3/23/39
Darling:
Boy, I’m glad to hear that. Between not hearing from you about that business, as well as being concerned over the positive reaction on the scratch*, your little boy hasn’t slept a full night in over a week. Well, let me know how the other business turns out. Listen, little girl, will you promise to have the x-rays taken within a couple of days after payday? Please answer this in your next letter, because if you won’t promise or if you don’t answer, I shall send the money to you. If you want me to do this, if things are squeezed, just let me know and I shall gladly oblige. That’s the least a husband can do.
Mother seems to be quite happy about her birthday. Every time she writes she says that you are coming in the next evening or something and that makes everything fine. I wouldn’t be too surprised if she liked you a little bit, like I do.
OK on the hairdo. Experiment with it until you feel satisfied and then shoot me
some pictures. OK on a small one of me, after things have cleared up. I wouldn’t want that around that section of the US for a while at least. I feel flattered, nevertheless.
When things clear up, perhaps I could call on the Brows even though you aren’t out here. Of course, it will be sort of nip and tuck as to whether or not you are out here after things clear. That’s going to be an awful hard decision for us to make when the time comes, but I’m not afraid of it.
I shall look at the local edition of Moody’s if I ever get over there and know my way around well enough.
Glad to hear that the other part of the exam wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be.
I went out to see Pygmalion last night. Darling, you must see it. It is one of the most touching, most amusing, most sincere, and best acted pictures I have ever seen. I thought I would split laughing at it, and probably most of the people around me wished that I would split and get it over with. After I got home—now don’t faint—I finished retyping that story over which we worked so long, the one about the concrete slab. After rereading it, I don’t like it. I suppose I should submit it, but I’m a little afraid of a kick back from Bendix or PU or RCA. I don’t know about what they could kick, but I shall consider it a bit before submitting the thing. Of course, it probably wouldn’t be published and therefore would make little difference. But since I don’t like it, perhaps it would be published! My taste is not always the same as that of the average American, whoever that may be.
I got quite a compliment this afternoon, and I am muchly happy as a result. In fact, I shall probably do much better work this coming week than the last, although I wasn’t sleeping at the switch even then. The boss, Gunther, wanted me to do some other work for about a week, but Selby told him that I was indispensible to the Coast Guard job at present! (Tsk tsk—I let it out again). I have carried out a lot of investigation of parts and materials which might be construed to be boondoggling, but apparently Selby sees their value. Generally, when this happens, I get kicked in the face the following day, so I shan’t be surprised if someone tells me my work is lousy tomorrow. Neither today’s or tomorrows treatment will make me lose sleep, so I guess it doesn’t make much difference.
It is lucky for my vanity that your picture can’t talk. I ask it millions of times per week why you aren’t out here living with me, working with me, reading and arguing with me, and not losing sleep with me. If it could answer, I should probably be told that it is because I was once too selfish to include you in my life until I was sure that I should have everything I wanted first. I don’t feel that way now.
Can you imagine it. I have been home for some time, and you yet have an hour and a few minutes until quitting time. Further, I have been home for a half hour or more! If these hours continue, I shall be a very spoiled brat.
The Way of a Transgressor is an excellent book. The author does just about what I have done so far, only he continues it for the rest of his life. We might read it over sometime together as a possible guide to our future conduct. But your little boy has to get on his horse and become a lot better educated than he is now before we can have as much fun as this fellow did. We’ll get there someday, precious.
It is nearly supper time and I must write Mother. Let me know if I should give you a lift on the x-rays. It would be a cash set-up to avoid records.
Still your best friend and a lot more. Cy.
*TB test