July 20, 1945

Friday Evening

Dearest Ralph,

            Well another week almost gone and still no letters. Maybe tomorrow, I hope. I’ve quit complaining because it doesn’t do any good and there is no future in it anyway. I do think that some of the mail never gets there.

            It sure has been hot here lately. We are having real summer weather now. I thought I’d pass out at work today but I survived. I was over at the store tonight (New Harrisburg) and Jr. Drake drove in. I was hoping he wouldn’t see me because I was so dirty but he did. He talked, I betcha, for a good half hr. He was hunting Carl Wilson, dad and Mom but I didn’t know where they lived. He kidded me and said, “I use to know.” They live over there some place now. He didn’t say anything important, just crazy.

Burwells, Easterday’s wife, came up last night and wanted me o go to the show with her, so I did. It was nice of them to take me but the show wasn’t any good. Her baby sure is sweet. They wanted to know if we were going to start raising a family when you get home. I said I didn’t think so unless you wanted to. I thought they were getting sorta personal, don’t you?

            I got my tire papers back yesterday and they weren’t filled out in one space. I have to do that and send it back in tomorrow. That rationing is a pain in the neck sometimes. It will just be that much longer, I won’t get my tires now.

            Honey I’m going to close for tonight. It’s so dark but here you can’t go to bed very early. I can sleep in, in the morning. Well honey I’ll write a big letter tomorrow night if I can. I try to write big ones but there is never nothing to say. Just remember I’m waiting for the day we can be together again and then I’ll tell you how much I really love you.

Forever yours,

Marge