycheck of $40 when that happens. Now she’s having hospitalization taken out of her pay at her mother’s suggestion. Her mom thinks Dot will need to have her appendix removed before next June.

She assures him that she remembers clearly those sweet nights that he wrote about last week. “We have so many happy and beautiful memories to share in our thoughts and our letters that I suppose we really don’t have much cause to grumble about being apart. As long as we’re together mentally and spiritually, we certainly can wait a few more months until we can be together physically. Don’t mind me. I’m only trying to convince myself that I don’t miss you as much as I do.”

She stares at the empty bed across from her and suggests that he’s welcome to curl up there any time and get his much-needed sleep. On second thought, why mess up a bed when there’s one they could share whenever he wants to. (Why, Dottie, you’re such a little vixen tonight!)

There’s nothing more to write except that she loves him more than anyone or anything on earth.

Tuesday, November 5, 1946

Dart had another confession in this letter. This time, he confessed to reading the letter Dot wrote to his folks after Pop offered to let him read it.

Because Dart isn’t too worried about his Spanish test yesterday, he thinks he must have done poorly. He suspects he doesn’t know enough Spanish to realize how bad he is at it.

“I’ll have to see the VA officer at school tomorrow because my check is late. If I see him it’ll probably be much longer because he has the Midas touch in reverse. Anything he does, anything he promises ‘will work out without a hitch’ always manages to become hopelessly fouled up. He’s a little frog trying to make a big splash and all he succeeds in doing is to spread mud all over everything.”

Dart voted today for the first time. He told Dot that “like most people who don’t jump when their party says ‘Jump!’, he voted a split ticket. He voted for Lausche, the Democratic candidate for governor, whom Dart sees as a paragon of political virtue. He doubts he’ll win because no Catholic can ever carry the rural sections of Ohio. He had plenty to say – none of it good – about the Republican candidate who remains nameless in the letter. He voted on the Republican side for US Representative. He believes Mrs. Bolton to be an intelligent, progressive, level-headed woman who has earned re-election. For a newly-minted voter, he certainly has strong opinions of everyone running for every office. His trust seems to run more often with the Democrats, but not always. I found it interesting that the races for Governor and Lt. Governor were separate, allowing for the possibility that the top two positions in the state could be held by different parties. I wonder when that changed in Ohio?

He continues with his critique of various candidates for multiple pages. The man obviously read a lot and paid attention. What more can be asked of a voter?

Finally, he changes the subject to Dot’s recent letter. “Don’t worry, honey. You look plenty cute in a pair of dungarees and a sweater with your hair bent in different directions. I get a lump in my throat every time I think of you in a get-up like that at Sunapee. I’ll have to ask Gib to teach me how to get you to sit on my lap, though.”

It’s nice for him to hear that Chuckie and Linda are so good with their baby brother. In his observation, kids are usually jealous of younger siblings.

He’s sorry to hear that shorthand class has been cancelled. He knows how determined Dot was to make a go of it.

“I don’t think Mom and Pop could be persuaded to chaperone our honeymoon. I’d feel funny asking them and I know they’d feel funny being asked.”

He tells Dot he loves her now and forever before signing off for bed time.

#         #          #

Dot’s letter is a birth announcement for her new niece, Gretchen Ann Meyerink. She’s a robust baby, and big sister Gale seems happy with her arrival.

Tonight, Eleanor hosted a party for the bowling team from Rogers. Just as Dot was about to go upstairs to bed, the group decided to dance. They rolled up all the big rugs and the fun started. At first, Dot sat on the stairs to watch the festivities. Then, she grabbed Dart’s photo from the piano and started dancing with “him.” She tells Dart they did better than they’d ever done before.

“All too soon the beautiful music was interrupted by a Spike Jones record and everyone stopped dancing. Frank, a salesman in the housewares department announced that he wanted to jitterbug, but everyone either denied knowing how, or said they didn’t want to. Al of a sudden, Eleanor blurted out, ‘Hey, Dottie, why don’t you show Frank how to jitterbug?’  “Well, Frank is a wonderful dancer and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of all those guests. El made things worse by telling them I’d won a dance contest, but she neglected to tell them it was five years ago and I’ve done almost no dancing since. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of the floor, being twirled and shoved around like a rag doll. I just went where he pushed me. I was lucky that most of the time I kept in step. About 10 minutes of that was enough for me so I came upstairs to bed. I would have enjoyed dancing a lot more if you’d been my partner and we’d been doing a nice, quiet waltz.”

She wonders if Dart voted today. She can’t wait to vote and hopes that she and Dart will never have any serious and lengthy arguments about politics. After all, she leans right and he has a definite left tilt.

“Just so you won’t lose any sleep over it, let me say you were perfectly right in walking Miss Miller home. Say, what kind of an ogre do you think I am anyway? Thanks for telling me, though Honey. I don’t think there’s another couple as much in love as we are or who trust each other so completely. Isn’t it nice we can?”

Wednesday, November 6, 1946

It’s another very short letter from Dart tonight.

No letter tonight. Too much work. Will probably be a regular Wednesday occurrence. I got 100% on the Spanish test. I have an Industry test tomorrow which I’ll flunk for sure. I don’t know nothin’ – except that I love you.

#          #          #

Giving Dart a little ribbing about his brief letter, she said she got an envelope from him today and if there was a letter inside, it was too small to see. Then she tells him she’s thrilled to get anything at all from him when he’s so busy with classes.

She hopes she’ll be able to answer two of his recent letters tonight, but her fingers are like frozen chunks. One of these days her father is just going to have to break down and burn some coal to heat this house!

Her dream of learning shorthand has come up short. When she inquired about continuing the class, she was told she’d have to go into the advanced class. The first night (she didn’t go, but heard from someone else) the teacher assigned 155 new brief forms that the students had two days to learn. Since her work schedule changes a little next week, she’d be arriving an hour late to class every night, so she’s out. El has promised that she’ll teach her and Jane what they need to know as soon as they can agree on a class time.

Their Christmas concert is in three weeks and last night’s rehearsal was terrible. There’s so much to learn about phrasing, breathing, pronunciation and the like that it seems unlikely the music will ever come together.

Her dentist appointment revealed that she must have a false tooth to replace one that needed to be pulled. Dr. Howgate gave her the quote of $75.00 for a single tooth, which almost made her drop her remaining teeth. She’s determined to have the cash in hand before she has any work done, so the dentist will do the work step-by-step as she earns the money.

Oh, how she was hoping to have $500 in the bank by June, but says her eyes were “bigger than my pocketbook.” She’s still going to try everything she can to reach her goal, but she finds a dollar doesn’t stretch as far as it used to.

She returns to the topic of Miss Miller again, telling Dart that he must never say he doesn’t deserve Dot or the consideration she gives him. The fact that he didn’t take Miss Miller’s hint is all the proof she needs that he deserves her very best. “I don’t expect you to hide away like a hermit just because you’re engaged to me.”

That Jackson boy he ran in to the other day – is he they guy she had a date with the night she met Dart? “Isn’t it terrible? I haven’t the slightest idea what he looks like. Shows to go you where my mind was that night! From his reaction to me I bet he wishes he could forget what I look like, too.

She was so happy to get that letter from Dart’s minister, Mr. Kershner. She thinks she’ll write to him again when she can afford to enclose a small donation for the carpeting they’re hoping to buy for the church.

The after-game rallies sound like such fun she wishes she could be there, too. She’s very proud that Dart is giving his time and talents to activities like that.

She’s glad the train fan trip went so well, but not so glad that she’s willing to write a whole page about it. Since she’s at the end of this page, she’ll say good night.

Thursday, November 7, 1946

After explaining how Wednesday nights are wearing him out, he lobs an incendiary device in Dot’s direction.

“Sometimes you make me MAD! Sometimes I see red! You keep telling me you can’t do things, then it comes out you’ve been holding out on me. First you can’t dance. Now you won a dancing contest five years ago. For Heaven’s sake, don’t you ever say anything good about yourself? Now let’s have it straight about the dancing contest. What kind of dancing? When? Where? How, and so forth? Don’t tell me you’ve been fibbing to me all these years about not liking to jitterbug. If you’ve been doing it to make me feel better about my sad, sad attempts at dancing, I thank you very much for sparing my feelings. But gol-lee, Dot. Why don’t you tell me some things? I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did!”

Then he asks if there is something worrying her or bothering her. He tells her that for a few days her letters have seemed sort of absent-minded, as though she’d been thinking about something else as she wrote. He claims she’s even left out an occasional whole phrase. He offers to help, if there’s anything he can do. He suggests it may be his imagination running wild again and he hopes she’ll tell him if that’s the case. Then he asks if she’s worried about that operation she mentioned, or maybe about “us.”

This brings us to a four-page rant about voting, American politics, and Dart’s view of what’s wrong. Essentially, the solution is for everyone to be as informed and politically literate as himself, and then we’d all have a better government. Included in his diatribe was his opinion of voting a straight ticket (It’ll bring about the end of civilization), which politicians are corrupt (almost all the incumbents), the dangers of election-time propaganda (a drug to the lazy thinkers), etc.  He wraps it up with “I do not claim to have THE answers…but I have my answers.” He encourages Dot to argue with him.

He must sleep. He loves her. He’s reluctant to say good night, but he must.

#          #          #

Dot must get up early tomorrow to collect her paycheck and run errands before reporting for work.

She found out today that she must work on Armistice Day, but that suits her fine because she’ll receive double pay.

“Seems to me all I write about are my finances and all the troubles they cause me. What makes you think I can teach you anything about having the good sense not to let them worry me? I stayed awake for hours the other night trying to figure out how to pay the necessary bills and still have money in the bank. Mom says after I’ve figured it out, she’ll make it worth my while to give her the formula.”

“I must admit this letter’s rather short, but one place I don’t fall short is in loving you.”

Friday, November 8, 1946

Just before heading to the post-game rally at church tonight, there was an unfortunate accident involving the Peterson’s heating system. One of the pressure gauges in the basement decided it was time to blow.  Fortunately, they discovered it before all the water drained from the whole system. They had to kill the furnace and drain the water. His father can plug the leak and refill the system in the morning, but for now, they have no heat.

To complicate things, they have no idea who to contact for repairs to the building. The Cleveland Trust just bought the place from the former owner, but the title hasn’t cleared and there as been no communication about who’s running things.

Although he has a list of things to tell Dot, he just broke an icicle from  his nose and needs to climb under some blankets. His check is still missing; there’s nothing to do but wait for it. He now has $1.50 between himself and nothing. $1.25 will go for a car pass and $.25 will put a dime in the offering and buy his lunch. He even had to break a date with Homer because he couldn’t buy his own dinner.

He missed her at the rally tonight.

#          #          #

Nancy Clapp is home from the “nut house” for the weekend and Dot is spending the night with her. Her old friend would chastise her if she saw Dot referring to the mental hospital that way. Nurse Nancy recently asked one of the patients there what her name was and the patient answered “Mrs. Lake, a small body of water surrounded by land.”

Along with her love, Dot has enclosed some vacation photos she’s been promising.

Saturday, November 9, 1946

Find a comfy chair and grab your favorite beverage – this is a long letter from Dart. Five typed pages, single spaced, with a handwritten addendum at the end!

He has before him “seven lovely letters” from Dot, plus a list of things he wants to remember to tell her. Let’s dive right in.

He and Pop fixed the heating system this morning. The gauge in the basement that popped off was not in active use and is not a vital piece of the system. They’re happy the house warms up just as nicely without it.

His mother has decided to try for a job as a sewing teacher at the Singer Sewing Machine store. There would be more hours and higher pay than what she’s making now, and more suited to her talents and tastes.

He took a lot of razzing on the rail trip when he took his Spanish book along to study on the trip home. Now he can tell the fellas it was worth his effort since he got an A on the vocabulary and grammar test.

“We had an Industry test this Thursday. On that I have nothing but dire predictions. I don’t know anything about the bloomin’ subject, and I heartily dislike it besides. The test was of the so-call ‘objective’ type, with true-false, empty blanks, and multiple-choice questions.  I usually like tests of that variety because the answers are given, and if I have at least a half-knowledge of the subject I can recognize the answer and have a fair chance. But half of my trues were false, half of my falses (not ‘falsies’ – can’t you read?!) were true, half of my blanks are still empty and I chose the wrong ‘multiples.’ NUTS!”

As reported earlier, he got his first A from Miss Talmage in Prose Workshop. She marked it for one to be read in class, but then she didn’t read it, so he guesses he’ll take it back with him in case she wants to read it next time. For this week’s assignment the prompt is “dilemma,” and students may choose either article form, personal essay or short story to write about what ever that word means to them. Dart has chosen to write a short story about an actual experience, beefing it up some to add dramatic tension and making the dilemma more serious than the one he faced in real life. He’s already finished the first draft.

He’s frustrated to have such a lovely full moon tonight and no one to share it with. The only other time this week that he’s seen the moon was on Thursday when the clouds parted just a little and the moon “peeked out, real coy-like.”

In a new development, one of the members of Dart’s rail fan group who is a salesman at McGraw-Hill Publishing has set up a contact between Dart and one of the editors. Dart is looking for contacts in the business so that he can learn what classes he should take that might benefit him when looking for a job in such a field. The editor wanted to take him to lunch on Monday, but Dart only gets 30 minutes between classes that day, so they’re still trying to work out a meeting time.

If Dot promises to treat them very nicely, he’ll enclose the press clippings from his rail trip. He wants to keep them in his “useless collection of worthless memorabilia.” He asks her if she can pick him out in the news photo.

He writes about a hot issue that has arisen in Cleveland. Many people have written to the newspaper, lobbying for more orchestra concerts than the standard three per week. Some folks are asking for a regular Friday night program at reduced prices for the less wealthy friends of the orchestra. It would be a chance to hear beautiful music live without going broke. Some folks have encouraged the orchestra to keep the prices high for the other concerts to make them “more exclusive” for certain people. Dart doesn’t care much about that latter suggestion, but he’d surely like to see a less expensive concert now and then. As it is, all of the concerts for this season are virtually sold out and when a single seat can be found, the tickets are $3.00 and up!

“Would you believe that a letter on the table here is postmarked October 19? Maybe I’ll get around to answering it tonight. I also intend to write a note to the Model Railroader to gripe about the delivery of their magazine.  It’s a month overdue. Several of us haven’t received ours, yet others and the news stand have had it for three weeks! Almost as sloppy about it as I am answering my letters, eh?”

He thanks her for sharing her letter from Mr. Kershner. Dart told him at the rally last night how much he misses having Dot at these things, and the pastor assured Dart that there will plenty of opportunities for her to join in church activities next year. Then he told the two pairs of chaperones about what a nice young couple Dot and Dart are.

He appreciates Dot’s reaction to his confession about Miss Miller, and he truly expected her to be as reasonable as she was. Now he has another “confession.”  Since Dot has consented to be his wife, “I find that I am able to talk to other girls much more easily than I could before, and that gives me a swell sense of freedom that I never had when each girl was a potential date. Now, I’m independent and I don’t worry what people think about me. Every girl I talk to just increases my appreciation of your charms and your virtues and your love for me.”

Perhaps she’s right that he has a suppressed desire to be a motorman but only for one day. “I think I’d get tired of it at the end of eight hours. I just like to make things go, and that’s one thing I’d like to make go.” He’s excited that the city will soon introduce 25 new streamlined trolleys to their system. It turns out they got a big bargain when they were able to purchase the unused cars from Louisville. Apparently that city had bought them to update their own trolley run, but the US government decided to build a a highway along the trolley route so Louisville couldn’t use their new cars. The 50 new cars that Cleveland introduced last month have increased ridership so far beyond predictions that they are now inadequate for the job. The 25 from Kentucky came as a great opportunity.

He wonders what operation she anticipates that necessitates the purchase of hospitalization insurance. Is it the appendix trouble she’s been having? He also gently reminds her that appendix is not plural; she only has one.

She often expresses a wish that she could write pretty letters, but he thought her note about talking themselves out of missing each other was a jewel. He could make a comment about her paragraph on the empty bed in her room, but any comment he’d make would only increase their loneliness for each other.

He’s happy to read in her letters that her job training is over and she seems to be making a pretty good job of it. Did she ever stop dreaming of little flashing lights?

He has not forgotten to send the measurements for the third floor windows; he just hasn’t remembered at times when he could go up and measure them. (I think Dot is planning to make curtains for their future apartment up there.)

He can hardly believe he still has 5 of her letters to answer, but he’s too tired to attempt them now. He wishes her good night, but then adds half a page of hand-written thoughts.

“Somehow it seems like kissing in front of spectators when I make love on the typewriter, so I’ll kiss you good night privately, this way. I sure wish it were real. Good night again, Dot. I love you very much. After reading this over a couple of times it seems almost like I’ve had a date with you.”

In the lower corner of the page, he draws a row of X’s and labels them “kisses.” Then he draws a row of O’s and labels the “hugs.” Then he adds the little note “They don’t have symbols for what comes next…”

#          #          #

At the top of the page Dot draws a big smiling moon. “Full moon tonight reminds me of how much {insert a squiggle that is probably shorthand for ‘I love you.}”

Nancy Clapp and Jane are coming to the young adult meeting tomorrow night. The speaker will be a local doctor who will be talking about the scientific age they are currently in. She and El are responsible for feeding 30 or more people. They’ve bought all the food and must now assemble them into luscious “Dagwood” sandwiches.

She’s relieved to hear that Dart’s not one of those staunch straight-ticket Democrats. She’s sorry his man lost the Governor’s race.

There were no tears shed when she read his prediction of a C on his Spanish test. She’s learned to understand that he’s smarter than he gives himself credit for.

She’d like to write more but it would make her too lonely. Tonight when she was thinking what an eternity it will be until June, she recalled that two years ago tomorrow, he was heading off to California to prepare for war. “Those eight months when you were overseas were far worse than the coming eight months could possibly be!”

Sunday, November 10, 1946

When Dart started to do his Spanish translations tonight, he couldn’t understand why he was having so much trouble concentrating until he saw that it was past 1:00 AM. Still, if he misses writing a little something to Dot every night, he feels as though he’s passed up a chance to “be with her.”

This afternoon, he, Homer and a few other guys from his train club drove to Poland, Ohio to meet meet one of the pioneers and “aristocrats” of the model train hobby. They left his home with twice the knowledge they came in with. Mr. Doeright’s layout takes up the entire attic over his three-car garage and includes both trains and interurban cars.  (Dart describes the latter as “cute as Christmas, like a bunch of dancing mice.”) They are all meticulous in their detail and precision. It must be true that their host is a millionaire because he lives in a Southern-style brick mansion, and all three of his garage bays are filled with late model cars.

At last Dart has finished reading the rare book by William Byrd. “It was a pretty good adventure story clear to the end. Quite rowdy in a few places, though. It’s a dandy book for background material of the early 1700s.”

He’s sorry to hear about the shorthand class but he has encouraging words about the upcoming choral concert that is giving her nervous fits. From his vast experience, he assures her that all the technical stuff will come together and the choir will sound beautiful. Besides, if they have accompaniment, they don’t need to worry too much about pitch, do they? Then he recalls that they’ll be singing in Italian, and he pulls back a bit from his assertions.

It is bad news about how much her tooth will cost. Perhaps she’d get a better deal in Ohio. He agrees that dollars are not as elastic as they used to be, and for a pessimist like himself, there’s reason to believe that things will get worse.

He’s decided to follow the church’s recommendation for his annual pledge. With his annual “salary” of $750 a year, his suggested offering should be $0.35 /week.

If she expects that the male wedding party will be wearing tails or tuxedos, he’d like to know soon so he can begin looking for accessories. They’re very hard to find these days.

He’s glad to hear she’s over he cold so quickly. And he wishes her a good night.

#          #          #

“Darling, this has been as nearly a perfect day as it could possible be without you here to enjoy it with me.”

Dot was profoundly moved by the guest preacher at church this morning. He was a Negro minister who is also the head professor of sociology at the University of Alabama. Dr. Reid used no notes as he spoke, but he was powerful and eloquent. The pews were full, and so many people came up afterwards to thank him and shake his hand that there were tears in his eyes.  Some of the stories he told about the treatment of Negros were so tragic that Dot could hardly prevent herself from crying. “I am sometimes ashamed to admit that I am a so-called American. How can we hold our heads high and claim to be a democratic nation when we tolerate any kind of racial prejudice? It gives me a sick and disgusted feeling in the pit of my stomach. It seems to me that before we try finding a formula whereby we can live as brothers throughout the world, we ought to put ourselves to the test here at home.”

She and El spent the afternoon assembling an exotic array of sandwiches for the big meeting tonight. They had egg salad, cream cheese and olive, peanut butter and jelly, ham spread, and asparagus tip sandwiches which they served with hot cocoa, fruit cup and cookies. “We had many compliments on the supper, and I think most of them were genuine.” (Still a shortage of meat, I see.)

After supper, they listened to a physician who talked about medical and scientific advances coming so fast that man has failed to make religious advancements to explain it all to the common man.

(To me, it is disheartening to read about about racial issues and the tension between science and religion, knowing that 70 years later, things have not progressed too far in either arena.)

She was powerfully impressed by both these talks, but left feeling helpless to accomplish anything toward either of them. “I haven’t got what it takes to be a leader in anything, and I’m too weak to do it alone.”

After the meeting she spoke with her minister, Dr. Bliss, who was surprised to learn she was engaged. He began asking lots of questions and was pleased to learn that Dart had joined the Congregational Church in Cleveland. Then he pulled out a pocket calendar to jot down the date of the wedding. When Dot said it would be mid-June, depending on when Dart’s classes were over, he suggested June 14th, which he has open on his schedule. He wrote it in pencil and will keep it open for Dot until he hears otherwise.

She sends Dart Dr. Bliss’ address with a request that he drop him a line to introduce himself.

Just before sitting down to write this letter, she’d been reading a few of his old ones. “One of them was describing the afternoon we spent at your uncle’s house by the lake. Remember how we stood and watched the surf roll up on the beach? That’s one of the most pleasant memories I have of all the things we’ve done together. I think that afternoon was the first time I realized I wasn’t dreaming – that you were real and that I loved you in every possible way. Remember when I hugged you very tightly? I was saying to myself, ‘He’s real, he’s mine, and I love him so much! Please, Dear God, don’t let anything happen to change what we have at this very moment.’ Well, God has answered that prayer, Dart. We have had a misunderstanding since then, but it only served to bring us closer together.”

She bids him good night with a promise that she loves him “powerful much.”