2/27/39
Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.
Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.
Yippee! I’ve my mill! Now I can write to my honey. It has been terrible these last few days, not being able to write her, but I did manage to get off a few scribbles. Hey, this isn’t the way to start a letter! Let’s begin all over.
Camden, NJ
Martha Darling:
Of all good things that can happen to a man, the best by far is to receive a letter from his wife*. Honestly, I would have gone crazy without it, and I’m so darned happy now that I’m crazy with it. And then to have the typewriter and the laundry and two letters from the folks come on top of it was almost too much. Wheeee!
First, I’m terribly relieved to hear that you didn’t take my letter about the chain letter to heart. I didn’t think that you would, but you are a little upset now, and I wasn’t quite sure how it would hit you. Well, that’s all over with by now. You’ve probably gotten half a dozen more letters from that crazy boy-friend of yours by now which probably have explained things a little. Honestly, all he can remember doing in the past week is eat and write letters to his baby girl. But he couldn’t help it, that was as near as he could come to talking to her.
Just guessing, but isn’t it about time for Helen Barr Kellog to have a baby or something? All the rest of our friends seem to be.
Boy, is Tommy lucky. Kick her in the appropriate place for me and wish her all the luck in the world. (If you get her job, kiss her for me in the best approved fashion). Hit that shorthand, Honey, it will be worth it. I’m having a dirty job of the Fourier analysis, but I guess it’s worth it.
Tell Bill that one of the books is in the bookcase just to the left of his desk in my room, and the other is probably down in the dining room in his rats nest there. I don’t need them immediately, but I may if the work progresses. Your shipping clerk (do you have one) can probably fix it up for you. Insure them for five bucks each, and let me know what the postage amounts to.
I’m glad to hear that Wayne approves of me. His warning is rather a sensible one, much as I hate to admit it.
It was sweet of you to take Mother to the show. It probably helped straighten her out a little to be with someone else who might (?) be missing me a little (?)—p.s. am I modest. You will probably have to fill my boots with Chucky, but don’t let the family know it. They might resent it for a while at least. They used to feel badly about the position Cousin Blenda** had with me. The situation is comparable.
So Doris and Cliff think I’m nuts. Ask them how they felt the first time they were forced to be apart for six months or so. Of course, I can vaguely see why half a million letters might look like someone was a little off in the upper story.
Nice going on the rainy-day savings. Speaking of which, we are supposed to get paid on the first and fifteenth, and generally are, except when we get paid sooner. So the dope mentioned in my letter of yesterday probably goes through.
Darling, you can’t imagine how thankful I am that I have a girl who isn’t selfish. All right, little girl, if you want that school in one piece, I’ll get it that way. And I’ll try to get it as soon as possible. That is the most sensible way, but you’ve waited so long that I didn’t want to ask you to put up with any more from me. I shall work on JEF*** as soon as possible. I shall not write to him until I can make a definite statement. This will be about next pay-day. Your offer to let me work on my master’s after we’re married is most welcome and fine. It is something that most girls wouldn’t even consider. With your push and brains and my love of such junk, you’ll be Mrs. “Dr.” Stafford yet. It is a worthwhile aim, both in respect and financially.
Your remark about twisting my hair came appropriately.
Last night, after supper, I studied until about 9:30 and then went out for a brisk hour’s walk. It rained all day, but the moon shown through while I was out walking. A moon has never meant a thing to me before, but realizing that my baby might possibly be looking at the same old disc made me feel just a little closer to you.
Today, I did ok. The group seem to be satisfied with what little work I have done. Apparently they are taking on men, but only men who have RCA experience and loads of it. The group are fine to me, and apparently I am supposed to know my onions. I caught a rather bad mistake today, and everyone was very grateful. The Coast Guard—ups, slipped—wouldn’t like it if it went into production. (I guess I can tell my wife—don’t let it go any farther, although it wouldn’t make much difference). Maybe I’ll be worth my salary someday. Right now, I feel like I am. The next thing is to convince them.
When I got home tonight, I found the stuff—typewriter & laundry—mentioned before. I read your letter and re-read it and had a swell time. Then, realizing that I was going to get paid on the 15th as well as the 1st, I went out and bought a typing table. I like it better than J.H.’s****, as it has no bracing between the legs. I don’t have to straddle it, and there is plenty of room underneath for these big feet of mine. Also, it is lighter but stronger. Price, $5, was too much. But I imagine it will be worth it.
For your information, I am keeping copies of these letters on the mill. They are on white paper and are filed in your “Marty” file. This is just in case you have to dump your copies overboard in a hurry. If you do, I will have duplicates for you.
I can’t get over it. It isn’t yet six o’clock, and yet I have been home, back to town, set up this table, uncrated a typewriter, and written a long letter. This business of getting out at four is certainly the nuts.
I think I shall be a bad boy tonight and ditch the studying and take a trip over to Philly. I am supposed to meet Allan Howell over there tomorrow at 4:30, and I want to find the place and how to get there as I shan’t have much time tomorrow. Maybe I can sneak in a couple of hours anyhow. I reviewed one chapter and did some problems over the week-end. I have about six more chapters to review and about that many more to study from scratch. If I can handle it, I should finish this book in less than a month. Then I shall probably start on that course in which I made the “condition” last year, so that I can make an effort to pass it off whenever I get back in school. It isn’t difficult, just boring. If I don’t go back to school next fall, I shall probably have to enroll in a course here under the RCA on receiver design. It should be a good course if I take it.
Glad to hear that Chas. Sr. is out of the picture. I’ve often wondered if he would drift back—it would be just like him, and just like Nena to swallow the same old line.*****
Well, Darling, your boy-friend is getting just a little hungry. In fact, I’m starved. So I suppose I had better close this and get going. Maybe some day we will get things straightened so that our letters don’t cross, but what difference does it make? I’ll probably just go on spouting off whenever I get in the mood. Maybe I can exercise a little restraint later so that it won’t look quite so bad.
Love, but still from your “best friend’ plus: xxxx
Your lil’ boy Cy
*Even though Marty was not yet divorced, Cy begins to routinely refer to her as his wife and often refers to himself as her husband from this point in time.
**Blenda Fast, John Fast’s wife and cousins to the Stafford family
*** John E. Fast
****Johny Huntoon’s
*****I’m not sure what this comment specifically refers to. My father recalls that he visited his father and Aunt Sissy in Louisville a few times between 1928 and 1934, but then did not go back again until about 1944. There may have been very little communication between his divorced parents during that time. My father was not given the news when his grandmother died in 1935 or when his granddad died in 1937. His father did marry again in 1936. His wife was Gertrude Graef, (my Grandma Gert), and they had one daughter in 1946, my aunt Mary Gayle.