January 29, 1944

Here’s a cheerful, ebullient letter from Dot, guaranteed to bring some cheer to a blue, quarantined sailor.

She talks about two old movies she saw tonight; “In Old Chicago” and “With a Banjo on My Knee.” It sounds like they weren’t great movies to begin with, but by 1944 they were so dated and corny that they seemed funny to Dot and her friends.

She reports that she was thrilled to receive a phone call during dinner from none other than Dart’s mother. She was calling to say that Dot shouldn’t be concerned if she didn’t hear from Dart for awhile because he was in quarantine. Dot is so impressed that Mrs. Peterson would think to call her. She says she’s getting so eager to meet this lovely woman, if Dart doesn’t get home soon, Dot says she just may drop in to see his mother herself.

She mentions that she had two companions for the school’s official date night – namely her roommates Andy and Cathie.

Claiming total fatigue after a long day, Dot ends the letter, sending “get well quick” wishes from all the girls in her house. She signs the letter with a typical teenage girl closing – Puddles of Purple Passion, Dot.

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January 30, 1944

Today’s offering from Dot starts with a sassy little get-well card, done in a kind of Brooklyn accent. She chose it so Dart would be reminded of the Brooklyn Boys in his company. Next comes a stunning pencil sketch of a glamorous woman, drawn by Dot’s roommate Andy. She’s sending it to Dart as a temporary pin-up girl until “the real thing comes along.” Finally, we get to the actual letter, which Dot is writing from study hall on a Sunday night.

She describes her day where she did “nothing of consequence,” including her K.P. duty preparing a Sunday dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, squash and graham cracker pie. She tells a cute story of cleaning out her dresser drawers: “Judging from what I found it was about time. When I got down to the newspaper liners, all I could find was the outside edge and mice tracks all over the place. Looking a little further, I found a note saying ‘Please clean these out soon. We’ve eaten all the good part of the paper. You see, we don’t like the crusts.'”

She goes on to tell about the upcoming tradition of February graduation of last year’s seniors who have completed their eight-month practicum. The former seniors return for prom on Friday night, bringing dates if they can find them. (There’s a war on, you know.) After the dance, they return to their old cottages and occupy their former rooms. Current residents must either double up or sleep on the floor. Dot has been elected by her roommates to take the floor. Saturday brings a pancake breakfast for the “old girls,” served by the faculty. Dot writes, “Saturday night is the Alumnae banquet with more eats (for them – probably Jello for us.)  And finally, “if any of the poor bloated girls are left, they receive their ‘release’ from Andrews Institute sometime Sunday night.”

As part of the celebratory weekend, the glee club will sing several numbers, and “right now, we smell like Roquefort cheese!”

She tells Dart it’s okay for him to be polite to all his beautiful nurses, but she asks that he mark himself “TNT” so they don’t get too friendly.

One quick observation – Dot writes a line on the back of the card she sent where she issues an order that he get well quickly. Then she adds a quote which reminds me of the mind-over-matter woman who is my mother. “Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

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January 31, 1944

Dot’s brief note mentions some excitement in the ranks of senior retail students today. First, one of the girls was walking across campus when she spotted a sailor. She was so intrigued by the sighting that she continued to watch him instead of the sidewalk. She realized her error when her forehead made abrupt contact with a flagpole, requiring three stitches and a new pair of glasses. Another student slipped on the ice getting out of a car and broke her ankle. Let’s hope there are no more casualties!

The only other news of consequence was that her mother wrote to Dot sending particular greetings to Dart.

The letter ended with the admonition to “…sleep tight and stop that scratching!”

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February 1, 1944

Dart’s letter explains why it’s been such a long time since his last one; this boy’s been sick! Not just measles, but pneumonia, too. The Navy docs experimented with some extreme drug therapy of sulfathiazole for several doses, trying to kick the pneumonia out of his system. When that failed, they brought in this new drug called penicillin – a yellow, oily substance that had to be slowly injected into muscle every three hours for five days.

Dart is trying to write a humorous account of his travails, but I think he’s either a little too scared, or just too exhausted to hit the right tone. One thing is certain, though – Dot’s letters were the bright spot in his days. How he wishes he’d be well enough to go home and see her again!

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February 2, 1944

Dot fills Dart in on the happenings of the day in her world. She is happy to have finally received her class ring, except that it’s large enough to fit Dart’s thumb. For a few moments, the school nurse was sure Dot had the mumps, and seemed disappointed to learn that she didn’t. She received a package from her mother today – a quilted sachet pillow, hand-made, to make things look brighter and smell better. It seems that Ruth Chamberlain is trying to keep up her daughter’s morale while Dart is unable to write as frequently. Dot is proud to announce that after much practice, hard work and concentration, she now types at three words per minute!

In the retail store on campus, everyone is decorating for Valentine’s Day. Dot is being driven slightly nuts by all this talk of Cupid and “darts.” She keeps thinking people are talking to her about her sailor, but is constantly let down to realize it is only arrows they refer to.

She asks whether Dart has noticed any improvement in the Navy recently, since she started buying war stamps. She even bought a whole bond for her parents, which she assumes will make a big difference in the way things are going!

She suggests he “tune in tomorrow – same time, same place,” and he’ll probably find her in the same position, writing to him.

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February 6, 1944

This is a somewhat subdued letter from Dot, who is suffering from a miserable cold. She tells Dart about a party the senior retail girls had at Miss Hutton’s house this week. Lots of sharing of talents – from a musical saw performance by the hostess to Dot reciting a poem, and lots of group singing. Even with all that, Dot seems most impressed by the food.

During her shift at Wright’s department store in Willoughby today, Dot was offered a permanent position when she completes her classes. Lacking in future career advancement, and at a whopping salary of $18.00 per week, Dot wisely turned the offer down.

She confesses it’s hard to write a letter without asking Dart questions, yet asking seems futile since she is unlikely to  hear from him for awhile. Still, she poses the age-old query: When do you think you’ll be coming home?

She warns that with all her preparations for the upcoming graduation, plus the book report she needs to complete, she may not be able to write much for a couple of days. As much as she enjoys reading Dart’s older letters, she looks forward to getting a fresh one soon.

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February 8, 1944

At last! A letter from Dart, with an enthusiastic report of a surprise visit from his parents. Apparently, the Navy had notified them that he was quite ill, and they had hopped on a night train for the 400 mile trip to Great Lakes Naval Hospital. Family lore has it that the Navy had intimated to Dart Sr. and Helen that their son might not pull through. That’s a reminder of how serious pneumonia was in the early days of antibiotics!

Anyway, he is thrilled to have had a nice long visit, with the promise of another one tomorrow. He was shocked by his father’s hair, which had just started to get some gray when Dart left home on Nov. 3. Today, his entire head is silver. I remember my grandfather as a frail man. Family stories paint the picture of a man prone to depression and worry. I wonder if the thought of his eldest son going off to war had caused his hair to turn so quickly.

Even in Dart’s fragile state of health, he commiserates with Dot about her cold. He’s happy to learn that she enjoyed her dinner at Miss Hutton’s more than she’d thought she would. This sage 20-year old says “Often you find that school teachers have souls, whether they act like it in class or not.”

His only answer to her question about when he might get to come home is strictly a guess. If they keep him in the hospital another two weeks, he could be home sometime in the middle of March.

He guesses that she’s not as bad a cook as she would lead him to believe, and suggests that perhaps she’s just trying to scare him off.

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Here’s a short letter from Dot, rather sullen for her. She opens with a very sweet paragraph, but then begins to talk about what a rough week she’s having. No mail from anyone, arduous Glee Club rehearsals, complete failure in creating a clever graduation display for the retail store, a mean-spirited lecture from the senior English teacher. There’s not much going right for her.

She signs off quickly, sending her love, as always.

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February 9, 1944

Dart sends another letter telling Dot about the quick visit his parents made this morning before leaving for their train. The trains are so crowded these days that they wanted to be sure to get a seat rather than have to stand all the way back to Cleveland. Dart is still not sure how they got permission to visit in a contagious ward, but they did, and he’s mighty glad they did.

His father – whom everyone calls Pop -has promised Dart he can use the family car and as much gasoline as can be found when he’s home on boot leave. Dart is also trying to arrange for the use of another car when he’s home so he doesn’t leave his folks stranded.

Not much more to report, other than that he needs to clear up a sinus condition and regain some strength before he’ll be released to boot camp.

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This is the letter Dot wrote when she finally heard from Dart after is long sick spell. I’m kicking myself because somehow I’ve lost the middle two out of four pages. Suffice to say that her enthusiasm for the letter is reflected on the first page, and her eagerness to see him wraps up the final page.

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February 10, 1944

This thoughtful letter from Dart discusses his recent correspondence with the Marine, Fred Dixon. These two boys generally celebrate their birthdays together with a gang of friends. This year, however, when they both turned 20, they were unable to continue the tradition. All but one of their “gang” is serving in uniform somewhere in the world. The remaining fellow is a “cripple” (our more politically correct generation would say “has a disability”)  because of infantile paralysis. (more commonly known these days as “polio.”)

Dart and Fred are somewhat bitter about their entire generation of boys who are losing the chance to transition into adulthood. While being cheated of their carefree days, those under the strict command of others also lose their opportunity to make choices and learn from their mistakes. Without the benefit of those transitional years, they have forever lost an important part of their youth.

Dart points out that, like most philosophers, he and Fred can wax eloquent when describing the bitter state of the world, but when it comes to offering solutions, they are short on ideas. The only one they can come up with is end the war.

He says he wishes he could be with her to help with her retail displays. “With my artistic eye and super talent for salesmanship, I should have you a display to curdle the stomachs of your customers and have them leaving the store in droves.”

He tells Dot not to take too much heed of the lectures and scoldings she and her classmates are receiving from their teachers. He reminds her that seniors have a tendency to dream among the clouds and it is their teachers’ job to pull them back down to reality.

He thanks Dot for the box of cookies and candy she sent. Although he was too sick to eat them when they arrived, he’s making up for lost time now.

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Dot’s cheerful post begins by congratulating him on his “successful plan” to get his parents to come to Great Lakes. All he had to do was hover around Death’s Door for a while… She recalls how thrilled she was to see her mother when she visited from Connecticut, so she’s aware of what his parents’ visit meant to Dart.

Commenting on Dart’s father’s hair being silver, she says it would have to be. When she can’t get to sleep at night, she tries to image what people she’s never seen look like. Recently, Mr. Peterson was her brain’s subject, and she pictured him with a full head of silver hair. Turns our, she was right. I remember my grandfather having such thick hair that he was still having his barber thin it out in his 70s when he died.

Dot’s final exams are in late April and the seniors usually leave campus in early May. She has a couple of concerns about what comes next. First, she must decide if she will do her practicum in the Cleveland area or return to Greenwich. Then, despite her emphatic statement that she had no interest in ever going to college, she finds now that she’d really like to go. She’s faced with all those questions about where to go, what to study, etc. In her usual modest fashion, she ends her musings with “After all is said and done, I’ll probably end up selling shoestrings in some little insignificant dime store.”

She reports that the Glee Club’s Founder’s Day concert is over. On one number, they were so flat that the director had to stop them three times to give them their pitch! Next stop – auditions for the Metropolitan Opera Company, says Dot.

Her work group is nearly finished with their cooking duties, to the relief of the girls who’ve had to eat the garbage they’ve created. On the bright side, no one has become seriously ill from their pathetic efforts.

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