Editor’s note: On June 21, 1939, Lou Gehrig announced his retirement as a result of ALS.
6/21/39
I am sending the other copy of this to the office in case you don’t get the special tonight. Better mail back the copy to keep your collection complete, as I have no third copy.
Darling:
I’m down to about four letter-heads, so I shall use this paper until I get some more. I believe I shall get some with the name in a little lighter type, and also get some envelopes of the size that you use. They will look a little better than the large ones I now have.
You’re right. I can’t imagine life without you either. Even when I was planning it with other girls, I was trying to make them over into you. It just won’t work. I must have you, and shall.
I haven’t heard yet from Nena, and Dad hasn’t answered my letter. Mother gave me some information, as she expressed it, in case I couldn’t read Nena’s handwriting. Precious, Nena broke her promise to me, and I am afraid that I don’t feel any future responsibility. So I believe I shall just forget the whole business. As for Chucky, he is a grand kid. The best thing I can do for him is to treat him as John Fast treated me. Offering him every encouragement, but no debilitating direct aid, will give him a chance to make something of himself if he cares to. This is a bigger blow to him than he is admitting. In spite of Nena’s propaganda pro Johny*, Chuck has never ceased to compare John to Dad, and that is an odious comparison.
It finally stopped raining here. Today was cool and sunny. Out there, it would have been classed as a cloudy day, but out here, it was bright and shiny. I went swimming for a couple of hours right after work. I can’t get anyone to go with me from the office yet, but they will when the weather gets a little warmer.
Maw** wrote me a nice letter which I received today. Darling, if you ever want to blow off on a sympathetic shoulder, I think she loves you more than enough to provide the shoulder. She’s another one of my friends who likes me more now that she knows you. Gee, you’re a precious little thing.
Darling girl, I hope you telegraph me if you get any favorable action on the suit. Incidentally, please let me know how much the phone bill was. I knew you would call, and I’ve been expecting it—one of us just had to break down.
You’re very precious to me, and I love you. There are probably fancier ways of saying it, but I think that tells you just about how I feel.
Goodnight my wife, Cy.
*John Shaw
**Johny Huntoon’s mother