Dart begins this otherwise hand-written letter by typing a rebellious paragraph at the top of the page. Although he’s not supposed to know where all the letters are on the keys, he’s sick and tired of typing jug rug jar hug rug jig that he’s going mad. He decided to break out and try his skills at some of the other letters. Let’s just say he needs to keep practicing.

He continues his rant against typing in longhand. Not only is the 90 minutes of practice each day perfect for creating writer’s cramp, but they must turn in the results of their cramping in class the next day, signed, dated and time-stamped! He resents the real typists in the class who go so fast that the neophytes have no chance of looking good.  The teacher burns him up, too. She keeps shouting “Faster, faster,” but when he gets to typing l-o-l very fast, she starts calling out a different set of letters, at a different cadence. It’s enough to drive a poor boy around the  bend.

“There are radicals in our political science class. Always trying to twist the teacher’s words and meanings. Dirty, I say. He’s a lecturer, philosophizer, an explainer, an impartial reporter of facts and beliefs in government, So far, so good.”

“Psychology’s a little different. It’s supposed to be elementary. The course is, but some in it are not. They keep trying to lead the boss-man on, getting him to discuss subjects they’ve already (it seems) had in advanced psychology. ”

Today he managed to stick to his schedule. His bedtime was supposed to be 11:30 and it’s now 11:26. His homework is done, including two hours of typing, and he has this good start on a letter. His psych work tonight was a hum-dinger! The chapter was on the development of the nervous system, including everything from protoplasm to occipital lobes. He’s impressed with the text book, however, and the instructor seems alright, too. “My opinions of the teachers will change. They always do.”

Last week, he was lonely because Dot was at Aunt Marj’s. Now he’s even worse, because she’s farther away and gone for a long time. He’s begun to train himself not to look at or think about things that will make him lonelier: an amorous couple walking, things he and Dot have done, things they wanted to do, but didn’t get to. “Not a romantic way of looking at life, to be sure, but it seems I must devote plenty of energy to keeping my mind on the adjustment from a lazy, happy lover, to a perspiring, rushing, down-on-the-world student.”

“Good night, Dot. I really do love you, even though this letter gives little evidence of my deep and insatiable affection for you.”

#          #          #

Dot’s day was eventful in several ways. First, there was the family birthday dinner, marking the end of her teenage years. Since nearly everyone  thought she was going to be in Cleveland, much of the extended family had made other plans, so it was a hurry-up-and-eat kind of night. Still, she and El had lots of fun talking about Sunapee while they did the dishes. Arthur has said the kids could use his car for their September visit to the lake, if it’s still running by then.

She got her first job offer this morning when Mrs. Miller asked her to live at the house and care for her three young boys for $22.50 a week. Her family would prefer she live at home and take a job more suited to her experience and education. She agrees, but it’s nice to have a fall back position if nothing else turns up. She was also offered her old job back at Franklin-Simons, but that doesn’t thrill her at all. She really wants to start work by Monday, so she can’t be too choosy.

She and her mother had a long talk about Kent this evening. Ruth doesn’t think Dot should return there in the fall, attending a smaller local college instead. Everyone’s very enthusiastic about the kids getting married a year from this month, but somehow think that would be more likely if Dot stayed in Connecticut until then.

She visited her cousin Janie who has been home for two weeks. She’ll either tutor this summer, or loaf. “Nobody around here seems a bit eager to get to work, but then, they haven’t found a wonderful man like you that they want to marry in less than a year.”

For her birthday, her father gave her an Eversharp repeater pencil like the one Dart gave her. She likes them so much that she’s decided to keep them both. She also got an alarm clock, a dress, a necklace, and an invitation to dinner and a movie.

Tonight she and El drove over the the Humpty Dumpty – the hamburger joint she’s told him about. What burgers! That’s another thing on the list of place to show Dart when he comes to Greenwich.

Because she intends to get an early start on job-hunting tomorrow, she wants to get an early start on sleep tonight. “I always thought it would be impossible to depend on anyone as much as I depend on you. Gee, but I miss you!” The she adds, “Don’t forget the 3. you promised me.” Could she be referring to a grade point average?

Dart begins by saying it’s finally his turn to write to her. He apologizes for neglecting her the last few days.

He attended church this morning and saw Al, Al’s mother, and Al’s newlywed sister, Evelyn. Evelyn’s husband doesn’t attend church, but she’s “working on him.” Dart comments how happy he is that he and Dot don’t have any worries in that department, since they both enjoy church, and for the same reasons.

Today while shopping with his parents, he saw a black cat scurry across the path of the car. Tonight as he was putting the car away, another black cat materialized out of the shadows and ran in front of him. “Now I wonder what’s lying in wait in the way of luck to help an old superstition along.” (Perhaps it’s that his fiance is living far away and he won’t be seeing her for quite some time.)

He begins to do what they each promised they wouldn’t do; he’s thinking back to a week ago when they had just come back from their drive to Kent and were curled up on the davenport, listening to a great storm raging. As much as he enjoys those memories, they make him even lonelier, and they seem to magnify the time until he will see his beloved again.

Still, it thrills him to think about the two of them planning to be married. How he hopes he never wakes up from this dream, if a dream it is.

He mentions some guy named Willard Hatch who finally caught Dart while he was at home. They talked a couple of hours and Dart was proud to tell Willard all about being engaged to such a wonderful girls as Dot. “I guess he was presuming I was developing the same kind of bachelor tendencies he has. If he cares whether girls are in the world or not, he sure doesn’t show it.”

Now he tells her about an article he read in last month’s issue of Coronet magazine. It was about Cleveland’s Karamu House – something they called a “settlement house.”  It is a place dedicated to “the advancement of arts, sciences, and recreation among the Negroes who are anxious to better themselves and their race.” He writes that there are several such places around the city catering to underprivileged kids from diapers to adolescence. If they offer paying jobs, and if said pay is sufficient, he was thinking Dot might enjoy working at a place like that better that as a sales clerk or a waitress.

It’s late and he must sleep, but not until he reiterates that he loves her and misses her.

#          #          #

As so often happens, Dot begins her letter with the same thought that Dart has on that same day. She apologizes for neglecting him for a couple of days. “There seems to be twice as much to do around here as there is time in which to do them.”

El treated her to the movies last night –  a film called From This Day Forward. The movie was a story of the  struggle of a young married couple trying to make ends meet. It was encouraging to me, but Mom hastened to remind me that it was only a movie. However, I’m convinced that a strong love for one another is 99% of what is needed to make a marriage work. Surely we can dig that other 1% up somewhere by next June.”

She missed him terribly in church this morning. She kept thinking she would turn and share the hymnal with him, but it was her mother standing beside her. Later in the day, she drove El and Doug to the beach. They were only able to stay about two hours in the late afternoon, so she didn’t get much color. She reports that she got a new bathing suit yesterday that was quite pretty – until she put it on and spoiled the whole effect.

They had a nice visit this weekend from Gordon and Betty, down from Middletown. They plan to move back to Greenwich in August when Gordon is transferred to a closer location. While they were home, everyone was showing off all their new machines – the Philco record player, a Zenith radio/vic. All that music made Dot miss her little radio, but she guesses it’s better that she not become a slave to the habit of listening to music all day.

She becomes a working girl again tomorrow morning. There’s an early meeting to let the new staff know what’s expected of them. She’s happy her job gives her the mornings off because she has a long lists of projects she’d like to work on. The first one is to finish painting the porch furniture. That’s followed by weeding the garden and redecorating the back bedroom and bath.

She asks that Dart say hello to his parents for her, and tell them she has not forgotten them, She hopes to write tomorrow, but her old friend Nancy Clapp is coming over in the evening, and if they talk as long as they usually do, there’ll be no time for letters.

She recalls that last week at this time, they had just returned from Kent and were sitting on the davenport in his house. “Thank you for loving me, Darling. It’s the thing that makes my life so wonderful.”

Now, a little spoiler alert: Be sure to catch Dart’s letter tomorrow. It’s one of those lovely, romantic jobs that he’s so good at writing…

With homework complete and the 11:00 news playing from Dot’s little radio at his bedside, Dart begins this long letter. He’s pleased that his new plan of getting work done early seems to be working out for him, allowing him time for some leisurely conversation with his sweetie.

Hang onto you hat! There may be a railroad fan trip this Sunday so that members of his model railroad club can visit a number of roundhouses in the region. If it happens, and if he goes (of course he’ll go!), he vows to limit himself to one roll of film in an effort to economize.

He’s having a heck of a time in typing class. He’s so slow and cautious that his very slowness causes him to make mistakes. Even though he practices two hours every night, he gets to class and only seems able to type entire pages of mistakes. He knows he’ll have to work hard to get a 1.5 in that class, but he hopes his grades in psych and poli sci will pull him through. What humiliation it would be if typing is what keeps him off the honor roll!

In psychology they are nearly finished learning about how the human nervous system is constructed and are about to embark on the workings of the mind. “I’ve always wanted to take a course in psych and I’m finding it a bit different from my conception of it, but none the less interesting. For two lessons we’ve been studying the heredity factors of unborn and very young children. Quite amazing what goes on in, and around our bodies. The human organism must surely be God’s pride and joy – His amazingly complex creation.”

His college building is on the corner of Public Square. From the typing room, the windows overlook Lake Erie. “In today’s sunlight, the lake looked actually blue, and almost clean! The muddy water inshore gave almost the appearance of the Pacific on the coral reefs around the islands. The water had shadings from blue to green and yellow which were very reminiscent of things I’ve seen before.” (Maybe the distraction of that window gives a hint about why Dart struggles in typing class!)

And then begins a section of the letter that is Dart at his best. It allows one to overlook the sometimes tedious droning on about railroads and the like. I will share it verbatim, below.

When I wrote today’s date, I had a faint recollection of June 24th having had some specific meaning in my life. Then it occurred to me that one year ago today (it was a Sunday then) the Haggard was at Saipan. Exactly one year ago now, I was in the plotting room, writing to you. There was no stool to sit on for the boys were all attending the movie on the fo’c’stle. We were still thrilled with the beauty of the day and the evening, filled with thankfulness and relief after a harrowing trip. (He’s  referring of course to his little ship’s slow and perilous journey across the vast expanse of the Pacific. As crippled and slow moving as she was, she spent weeks at sea as a sitting duck. Each and every moment she was vulnerable to enemy attack.)

The tranquility of the afternoon and the beauty of the evening were only part of the joy we had, for we were on our way to the fabulous land most of us had thought we’d never see again.

But the drowsy laxness of the evening was shattered temporarily by the loudspeakers. They called the mail orderlies to receive their mail. Elation ran high. The great full moon, bright and large as only a tropical moon can be, was casting its silvery coating over water and ship, leaving a huge black mass aglitter with the twinkling lights of home’s farthest outpost. Home was close to us that night, as we read our mail by the light of that moon. Closer to us than in many, many months.

The letters I got that night don’t matter, except for one. That one, Darling, is the one in which you officially accepted my bid that we might be engaged. I’d had no doubts when I asked you that I’d get a letter with that answer, but here it was, in your own hand, as much as if you’d spoken the same words softly into my ear. You’d not said we were too young, let’s wait. You’d been given your parents’ blessing. You’d at last given me the answer that you and I both knew would eventually come. Thank you, my Darling, for all you are, for all you have been, for all you desire to be. I love you for all of that, for all our promises and confessions and hopes and fears; for every loving glance and affectionate response you have; for your radiance, and your health, and your voice; for the moments we’ve had in complete harmony of souls. I miss your caress, Dot. I miss the touch of your cheek, the weight of your head on my shoulder, the sound of your sweet voice singing love songs in my ear as we drive. Our love is so wonderfully beautiful that it overwhelms me at times.

As he returns to the more mundane topics of her recent letters, I’m reminded that the life that can sustain a love like theirs is held together with the bond of ordinary, mundane daily experiences.

He mourns the impending loss of Pegasus, Ruth Chamberlain’s beloved and beleaguered ancient car. “Your mother will surely miss the winged steed. But all horses, be they mythological, iron, race, brewery, or nag, must eventually come to a demise.”

He’s delighted by the news of her job. It’s just what he hoped she’d find because he knows how much she’ll love it.

There’s scuttlebutt on campus that fall classes will not resume until the first or second week of October, which suits Dart fine. (I wonder if they might need to delay in order to accommodate all the returning GIs.)

He knows he’s told her about his superstition about setting dates too far in advance. That’s why he’s not committed yet to coming out east after his summer classes are over. He also suspects that he’s told her before – or at least hinted – that he loves her now, and always.

There’s a little bonus on the last page of this letter: a get well card for Pegasus! Dart has drawn a cartoon of the little coupe, sporting a pair of angel wings. Beside it, he has written these words – “Please get well soon. You’ve been a swell old gal and you can’t let the Chamberlains down now! We’re pulling for you, so don’t lose your clutch, don’t tire of life, hang on to the spark, and we gas everything will be oilright. Water ya gonna do about it?”

#          #          #

Dot says that if every day goes like this one, the summer will fly by. She had her orientation meeting today and was given a black notebook filled with report forms, activity plans, registration cards and equipment requisitions. She has 16 registrations so far but expects to have 50 by week’s end. So far, her charges range in age from 6 to 16.

There are 12 playgrounds in Greenwich, but she is the only one who will be working alone. Her little area borders a small pond, so she must keep a watchful eye to assure that no equipment or kids fall into the water. (Let me get this straight: 50 kids, one pond, and a single adult staff person? Those stats would never fly with OSHA today!) She’s confident she can manage. Her kids seem eager and cooperative, which Dot observes is a “step in the right direction.”

Each playground has a special night during which local talent entertain the kids, parents and neighbors for an evening. So far, (on her first day) Dot has booked an accordianist and an acrobat. (I can’t make this stuff up.)

“I’ve started organizing a patrol to keep our playground the cleanest in town and the kids seem to take pride in helping to keep it clean. It may be the smallest playground, but we’re determined to make a name for ourselves by what we accomplish this summer.” What a gal!

She apologizes for all this being such an “I-letter” but she has to tell someone about her job and the whole family is asleep. She knows she’s going to love this job, because she does already.

She begs Dart not to get too discouraged with typing. She started out the same way and managed to get a B in the subject. She knows he’ll find a way. Now she must sleep and try to find time tomorrow to answer his swell letter from yesterday.

Dart writes, “There’s another of those summer storms brewing outside. …Remember the terrific storm that was raging the night before you left? Seems to me that both the weather and our hearts were in a tempest that night.”

Continuing the storm theme, he adds, “As I look back on it, I was reminded at the time of some scene in contemporary literature, although we did not go to the extreme the author described (under the cloak of censorship, of course). The scene was in King’s Row. If you’ve read the book, you’ll remember, and if you haven’t, you’ll not recognize the description of the stormy night that the hero spent in the study of the doctor who was his tutor. He’d fallen in love with the doctor’s daughter, who apparently had incestuous and nymphomaniac tenancies. They started out as we did that night, but the storm moved them to greater discard of inhibition. I couldn’t say ‘greater depth of passion,’ for the love and desire and possessiveness and protectiveness I felt for you then could have no equal in fact or in fiction, except as we might equal it in the future. My darling, how grateful I am for those fleeting moments when we clung so tightly to each other that it seemed our bodies would burst; or unite and become more nearly one body than we felt.”

He encloses a copy of his typing practice from this evening, complete with a circular grease stain from the doughnut that fueled him during the exercises. He has little good to say about his instructor in this class.

He’s beginning to resent the implications so many people make about them getting married. They say they shouldn’t marry until one, or both of them finish college, but they don’t know the situation. “I say to heck with them. It will be a titanic struggle to make ends meet, though, so heed your mother’s words and be prepared.” He warns that they will have precious few luxuries in the early years of marriage. He supposes they’ll have a joint income of between $175 and $195 a month (yes, you read that right) and perhaps rent as high as $55 per month. Still, somehow they will manage. He agrees that a strong love is vital, but he would put it at 90%, rather than her 99%. There are other factors like hardship, accidents, finance that may creep in to change the ratio. “Don’t let anything I say be construed to mean that I want a delay in our marriage. In spite of all the factors that seem to be against the advisability of getting married, I (and I know you, too) feel that we can whip them all; or enough of them so that we’ll be successful in our marriage. I’m pointing toward a goal which I hope will provide us with a decent living.”

Will she wear her new bathing suit at Sunapee? What if his college registration infringes on the week they have carved out for the lake? Could they go up there at a later time? Should he join them after registration and have a shortened vacation? Is there an older person who could serve as chaperone other than El?

He hopes to see all of her projects done before he’ll believe it. If she can manage it all, he’ll have little doubt about her ability to keep a home.

“Good night, Dot. Thank you for accepting my love and for returning it in the gracious and wonderful manner you have that I never would have dreamed of before I met you.”

#          #          #

Dot’s writing  from the first floor and must answer Dart’s letters from memory. She left his most recent ones up on the third floor and it’s too darned hot to go up and get them.

Okay, from now on, it’ll be hamburger! As far as a job with Negro children is concerned, she would love to work with children. She knows, however, that she will be forced to look for the job with the most tempting salary, not the most interesting tasks.

She’s been home a week and has spent only 87 cents – mostly on stamps. Of course, her penny-pinching has been aided by folks taking her to dinner and movies for her birthday, but that gravy train is about to come to a screeching halt. Still, she hopes to have some money in the bank soon.

El is planning a beach party next weekend for 16 people. Dot was invited, but then she and El had a big fight, so she doesn’t know where things stand right now. Since most of the folks there will be El’s age or older, Dot doesn’t mind if she gets excluded.

Before work on Friday morning, Nancy Clapp is coming over so they can play at tennis. These two girls had an 8-hour gab fest the other night to catch up on all the news of their lives. Nancy has two more years of training in the Cadet Nurses Corps.

“Some days I miss you til it hurts, Dart, and today was one of those days. I tried to make myself feel better by telling the kids at the playground about you, but it only made me miss you and want you more than ever.”

Today’s letter from Dart is a little unsettling. It begins, “Don’t read any more than this if you don’t want to read a discouraged letter. I’m worried over the state of the nation and what it will do to us.”

He continues, “The thing that brings it all on is the damnable destruction of the chance that the ordinary person had of getting the necessities of life at a price he could afford to pay.”

For the next couple of paragraphs he recounts stories of rent increases of between 200 and 500 percent. He talks about going from a day when some meat was available for prices that low income workers could afford to a time when lots of meat will be available at black market prices.

He raises the question of where his family can move, since they cannot afford the $90 rent that their landlord is asking. He reminds Dot that his father is unable to work. He frets about how he’ll be able to save any money toward their getting married in a year.  And he asks, “What good is a veteran’s $65 a month when it costs that much for food and clothing?”

And then it gets more personal. “Oh, Dot, I feel so darned cheap at asking you to marry me when the best we can do is so very bad. All we can do is hope that there’ll be a leveling-off, a revolution, or some sort of solution before we are to take  our most sought-after step, next June.”

His final paragraph gives some clue as to the source of his great and sudden distress. “The step Mr. Truman took today will live in infamy as the most degrading of all the indignities a stubborn man has piled upon the American people. They cannot save themselves from each other. It is the duty of their President to preserve the rights and privilege we have so jealously guarded. But, no. He must turn his stubborn back upon the pleas of the people who can now have no further respect for his formerly-esteemed office. Heaven help us all.”

Wow! Such despair and bitterness! I had to find out what single act of President Truman could have made such an impact. The best evidence I could find was reference to his veto of a bill which would have extended the wartime price controls, thereby allowing market forces to set the economic pace in America. (For more information, check out this link: http://trumanlibrary.org/publicpapers/viewpapers.php?pid=1607)

I think what we see in this letter is the boiling over of Dart’s simmering anxiety about the future. His family is living in dire financial circumstances which weigh on him. Add to that his intense worry that, in spite of all his efforts, there is no way he and Dot will be able to marry in a year. When you season his very real financial concerns with his wounded ego over flunking out of Case and not being able to get into Western Reserve, our dear Dart is in a fragile state. Let’s just hope it’s temporary.

#          #          #

Reading Dot’s letter after Dart’s is like emerging from a cave into a bright summer day. She fills eight pages with news, jokes and romance.

“Doug is at Boy Scout camp, El went to a party last night, and Dad all-of-a-sudden decided to take Mom out to dinner & the movies. When I got home from work last night around 9:30 and found the house empty of everything but dirt, I set about getting rid of that, too.”

She explains that her father painted the back bathroom last March after he took the chimney down, but nothing had been done to it since. Everything was covered with plaster dust and paint splatters. “First, I put the fixtures up and then set to work scrubbing! By 11:30. things looked pretty good, but I hadn’t scrubbed the floor, washed the windows or put the curtains up. Mom and Dad came home and made me quit and go to bed.”

She started in again this morning and managed to accomplish quite a bit today, including: scrubbing both the bathroom and kitchen floors, washing the front porch and the porch furniture,  washing three sweaters,  cleaning the bath windows, ironing curtains and doing the dinner dishes. Phew! She declined an invitation to go over to her aunt and uncle’s house tonight with her parents because she wanted to write to Dart. Also, she needs to get to bed early because she’d watching the three Miller boys after church tomorrow.

Referring to Dart’s recent letters, she admits that she, too, must keep busy in order to keep from missing him too much. (I think she’s mastered the “busy” thing pretty well!)  It hurts so much to recall all the times they’ve had together, yet she wouldn’t trade those memories for anything. It is the pleasure of those memories that allow her to see into the future and know the happiness that’s in store for them. “Won’t it be wonderful when you won’t have to put me on a train anymore, or vice versa? I thrive on the anticipation of our life together a year from now. Even though everything is so uncertain as to how we’re going to manage financially, I can hardly wait to show the rest of the world that we can do a good job of being Mr. and Mrs. D. G. Peterson, Jr.”

Pegasus appreciated his get well card so much that she seems to have heeded his advice. She didn’t cough once when Dot drove her to Harriet’s tonight. Ruth discovered recently that the old car was only firing on three of her six cylinders and had her repaired. Anyway, the family thinks Dart has missed his calling and should request an interview with the Hallmark company as soon as possible.

Harriet sends Dart her best wishes for success at school and Toni Gale mentioned him in her prayers tonight. Dot is delighted that everyone thinks so highly of Dart, but not, of course, as highly as she does. How she wishes she could be with him for the train trip this weekend! She might learn more about trains that way, she says.

Now she responds to his lovely letter of June 24 when he was recalling that fine day when he received the long awaited letter with Dot’s answer to his proposal. “Perhaps you have some idea how thrilled I was when I got your letter asking me to become engaged to you. It wasn’t a complete surprise, but it was a new and completely wonderful thrill to read that letter over and over again. An unspeakable, heavenly, joy came to me that day and has remained with me ever since. It’s a joy that makes me perk up when I think that things are actually worse than they are. It’s the joy I feel when i first wake up and see your picture in the morning, knowing that someday soon, I’ll wake up and see you! Oh, Darling, we are certainly the most fortunate couple I’ve ever heard of or read about. We have a love that many people never experience. The bond between us isn’t just physical or sexual. It’s something far deeper, yet including both of those things. You’re as much a part of me as my heart. I love you beyond all expression.

The only complaint she has about her job is that the other day she got two mosquito bites, both of which became infected. The one by her eye was the worst, but she looks almost human now. “That is, as much as I ever have.”

She’s happy to hear about his happy reunion with Tom Reilly and hopes the two of them will be able to spend more time together. She also looks forward to entertaining his friends when she and Dart are married. Does Tom have a girlfriend?

Her stay in Greenwich has given her lots of opportunities to drive. She wants to get lots of practice in before September so she can do her share of driving when they go up to Sunapee.

Does he really think she’ll only be able to make $100 a month when they’re married? That seems too low to her, but maybe she can hang up a babysitting sign somewhere to earn extra cash. The only question would be, who would keep the coffee brewing while he studies? She guesses they’ll have to cross that bridge when it gets closer.

Are his parents concerned that El will be the only chaperone at Sunapee? It looks as though that’s their only hope right now. El asked her married friend to come up, but that friend has to work. It looks like September is too late in the year to get anyone else, so it’s El or no one.

El and her new beau Bud came home so she joined them to chew the fat (and a little leftover turkey) and now it’s 3:45 AM! Did she say she was going to bed early? I guess she meant early morning. Bud seems to be a nice guy. He came to Greenwich on Friday and will be heading home to Boston Sunday afternoon.

Dot has lots more to write, but it’ll have to wait until another day. Sleep beckons!