Letter #8

October 18, 1942

Sunday Afternoon.

My sweetheart:

The past week has been a lucky one for me as far as hearing from you is concerned. As I wrote you, I received letter #1 for October last Monday, a cable on Tuesday, another cable on Thursday, and yesterday I received letters #10, 11, and 12 for September, written Sept. 25, 27, and 29. I didn’t expect them yesterday, as I almost never get mail on Saturday, so I was both surprised and glad. Now I am lacking only #7, 8, and 9 for September, and they will probably come this week some day.

I was at work yesterday morning, when into our office came Aunt Sadie with the three letters for me. She had an errand at the Red Cross office, so brought the letters to me when she came.

After reading your letters, I went down to the bank and deposited your check. Next month, I intend to pay something on the house, and will include the money you sent. Thanks a lot, darling. It will help a lot towards getting the mortgage paid off.

Now to answer your letters. The handkies are lovely. I know now what you mean in the Oct. 2 letter that I received Monday when you spoke about a number of the handkies you sent then. I will keep track of each handkerchief and give them as Xmas presents as you asked. They will be wonderful gifts and I know everyone will be thrilled. And in this way, you are really picking out and giving them yourself, and it isn’t as if I bought them and just wrote you name on a gift without your knowing anything about what it was, or what it looked like. The material is lovely, and the handkerchiefs themselves are so dainty and pretty. At the office yesterday, I showed them to Mrs. McLaughlin after I finished the letters, and she went into raptures over them. She said that she has paid as high as $1.00 apiece for handkerchiefs, but never saw such lovely ones as those. I’m anxious to see mine for my birthday with my initials. I know they will be beautiful. You always know what I will like, don’t you, darling? Yes, the explanation is all clear, about giving them to the various people, etc.

Be careful what you eat so that you won’t have any more stomach upsets. I’m glad that your indigestion on the 23 and 24 was not serious, and hope you are well in every way now; no colds or anything out of order. Judging from your letters and cables, you are fine.

None of the letters I received are censored. In fact, ever since I have been getting letters from you, I think only two or three have been opened.

Darling, you asked whether I would rather go to Bermuda or thru the south. That is an awfully difficult question to answer, as there are many things to be said on both sides of the question. Let’s both think about it before we make any definite decision. Either one will be wonderful, but the most wonderful thing of all will be to be with you, dearest. The weather here is grand, as it always is in the fall. Most of the leaves have fallen now, however, and the air is a little sharper each day, but not too cold, just invigorating.

I was awfully glad to get the snapshots, especially the one of you. As far as I can tell, you look fit as ever, and have not lost any weight, for which I am very glad. The other snapshots were interesting, too. I am glad to see people that you have written about. The minister and his family look like very pleasant people. The other two snapshots were most interesting, too. Thanks a lot. They mean so much to me. It is so nice to see one of you, most of all. But I enjoyed all four you sent, and will keep them where I can look at them often.

Friday night, I went to Bobby’s birthday party, as I told you I was going to. Soon after I arrived at Dorothy’s, your mother phoned that she had a flat tire and didn’t have any way of getting there. So Bobby and I went over in our car and got her and took her to Dorothy’s. We had dinner about 6:30 or so, and there were eight of us---Father and Mother Cook, Dorothy, Don, Bobby, Grandma Klock, Aunt Muriel, and I. (Wally is in Fort Monmouth, N.J.) After dinner Bobby had his gifts, and got lots of lovely things including clothes and toys and a cart. Aunt Muriel had parked her car in the lane, so Don, Father Cook, and I had to park out in front of the house. After dinner, we were going to help Dot do the dishes, and Mother Cook couldn’t find her apron and thought she must have left it in the car when I brought her over to Dorothy’s. So I went out to get it for her. And dear, you should have seen our nice clean car! Although it was over two weeks before hallowe’en. The windows were covered with soap, and I mean covered completely, not just streaks. And the car was right under a street light, too. It is a good thing I had it locked, or they would probably have soaped the inside of the windows also. Luckily, they didn’t get at the windshield, and the back window wasn’t quite solid the way the side windows were. And they also put some soap on the car itself---they weren’t satisfied with covering the windows. They also got after Don’s car, although his wasn’t quite as bad as mine. As near as we could figure, they went after every other car along the street, because your dad’s car and the one behind me were all right. But your father was mad, and he took a look at my car and at Don’s, and called the police. They came, and went to two different houses where some naughty boys lived, and of course the boys knew nothing about it. So they said they were going on another street near there to see if they could find out anything. Well, when it came time for me to come home, your dad asked if I wanted him to drive me home, and Mother Cook follow in his car and then take him home. I said that I thought I could manage all right. I had quite a time opening the windows of the car, as the soap sort of sealed them shut. I opened them, I could see out fairly well because as I said, the windshield had not been touched. I got home all right although all the way I had a sort of “blind spot” where the little wings, or whatever you call them---the front part of the windows on the door---they were thickly covered, of course, and I couldn’t see thru them, as they sort of stuck out in the way. Well, I was sort of worried when it came to turning in the lane, and I couldn’t see out of the back window to tell if anyone was coming, so I had to lean out and look. No one was near, so I was all right. But poor Roy worked most all day yesterday trying to get the car to looking decent again. He had to take a razor or knife to get the worst of the soap off the windows. And he got the soap off the body, except for a big V and three dots and a dash on the trunk part. He says he will have to simonize the trunk of the car again. I gave Roy $2.00 yesterday, although he didn’t want to take it. But it was an awful mess, and a hard job. And all summer he has taken good care of the car, just as he does of Grandma’s and Sylvia’s. He washes it and polishes it, and gets gas for me when it needs it (and when I have ration tickets to get it.) However, I don’t have much chance to drive for any great distance, so I have had plenty of gas so far with just an A book. If I used the car for business, I would have to have a B book.

Yesterday afternoon after lunch, I went overtown for a short time to do some shopping, and sent you a cable telling you that the check arrived all O.K. I though you would like to know, and would be relieved.

Last night, Sylvia and I went to Fen Leonard’s with my father and Auntie and Him and Mary Palmer for Welsh rarebit, which was good. Then we went to the movies and saw Ann Southern in “Panama Hattie,” which was sort of silly. People have seen both the stage show and the movie, say that the movie is very much inferior to the original on the stage.

I was sort of tired, so was going to sleep this morning. At 10 o’clock, Miss Fuller called me to ask me about a case that I was working on yesterday. It is necessary to have someone on duty each week-end to take care of messages that might come in. Miss Fuller is on duty this week-end, so yesterday before leaving the office, I explained this case to her, and told her that we might get a telegram on it, and where to phone the message if and when it got here. So this morning she called, and simply had to speak to me. So I went to the phone, and she told me the answer had come, and where could she locate the soldier’s wife to tell her that her husband was no longer in the Station Hospital but was back with his company. So of course, after that I got a bit of breakfast, took a bath, and got dressed.

I must tell you about one of the colored soldiers that came in the office yesterday. Mrs. McL. asked him how he liked Binghamton, and he said he didn’t like it as well as Oswego, where he was stationed prior to coming here. She asked him what was the matter, and he answered, “Well, before I came here I was a Sergeant, but two days after I got to Binghamton, they took one of my stripes away, so now I am only a Corporal.” She answered him, “What did you do for them to take away the stripe and make you a corporal. There must have been some reason.” He didn’t want to tell us, I guess, because he hesitated and then replied, “I slapped a corporal, so they made me one too.” We almost laughed, and then Mrs. McL. Said to him, “It is a good thing you didn’t slap a buck private, or you might have been made one of those.” He heartily agreed!

This afternoon, Sylvia and I are going to a tea at the rectory. Mr. Jacoby called up a few days ago, and invited us. He said he was inviting a few of the younger women in the church to meet some woman who is here for a day or two---some sort of secretary or representative of something in connection with the church. He said he was just asking the young women who were active in the church, and who were the leaders. Do you suppose he expects me to believe that? I certainly don’t lead anything, and Sylvia definitely does not. Well, anyway, we are going. At least, I am, and I guess Sylvia had decided to go also. I don’t especially like Mr. Jacoby, but for one thing, he is trying to start things, and wake the people up a little. And I wouldn’t like to see what this tea is all about. If he wants me to teach Sunday School, he is out of luck. I am in no mood this year to teach a lot of wiggling, naughty, and badly behaved children. In fact, in don’t even want to teach good children, though I don’t know as such creatures go to our church. Certainly I’ve never seen any.

Tonight, Cecil Brown, the famous commentator, is to speak at the High School. My dad and Auntie and I are going to hear him, and I presume it will be well worth while. I understand he charges a lot to come. I believe he is to discuss the far eastern question. We haven’t got out tickets yet, but are going over early tonight, and get our tickets and try to get the best of the unreserved seats. Reserved seats are $1.10, and other seats are $.89. It seems as if the other seats will be good enough for me. Goodness---for $.89 cents you could see two movies, and for $1.10 you could see two and one half movies.

I hope I soon hear your permanent address so I can send your Xmas present to you. I hope your mail and the things already sent will be forwarded to you from A.P.O. 305, so that you will get them soon.

It is nearly time for the tea, so must stop and get ready to go.

My precious, I miss you so much, and am terribly lonely. I just don’t know what to do. Working hard helps, however. I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t have a job. But even so, you are always in my mind, and I keep wondering what you are doing, and if you are all right, etc. it seems as if I won’t be able to wait until your return, but I guess I’ll have to. You are so wonderful, darling, and there is no one like you, or half so sweet as you are, in the whole world.

All my love and my kisses to you, sweetheart. I love you with all my heart, and I pray for you safety and for an end of the war and a speedy return to this country for you.

Most affectionately,

Your loving and devoted wife,

Jeanette.