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.”