5/8/39
Baby Girl:
I hope that you got my “special” sometime today, and also that nothing is wrong, as I haven’t heard from you since Saturday morning.
It was sweet of you to drop me the line on the progress of the project that we both hold nearest to our hearts just now.
Boy! When summer arrives in this dump, it arrives in no uncertain terms. Friday, it started to warm up, and it has been 90 and better ever since! Add to this a humidity of 75% and you have a nice little stew pot for all of the people. Thank heaven hot weather doesn’t bother me like it does most people.
I played 16 innings of baseball on Saturday and had great sport. I even picked up a little tan. Until the sixth inning, I did a bang up job of catching, but then I blew sky high and made four errors in one inning. You would have gotten a big kick out of seeing me in my baseball cap—squatting behind the plate and trying to keep up a line of chatter to keep the infield on their toes. That’s the only thing I do well—talk.
Sunday brought out a show, Dodge City, and a stage show with Ella Logan and Hugh Herbert. The picture was excellent, and the stage passable. Uncle Hugh and his “woo-woo” were most interesting.
Darling, why aren’t we together. I feel like a rotten spoiled brat asking that question, but I’m pretty fed up with being a bachelor.
I can’t make connections with Aiken’s friend, so I shall have to look up another doc around here.
Is the 15th soon enough for the $10? You haven’t answered yet, and I don’t want you to do anything foolish for lack of it. I have it in savings and can get it sooner if you need it. If you have already answered this, just forget it.
It’s time to quit, precious. I have to meet Al tonight and I don’t feel in the mood at all. Be a good little girl and take care of yourself for me, because I want you very badly.
Your little boy, Cy.