Category Archives: 22. July 1945

July 1, 1945

There’s scarcely an iota of romance in Dart’s letter today. Too little time before he stands watch, too much on his mind.

He begins with, “Today I was home for a few minutes. No, not really, truly home, but for a few minutes today, the war, the Pacific, the Haggard did not exisit. Fred Dixon came down to the ship to spend the morning and eat lunch.”

They spent some time looking at Dart’s photos, talking over old times and their plans for the future. “It was really good to see someone from home again, someone who called me by my first name. I hear it so seldom that Fred’s use of it jarred me. I’d almost forgotten I had any other name than Pete.”

Fred dislikes ships. He dislikes his island. He’s bored with his humdrum assignment and envies Dart’s travels, even as he doesn’t envy some of the things Dart has experienced. His envy’s a case of ‘the grass is always greener.'”

Dart wonders when their paths will cross again – the Pacific, the Orient, perhaps even Cleveland.

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Dot’s letter is also just one page long, but much more intimate than Dart’s. It was one year ago today that Dart was in Greenwich. “The third time in my life that I saw you; yet it took only the first meeting to know that I was in love with you.” This time last year was also the time she heard his mother say on the telephone that he could extend his visit in Greenwich by a day and Dot ran upstairs to kiss him. How she longs to relive that moment! Now!

But the 1945 version of the day was not quite so blissful. She babysat for Chris and Eric, but this was the day Eric decided to run his tear ducts completely dry by howling the entire day. “He’d be stiff competition for Nelson Eddy.”

She’s exhausted and must fall into bed.

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July 2, 1945

Dart’s letter today begins by describing his watch duties and continues into tomorrow, making up for the romance that yesterday’s letter lacked.

His new watch station sits high above the bridge of the ship in the “gizmo.” (He’s not allowed to call it by it’s real name.) If she looks at the magazine photo of a destroyer that he sent her, his watch station will be clearly visible.

From high atop the ship, he has a better view of the sea and sky than he ever has before. Tonight’s sunset warranted a detailed description of colors, textures and feelings. The sea was so glassy smooth that the reflections of the moon and stars didn’t even dance or twinkle. How can a body of water as vast as the Pacific ever be that still?

He has another watch at 0400, so he stops to get some sleep.

It’s July 3 when he resumes his letter. Like Dot, he is reminiscing about their brief but memorable visit in Greenwich just a year ago. It seems an eternity has passed since then. He tells Dot he’s terribly lonely for her. “Just lonely and longing for the sight of you; for the heartwarming, peaceful thrill I have when I hold you tightly in my arms; for the touch of your lips on mine; for the gentle brush of your cheek. And I long for other things too. I like to walk with you. Your walk is so full of pep and so lively, and we seem to have fallen into step with each other from the start. I want to hear you laugh, to see the brilliant flash of your eyes and your mouth when you cut loose with a good, hearty laugh. I like the clothes you wear and the way you wear them.”

He ends by telling her how unspeakably proud and happy he is that “we can at last announce publicly the intentions that we’ve had so long. How can we wait for that big day?”

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Dot is so excited to think Dart might be home in September. She wants detail! Is he sure? Will that really be the time they can announce their engagement? How will she sleep between now and then? (Sadly, she reports that the excitement has not managed to curtail her appetite.)

She hopes he can use his powers of persuasion to convince his parents to either visit her this summer and maybe even go up to Sunapee over Labor Day, or stay through to the announcement party.

Were his ears burning last night around 5:00? She was saying some particularly nice things about him to the girls at work.

She’s asking herself now why she wrote that letter after El’s engagement was broken. Honestly, she has all the faith in the world that she and Dart will not end up the same way, but the shock of Don’s betrayal really shook her foundation for a while. She still thinks she and Dart will need to make time for one (or more) of those long talks, but she knows they’ll be okay.

Her news seems to be so compact when compared with Dart’s. Tomorrow, she’ll try to write a rambling letter, as she so often sets out to do. Maybe there’ll be more to say then, in addition to the perpetual reminder that she loves him with all her heart.

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July 3, 1945

“My Darling, I have just spent three hours which rank among the most beautiful hours of my life.”

So begins an exquisite letter from Dart about his arrival at an island of nearly indescribable splendor. To paraphrase such a letter would be to wipe an oily cloth across the face of a freshly painted masterpiece. It would be akin to screeching out a glorious symphony on a plastic flute.

I will include here some of the phrases and sentences that Dart crafted, but that is like taking a sampling of pearls from a long, lustrous string. I beg the reader to read the pages pictured below. They provide a treat well worth the effort.

“The beauty of the island as we approached it far surpassed any ideas I’d had of it. …The island lay before us, framed in blue. Deep blue of the sea met light blue of the sky at the ends of the land. Above the light sky were the clouds, and above the clouds was the azure dome of Heaven.”

“As the sun went down, the moon appeared in the sky over the island. Another thrill of peaceful beauty. (Can it be that there’s a war somewhere?)”

“Lights began to glow on the island. Neat rows of lights, terraced up the hillsides, blinked on one by one. Bright headlights of trucks and jeeps moved along the roads. Soon only the dazzling white moon, the blackness of the land and water, and the myriad lights were visible. Rows of diamonds on black silk and velvet.”

“A man down on the anchor chain swung a mallet, knocked out a pin, and the anchor was rattling down, down into the still water. The whistle blew and the Haggard was again at anchor in a place she’d helped to take many months ago.”

Dart talks of the entire crew, enthralled by the scene, and wishing a loved one were seeing it with him. He muses about what was going through the Skipper’s mind as they maneuvered into port. Was he concentrating soley on the ship’s range and bearing, or was he induging in a bit of sentiment like his men, wishing someone lovely could be there with him?

“You were with me in spirit tonight, Dot. I know. I felt your presence. I love you always and forever.”

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Dot is puffed up and proud that she drove all over town tonight without mishap. She’s been practicing this week in the long driveway and is happy to report that all the trees remain intact. She had a chance to drive the Miller’s Buick convertible this week and has decided that’s the family car she thinks she and Dart should strive for.

She’s looking forward to her holiday tomorrow, which she plans to spend at Island Beach. It’ll be her first visit to the beach this season and she intends to get a nice, deep tan. (Except on her nose, which will undoubtedly burn to a bright, glowing red.)

Her cousins David and Sammy will be arriving on Thursday night. David is about to enter the Navy and wants to see NYC before he goes. Dot thinks his real desire is to see his girlfriend, who lives in Brooklyn. Sammy, age 16, is just looking to have a little summer fun. The Chamberlains plan to take the boys to see a couple of plays, such as “Life With Father.” They’ll also go to Playland if the weather cooperates.

Dot got a “newsy and entertaining” letter from Dart’s mother today. She’s kindly invited Dot to spend as many weekends as she can with the Petersons in Cleveland when she comes to Ohio for college. Dot wishes she’d get the letter from Dart expressing his opinion about her college plans, but she hopes she only gets one such letter!

As she tries to expand her letter past the second page, she recalls that one year ago tonight, Dart was on a train heading back to Cleveland and Dot was about to come back down to Earth with a terrific THUD! “Perhaps you were eating the box lunch I packed for you, or maybe you were reading the note I wrote. Betcha it won’t be the same now. I won’t have to write notes anymore ’cause I will tell you I love you, right to your face. I’ve been practicing with your picture every night, and it comes almost as naturally as brushing my teeth. (What a thing to associate it with!) That’s not using good taste. Or should I say paste? Oh, let’s pretend I didn’t mention it.”

Have you ever noticed that Dot almost always wraps up a bit of sentimentality in a corny little joke? I think she’s still a little uncomfortable with all that “mushy stuff.”

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July 4, 1945 Independence Day

Dart begins this letter while on watch. A rain storm has driven him inside the station, rather than lying on top of it, basking in the sun.

This has hardly felt like a holiday. It seems strange to have no fireworks or parades. The guys are hoping they can talk somebody into firing off a few rounds from one of the anit-aircraft guns. “That in itself would create quite a noise, but the ‘fireworks’ would come from another source.” (The brass, perhaps?)

He begins a dissertation on the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. He begins by telling Dot that he sees another ship that’s traveling with them far off on the horizon, 13 miles away. On the other side of his ship, there’s another one, roughly the same distance from him. That means that between the two vessels on either side of the Haggard, there is about 25 miles of open sea – or approximately the distance that Dart drove from Cleveland to Andrews School for a date with Dot. Theses three ships can cruise at top speed, that far apart for days and days and days, and none of them will see the tiniest speck of land. Nothing but sea, ships and sky.

It took a much faster ship 21 days at top speed to deliver Dart from California to the place where he first boarded the Haggard. Not once in that time was land visible anywhere on the horizon.

Last night, he took his dress jumper and two suits of his whites to the ship’s tailor. Prior to sailing, his uniforms all looked like he could smuggle potatoes in them, but now there’s barely room for just him! He had his jumpers pared down in the “midships” section to fit him closer, but the trousers didn’t need any work at all, so we know where al his newly acquired weight has ended up.

All of this is in preparation for an upcoming Captain’s Inspection of Personnel. He doesn’t object too strongly about these infrequent inspections. Generally, the crew wears dungarees all day, every day, so the inspections are a nice way to break up the routine. If they happen too often though, Dart would be right there cussin’ with everyone else, and even begin to mean it.

The bull session near him is getting too rowdy for him to continue writing, but he deems the letter too long anyway, and signs off.

No letters on July 5, but Dot returns on the 6th.

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July 6, 1945

Because she’s been neglecting him badly with her sparse letters, Dot wouldn’t blame Dart if he never wrote to her again, but she certainly hopes he will!

Her cousins have been running the family ragged. They’re always up for anything, and never seem to be tired. “Guess I’m going through the period Mom used to talk about when you ‘begin to feel your many years!'” It was Playland last night and New York City for dinner and a play tonight. Phew! She’s exhausted!

She says it’ll literally take a lifetime to answer all his letters, and she’s looking forward to those years with great anticipation. Her parents were greatly impressed with Dart’s letter to them and they believe as Dot does that she’s very lucky to have found such a man.

She’s sorry to learn that Fred has been feeling so disgruntled, although she’s confident a visit with Dart has done wonders for his disposition. She appreciates Dart’s great sense of humor and is sure it helped draw Fred back to his old self.

It is absolutely essential that both the future bride and her intended be present at the big announcement dinner. Therefore, he’d better get to Greenwich before September 27th because that’s the day she hopes to report to Kent State University. The only thing standing in the way of her application is writing her life story. “Would you care to help me,” she asks Dart.

She closes by saying, “I love you, my Darling, and the prospect of our coming years together thrills me beyond all description.”

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July 7, 1945

Dart was shocked and discouraged today when his locker disgorged 14 unanswered letters from Dot – some of them nearly six months old! Now the letters are stale and seem to have lost the spontaneous quality they have when they’re new. “To write an answer to a many-months old letter is like trying to write to a perfect stranger. (Or even to a stranger who’s not perfect!)

In a letter from “way back in April,” Dot asked what Lauren Bacall had that she couldn’t find plenty of use for. Dart decided not to answer “Humphrey Bogart,” as some “Waggish baffoon” suggested he should.

He’s glad to read that Dot doesn’t like guns. He’s happy to have as many as possible “out here,” but after the war, the only guns he hopes to ever see are the pop guns and cap pistols that children play with. He says there are guys on the ship who have such a love of guns that they make his obsession with railroads look like “mild neglect.”

She wrote that he would never see her in hair curlers. While he thought there would be few secrets between them, he’ll allow her that one. But what if he should barge in unexpectedly from work  one day and find her in such a state? Would he be shocked into a nervous wreck?

He takes a break from answering the old letters to share a bit of news from home. He learned through Fred that one of their old Shaw buddies who was shot down over Austria had been divorced by his wife of one year just before being killed. Both he and Fred had fretted over that hasty marriage between two people who had just met. He worries also about Bob McCarthy, who became engaged after knowing a girl for nine days, and was married very soon thereafter.

I’ve been thinking about these hasty marriages that I’ve heard of, especially during WWII. Some of them actually turned out quite well. Both my brother and a close friend of mine became engaged just weeks after meeting their beloved, married quickly after that, and have gone on to have happy, stable marriages lasting several decades. Also, Dot and Dart both agree they fell in love at first sight and have known from the start that they were each other’s choice for life partner. So, obviously time is not really a factor in determining a successful relationship. It’s probably even overrated in terms of really knowing another person well. Haven’t we all had the experience of meeting someone – friend or lover – and instantly feel as though we’ve known them all our lives. There are certainly many factors that go into successfully choosing a mate, but I believe one that gets overlooked is knowing oneself well. I think Dot and Dart were both blessed with a clear sense of who they were and what kind of personality would compliment theirs. That may be rare in people as young as they, but I think it’s part of the answer.

Dart wants to hear more about Dot’s old hopes of marrying a minister. Did she go against that in choosing Dart, or did she come close to the mark? “I took an awful razzing for my ideas while I was on watch the other night. And such admonitions to come from a minister’s son! Boy, if I took some of the ‘advice’ and ‘help’ that’s offered me, you’d never want to see me again, nor could I face you if I did!”

In her letter of May 3, Dot copied a poem for Dart which he liked very much. In fact, he just checked and it’s the exact poem he had put aside to include in one of his letters to her. Donn Byron’s girlfriend sent him the same one. It sure appears to have universal appeal, at least among young lovers separated by war, time and distance.

Speaking of poetry, Dart begins to wax poetic about a sight he is observing from high up on the ship. He’s peering down onto four neat rows of sailors in their dress whites, lined up for inspection. “What a sight. Bright sun on blue water. Trim, clean gray ship. Brisk breeze and four rows of men in whites. Their collars and neckties whipped by the wind as the ship points her nose first at the sky, then at the sea. The neat rows lean first one way as the ship rolls to port. They lean, in unison, the other way as the ship rolls to starboard. The ship’s bow rises on the crest of a swell, then falters for a tiny instant. With a rush, it dips down into the moving sea, sending out great winglike splashes of white foam.

The even rows of men snap to attention. A large man in khaki, followed by three others, walks up and down the rows, taking all in his glance. Now and then, that glance lingers on a pair of shoes, a haircut, a neckerchief. Then he moves on. The men disband and disappear. The inspection’s over. They’re picturesque things to watch.”

He hopes she’s had some nice sails with the Millers over the summer. It must be great fun.

That’s all for now.

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July 8 and 9, 1945

Dot sets out to write the long letter she’s been promising, but little Eric  Miller has other ideas. He’s “showing his lung power,” and Dot must put a stop to that.

She returns shortly, having put Eric to bed for a nap. Chris is entertaining himself by dumping a pail of sand on the sidewalk and picking it up “a grain at a time.” She’s concerned that this two and a half year old will have his driver’s license before she does. He has a little red roadster that he drives all over the Miller’s property like a pro, right down to proper hand signals when he’s making a turn.

She’s so glad that Dart’s in favor of her college plans! Now she hopes nothing stands in her way of being accepted. She’ll be happy to gather information about Kent’s journalism program while she’s there.

Next day:  Dot writes that her babysitting duties kept interrupting her last night, so she gave up trying to write. Tonight she’s sitting for Chuck and Linda, who are both sound asleep. “By the way, Chuck and Linda are going to have a new baby in the house come November. Chucky still calls Linda “new baby,” so I don’t know what he’ll call the next installment. ” Dot hopes it’s a boy, and is disappointed she won’t be able to help the family while Mrs. Pecsok is in the hopsital like she did when Linda was born. With luck, she’ll be in Ohio in her new role of college co-ed.

She tells Dart that his presence is required at the big family dinner/engagement announcement. Dot’s father was teasing her at dinner tonight, saying he thinks he needs to meet Dart’s folks before answering that very important letter from the young sailor. “Of course, he was just kidding, but in case he wasn’t, please convince your parents to come visit us.”

She asks Dart, when he comes  home and begins to tell her about all the places he’s visited, “tell them just the way you write them. If you do that, I’ll be able to dream up a beautiful picture of what the places are really like.”

The other day, Dot read a portion of Dart’s letter out loud to her mother. It was the one where he was describing the motion of his ship and that of both larger and smaller ships. Her mother responded, “Golly, that’s some description. I hope you’re saving all those letters, Dot. Writing like that shouldn’t be thrown away.”

Naturally, Dot has saved every letter she’s ever received from Dart. By this date, they number well into the 400s. But as much as she loves his letters – lives on them, actually – she longs for the day when it’ll no longer be necessary for him to write his thoughts down, but can tell them to her directly.

She agrees with his assertion that it would have been great if they could have enjoyed June’s full moon together. Now she’s pinning all her hopes that they’ll be together for September’s. She’s stepping on al the Lucky Strike packages she can find, wishing on stars, and above all, praying.

“What about my cooking? Well, I can open a pretty good can of Campbell’s soup, or even peel a mean banana. Don’t tell me you’re  beginning to worry already. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. (See, already I’m telling you what to do.) You plan to be a very successful writer, anyway, and if it turns out that I can cook, well, there are many places we can put the money besides paying a cook.”

Referring to his comment about a shipmate who loved to talk about his wife and kids, Dot asks “Think you’ll be talking like Hite in nine years? I hope you’ll be as happy, if not happier. I, too, love to hear proud Poppas talk about ‘the little woman’ and kids. Kinda’ sounds real American, doesn’t it?”

It’s the wee hours of the morning now, and Dot can hear her brother Doug snoring in his room down the hall, joining his parents in a nocturnal trio that is driving Dot crazy. Naturally, that brings up the question of whether or not Dart snores. “Of course, it’s silly to ask you because anyone who does won’t admit it. I have never been accused of it, but even I slip once in a while, imagine.” She decides it’s futile to discuss the topic any further and it’s time for all good girls to go to sleep. “That lets me out, but I’m sure I ought to go to sleep anyway. ‘Beauty sleep’ is not the object, either ‘cuz I was discouraged about that years ago. The only real reason I have for going to sleep is that I’m very tired and sleep usually helps that, I find.”

All that remains is for her to tell Dart how much she loves him, and she does just that.

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July 9, 1945

Dart shares an interesting anecdote about an incident yesterday. “We had a real chaplain for our church services. We borrowed him for the afternoon from one of the ships we’re operating with.  We pulled up to the other ship with our bow about 100 feet from her stern, and to the side of it. They shot a light line to us and we pulled over a heavy line. On that heavy line was a pulley and a ‘bo’sun’s chair,’ a little seat like a swing. In the bo’sun’s seat sat the good padre’, grinning from the midst of his life jacket and clutching a large gold altar cross. We pulled him across the gap, over the turbulent, rushing water. He alighted dry and happy.”

Dart tells how the crew had decorated their ship’s little fantail with draped cloth, benches brought up from the mess and an improvised altar. The chaplain brought over some hymnals and mimeographed programs and led the group in good singing before delivering a good and timely sermon. All of this sounds like Yankee ingenuity put to fine use.

He describes a watch he has daily now. It’s always the same three fire control guys, plus one of a rotating group of officers. They hang out in the “castle,” high atop the ship and shoot the breeze. Favorite topics include past liberties, cars, and the Navy. They never talk about women – “at least never more than four hours at a time.” (Did I mention it’s a four-hour watch?) Today they were running through all the quizzes from a recent Reader’s Digest, from vocabulary and spelling to general knowledge.

He tells Dot that this morning a couple of the “strikers,” (same rate as Dart) who have been on board a couple of months longer than he has, took their Fire Controlmen Third Class tests. Word is the test was a doozie! Dart may have a chance to take it in another three or four months.

The scuttlebutt on the ship is that they should be receiving mail very soon. He’s eager to hear from Dot, of course, but he’s also looking forward to a letter from her folks in response to his asking them for their blessing on his engagement to Dot.

Speaking of the engagement, does she want to have a hand in picking out the ring? To his way of thinking, if she’s going to be wearing it for quite some time, she ought to have a say it what it looks like.

He’s eager to hear when in September she’ll report to Kent, if she decides to go through with her plan to attend there. He’s working up a couple of ideas for his leave and for their engagement announcement, but timing will determine how much comes to fruition. “We may just make connections, or just miss them, or we may be able to be leisurely about the whole arrangements.” How intriguing! It’s sounding more and more like a September leave is in the cards. How can that be? There’s still a war on!

In her April 3 letter, Dot suggested a rain check for their long walk in the country. Dart thinks that’s a good idea and he’ll leave the location to Dot. Ohio or Connecticut?

Almost time for another watch, so he must go.

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July 10, 1945

Dot’s letter today is short but chatty. It’s this kind of letter that gives the fighting men temporary respite from the tedium and horrors of war and reminds them that life goes on as normal back in the States.

Mrs. Miller came to the Chamberlain house today so that Dot could set her hair. She’d struck a deal with Dot several weeks ago that she’d buy a $25.00 war bond if Dot would set her hair weekly for 15 weeks. That would save Mrs. Miller $15.00 and earn Dot points in the war bond contest at work. Dot is getting the best end of the deal because this is only the second time Mrs. Miller has prevailed upon her to set her hair.

There are so many employees on vacation this week that Dot is working in the baby department. She finds it much more interesting than the young men’s area.

Her dear friend Cynthia has been home from college for nearly a month and Dot is happy to finally have plans to see her tomorrow. They’re going to see Dart’s favorite actress, K. Hepburn in “Without Love,” also starring one of Dot’s favorites, Spencer Tracy.

Dot made the mistake of putting hand cream on before writing this letter, and now the paper is too greasy to absorb the ink. That’s as good a reason as any to quit writing and go to bed.

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July 11, 1945

It’s an ebullient sailor who pens today’s letter. He’s in joyful posession of 23 letters, three Reader’s Digests, and a box of airmail stationery which arrived today, after a two-week mail draught. “…I surely did get a fine bouquet of good letters. One of yours was off-key and slightly discordant, for a very good reason, but you bounded right back to your normal, cheerful, good-natured self the next night. Dot, I was very sorry to hear about Eleanor’s misadventure. You have an idea now how the boys here feel when someone here gets one of those ‘Darling, I got married last night’ letters. It’s a rugged thing to take. Bitter medicine, but perhaps for the best.”

He suggests that they should have that letter of hers in their hands when they sit down to talk about its contents. There’s much food for thought and it might help keep them grounded as they discuss the ideas she puts forth therein.

Then he confesses to her that something indeed changed to allow him to feel comfortable asking her to marry him. He had been fearful, perhaps superstitious, about coming home maimed, incapacitated, or dead. “But after one of my escapades on the Haggard, in which I thought for a moment that my fears were coming true, I suddenly felt a great relief from a burden. If they didn’t get me then, perhaps I’m safe. My Faith whispers to me that I’ve done the right thing in asking you that all-important question.”

He shares her skepticism of long engagements with indefinite ends. Furthermore, he believes that people who are married should live together, and not half a world apart. Wartime marriages unsettle him. He knows guys on the ship who have two-year old children they’ve never even seen!

As she knows, he hasn’t wanted to get married until he finishes his education, but even in letters as far back as 1943, he expressed some flexibility on that. Now, he thinks it’s best they get married as soon as possible after the war is over. “I think that our marriage would help us to complete our education and to get us started so we could begin our home. …We have a high goal and a tough one to achieve. We can do it, Darling. I know we can. It’ll take a scrap of the longest, toughest kind, but we can do it.”

So he confirms that she guessed correctly. It looks entirely possible for them to announce their engagement in September, before she goes away to college.

“That pile of letters I got today has made be hilariously happy. Aside from the thought provoking letter of yours, all were in  high good humor. To think that with a million other dopes and nine million other guys besides, you chose me! It’s an honor; a real, true honor to be in love with you. It ranks with all the coveted honors and highly desired rewards of history and fiction. Dot, it’s beautiful!”

And now he must confess that the photograph she sent him recently is one of the best likenesses of her he has ever seen. “It catches the wholesomeness of your personality very well.” He’s placed it in a position of honor, inside his well-worn leatherette double frame with another favorite image of Dot.

“Dot, I love that picture, and you, and the whole cockeyed world.”

He informs her that the latest letter from her was dated July 7 and it arrived on the 11th. Can it be that the Haggard is getting close to home?

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Dot writes that she is happy to have finally seen Cynthia, except for one gruesome detail. “She decided to give herself a crew hair cut like Bob’s (her intended) and the result is anything but beautiful. Fortunately, she thought better of the idea after only one snip of the scissors, so only the front looks like the hairbrush I threw out last week. Now, that’s what I call real devotion. Will you believe me, Dear, when I say that I love you, even if I don’t get a hair cut like yours?”

“I knew they couldn’t do it. What? Live entirely without love. Oh yes, I’m talking about the movie we saw tonight. They got married without love but managed to pick it up somewhere along the line. …It all turned out for the best, though, and was a comedy in the bargain.”

All that’s left to say is that she loves him beyond comprehension and misses him as much. She begs him to come home soon.

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