“Another day, another month closer to the day we say ‘I do.’ … Each second is an eternity…like waiting for a leave, or my discharge, but with more longing.”
Dart is disgusted that he couldn’t shake that “Oh, to hell with everything” feeling today. As a consequence, he didn’t get much done, and now he can’t drive his mother out to visit Pop tomorrow. Part of his self-directed anger is because his mother will now have to take two streetcars and spend twice as long in transit when she goes out to the hospital tomorrow.
One of Dot’s lovely letters came today, including a paragraph about her lying in bed and wishing her were there to give her a back rub. He can’t explain how paragraphs like that get to him. As with so many of his letters of late, this one consists mostly of very intimate thoughts. It becomes increasingly obvious that these two young people really need to be together and married. For so long, their letters served a valuable role in each of them getting to know the other. Now, there’s nothing new to learn except that which must come from being together on a permanent basis. The letters now seem to focus on assuring the other that their love and longing continues, unabated.
I surmise that Dot must have shed a tear on her letter which smudged the ink. Dart writes, “I’ve kissed that tear ’til it’s almost greasy. I’m a sentimental cuss. I can’t help it if our culture makes sentimentality out to be a ‘feminine’ trait, I’m sentimental just the same. I know lots of fellas who are sentimental, too, so I’m not alone.”
Dot’s correct in thinking he and Homer haven’t been spending too much time together lately. He’s not quite a s busy as Dart with classes, job, homework and extracurricular activities. Friendships suffer when other things crowd out time.
The 1947 Chevy 2-door that Dot described sounds like a beauty. He tells her to go ahead and buy a raffle ticket. He’s been tempted to buy tickets for cars in Cleveland raffles, but he suspects such things are corrupt in his town, so he’d only be throwing his money away. He thinks it would be swell if she won that car!
He sends blessings to Mrs. McCully. I think Dot must have written something about this family friend who has offered to pay for the flowers of the Chamberlain double wedding, and mentions how nice it is to have wealthy friends. He asks if that that means he’ll have no say in what the flowers look like.
There is an awkwardly frank section in the letter where Dart agrees with Dot that it’s too late to do much about her shape before the wedding. He continues “But please, Dottie, please don’t let it run away after we’ve been married a few years. Having children doesn’t need to make girls fat anymore. But we can work on that over next year. Frankly I don’t like the prospect of you spending your afternoons eating pints of ice cream.” He goes on to say that he believes a lot of her form is muscle rather than fat because she is so active and athletic. He hates to say such things because in the past, when he’s spoken honestly, she acted hurt. He assures her that he loves her just the way she is. Wow. Words fail me. Never once was I aware of Dad nagging Mom about her weight, questioning her food choices, or teasing her about her body.
There is a cryptic sentence about not letting the fitter get away with anything like the last one did. Did the person altering her wedding gown make some hostile remark about her form? I wonder if Mom remembers.
In further response to her letter, he tells her he was unaware of her skill in reading blueprints.
He also makes the case, contrary to Dot’s belief, that writing or talking about Jane does help with the pain of her death. “Jane was a grand person. Thinking about her, and talking about her , while it might make us very sad, will help to ease our aching hearts and help us to remember her better.” He tells Dot that he hopes they will always be able to talk about their painful feelings with each other, and in sharing them, may be able to help ease some of the pain. This paragraph shines a light on just how hard Dot must have been hit by the sudden death of her dear friend and cousin at such a young age.
In closing the letter, he once again tells her all that he looks forward to when they’re married. He begins with a wide range of physical pleasure he anticipates, but moves on to less sensual, but equally personal things. “I want to have you by my side as I say to the world, ‘This is my wife, Dorothy, and I love her more than anything in all of Creation. Look, she’s mine, and I’m hers, and I thank God for our love and for being together.’ I want to help you raise a Christian family for all the world to esteem. I want to be the father of your children. I have so much love for you that it has to overflow for those children and for all the good world.”