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.