Category Archives: Dot’s Letters

February 21, 1944

Dart’s letter begins with an apology for not writing the day before. He was feeling awful all day and spiked a fever of 103 degrees. Even as he writes, he’s miserable, but he says the act of writing makes him feel better.

He remarks about how much she must be spending on all those high quality Hallmark cards she sends him, not to mention the postage for all her letters. He’s sorry that letters to servicemen cannot be mailed for free, while those from them can be.

Referring to Dot’s description of a huge weekend meal at Andrews, including the fact that she loves corn, Dart writes “I like corn, too. Almost all the varieties. Even like jokes and music that are right off the cob. (Never tried the fermented, liquid variety.)” Not bad writing for a guy with a fever, eh?

He answered her question about why he drew the maps on his surveying expedition and was not involved in the mathematical calculations. He explained quite honestly that his lack of talent with integral and differential calculus is what got him flushed out of Case. But fortunately for the map-making team, he was top notch on mechanical drawing. He said again how much fun the field work had been that hot Ohio summer.

He signed off feeling much better than when he started.

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Here’s a quick one from Dot. She’s happy the Navy, and especially Dr. Gordon, have finally recognized that Dart has earned a “vacation.” She truly hopes the proposed sick leave actually happens.

She urged Dart not to try so hard to make her feel better about her letters when he writes such “masterpieces” every day. She is so impressed by his vocabulary that she sometimes feels stupid in comparison. To this day in 2014, Dot still seriously undervalues both her intellect and her writing abilities. (Sigh!)

She tells a funny tale of a recent episode at school – only this time, she is the victim of a prank. Reading it gives me a flavor of how much fun these Andrews girls had during their daily lives.

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February 23, 1944

Dart’s letter begins where yesterday’s left off- pulling together some loose ends in his response to Dot’s earlier letter. He’s compelled to correct her assumption that it was his uncle who was the spaghetti expert;  it is, in fact his dad. He cautioned her not to pin too much hope on his getting sick leave, even though Dr. Gordon tells him every day that his chances of getting approved are good.

Having once mentioned to Dot about the plethora of juvenile cards he receives from one of his maided aunts, he now remarks about an absurd get-well card he received from someone who signed herself “Great Aunt Dottie.” He wrote “I never had a Great Aunt Dottie. It’s just like some elderly jane with a spiked coke in her to try and make some sailor with a thing like that! The strangest thing about the card was that on the back was a note from you!”

He reported that her letter, postmarked at 5:00 PM on the 22nd arrived at his bedside at 2:00 PM on the following day. Pretty good service from the post office, I’d say.

He continues in a sarcastic tone about what a great world it is. “I write her pretty letters, trying to woo her, and what does she do? She tells me my vocabulary makes her feel stupid!”

Referring to the “candy” episode perpetrated on Dot by some art students, he writes a page of “Tips form the Kitchen” about food pranks she might use in retaliation.

Almost as an aside, he mentions that he had a swollen gland earlier in the week, presumably caused by the pneumonia. After the gland returned to normal size, his leg was in so much pain they had to keep him seriously doped up to get through it. “Now my left thigh is the size and shape of a beer keg and you could cut raw meat with the right thigh.” Because of the diagnosis of phlebitis, he’s been placed back on the serious list, but only because Dr. Gordon wants him to get extra care so that his leave won’t be delayed. He still hasn’t been out of bed for days, except for a few harrowing minutes while his sheets were changed one day. How can he be ready for leave any time soon?

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Posted in the corner of Dot’s letter is a 10-cent war stamp which she has labeled “To be used for the precise purpose of keeping Peterson alive in Navy hopitals.” She hopes a dime will do the trick and that he’ll be out soon. She’ll still continue to buy war stamps because she has a brother in the Navy, too.

She scolds him for letting a fever get the best of him. “I thought we had an understanding – you’re to get completely well.”

She mentions that last night one of her housemates who was just returning from a weekend at home came in to tell Dot about an interesting find she made in a trunk at her parents’ house. It was a wedding announcement for the marriage of Helen Burke and Dart Ganes Peterson! (It took place in June 1920.) Wrote Dot, “Does it sound familiar, or weren’t you around when all this took place?”

She would love to grant his request to send some of those oatmeal cookies her housemates made, but she doesn’t want to insult his stomach. They were terrible! She takes back almost everything she said about being the worst cook. She can at least manage to make decent desserts!

She alerted him to the fact that she had mailed him a package today. It was some inexpensive stationery they had at her store. She says it’s not worthy of him, but she hopes he’ll find some use for it – like writing to her.

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February 24, 1944

Well, Dart followed through on his threat to write to Dot on a brown paper bag, in pencil. Sadly, I can scarcely make out any of it from my digital reproduction. If I had the actual letter still in my pocession I’m sure I could decipher more of it. As it is, I can only post it below and hope that younger eyes than mine can make out a phrase or two.

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Dot starts by addressing his concerns over her many love affairs and correcting his statement “You can’t love two and still be true.” Says Dot, “I love corn, but does that mean I’m untrue to you? No. I love Ronald Coleman, but do I go out with him and be untrue to you? No. …All the other men are what you might call ‘side-kicks;’ I’d kick them aside for you.”

After a few other comments about his dislike of seafood versus her love of it, and a hope that his parents’ home redecorating will be complete when he arrives, she underscores her opening remarks with a list of her love affairs, in order of importance. (Spoiler alert: Dart Peterson comes out on top, followed by Ronald Coleman, corn and Van Johnson.)

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February 25, 1944

The best part of Dart’s lengthy letter was a paragraph about how Dot runs herself down when describing her cooking skills. Referring to someting Dot once told him was her probable fate in life, he quips, “You better learn to cook before you start your ‘old maid’s home for bachelors,’ because when, or if, that happens, I’ll probably still be chasing you around and will turn up as one of the bachelors.” How sweet! And how glad all parties are that it didn’t turn out that way.

The letter also contains the news that the doctor who was working so hard to get Dart approved for sick leave has been transferred. The nurses assure Dart that the new doctor is even nicer than Dr. Gordon and his chances of getting that leave are as good as ever. “When I see that ol’ train ticket and get my pass for the wide open spaces, I’ll be sure of my sick leave. Not until.”

The rest of the letter was a long and detailed explanation of Camp Case, which Dot had asked for. It was obviously an experience Dart enjoyed writing about.

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Dot’s “letter” is a rather curious get-well card that literally goes on for pages. I can’t imagine something this odd being available in today’s world. Read it for yourself and see if you agree.

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February 27, 1944

This short letter displays a certain degree of boredom between the lines. It is a litany of mundane activities for the day; letter-writing, eating, reading an Esquire magazine from 1937, sketching a bookcase he’d like to build after the war and a studio in his future dream home. The highlight of his day was being bundled up into a basket-like stretcher and going via ambulance to the x-ray area on the hospital grounds. “If they had wanted to see my ribs, they could have done it just as easily by looking at me from the outside.”

He wondered if anyone had ever taken pictures of Dot with the roll of film he sent her. He says the nurses tell him he will get his sick leave easily and soon. “It sounds too good be true,” said Dart.

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Dot’s sumbission to today’s correspondance is actually two letters written on the same day. Referring to Dart’s paper bag letter, she says it brought a lot of cheer to the house the day it arrived. She will attempt to answer all his questions, but first she must rest her eyes.

She mentions a double feature that she and Cathie saw recently. One of the films was called “Girls on Probation,” which Dot deemed “very educational.” She said it showed that crime doesn’t pay, so she’ll have to change her plans for her future profession.

The second letter is mostly in response to the questions he posed in the paper bag letter. I gather the main topic was making plans for his pending leave time. Dot answers that as far as she’s concerned, they could sit outside on a step and talk the whole time. As for dancing, she says that knowing the two of them, they would either  need a whole evening of waltzes, or sit it out. She acknowledges that he guessed correctly – eating is her favorite indoor sport, but she’ll plan to eat a huge meal before he arrives so she won’t appear to be too hungry.

It seems that plans are already in the works for a flurry of letters between the Andrews faculty and the mothers of the two young lovers. Permissions and guidelines must be obtained in order for Dot to spend time with Dart off campus during his leave. Thankfully, both mothers are known and respected by the faculty. I think the liberation of Europe involved less planning than this as yet unapproved leave!

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February 28, 1944

This letter continues a theme Dart explored earlier – the monotonous life he leads making it difficult to think of things to say. He resorts once again to the diary method, beginning with a midnight wake-up to take his sulpha pills. The sleep interruptions continue throughout the night at regular intervals, and he’s up for good at 7:45. He walked three steps to the chair while his sheets were changed, and fell into the arms of an alert aide when he rose to get back in bed. The latest guess is that he’ll be allowed out of bed for good in about a week.

He writes a wonderful riff on the 1935 Esquire that he’s been reading. “That’s Esquire as it was, the Esquire that gained its fame for racy cartoons and good stories. The Esquire that is no more… But in addition…that issue showed Progress more than anything else I’ve read recently…Styles have changed…A full display of cars is shown – most of the 1936 cars are never seen on the streets any more…And what makes this magazine distinctive is that there is nothing about the war. ” There is so much packed into this paragraph that I could write about! How sublime it must have been to be temporarily immersed in a world with no war! How odd that nine-year old cars were obsolete! How fun it was for Dart to enjoy a magazine that had been published when he was 11 years old.

He continues on to talk about letters he received and ones he wrote in the afternoon. He mentions that his swollen leg is getting smaller and his shriveled leg is getting thicker. The snow is nearly gone, and he pines for the spring-like weather he has heard Cleveland is enjoying.

When a bit of pessimism about his pending leave sneaks into the letter, he derides himself for it. “I should be shot at sunrise by a quartet of orangutans trained in the use of bow and arrow.” He apologizes for not having anything interesting to write to his girl. (I’d say he did just fine!)

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Dot writes with what she hopes is good news. She just learned that her upcoming weekend break has been moved up to March 17, which she hopes will be the perfect time to spend with Dart. She’ll be staying at a classmate’s home on the east side of Cleveland, near Dart’s folks. I know a couple of kids who will be crushed if this pending leave doesn’t work out the way they hope.

She had a pop quiz in English today – on punctuation. She says she’ll not give a hint of her grade, except to say it wasn’t good. It was terrific!

She’s happy to know Dart plans to write to Ronnie Coleman and Van Johnson. She simply asks that he make it a gentle note to let them down easy. She hates to think how heart-broken they will be to learn she has thrown them over for a sailor.

There was more discussion about the New York Spaghetti House in Cleveland, and other such dives. She tells Dart she also likes to observe people. When she’s waiting for a train in Grand Central Station, she likes to watch the passersby and imagine their pasts and their futures.

Referring to his request to use some of the witty lines from her letters in ones that he writes to others, she quips “Due to the fact that Washington, DC is very busy right now, I have not, as yet, been able to get my humor (?) copywrited (sic) or patented, so I guess there is nothing stopping you from using it. (I’m quite flattered.)”

She’s looking forward to a call from her friend Cynthia from Greenwich. Cynthia’s father has just driven her out to bring her to Oberlin College to study music.

She fills up the final page with a drawing of Bugs Bunny – a favorite character around her house.

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March 1, 1944

Dart likes the recent note he got from Dot – the one where she drew Bugs Bunny. He told her Bugs was his favorite movie star.

He assured her he has no objections to her writing him letters on typing paper. “As long as they are from you, I’ll cherish them and welcome them with trembling fingers and speeding pulse.”

Commiserating with Dot about the punctuation test she had last week, he told her of the calculus tests he had at Shaw High School. They consisted of one question for which students could score either a 100%, a 50%, or a zero. He claims to have scored mostly zeros.

Continuing their conversation about dives and greasy spoons in East Cleveland, Dart tells Dot that he used to frequent them with his pal John Angel so they could watch people. He started to tell her about another thing he and Angel used to do on weekends, but he thought better of it and decided to keep her in suspense. (And the other readers of these letters, as well, it would seem.)

He tells of waiting all day for his new doctor to show up, as scheduled. He’s received quite a bit of good reading material lately, so he passed the hours reading. Unfortunately, the doctor never showed. He also happened to mention that making it to Cleveland on the weekend of March 17th was highly improbable, but the 24th looks better.

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Dot’s 10-pager is really two letters written on the same day. She reports that even though the new stationery she sent him is quite thin, he should still write on both sides because of the paper shortage. (So many shortages to deal with on the home front!)

She settles in to answer his last three letters, amounting to 15 pages. First, she thanks him for a cartoon he sent her. It has been lost to the ages, so I have no idea what it was about. She hesitates to call it a “cartoon” because she takes such topics seriously. Still, she’s happy that it graces her mirror frame.

Dot mildly scolds Dart and his pals for telling jokes behind the nurse’s back and suggests that the nurse undoubtedly could tell a few jokes that would make a sailor blush. “And don’t think the Andrews girls are angels, either,” she warns.

In answer to his question about the film he sent her, she says that she took it to be developed two weeks ago and it still wasn’t ready  when she checked. She reports that it is mostly snapshots of her family because he can look at her picture anytime, but how else can he “meet” her family? She mentioned that she is enclosing photos of her brother and her neice, but would like them back.

She can’t understand how he can spend so many weeks lying in a hospital bed and still write such interesting letters. She mentioned the “Camp Case Dissertation” he wrote and confessed she didn’t understand much of it except that four guys consumed 126 Cokes in two days. Dot’s roommate says that may explain why he’s been in the hospital so long!

She expresses deep regret that he keeps getting new ailments and wishes him a speedy recovery from phlebitis. Then she asks if he’s being truthful with her about the seriousness of his condition. She really wants him to be completely honest, even if things are bad.

Dart’s comparison of the old edition of Esquire with it’s current style amused Dot. She claims to have no inkling of the kind of magazine it was, but her roommates were kind enough to enlighten her.

She congratulated Dart on escaping the clutches of brazen females over Leap Year. Still, she warned him to be very careful in four years, because she will be 21, bold and as fresh a loaf right out of the oven, so she will make her move on him then.

She told him to think positive thoughts about good weather when he’s home on leave soon. She ended with a promise that if he is a very good boy and gets well enough to come home, she will bake him some oatmeal cookies.

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March 3, 1944

Today’s letter from Dart begins with a tantalizing hint of something that happened that should be good news, but he doestn’t like it very much. It took him a page or so to get around to telling her that he is off the serious list, which means he’s been moved out of his semi-private room and into a noisy ward. This ward holds 82 men in the same space that was occupied by 32 men at McIntire Hospital. The chaos and commotion is making him crazy. He is still confined to bed and must keep his swollen leg as still as possible.

He confesses to losing all the good words in his extensive vocabulary when it comes to expressing his delight at her long, newsy letters. “Swell” and “nice” are inadequate, but they’re all he can come up with.

Dart enjoyed seeing the snapshots of Gordon and Gale that Dot enclosed in her last letter. He looks forward to “meeting” the rest of her family when Dot’s film is developed.

After more chitchat on various topics, he declares that it is almost postive that he will not get home by the 17th. The 24th is also unlikely.  But he assures Dot “If I’m lucky enough to pull down a sick leave, my luck will certainly hold out for a little thing like weather.” He is so eager to see her again and to admire the dress she is making for the occasion.

The writing kit that Dot sent a few days ago is proving quite handy. It provides a perfect writing surface for his letters, which would otherwise be scrawled atop his bony knee.

He ends with “Alright, Peterson. Tell her you love her. You’ve told her everything else.”

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There is a very short note from Dot, dashed off as her roommate Andy is yelling at her to turn off the lights and go to bed. Dot has spent the whole night working on the dress she’s making.

“Andy asked me to tell you that if you love Bugs Bunny that much, you are a man after her own heart, but I’m not going to tell you that ‘cuz you’re a man after my heart!”

That’s all she wrote.

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March 5, 1944

Dart’s only consolation today was a single letter from Dot. From his response to the letter, I can tell it’s one I have never read, so it must have been lost at some point. I feel a little pang of sadness when I find out about a missing letter, but then I remind myself how lucky my family is to have the hundreds of letters that have survived. I’ll try to be a big girl about the occasional missing epistle.

Dot posed the interesting question of what color Dart doesn’t like. He says he can’t think of any particular color that displeases him, but anything that looks good on her is okay with him. I wonder if we’ll discover what prompted that question.

It seems that Dot may have a shot at a buyer’s job. Dart says it sounds both interesting and like a lot of hard work. He’s impressed with the retail skills she’s learned at Andrews.

He’s running out of things to say and must end this letter to write to his parents. “I’m spoiling you people because there’ll be times I can’t write daily. But now- all my love, every day, always.

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Dot’s letter today is mostly about not having anything to say. She wrote about going to the 3rd floor to study the whole afternoon because she has the first of three notebooks due for Miss Hutton. The she mentions the radio program she and the girls like to listen to on their Sunday afternoons. After that riveting revelation she writes, “My roommate just glanced at the preceding paragraph and remarked at the boringness of it…I have nothing to write about!”

“They just announced over the radio that if you don’t write, you’re wrong. So what’s a poor girl with nothing to write about s’posed to do?”

“Having wasted a page discussing why this letter is so boring, I shall now proceed to commenting about the weather. It’s lovely.”

She finally threw in the towel and stopped trying to write. She urged Dart to write to her, though. “You can always write about your past, but my past isn’t worth talking about.”

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March 6, 1944

Dart’s letter begins with the premise that it will not be a masterpiece, but there is some good news to report. He was permitted to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet on a chair for 30 minutes today. That’s his first time sitting up for that long in 45 days! His back is tired from the experience because he has gotten so weak, but he is thrilled to get to this milestone.

He descibes his luck at receiving one of the new “surgical beds” – with the capability of raising both the head and the feet. Without that, he would have been lying flat for all these weeks. How amusing to think that was a new-fangled invention in 1944, and has been commonplace in hospitals since shortly after that.

He’s eager to see the dress Dot is making which is depriving him of long letters from her.

He says he’s doing his best to get well in time for a March 17th leave, but he has his doubts. It is rumored to take about a week to get all the permissions and forms completed for a sick leave. Now he’d be so weak that if he did get leave, he’d have to spend it at home, resting, instead of out with Dot. That does not keep him from planning how he’s going to use his dad’s car and the extra gas rations he’ll be allotted for the leave.

A letter from his mother said that his Case roommate, Tom Reilly and his Marine buddy, Fred had both dropped by for a  visit with Dart’s parents. How nice of these young men, home for such a brief time, to check in with parents of a friend.

He winds up the letter confirming that it was no masterpiece, but that “idle chatter” could be a nice form of conversation.

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Dot’s long letter – begun in English class after a punctuation test – is typically chatty. She received a 95% on the test and continued her letter later in the day.

She remarked that housemother, Mrs. Woodworth, hadn’t been home all day and her door was locked. House residents could hear her phone ringing incessently, but could not get to it. The thought that it could be someone with an emergency need to reach one of the girls was driving Dot crazy. How odd that there was a) only one phone in the place, b) it was locked away from nearly everyone, and c) there was no other way to contact the house. That would surely never fly in today’s world!

Dot must have done something wrong with that roll of film Dart gave her, because there were no pictures on it. She’s decided to send him some older photos of her family instead. She’s not surprised that he thinks her 3-year old niece, Toni Gale, is cute. Apparently all the men think so.

The letter was interrupted while Dot completed her sweeping chore for the second time that day. Then she talked about a crazy radio program about a quirky family called the “Bumsteads.” I wonder if that was based on the Blondie commic strip, or maybe the strip came from the radio show…

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