After addressing this letter to “My Darling Sweetheart,” Dart writes that he longs for a time when he can use “My Darling Wife,” instead. Better still, he hopes he won’t have to write to her ever again, once they’re married. A young couple, pushing a baby carriage and holding an older child, strolled past him today and “kindled the smouldering feelings I have constantly.”

Although it seems an eternity, it’s really “only” a year before the two of them can become a family. He hopes it won’t be too much after that when they can start a family.

He thought she might be interested in something he read about in a psychology book today about “those periodic illnesses that trouble you (and about half the people in the world). Says they often stop after marriage. Not due to the marriage itself nor to the relations indulged in, but rather simple maturity. Irregularity and extreme pain are quite common, but within 7 or 8 years (!) of their beginning, they are usually outgrown. So, there’s hope for you, Dot.”

He’s back on a favorite subject matter – that of speaking to both a doctor and a minister about “marital relations” before they actually get married. I’m not sure when they think those conversations will take place, since they’ll scarcely see each other between now and the wedding, but Dart is powerfully interested in the topic, nonetheless. One article by a Methodist minister advises that the couple read any book on the subject recommended by a doctor, while on their honeymoon! “All psychologists seem to believe it’s necessary not only to have some medical knowledge, but also some psychological knowledge of the process of sex.” (How did the poor cavemen manage?)

He applied for vocational testing today at school. It’s free under the GI Bill, and strongly advised for those who have completed less than half of their degree work. Even though he’s pretty sure of his career choice, these tests can help determine sub-specialties within a given field.

He got a 75% on the poli sci test that garnered scores ranging from 5 to 95 percent in his class. He has no idea how well he stacks up with the rest of the class because the professor does not believe in grading on the curve.

Turning to the letter he got today, he tells her that he hopes to see that playground she supervises, with its mill pond and all. He also suspects that now that the children know she’s a blusher, they’ll never stop hounding her. He suggests that perhaps she should open her letters more furtively from now on, especially the one he’s sending her today!

“As far as I can see, I can’t see twin beds. They’re alright for looks, but if we have ’em, we’ll only use one. Might be a bit crowded, so I still prefer the nice big double model. The sooner, the …  (but you know the rest!)”

He seriously hopes he’ll get over his fear of the water during his week at Sunapee. He’s terribly afraid that he’ll be ridiculed for his fear while he’s at the lake. He says he’d be a lot more comfortable if the canoe had a keel, but if he doesn’t drown, he’ll probably come through okay. He certainly doesn’t want to miss a moonlight sail with his beloved.

He thanks her for her little poem. If his muse bites him soon, he’ll try to return the favor with a little iambic pentameter of his own.

“Too bad I began my ‘whispering campaign’ so early in the letter. Now it seems strange to begin whispering again.”

“”I miss you, Dot. We say that so much that it’s beginning to lose its meaning, but I really do. I miss you when I put the car away and drive around the block. I miss you when I come home from school to our empty house. From dreaming so much about our plans, I miss you when I go to bed at night and when I awaken in the morning. Good night my Darling Dorothy. I love you always.”