Dart has become disenchanted with his American literature class. They are told to think for themselves, but if their thoughts are different from the professor’s, they are wrong. They are told not to parrot, but if they don’t quote passages from the textbook almost verbatim on a test, they lose points. He’s frustrated and angry enough to spend two pages griping about the injustice of it all. He fears that his disdain for this course is near blasphemy for an English major.

The rest of the letter is in response to one Dot sent him. Because we don’t have her letter, it’s difficult to know exactly what the answer means, but I’ll try to fill in some blanks. Apparently, Dot confessed to Dart that she and three other girls went ice skating the other day with three guys. She may have “paired off” with one in particular, for the purpose of a skating partner. She must have mentioned the “policy” between her and Dart that they would tell each other about such things so there would be neither deception nor misunderstanding.

Dart bristles a bit at the word “policy,” thinking she was perhaps too persnickety about it all, too serious. Then he remembers that it was the exact word he used when he suggested they be completely open and honest with each other regarding their interactions with members of the opposite sex. Dot must have said that she didn’t feel guilty about anything that happened because it was all totally innocent. Dart, of course, is glad to hear that, but then wonders, if her conscience had been completely clear, why she would have talked to her mother about it.

He tells her that he talks to girls at school nearly every day – different girls each day. Then he quips that all the girls at Cleveland College are “different.” He hopes he and Dot will always want to tell each other things that happen in their lives, but he doesn’t think it’s necessary to report every contact they have with someone else. “Don’t worry, honey. I don’t want you to be a nun just ’cause you’re engaged to me.” He then suggests that maybe they can try ice skating on their honeymoon at Lake Sunapee.  If the seasons stay reversed as they are now, they’ll have to “mush” their way to the cottage in a dog sled next June.

In answer to her query, he has never ice skated, but if he had her for a teacher, he’d love to learn how.

Dart counts eight unanswered letters from Dot; two of them were to remind him of something, so he can defer them, the one he got today needs an entire evening of work to answer it properly, leaving five for him to respond to tonight. Here he goes…

Dec. 2 included a nice press clipping about her choral concert. He’s so glad it went so well. Then he comments that’s it’s too bad the little heater of hers is not the “Armstrong” variety, or she would be warm, through and through. Apparently her third-floor bedroom is still frigid at night.

It would appear the issue of their silver pattern is settled – “Candelight” it is, to the delight of all concerned.

Yes, she can certainly be his best girl at the same time she’s acting as his social secretary. If she is his secretary, she’ll be obliged to sit on his lap occasionally, which suits him fine! “This mutual admiration society we have for each other better last. I’m staking my life on it.” He tells her of a story he read recently of a couple who arrived separately at an event. When the girl arrived, the guy was so happy to see her that everyone in the room could feel his joy. In fact, the girl was equally happy to greet him. At last he turned to a woman and introduced the newcomer as his wife. Said the old biddy, “If she’s your wife, why do you seem so happy to see each other?” The young woman replied, “Well, we’re not only married, but we like each other!” Dart hopes they will always be that kind of couple.

He’s still curious about the 2-1/2 month time frame Dot mentioned a while ago. What does it mean? Is she planning something? She’s had time to answer his letter inquiry, but she hasn’t told him anything new. What gives?, he wants to know.

Which brings us to the letter of Dec. 5. Dart reports it was short, but sweet. He thinks it must have been fun for all hands when the gas went off.

Yes, he misses her, too. Does she mind awfully if he gives her a big squeeze?

The Dec. 6 letter brought the confirmation that she needs a dental bridge. He’s awfully sorry to hear that in one so young. His brother needs a couple, but has no funds to pay for them, so he’s doing without.

Dot claims that she still can’t write a decent passionate letter, but Dart assures her that her letters work for him. They may not burn his fingers, but they please him very much. “In many cases, the high-pressure letters I write are mostly touched off by some particularly natural and endearing thing you say which reminds me of some dearly loved moment with you. Thanks for being so nice, Dot. I miss you.”

Dec. 8 (written on white paper) – He wishes he could see her window dressing handiwork. He asks of she’s like the rest of the country in that she’s getting tired of “psycho” movies. He hasn’t been to a movie in so long, he can’t remember what they’re like. “They’re just a fad. Can’t last.”

Dec. 8 brings a second letter, written on green paper. Most of his response is directed at Nancy, with whom Dot is spending the night. It looks like Nancy absconded with Dot’s letter and added a few lines of her own. Dart playfully warns this psychiatric nurse not to try any strange treatments on Dot because he likes her to be a little crazy. Otherwise, why would she want to be with him? Nancy made some comments about Dot’s ‘Rogues Gallery’ in her bedroom and Dart asks Nancy if she’s ever seen a rogues gallery with only one rogue in it. Many of his photos that she displays so proudly in her room were acquired at the post office, he claims.

He switches back to answering Dot’s portion of the letter, saying he’s happy that she and Nancy have been talking about psych issues, especially as they relate to juveniles. He tells her of a story in the paper this week about a police raid on a house where the cops found a group of teens who were reported to have been “tipsy, partially clad, and in ‘compromising’ positions.” The whole gang was at a home where one of the girls was supposed to be baby-sitting. Dart blames the parents for the teens’ behavior.

Today while he was paying bills at Higbee’s, he stopped by to see Dot’s gal pals from Andrews to see if they had any news for her. They didn’t, but they sent their regards anyway.

His cold prompted him to stay home from American lit class today. He figures the extra sleep did him more good than another class would. Also, he was not too happy about the industry test today, but declines to elaborate.

He certainly hopes that she and her Dad don’t think that anyone who votes for the Democrats is stupid. Dart thinks it is every citizen’s duty to think for themselves and vote for who they think the best candidate would be. He’s glad that he and her father agree on some topics so there will be less for them to argue about. Besides, Dart says he does his best arguing with a pen.

He’s awfully glad that she’s proud of him when he “pops off” with one opinion or another. Sometimes he knows his opinions border on senile, but knowing that she’s proud of him for having, and expressing opinions makes him happy. “You’re a great one for my morale!”

There was a notice in the newspaper today about a telephone company strike in Washington, DC. Golly, he hopes it doesn’t spread to her neck of the woods.

How he wishes he could be talking with her tonight, instead of writing. He misses their talks terribly.

Yes, he agrees it would be wise to cool it a bit on their *** letters. “My Darling, I miss you and love you tonight as much as I’ve ever missed you and loved you. I am forever your own.”

Calling himself “Timothy Aloysius Ginsberg,” Dart writes the first paragraph of chatter in an Irish brogue. It’s silly nonsense about how pleased he is that she likes his letters, which he learned to write during his year at Father Callahan’s night schule.” It seems his prose workshop assignment this week is a character piece in which the students are encouraged to attempt writing in dialect.

He mentions a dream he had about Dot the other day that made him wake up so angry that his teeth and fists were clenched. Although he didn’t tell her any details of the dream, he begs her forgiveness. He’s fairly certain that if such things had  happened while he was awake, he would not have reacted with such anger. I wonder if Dot will be able to pull any details out of him.

They had a good Skyline staff meeting tonight, and then he talked himself hoarse at the Gazelle Club afterward. Sounds like he’s made some nice friends among that group.

Regarding her cryptic mention of 2-1/2 months, all he know is that she was responding to a statement he wrote about wanting to squeeze her tight. She responded with “I hope the next 2-1/2 months fly by.” Now he’s  itching to  know what happens at the end of that time.

He claims to have struggled to fill two pages tonight, failing to find a letter-writing mood. He hopes she’ll not judge him too harshly if he stops here, sending all his love her way.

No letter tomorrow, but he’ll be back on December 15.

The first paragraph of Dart’s one-page, typed letter looks pretty messy, but his fingers must have warmed up because the rest of the page is very neat.

He didn’t write to her after work last night, so she’ll get no letter from him for that day. His work load at school will be extra heavy this week, so he warns that there may be other days with no letters, or, perhaps letters as brief as this one is.

He didn’t wake up in time to get to church this morning. Honest! The several inches of snow that fell overnight had no influence on his decision to skip church!

Even though his love for her is not news, it bears repeating, so he types her a memo:

MEMO

TO:  DOT

FROM: DART

MSG:  I LOVE YOU, DOT.  Very, very much!

He underscores the previous message with three rows of X’s, o’s and *’s.

Dot Darling, Even though I “can’t” spare the time, I must write to you. I got a very nice little letter from Chuckie Pecsok today. I was all ready to begin feeling sorry for myself when I got a letter from you. It was awfully sweet of you to write that little verse to tell me you couldn’t write any more. You’re sweet, Dot. I love you.

Now I have a confession. Today I mailed you a Christmas present. It is something we can use after June, so maybe your wrath at my disregarding your special instructions will be modified by the use to which it can be put. I couldn’t let Christmas go by without giving you something, Dot. You knew that. Anyway, what I sent you worked here. If it doesn’t work there, send it back and I’ll see what gives. I hope my sloppily-put-together packaging device manages to hold up till it arrives.

I also sent two enlargements to your parents: one of El & Fish, the other of Bonnie Neuk’s back porch. I wish now that I’d sent one of you. I’m afraid they’ll feel I’ve slighted you or something. I also wish I’d been able to do something for El. It was so swell of her to take us on that vacation that I feel very badly about not having given her a Christmas present.

It’s 0300 (I was in the Navy-remember?) and I have to get up in 6 hours. I miss you like mad, Darling. I’ll go mad if I miss you much more.

Yours always, Dart

No letter tomorrow

My Darling Dorothy,

Believe it or not, I haven’t forgotten you.

I’m sorry to tantalize you with such a tiny letter, but if I say I LOVE YOU! real big, and mean it ever so much bigger, will it be okay? I’m awfully busy. I love you always.

Your own Dart

He’ll be back on the 20th

Dot Darling, After not writing to you for so long, it’s really hard to get started again. It’s too late to write much as I have to get up early tomorrow. I have a date with Earle Ramsdell to go to the City Club for one of their regular Saturday luncheons. I haven’t joined, so I’m going as a guest.

I received a 6-pager from you this week, but can’t answer it tonight. The tests didn’t go too well, but I don’t think I flunked any of them. I know I won’t get 100 in Spanish, and I’ll get less than 90 in English, and a grade considerably less than B in industry.

I have a list of things to tell you, but I’ll wait with them. My PD check this week was $17.22. We got a retroactive raise.

Good night, Darling, and Merry Christmas. I love you very much.

Dart addresses this letter to his dear neglected Darling. If the beautiful, fluffy, clingy snow stays put for a few days, the city will have a pretty Christmas. Dart likens the street scenes to real-life Christmas cards.

Hw’s pretty happy with his pay raise at work. He also seems glad that he could sign up for more hours during his school break. He’ll be working in the telephone room from 6 to midnight a couple of nights. That should add to his regular $11.00 weekly pay check, and we all know he could use the money.

Although he hasn’t joined the City Club yet, he did have lunch there twice this week. He was even treated to a program by the Orpheus Male Chorus.

Kathleen (the woman who rooms in the Peterson apartment) got her divorce decree this week after her mother served as a witness in court. Dart does a funny riff in the letter about Kathleen’s mother and aunts when they’re all in the same room, flapping their jaws simultaneously. “I’m going to invent a machine that will generate power by picking up sound waves. Then, when they’re all here together, I’ll have perpetual motion.”

The model railroad club meeting was last night and Homer drove the East side members through a blinding snow storm to the far West side. They all had a swell time. After the next meeting, they will have been all around the circuit of members’ homes. Lots of the guys keep adding to their layouts and building or buying new equipment.

He relates another amusing story about a fire in the May Company display window of their big downtown store. With all the trucks that responded to the alarm, everyone thought there was another big disaster in the making. Fortunately, the blaze was confined to the window, and not even all of that. It seems that the automated Santa and his elves had been fire-proofed, and were standing together looking at the charred remains of the merchandise with jolly, goofy expressions on their ruddy little faces. A fireman gave the gathered crowd quite a good laugh when he threw a bucket of water in Santa’s face to cool off his smoking beard.

Dart received Christmas cards from two shipmates this week. He was happy to hear from them, but sad to have to tell them both that the “Mr. and Mrs.” address was a bit premature.

He still needs to answer Dot’s six-pager, but he needs sleep tonight so he doesn’t miss another Sunday at church. He misses her so much, and writes that home doesn’t seem very homey without her there.

Dart notes that it’s been a long time since he had a letter from Dot – really just a few days, but it seems like a lifetime. He knows he’s  been short-changing her, as well.

He’s  scheduled to work an extra shift at the newspaper tomorrow, staffing the telephone and the reception desk. He may as well earn some extra cash while he’s off school.

Today’s mail brought a cute card from Chuckie, Linda, and Billy Pecsok, but he suspects the signatures weren’t actually theirs.

Finally, the complete measuring of the third floor has been completed; walls, floor, doors, windows, alcoves, closets, stairs, and anything else he found up there. He’s made a scale drawing of the floor plan and now hopes to make more drawings to include some ideas he has for finishing the rooms out.

He has no idea what to tell her about the color the curtains should be until she tells him what colors the walls should be. Whatever they decided, he suggests they paint or paper the back wall of the back room a lighter shade. He’d like to consider perhaps a light blue or an off-white on the ceilings. He intends to use oil base flat paint on all the walls and ceilings.

The floors are in decent shape except for a couple of cracks which he’ll fill before giving them a coat of shellac.  He and his dad moved the gas heater into the back room. After a handyman came over to pierce the chimney tile, they’re ready to find a more attractive gas heater for the front room. After it’s bought and installed, he hopes to build some bookcases around it.

“Naturally, I wouldn’t do a thing without your approval, so if you have any ideas, send ’em. If you have any suggestions about what I’ve said tonight, don’t be afraid to make ’em.”

He calculates that, apart from the new gas heater and a wash stand in the back, they should  be able to finish the place out nicely for about $100.

He still hasn’t answered her 6-pager, and he won’t tonight. He’s “t’ard and he wants to go to bed.”

Sending her all his love, forever, he does just that.  He’ll return on Christmas Eve with another short letter.

Although Dart dates the letter December 24, it’s technically written as Christmas morning is born. He and Burke just returned from a beautiful midnight services at church. Mr. Kershner delivered an inspired meditation that Dart would love to hear again.

“I don’t think that Mr. Kershner could have chosen an occupation more suited to his talents. No matter who the person is who hears him, that person always feels that Mr. Kershner is a personal and very old friend. I’ve never heard a man who had that spirit, that ability to put us sinners at our ease as much as Mr. K.

How fortunate we are to have a religion in which our leaders are more like us; men who live the same sort of lives we do (or would like to); men who can think as they see fit and speak as they desire and who are not bound to an unchangeable routine by a hierarchy of dogma.”

I can’t help but observe that Dart’s previous sentiments hold strictly true for only about of his religion’s followers. He comments about how their leaders are ‘more like us; live the same sort of lives we do.’ I suspect that in 1946 nearly all ministers in the Congregational Church – a progressive and open-minded denomination – were male. I wonder how many of the female members of the congregation felt as strongly that Mr. Kershner represented their lives. Perhaps in those times, women had not really awakened to all the ways they were different and apart from their male counterparts. They’d been conditioned to play a particular role and perhaps never imagined that there were professions that remained closed to them. In the case of a religious calling, they would probably been steered to teach Sunday school, rather than study at seminary.

He tells Dot that he mailed her a small special delivery packet very early this morning. It’s a little booklet that he hopes will arrive in time to make her Christmas a little merrier.

He and Burke sprung for a tree today and decorated it themselves. They both think it is one of the best trees they’ve ever had – well worth the $3.00 price tag.

The big news of the day is that an angel provided the family with enough money to get caught up on their bills. It was not, however enough to have the kind of Christmas his Mom and Pop had hoped for their sons’ first post-Navy Christmas. They’re eating very well, but there will be very few presents under the pretty little tree. They plan a nice turkey dinner for the four of them, followed by another one at the spinster aunts’ house later in the day. He thinks it will be a merry Christmas, albeit meager. After all, they’re all well and safe at home.

“There isn’t much more to say, Darling. Do I need to say how much I missed you today and will miss you tomorrow? I want to take you to candle-light service next year. Good night, my lovely fiance’. You’re wonderful, and you’re all I live for.”