Dart is in port again, and today’s mail call yielded 14 letters, five of them from Dot. Dart’s letter today is one of his masterpieces, from gripping sorrow to exquisite description to playful teasing, and finally, romantic dreaming.

One of the letters he got today came from the mother of a childhood friend, Art Carle, bringing the tragic news that her only son had “given his life on a foreign shore” on December 28. It hit Dart extremely hard. He talks about the countless happy hours the two of them spent as kids living on the same street. He has already written to Mrs. Carle. “But what can be said by a boy who has lost a friend to a woman who has lost her only son? It’s so cruel, so outrageously true and permanent. Dot, those words ‘gave his life’ mean so much. They mean gave, for he received not one single thing in return for his gift. And it was his life that he gave. Not an arm, a leg, a mind, a chance for success, a chance for a girl to love him, a memory of childhood happiness, a chance for future happiness. No, not one of those things, but every one of them. Every one and many more. And to give one’s life in the service of Our Country. Humbug! I do not believe in it. If we were giving our lives to the service of God, there might be more hope that the gift would have better use made of it. It’s futile, and we’re all so utterly helpless to stop it. If only there were some other way…”

Wow! There’s a lot of emotion in that paragraph, and it’s followed by an absolutely poetic accounting of last night’s sunset and nighttime.

He climbed to the highest point of the tallest gun mount to watch “the most beautiful evening that I have ever seen close in around me.”  He describes the breathless, sultry air and the glassy calm of the sea which reflected all the colors of the splendid sunset. The high, ragged clouds on the horizon looked like rugged mountains in some distant land and they served to hold up the dome of the sky, filled with brilliant stars. “I was spellbound, thinking so hard of you and wishing you were here.”

He finally went inside and hung out in an improvised darkroom to watch the work of hobbyist photographers as they developed their film and tried out their homemade enlarger. “Living in this huge, intricately complicated machine called a ship surely does bring out the best in the ingenuity of the crew. We’ll never be whipped as long as the Navy can have men like the Haggard’s crew. They improvise hotplates and coffee pots so that no one on watch need go thirsty. Tiny workshops where prodigious amounts of legitimate work goes on in the daytime are tucked away in all available spaces. At night, these are transformed into places where photo hobbyists can work on their pictures, where the writers can hide away with pictures of their loved ones and write, where the singers can wail and strum their guitars without bothering a soul. The skill of making the very most of what’s at hand seems to be a natural part of most Americans, and we’ll be on the winning side, as long as we keep that skill, and our senses of humor and justice.”

He admits to being bitterly angry now, and to have done his share of cussing today, but it would do no good to say more about it here, so he changes the subject and responds to some items in Dot’s recent letters.

He’s pretty impressed with the job she did on her bike. It sounds like the transformation he did on his a few years back, but now his brother Burke has let that bike go to ruin.

Then, he scolds her soundly about trying to censor his thoughts and words. If he wants to call her beautiful, if he chooses to think of her as sweet, charming, smart, or anything else, he’ll do just that. And there’s nothing she can do to stop it! As a student of good-looking women, he can attest that she’s one of the prettiest on Earth. “Maybe if you could see yourself as I see you, you’d think so too, but as it stands, you haven’t changed my mind.”

It’s obvious he’s not much like Dot’s father because he’s liked every hat he’s ever seen Dot wear. In fact, he greatly admires her taste in clothing.

Hey, what makes her think that her letters don’t give him the same thrill she gets from his? He thrives on every word and is profoundly happy and proud when she tells him those sweet thoughts she has about him. He’s decided it must be love.

They share some of the same ideas about that last night in Cleveland. “When I remember that wonderful evening and all that was said and done then, I wonder when we’ll ever be able to carry on from where we left off that night. I wonder if we could some way work this going-to-college-while-working-while-being-married arrangement. If I should survive this war long enough to be engaged to you, I want that engagement to be a short one, followed by the normal course of events following an engagement. But that’s so heart-breakingly far away now. Can we ever do it? I believe we can, IF. (You know what “if.”)

Dot writes a cute little rhyme saying she has nothing to write about and that Dart’s four letters today touched her heart.

I’m sure we’ll  hear more from her tomorrow.

Dart says that since the ship is completely painted and “scrubbed as clean and bright as a certain young lady’s smile,” they’re on holiday routine again. Half the crew is on the liberty island. The other half is lounging on the decks where giant awnings have been stretched to provide some shade. There’s a record concert playing on the P.A. and guys are playing cards, sleeping, or writing letters. It’s so incredibly hot that feet can’t touch the bare deck and tools left in the sun cannot be handled without scorching. Paint dries too fast and the sailors with deep tans are getting badly sunburned. It’s turning into a lazy day. “For us today there is no war, but there’s plenty of evidence of it within eyesight.” (A fleet of warships surrounding them? Bombed out islands in the distance? What evidence does he see?)

To answer one of Dot’s questions posed in a recent letter – yes, he’d much rather be painting a house than a ship because it would mean that she was somewhere nearby. He never misses an opportunity to think about her, does he?

He’s so grateful for her thoughtfulness toward his parents over Easter. It’s just one of the many attributes that makes him love her so much. He’s already written to Burke with plans for their parents’ 25th anniversary, although he doesn’t know if Burke will be around to carry out the plans. He hopes to enlist in the Navy before he can be drafted into the Army on his 18th birthday which is coming up soon. He knows his folks would get a huge thrill if Dot helped the boys with an anniversary surprise. They want her to be an official member of the family almost as much as Dart does.

He likes her sentiment about money and love and happiness, but he does think that the presence of money helps in lots of cases.

Dot writes from the beautiful, sunny porch on the Mason St. house, basking in the glow of the four letters she received from Dart yesterday. She’s frustrated that he still hasn’t received any mail from her, yet his letters have been coming with great regularity. Dot doesn’t know it, but Dart’s ship was badly damaged in an episode on March 22 and had to be towed to dry dock in some out-of-the-way island for repairs. With the Haggard out of commission for several days, maybe the mail ship couldn’t find them. Naturally, Dart has not been able to give any hints about the damage, or the fact that it was a result of the Haggard ramming a Japanese submarine and sinking it!

Before she forgets to mention it, she’d like to say that his house plans are fantastic! “Everyone thinks those drawings are real works of art. I showed them to Dad and he was very surprised at the talent you showed. I don’t know why he should be. I’ve been drumming it into him (how wonderful you are) for a year and a half.” She asked her father how much he thought it would cost to build and he guessed $23,000 to $25,000. She’s started a piggy bank for the house, but fears she should have started 19 years ago. Maybe the house will be done in time to give it to their great grandchild for a wedding present! Still, all of his good ideas are just one more reason she loves him so.

In closing, she says she’s heard a rumor that you can join the WAVES at age 19, with parental consent. What would he think of her joining in June? Exactly what he thought of that idea became a part of the Peterson family lore when we were growing up!

Dart’s very short letter begins with, “Still here. Seems like a long time to be staying in one place. Especially since my favorite columnist, Ernie Pyle says destroyers ‘prance’ and ‘cavort.’ Some fun.”

He received three letters at mail call today – all of them over a month old, and none of them from Dot. He’s still corresponding with his pal Fred, a teacher from Shaw High School and a nurse of his from Great Lakes.

Today was hot, lazy and uneventful. The movie didn’t hold his attention, so he left it. He much preferred last night’s screening of “A Song to Remember,” the supposed story of Chopin’s life. The music in it made him homesick to hear his cousin Margaret playing the piano.

Nothing else to write tonight, except how much he loves Dot, but he doesn’t fell like writing that. He feels like telling her, and she’s much too far away for that.

Dot’s letter is also short, although twice as long as Dart’s. She had one subject on her mind, namely her 9:00 AM interview with the WAVE recruitment office. “What they tell me tomorrow morning will either make me the happiest or the most disappointed girl in the world.”

She dreams of working in a rehabilitation hospital, perhaps teaching boys to walk again. She wants to do something important. “This idea of being just a number in a store, selling a lot of worthless junk to people who don’t seem to care how they spend their money is beginning to get me down.”

He won’t get this letter in time to wish her luck for the interview, but she hopes he’ll send her his best wishes for enlisting in June when she turns 19. “You saw the WAVES and what they were doing when you were in the hospital at Great Lakes. Didn’t you think they were doing a fine job?”

It’s almost as though she knows he won’t like the idea, and she pleads with him to support her wish to become a WAVE. If she does, she’ll work very hard at making him proud of her.

She vows that the long letter she promised is forthcoming, and she sends him all her love.

I’ve found only one page of Dart’s letter today, which ends abruptly, mid sentence. I hope the remainder of the letter will surface in a day or so. Meanwhile, here’s what page one contained.

He’s grabbing a few minutes to jot this letter while he waits for the chow line to get shorter. He has a midnight to 0400 watch tonight, so if he has any free time, he’ll try to spend it sleeping.

No mail today, nor does he expect any. The laundry is so backed up from being closed for painting that he has completely run out of anything clean to wear. He says he really must devote some time to hand-washing a few things very soon. By the end of page one, he’s still getting reports that the chow line is quite long. The guys who get liberty this afternoon get to eat first, so Dart must wait his turn. He writes that he has grown to hate the word “chow” and must remember to refer to meals by their civilian names when he’s writing letters. That’s all until the rest of the letter turns up.

Dot finally got to that long letter she’s been promising. In the upper right corner the first page, where Dart often writes either “in port,” or “at sea,” she has penned “in bed.” Clever girl. She begins, “Today, Yours Truly, who anticipated being a mighty WAVE is nothing but an insignificant ripple.” She has learned that a woman must be 20 years old to enlist in the WAVEs and she’s just shy of 19. She’s terribly disappointed that she won’t be permitted at this time to do something important or meaningful.

And now, to answer some of Dart’s recent letters. She confirms that her father’s birthday is just two days before Dart’s, on January 13th. She corrects Dart’s assumption that her cousin who’s moving to the Belgian Congo with her husband and kids is not happy about it. On the contrary – Cousin Dottie is anticipating the adventure with great glee. The Spanish class she told him about a long time ago was cancelled after two weeks, to her regret. She enjoyed learning the few phrases that she did. She also clarified that when she talks about his “millions,” she wasn’t referring to actual cash. She was thinking more about his other riches like, brains, health, and good humor. She says he has so many riches that he’s the wealthiest and nicest millionaire she knows.

She regrets to inform him that her bowling has been neglected of late. Too much babysitting and not enough extra cash. She’s going to try to get a game in every now and then, just to keep in practice.

With a fervent plea, she tries to extract a promise from Dart that the two of them will take dance lessons when he returns. She loves the way couples look in the movies, gliding across the floor so gracefully. That’s a promise, that if made, was never kept. If Mom ever danced at weddings or the like, it was generally with her brother, a cousin, or a family friend. Dad never developed an interest sufficiently great enough to actually learn to dance.

How happy she is to read that he occasionally has some good times. Although his letters are usually cheery and upbeat, she liked reading about his time on liberty island and him going into the water fully clothed. She once did that in March, on a bet. She had to swim 50 feet, fully clothed in an outdoor pool, for which she was paid $5.00. She still wonders if it was worth it.

He has piqued her interest. She’d love to hear more about this sequined evening dress he took to a dance once. “Someone did go along inside to hold it up, didn’t they?”

Dart will find a snapshot in this letter – a picture of Dot and El in their Easter finery. She complains that she’s wearing the same toothpaste grin she can’t seem to shake, but it”s the one that Dart is so crazy about. She asks that he take particular note of the corsage she’s wearing.

She’s alarmed to have to stop writing briefly so she can attend to the buzzing mosquito! How could he be here in mid-April?

Hooray! He has finally started to get some of  the letters she’s been writing. That makes her feel much better.

His plans for the post-war development of the tropical islands he’s seen are impressive. She’s glad the guys can exercise their wild imaginations while they’re out there. Still, she has some post war plans of her own that she’d rather Dart focus on, and they are much closer to home than a South Pacific island. She wants Dart to tell his mother that she likes her idea of dropping in to see Dart’s folks frequently. Dot recalls that when she first went to Andrews School, she wrote and told her mother that she wanted to live in Ohio someday. She still intends to, even if she’s there to run her Old Maid’s Home for Bachelors. (That idea became a very remote possibility the moment she met Dart!)

She ends by telling Dart that 1) she loves him heaps and heaps, 2) she’s glad that what he wants to do with his life and what she wants to do with hers are very much the same, and 3) the next time he whispers “sweet nothings” in her ear, she’ll be much more responsive than in the past.

Today’s letter is a vivid description of Dart’s visit to the liberty island. He went over with his buddy V.D. Hite, a guy from Ashland, KY and Cincinnati, OH. These two have lots of fun when they hang out together.

The liberty was a “dry” one – no beer included. Consequently, only about 20 men took the boat over to the island instead of the usual count of 80 when beer is provided. They spent the day swimming, beach-combing and getting thoroughly sunburned.

Dart describes for Dot all the weird and wonderful sea creatures they observed along the beach. They found a baby octopus and countless tiny hermit crabs who are not at all particular about the type of shell they occupy. The most fascinating creatures were the sea urchins. Dart and VD watched them for hours, careful to avoid their poisonous splines. Dart loved swimming in the warm, shallow water, as long as he was able to keep his feet away from the sharp coral.

He reports that he received an 89.5% on his fire control test. His crew mate, Hirsch, who took the test with the aid of a whole crew of senior fire control men assisting him with the answers, received a 90.5%. Dart felt deservedly proud of his accomplishment and rather miffed at Hirsch’s cheating. “I don’t think Hirsch likes me any more. I told him he should have said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ when he gloated to me over the grade ‘he’ had made.”

Dart has been sitting for an hour, dreaming of Dot and trying to think of a new way to tell her how much he loves her. “I guess it all boils down to those three famous words, no matter how much it’s dressed up. And about the best way to get those words across is to whisper them softly into the ear of the person in your arms. My arms aren’t long enough to reach you tonight, so I guess I’ll have to write – I love you, Darling.”

Dot begins by remarking how nice it would be if she could write to Dart in the afternoons when she’s alert, rather than after midnight when she’s so weary.

She got two more letters from him today, the most recent dated April 2. She loves it when he’s in port because his letters get to her so quickly. She assumes that since the latest letter was written from port, it means he was not in on the raid on Okinawa.

Those  nurses at the Easter service must have been quite popular with the men who’d not seen a woman in 14 months. “Gee, maybe they’d even talk to me if I were out there. Guess you boys would talk to just about anything you didn’t have to salute.”

She comments that life “out there” sounds nearly civilized when he talks about all the radio programs he gets to  hear. She wishes she could be on one of those programs and send him a fond “hello” over the airwaves.

She’s grateful she didn’t know until after the fact that he was involved in the Tokyo raid. “I’m sure I’d turn grey if I knew about these things before hand. Your letters are so cheery I can’t even guess when you’re doing something exciting and when it’s all just routine.”

Referring to his comments about her spoiling kids who might be his, she says “If they aren’t ‘our’ kids, there won’t be any. Need I make any further comment?”

She notifies him that her bedroom window is the only one on the third floor in the rear of the house, and there’s no need for him to bring a ladder. “Just whistle. I’ll tie my bed clothes into knots and make a rope ladder. I did it once before when my parents and I didn’t agree on where I should spend my evening.”

Her mother let her drive the car a few blocks this evening, and she even got to turn it around twice! It felt wonderful! Her mom says she can probably get her license for her birthday. The Millers have a 1931 Austin they’ve said she could drive this summer, if she gets that license.

After a paragraph in which she quips about needing to buy some fan magazines in order to keep up on all the current pin-up girls, she closes quickly, saying she’s too tired to stay awake, but she loves Dart, Butch, Pete, etc.

This is one of the least personal letters Dart has written to Dot in months – perhaps since those long ones he wrote from Treasure Island explaining all that he was learning in his highly technical classes.

He’s been keeping very busy in port. All hands are employed keeping the Haggard in pristine condition. (Maybe they’re even more intent on her looks since she recently incurred such heavy damage in that submarine-sinking incident.) He explains to Dot that many of the ship’s exterior features like searchlights and gun turrets are protected by large canvas sacks that help keep salt, dirt and sea birds out. These coverings, fondly called “bloomers” by the crew, were beginning to look rather dingy, so new ones were ordered and installed. Now the ship looks so good that newcomers to port ask if she’s a new vessel.

“Now,” explains Dart, “the boys are turning to their pictures.” By that, he means original paintings of Varga girls, dice and tigers that crew members have created on the gun houses. “As soon as I saw those pictures when I first saw the destroyer with the 555 on her bow, I thought that here was a ship with a personality all her own.”

He goes on to describe that some of the other ships in the fleet have inferior original artwork, usually for the purpose of bragging about their successes in battle. He hints at several exploits the Haggard could boast about, if that were her nature. She, however, prefers to keep her victories – large and small – quiet. “Up to now, the Haggard’s been lucky and has done her share better than many.”

For a guy who’d much rather be in Cleveland, who has plenty of gripes about the Navy, who is not convinced that this war is even necessary, he sure has nothing but praise and affection for his ship.

In this letter he enclosed a little sketch drawn by a buddy from Treasure Island. It hasn’t survived with the letter, but it must have featured a “sweet potato” because Dart comments about how unpopular an instrument that is out on the high seas. “I found that out while practicing!”

At the bottom of the page, Dart drew a comical caricature of a scruffy, scrawny sailor carrying a tool box and sporting a three-day growth of beard. The sketch is labeled “Peterson on ship.”

Of the tragic news from yesterday, Dot writes, “The news of President Roosevelt’s death was such a shock that all I did was listen to the broadcasts. No matter what opinion I held of him, nor how I felt about his ideals, I still feel this is a terrible time to lose a leader. May God be with President Truman and guide him along the right paths. He has certainly had a heavy burden thrust upon his shoulders.”

Because tomorrow is a national day of mourning, nearly all retail establishments are closed. She hopes it’s not disrespectful, but she and Nancy are going on a long bike hike to take in some of nature’s handiwork. Later, Dot’s cousin Betty, Nancy, and Dot are going to see “National Velvet” and they’ll all stay over at Dot’s house.

She’s so proud of Dart for continuing to write such great letters every day for over two weeks. “Good going, sailor! See how long you can keep it up.”

She wants Dart to tell his friend with the place at Lake Sunapee that the Chamberlain cottage is almost directly across the lake from Soonipi Park Lodge, about 1/4 mile from Burkehaven and 1 1/2 miles from Sunapee Harbor. “Ask him what his opinion is of that location for a honeymoon. Get him to tell you all about it. Let him sell it to you.”

Talking again about his infant pictures, she says she’s sorry she got him riled about them, but even sorrier that she never got to see the one that riled him the most. She also has some of those embarrassing shots of herself as a baby that she hopes to burn before he can lay eyes on them, lest they give her a blush that would never leave.

She’ll have him know that she was not razzing him about getting money back from the government. She worked all year, had taxes withheld, and didn’t make enough money to justify the taxes. Did he hear about the simplified tax form they’ll be using next year? It only has four simple parts. 1) How much did you earn? 2) What did you spend? 3) How much is left? 4) Send it.

Now she’s too tired to write any more, but says she’ll try to add some later. “Later” turns out to be two days. She and Nancy went on a very long bike ride out into the countryside yesterday. They found a perfect little brook with a stone bridge across it and decided that’s where they’d have their picnic. They ate, talked and dangled their toes in the water until 4:00 when they observed a minute of silence in memory of the President.

Dot heard that all servicemen across the globe would be observing 10 minutes of silence, if at all possible. She wondered if he was doing that at the same time she did. She says some days she feels that he’s very close to her, and yesterday was one of those days. “It was almost as if all I had to do was call and you’d come, but it didn’t work. I tried.”

She will answer his masterpiece letter tomorrow, but for now she wants him to know how terribly sorry she was to hear that his childhood friend was killed. “That was a beautiful letter you wrote. We all feel the same way about this war as you do. Dad said that was one of the finest letters he’s ever heard. Believe me, I don’t read all my letters to my family, but I want other people to share all the wonderful philosophy and knowledge your letters give to me.”

Dart’s still in port. Mail call today yielded three more letters from Dot, nearly filling in the gaps that were left from previous deliveries. “Boy, how the fellas rejoice when the ‘sugar reports’ come in!” I love how these sailors have slang, jargon and nicknames for just about everything. I wonder how long it takes to become fluent in “sea speak.”

Dart’s looking forward to seeing “To Have and Have Not” in the Fantail Theater Under the Stars tonight. He tried to see it three times at Shoemaker, but the lines were always too long.

He too looks forward to the time he and Dot can do ordinary celebrations like coloring Easter eggs together. But she better be on her toes; that might be a good time for him to slip an ice cube down her back!

He announces that he’ll have to change the name of the ship’s theater to “Haggard Cloud-Roofed Shower-Bath because it has just started to rain. Looks like it’s not in the cards for him to see that movie he’s so keen on watching.

In a recent letter, Dot was imagining just what her reaction would be if she opened the elevator doors and saw Dart standing there. He admits to spending most of his time daydreaming about the same kind of thing, but he knows it’ll be a very long time before he can surprise her on a visit to Greenwich. Thinking about it only makes the waiting worse. When he does see her the next time, he hopes she’ll do that thing where she whistles sharply through her teeth. He gets quite a kick out of that little trick of hers. (Of course, he gets quite a kick out of nearly everything she thinks, does or wears.)

How he wishes they’d been born earlier so they could have met sooner so they’d be married by now.

Here’s another breezy, chatty, funny letter from Dot. She and Nancy went way out into the countryside surrounding Greenwich where they picked violets, Ruth Chamberlain’s favorite flower. As they walked and picked, they sang every round and duet they’d ever learned in Girl Scouts. They had “loads of fun.” That got me thinking – would two 18-year old girls today think it was “loads of fun” to sing silly old songs on a long walk while picking wild flowers? I can’t quite see it.

When they got home, Ruth let Dot drive as far as the Miller’s house. Although her mother was nervous, Dot vouches that everyone arrived safe and sound. Once there, Mrs. Miller suggested Dot practice driving their old Austin around the driveway. (Must be quite a driveway if one can drive around in it!) Then Dot and Nancy played baseball with the boys. Two-year old Chris was the pitcher and he was about to strike Dot out when Ruth returned to pick her up.

The night before, Dot, a cousin, and Nancy went to see “National Velvet.” She loved it! It was in Technicolor and was beautiful to watch in addition to being a very good story. She tells Dart that she’ll forgive him for not writing some night if he instead spends it seeing that film.

There was only one thing that happened today – and she only mentions it because it was funny. She got a call from the choir director at church telling her that she’d heard Dot had a lovely alto voice. Since they were in great need of altos in the choir, she wondered if Dot would consider joining. Dot thinks it might be a joke being played on the unsuspecting choir leader, but she agreed to join since she’d already promised herself to start going to church every Sunday anyway. “Of course, she hasn’t heard me bellow yet. She’ll be sorry, but she asked for it.” As usual, Dot is selling herself short. She has a very nice, harmonious voice and has spent most of her adult life singing in one church choir or another. She still sings in one today!

El and Don were all set to try the going-to-college-while-working-while-being-married arrangement, but Don decided it would be too hard, so they’ve postponed their marriage until 1948! El is very disappointed because they’ve already been engaged for a year and that’s a long time to wait. Still, Don will be safe in this country, and only as far away as Boston, so they can see each other often. In Dot’s opinion, Don is wrong to postpone and believes they could work it out, but El wants to do what makes Don happy. Besides, “little sisters” aren’t allowed an opinion.

In a surprise announcement, Dot declares her deep love for Dart. “Guess it’s ’cause you’re so smart in everything except what I’m glad you’re not smart about. It’s been 5 months, 6 days and 13 1/2 hours since I last saw you, and yet it seems like years and years. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for just 10 of any of the minutes I’ve spent with you. It would help to keep me going ’til we can be together again for a more permanent length of time. Say, maybe forever.”

Curfew is upon her and she must turn out the light.

Two of Dot’s  missing letters had been delivered to the other Peterson on board and finally found their way to Dart. Now he has no gaps in his letters from her.

He was able to see “To Have and Have Not” last night. He seems to have been impressed by it, especially Humphrey Bogart’s new girlfriend, Lauren Bacall.

Some of the paragraph describing the job he had yesterday was redacted by the censor. Whatever he was doing, it kept him in the hot sun all day and he got a whale of a sunburn. “I put Vaseline on my nose this evening, but my nose was so hot the grease started to smoke like an over-heated bearing. Finally cooled off enough so that I could see past it through the smoke.”

He broke a pattern last night by going to bed around the time of taps. That led to him do something he thought he’d never do, going against his principles and beliefs. He awoke and got out of bed at reveille this morning! He usually stays in the sack until moments before the breakfast line closes.

In closing, he tells her that the inversion of a couple of her letters made him do something she didn’t want him to do. He spilled the beans about the Easter flowers to his folks, admitting that it was all Dot’s idea and he had nothing to do with it. “Gee, Dot, I’m so proud of you for that! I’m the luckiest guy there is for being in love with a girl like you is the best thing that could happen to anybody.”

Tonight, Dot is spending the night with Toni Gale who gets up with the sun, so Dot will have to get to sleep early. The big news is that Toni’s Siamese cat is expecting kittens and she keeps snooping around all the dark corners of the house, looking for a place to deliver them. Dot put a comfy box in a nice spot, but Fifi seems to be unimpressed.

She’s still working at Franklin Simon and is still bored. No word on when, or if, she’s actually leaving there. She listened to President Truman’s first radio address today, deeming it “short and sweet.” She thinks he sounds quite young.

At a loss as to how she will fill the back of her first page, she recalls the sudden change of expression on Dart’s face the moment he realized she’d put an ice cube down his back. “Boy, once you discovered my dirty trick, you were up and out of that chair in two seconds flat and chasing me around with that deadly weapon. You even had me scared that you were going to succeed in getting it down my back. Brrr-rrr-rrrr! Bet it would have been cold! Was it, Darling? You poor boy! You’re a good sport, though, and I love you. Oh, how I love you!”

As I write this blog I think a lot about the fact that this growing love story has as its foundation a meager eight days of togetherness. Except for one night where these two kids stayed up late talking and being silent together, those eight days did not include nights together. In fact, there are perhaps only about 60 hours of their combined lives that have been spent in each other’s presence. The scarcity of time and shared memories makes each hour, each moment a precious jewel to be taken out in private, examined for new facets, cherished for its color and clarity, and put safely away again. Because they have no present time together, memories and future plans take on great power and importance. They are building such strong bonds now that when they’re able at some point to spend time with each other, everyday annoyances, petty differences, pesky distractions cannot possibly weaken those bonds. They’re living examples of the old adage “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Dot encloses two cartoons featuring sailors with this letter and promises to write again tomorrow.