Post #313 - March 6, 1944 Compared to the Majority of the Guys in the Company—I am an Old Man

 

March 6, 1944

My Darling, 

At last—some real mail! Your 11-pager of 23 Feb. arrived today. It was the first word I had that Adele was ailing with German Measles. Luckily, your V-mail of 25 Feb. arrived at the same time, advising me that her condition had improved much overnight, thereby saving me some anxious moments. I gather she's O.K. now—and I'm glad. Hope the worriment and extra work didn't affect you too much, Sweet.

In reading over your letters just now, I didn't see anything that calls for comment except a question you put about Wolpe’s proofs. Answer: I have them—and I mean to keep them. ‘Nuff said? Something else—you say you received my two letters of the 16th Feb. I don't remember writing two. Tell my mom, I'm sorry I didn't get the opportunity to say Kadish for Pop. 

Things are still pretty dull around here, and I haven't done anything worth writing about. I got to thinking today about reneging on my promise to send you something every month. The more I thought about it, the less I liked myself. Finally, I decided to fix it so the sorry performance would never again be repeated. I made out an allotment for a $25.00 bond to be taken out of my pay each month. That way I know I'll save something each month—come what may. I figure your $80.00 per month should see you through, so there is no real need for me to send my “surplus” home. However, whenever I do have a “surplus,” I'll send it along to you in the form of a bond. In the meantime I'll be automatically acquiring a bond a month which is in both our names as co-owners and will be mailed to you. I hope this meets with your approval, Chippie. 

Today—as if you didn't know—your old man added another full year to his previous twenty-eight. Compared to the majority of the guys in the Company—I am an old man, but strangely I don't feel old—I feel like I'm just biding my time to really start living—again. Of one thing I'm certain—I'm not too far gone to miss you terribly, and to feel the need of you acutely, my dear Chippie. On the other hand, looking at the situation from your side, “your Phil” will prove his sufficiency in every department and to your entire satisfaction (if’n you know what I mean) anytime, and whenever he next gets the opportunity to do so. (Wanna bet?) On the whole, I don't feel that the past year has deprived me of anything (materially speaking). Paradoxically, it has, to great extent, and in ways too numerous to mention, benefited me. If I do not feel myself any older, I certainly feel myself wiser. God grant an early end to our too-long separation, so that I might use my increased acumen to the best advantage of myself and my loved ones. My mind is increasingly pre-occupied with plans for the future—“our” future—and so gloriously happy are the situations I contemplate, that I can't help but feel impatient for the chance to translate my dreams into facts. I have been “dead” for so long now, that I am inexpressibly eager to resume “living” (as I used to know the meaning of the word). Biding time is a necessary evil—but nonetheless—an evil, and I would have done with it. 

Take care of yourself, my darling, and take care of my other darling, the ubiquitous (where's that dictionary?) punkin. I love you both so very much! My love to the family. 

Ever, 

Your Phil 

March 6, 1944 

Dear Phil,

Such is the world today that Americans who can spend their birthdays at home do so with the feeling, not of happiness, but of longing; and pray that their loved ones will share the next one with them here. 

You, who today celebrate your birthday by arc rather than by candle light, amidst bomb rather than amidst cake ruins, cannot look forward to happiness tomorrow that has evaded you for so many yesterdays. But your next, to be spent with those to whom you are so dear, that is a shining ray of hope to be encountered in the world you helped to bring peace back to. May the good Lord so deign. We’ll know He did when Adele Bara says “Happy Birfday, Daddy. 

As ever, 

Jackie

March 6, 1944

Dear Phil,

How are you? I received your v-mail and I was glad to hear from you. By the way, happy birthday! You wanted to know what subjects I've taken in school. They are bookkeeping, biology, practical math, arithmetic review, English and American Ideals, which is history and geography combined together. I got a letter and card from Harry Weinman and a letter from your brother Jack, I promise you that I will be your Valentine and that I will share you with Evvie and that I won't tell all the boys the same thing I tell you. Phil, do you have any small pictures of yourself? I would like to have one to put into my wallet. I just got through writing letters to Eddie, Harry and Jack, and my hands are breaking off, so I'll just have to cut you short. 

Lots of love, 

Ruth. 

P.S. Write and tell me if you need anything. 

P.P.S. We are mailing off some more of those packages for the English kids. 

Post #312 - March 4, 1944 This is Becoming a Real “Running” Letter and Just Received Two Birthday Cards

 

March 4th 1944 

Darling Hubby, 

Did I say spring was on its way? I take it all back, for today we had a young blizzard. It snowed all day long and is piled fairly high. I guess spring decided to wait awhile. 

Have you heard the latest tune “I Didn't Sleep a Wink Last Night”? Well, that applies to me and last night. Furthermore Adele refused to take her afternoon nap. When I awoke this morning, I felt dead on my feet. I pushed myself all morning hoping to get a nap in the afternoon. No such luck. Well, honey, have you any idea of how I feel at this moment? Every bone, muscle and tissue of my body aches and I'm terribly weary. I had to wash an accumulation of Adele’s things, clean up the house generally before I could let her roam about as I hadn't cleaned yesterday and there was an inch of dust over all. Sarah and Betty took Adele next door for an hour to give me a chance to finish. I wrapped and prepared your package for mailing and will get it off on Monday. 

Mom got a bill from Montifiore for $5.25 for care of the grave for 1943. I had a nice letter from my brother and he thinks my new stationery is “shrewd,” no less. 

Harry and Goldie left this evening. They couldn't get a cab and hated to wade through this blizzard since Goldie does not have goulashes. They walked out of the house, and lo and behold, an empty cab turns the corner. Harry hailed it, and they stepped right in. Harry, looks “shrewd” in his new outfit. It's neat and rich looking. 

I'm going to wash my hair, set it and shower, so I'll finish this tomorrow. I feel better that I've had my say for the day. I love you, angel. 

March 5th, 1944 

It is exactly five minutes to eleven and you are sound asleep—or are you? The reason I'm writing this late hour is due to the fact that I finally, yes, finally, got around to going to a movie. Anne called this afternoon, not wanting to go alone. The picture at the Lindley was “Old Acquaintance” with Betty Davis and I believe you said you saw it. I enjoyed the picture, but didn't care for the mood it put me in. Phil, dearest, I just had to write before going to bed for I don't feel right about skipping. This has been a bad week for me. I almost felt myself slipping into that old state of hopelessness. I thought perhaps my not being out for a month was the reason, but the picture tonight and being out didn't cure what ailed me. I guess I'm just a sentimental old fool, especially since we'll be spending another birthday apart. Don't hold it against me for saying the following: the tears are streaming down my cheeks as I write, the pain that gnaws at my heart is almost unbearable. There is a lump as big as an apple in my throat and an equally unbearable desire to take you into my arms and kiss and love you. It's the first time I've actually slipped, but I more or less expected it to hit me full force sometime this month. Don't worry, sweetheart, it will pass in a day or two I'm sure. Just one of those things. 

The absence of Harry and Goldie has been some what soothing to my rattled nervousness and the unbroken quiet of the house is relaxing. I shoveled the pavement, washed (my daily duty) Adele’s few things, shined all my shoes and did various other small things. I neglected to mention that Ethel will now have a steady maid—five days a week from nine to five. The girl is a young mulatto and I understand the pay is $10 per week. 

Adele had a slight accident today. I was dressing her to take her out. She was playing with an empty powder can. I took hold of her arm to put it in the armhole of the sweater. She tried to pull away and banged the can against her lip. It wasn't a hard blow, but it hit at just the right angle, making a nasty gash and the blood ran for a while. This turned my stomach up-side-down, but I applied a cold compress which stopped the bleeding. It's okay now, though it did unnerve me. I had her out for a short while in the afternoon. 

She has a new trick up her sleeve. When someone bawls her out or won't give her what she wants she sort of blinks her eyes as if to cry and makes a wry face. Boy, is she a faker! She always calls my dad “Pop” and he goes into hysterics every time he hears her call him “Pop.” 

You know, sweet, I feel lots better already. “Talking” to you always helps so much! How can mere words describe the depth of my feelings and love for you darling, when they are so immense and indescribable that they defy description? I don't think I shall ever be able to tell you really, actually and ably extent of my adoration to you, sweet Phil. 

You are probably interested in how I disposed of my check, which I also neglected to tell you. I gave Mom only $25, as Harry and Goldie are still paying $25 per week. (She has a month’s pay coming to her from the Signal Corps. and there is one more check due before they will drop to $20 per week.) $2.57 goes for insurance as usual. I've put aside $15 for Adele’s stroller. (I hope that's all it will be) and I owe a large milk bill. I owe the tailor $1.50 so far, took in tonight's movie, bought some ice cream and that’s as far as I've gotten this month. It's a good thing I didn't have to pay the $40 yet as I had expected to do. At least I'm not flat broke, though I may be before the month is out. I can't complain and don't intend to. 

And now, baby, it is getting very late and I'm getting very sleepy. Move over a little bit, honey, for here I come, ready or not. (As if you wouldn't be ready!) I love you, Phil! 

March 6, 1944 

This is becoming a real “running” letter and I hope it has a speedy flying trip to you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Baby, and how does it feel to be 29? Gosh, but 29 seems far off for me. Seems to me you should have made another trip to London by this time and for all I know you may be there right now. Hope you had a nice time. 

Guess you heard about the quads born in England, as who hasn’t? What a man! It caused quite a fluster here. 

Milt Brown lost his wallet with $70 the other day and had to wire home for money. Please be careful, Phil, although I know you haven't any real excess on hand at present. 

I bought some “House of Westmore” powder and “pepper” red lipstick. 

Adele's latest words: why, nown for down, oo for Lou, up; She understands Jewish perfectly. When asked the following (henties, egela, tsingala, nasala, shicala) promptly points to same. (pardon all spelling, please.) I took the trouble to measure Adele's height and she is exactly 31 inches tall or just about up to my hip. I think she will be tall someday. She is for her age now.

March 6, 1944 

(Cont.) 

Do you realize, my darling, that today marks our seventh month apart? Seven months since I've known the sweetness of your lips, the touch of your hand, the adored feeling of you, darling. I can't help wondering how many more months will pass til we are reunited—physically. 

Your “shorty” of 27 Feb. was in the mail this morning, along with letters from Jack N. and Milt Brown. Milt said it would be his last letter for sometime, as they are no longer permitted to write. Guess you know what that means. You might even get to see him if he lands in the right place. 

I didn't get to bed til after 12 last night. Between then and 6:30, Adele got me up exactly six times. I'm getting to be a sleep-walker. Perhaps, it is a good thing you aren't here for you’d lose many a night’s sleep, and knowing what sleep means to you, I say it's to your advantage. 

I started to clean the blinds hoping to get started with the spring cleaning—no dice—I was too sleepy. I had put Adele up for her nap and simply threw myself across the sofa. No sooner had I relaxed when Adele awoke after sleeping perhaps 20 minutes. I let her cry herself back to sleep and turned over to take an hour’s nap.

Late in the afternoon Mom and I washed and dried all the dishes in the china closet (we hadn't cleaned the china closet for 2 yrs. and thought we'd give it a break.) Consequently (and what would you expect) I'm all in and more than anxious to “hit the sack” (as you would say). 

Ruth had a lovely long letter from Jack S. today though we haven't had mail for almost three weeks. Guess it's been held up. Ruth’s letter was dated Feb. 16. 

I wonder how we would have celebrated this occasion, dearest, I can remember a similar occasion—two years ago—I became pregnant—do you remember? It was this date according to my figures, and I'd like to recall it as your “birthday gift”—for so it was. It sure was some birthday gift, wasn't it? 

It's raining tonight and that will help to wash away the snow. I couldn't get the Milky Ways mailed off as the post office around here has a new ruling—they close at 1 P.M. daily. This makes it difficult for me, as I always go to Broad Street after putting Adele to sleep (about 12:45) and could not make it. Mom has agreed to care for her early tomorrow to give me an opportunity to get the package off. 

And now, sweet, I'm sure you won't mind if I close with all my love and kisses to the best hubby and daddy of them all—you!

Your Eve 

March 4, 1944

Eve, darling, 

Just received two birthday cards, one from Mom, and one from Miss Adele Bara Strongin (what a moniker!) The handwriting on the latter card, by some strange coincidence, looked exactly like yours, Chippie. Could it be the punkin was so indisposed that she prevailed upon you to address the envelope for her? Tell Mom, I thank her for remembering me on my birthday. Tell her I never did know her birthday. That is why she never received a remembrance from me. Seems to me she doesn't know herself exactly on what day she was born, but if she's wise, she'll make one up. (Think of all the fun, gifts, etc. she's passing up due to this oversight.) By the way, wifie dear, didn't you send off a card at the same time as the others? 

I'm still waiting for your next batch of letters, Sweet. I haven't had a “real” one (not V-mail) for eight days now. 

News here gets scarcer by the day. I still do the same things in the same way at the same time every day. Repeating the details of this routine would hardly come under the heading of “interesting reading,” and I would hate to impose anything else on you. So you’ll understand why my letters to you grow shorter and shorter. Thank God, though, there is one thing that doesn't deteriorate or diminish either in intensity or volume with the passing days—and that is the love and adoration of 

Your Phil

Post #311 - March 3, 1944 I Particularly Liked the Way You Wrote About “Our” Meeting, Courtship, Marriage and Life Together and Tonight I am the Only One Left in the Hut

 

March 3, 1944 

Sweetheart Mine, 

Last night I also wrote a letter to Gloria and then decided to post all the letters although it was 10:30. I had an urge and stopped in Ben’s for ice cream. On a chance I asked if he could possibly spare a box of Milky Ways or O'Henry's and, luckily, he had just received an order of Milky Ways. I purchased a whole box of 24 bars and hope to mail it off tomorrow. It weighs almost five pounds and is all I can send this trip. Please send me requests from time to time so that I may send packages at liberty. Ben charged me $1.20. Lucky you! I eat very little candy and ice cream—I just don't have an urge for it as often as you do. 

I was pleasantly surprised when the mailman handed me two letters this morning, yours of the 24 and 26 Feb., both lengthy and most enjoyable. I was a little mad when I noted you had skipped again, but the length of the letters made up for it. If you waited til I was rested to write, you've never get mail from me—and then you want to know why I knock myself silly. I could be dying for sleep and don't get it til I've written. However, I'm gladly forgiving you as I may be forced to skip sometimes too. Adele simply will not go to sleep before 8 P.M. and this throws off my entire evening or what's left of it and it isn't much. Usually at 5:30, when you're concentrating on me, I'm concentrating on feeding Adele (between 5 and 5:30). Room for you though and I promise to be with you, especially close, at that time. I explained to Harry and Goldie about your not writing, and it's okay. I particularly liked the way you wrote about “our” meeting, courtship, marriage, and life together. If I could only write like that! Your letter of the 24th gave a perfect, detailed account of how you spend most of your time, and I found it interesting and informative. Have you learned anything from the others on the “subject that forms the common ground of Man and Woman,” which seems to be the most absorbing topic of conversation at all times? I hope you won't mind the v-mail, sweet, as I had little hope of filling it up, but it seems to be coming along nicely. 

I took my new coat to the tailor’s and it will cost exactly $1.50 to clean it and lengthen the sleeves. Goldie left her best pair of shoes at the shoemaker’s to be fixed and now he can't find them. He gave her $3 to compensate for the loss (she paid $6) and doesn't have shoes to wear home when she and Harry leave tomorrow evening. 

The weather was lovely today and I was out all day with Adele. She is walking better and knows how to pick herself up—all by herself. I met Molly Reisner while walking and chatted for a short while. People are dragging out their porch furniture and the lawns have blotches of green grass—a sure sign of spring, beautiful spring. I think I've got a good case of spring fever, 'cause I'm awful lonesome and hungry for you these evenings and can't get you off my mind long enough to get my work completed. Oh baby, but I LOVE YOU!!! I'm so hungry for the feel of you that I feel certain I could reach out over 3000 odd miles and draw you close to my person to fondle and caress. Phil, my dearest, I adore you to pieces. A kiss from 

Your Eve 

P.S. Lena and Bob bought a house on Rorer St. or nearby. Mr Lieberman loaned them $1000 and Etta loaned $200. I understand it's an old house. 

March 3, 1944

Dearest Chippie,

Still no “jack-pot,” but something almost as good arrived today—that package containing the two boxes of Stevens chocolates and hankies and the V-mail of 20th Feb. Thanks a million for the package, Sweet, I really enjoyed the candy and the hankies were sorely needed. The V-mail telling me that Adele's temperature was now down to 100 was the first intimation I had that she was ailing. I do hope she's well recovered. 

You also mentioned that the Baders were visitors that day, and that Mrs. Bader made a cotton pleated skirt for the punkin. That was darn nice of her. You may tender my thanks next time you see her. I presume they are frequent visitors. Give my best to the Reisners, too, the next time they visit. Find out what Dave is doing these days. 

I've been wondering lately just when Goldie expects the newcomer to put in an appearance. Please inform me. 

Tonight I am the only one left in the hut. The others have all taken off for the movies, the Snack Bar, or some card game or other. 

Before I started this I was fooling around with the fire. There's something about a fire, though, that makes me terribly homesick. I sat for an hour and day-dreamed of better days I have known—and hope will soon come again. 

I was busy most of the day completing the “financial business” of the company. Thank God that's over ’til next month. 

Day after tomorrow. I'm due for a pass, but I've already written to Ed advising him that I can't take it then. I asked him to send date later in the month. I still have a few pounds that I am saving for that purpose. 

Nothing else to report tonight, Baby, so I'll take my leave of you for the time being with a fond good-night kiss. My love to the punkin and the family.

Lovingly,

Your Phil

Post #310 - March 2, 1944 I Don’t Think You or I Shall Live to See the Day When This World Will be Orderly Once Again and How Much at Home We Felt With the Benis’

 

March 2, 1944 

Darling Hubby,

Your long, most welcome and heart-warming longie of 23 Feb. found its way to 4906 this morning along with my check of only $62. I darn near died when I saw the amount of the check, as I had left myself entirely without funds and never dreamed it would be delayed this long. I have just completed a “strong” letter to the Office of Dependency Benefits, asking for some explanation of the delay. Mom got a $20 check from you and $37 from Jack. I think they raised Jack’s check 'cause they figure Mom lives with me and the two of us can manage thusly. As for your financial condition, I have only this to say—you should never have left yourself so little. When you have a convenient amount on hand, you seem to get along nicely and even have luck. I didn't expect anything from you in March (how could I?) after that large check. You needn’t worry about the anniversary or birthday gift, sweet, as I actually considered the $75 as such. I've told everyone that the coat, shoes, and bag where my anniversary and birthday gifts and so they are. That's exactly why I did splurge. I meant to tell you yesterday, but never got around to it. I'm a little disappointed with you though for I had thought you would learn to manage money to an ith degree on your own. I guess the management of money is in you or it isn't in you. By the way, exactly how much are you in debt? I'm not angry, darling, for I know you do your best and that's plenty good enough for me. 

I couldn't help feeling a little let down after my “big” day yesterday when you asked me so sweetly not to shop for those things I could do without until we had the pleasure of shopping together. Don't worry, baby, I need so darn many things (not to mention the filthy lucre) that I don't mind waiting in the least. I am going to buy what I feel I need if I can get it at the price I wish to pay, such as the coat. My old beige coat is so messy and the sleeves are about two inches too short and it got terribly short length and Mom suggested I throw it out. Ruth wants to wear it to school and I promised to give it to her. 

Somehow I can't feel that you won't make Sgt. You, yourself told me that the top-kick or whatever rules there, said you were entitled to T/4 and that he would do all possible to get them for you. Sometimes the T/O’s are changed, and if the “biggies” know how you feel about it, you might stand a chance. Have you asked anyone about it? I know it's tough, but I know how complacent you are about certain things. I'm not counting on it and never have. 

I don't think we have to file an income tax form as our income was so small that it does not enter the tax group. I know how to fill out the form now and will simply put in a lot of zeros. I couldn't understand why my figures on Mom’s allotment confused you as they were simple, in fact, I think you filed similar forms for her. Why is it that so many things I tell you confuse you? You have misinterpreted many a gift when I have stated clearly the donor. Try to be more careful, will you, sweet? 

I worked for Miss Hahn all day, earning a clear $4. My Mom said that Adele was a perfect little girl all day. When I walked in in the evening she fell all over me, as she usually does when I've been away. The stationery I had ordered for Ethel and Gloria came in—the same as mine. Miss Hahn sells all kinds of books, even for children. Today she got in a lovely Mother Goose Rhyme Book that is a dream. It costs $1.25 retail, but she said I could have it for 85¢ if she can get one for me. I can just picture myself reading those most enjoyable rhymes to Adele in the very near future. I hope she is able to obtain one for me. 

Syd hates Italy and its peoples. He says the Italians are rotten, dirty people. Women hold their noses when an American soldier rides or walks by. They steal from the American soldiers and make them pay double for everything. Syd never wrote like that before and it must have annoyed him plenty to write like that. Phil, as the days go by I'm getting afraid to hope for anything. It takes so long and it costs so high in blood and things seem so mixed up. I don't think you or I shall live to see the day when this world will be orderly once again, or at least so it seems. I'm overworking that word “so” this evening. 

Honestly, baby, I'm just about all tuckered out (no comments please) and ready for bed. My mother expects to wash and I may have to hang the clothes. 

Still no mail from Jack and I'm beginning to think he has moved too. 

Miss Hahn advises me not to sell the typewriter as a close relative of hers works in the typewriter field and says the typewriters they are making and will make for a while after the war will never compare to what I now possess. My Mom told me to do as I please and I'm not very anxious after what Miss Hahn told me. 

Harry bought a hat and muffler last night and Mom enjoyed “Jane Eyre” immensely. It has been freezing cold since yesterday, and Adele is only out as long as it takes to get from 4906 to 4920 and back again. After she was all bundled up, all you could see was her nose. She didn't seem to mind, bless her. 

Well, darling mine, now that I've had my say (filled it up after all) I think I'll concentrate on you, if you don't mind. I'm hungry for the sight of you, baby; God, if only I could but touch you! I ADORE YOU! I LOVE YOU! In fact just move over so I can crawl between the covers with you—I'm so sleepy. I'm just “so” this evening it seems and before I “so” you again, I'll sign off with a great big hug and kiss. 

Your Eve 

March 2, 1944 

Dearest Darling, 

Still “sweating ou” the “jack-pot.” Received your V-mail of 18 Feb., but aside from telling me what you had included in the last package and that you were at a loss for words that particular night, I learned very little from it. On second thought, though, “no news is good news,” so as long as everything is quiet on the “home front”—I won't complain. (All the same—I wish to get some mail soon!) 

That's a pretty hefty package you described, Chippie. I do hope it gets here intact. 

It has been a rather busy day for me, and as a consequence the time fairly seems to fly. This evening I'm taking it easy, as per usual. Maybe I'll even manage to get off a letter or two that has been “hanging fire.” Most of the fellows in the hut are going out tonight to have themselves a “time” and to get rid of the excess cash in their jeans. Somehow, when I hear their stories the “morning after,” and listen to their moaning about their “heads” and consider the bloated look of their features—I don't envy them their “good time.” What I can't figure out—is how they figure it's worth it? 

March—I was just remembering, Sweet, that it was in March of last year that so many nice things happened to us and some not so nice. Remember? I got my first stripe on our anniversary, the 20th—and a three-day pass—there were some hard words when you aired your determination to accompany me back to Camp—there was a scene I would like to pretend never happened—there was the long peaceful train ride back to Ohio—that never-to-be-forgotten first night at the Virginia Hotel in Columbus, when I found it almost impossible to leave you all alone that night—how it happened that I didn't see you the next day—or the next, because of some silly restriction, and when I finally did see you—(wasn't that the day you came into camp wearing that red fascinator?) I could barely hobble because I had twisted my ankle on the obstacle course that day—how I literally hung on your arm on account of it for the next few days—the boarding house on Broad Street—and how I reluctantly climbed out of bed in the middle of the night to taxi back to the Bus Station—that quiet Sunday morning meal at the Chinese tea room on Broad Street—how much at home we felt with the Benis’—how happy we were when your Mom consented to care for Adele so that you might take advantage of the Benis’ kind offer of hospitality—the snug comfort of “Stuart's room”—the joy of coming “home” to you at the end of each day—and all the nights we spent in Columbus—and that final cold and rainy night I saw you to the train for home—and how suddenly the world became a dreary, lonely place once more. 

Yes, Baby, there was plenty of pain interspersed with the pleasure of those two weeks, and a great deal of waiting and anxiety, but I, for one, would live them over again (even if I had to break my ankle this time). When I remember how sweet were all my moments with you—always, I wonder how I can bear to be away from you so long. My constant prayer these days is that it won't be much longer before I am once more with you. This time “for keeps.” The mere prospect of that is indescribably sweet and thrilling. C’mon sumpin’! A kiss for Adele—love to all from 

Your adoring 

Phil 

Post #309 - March 1, 1944 Today Was a Year Since Tante Shush Passed and Red’s in the Throes of Frying a Quail and a Rabbit That He Shot While Hunting Yesterday and a Yiddish Letter from Mom

March 1, 1944 

Darling Hubby, 

Your immense (Feb. 22) letter arrived this afternoon while I was in town and it was the final touch to a perfectly perfect day—at least it was for me. Today was a year since Tante Shush passed, and I'm glad I have something better to remember this March 1 by. I wrote the envelope to this letter this morning, little dreaming that I would have the typewriter at my disposal this evening. It took the repairman exactly two minutes to put this thing in order. That, plus a new ribbon (all black) cost me $3. It's much less than I thought it would be. He said I could get at least $100 for the typewriter if I decided to sell it, and that after the war it would only be worth about $40. Do you think I should? However, I would positively want to get another brand new one after the war. I could sell it and put the money into a bond and then cash it in after the war. I’ll also talk it over with my mother. (Uncle Nish bought Bea a nice portable, but paid $50 for it). 

And now for the high spot of my letter! I went downtown with Sarah this afternoon after putting Adele to sleep AND bought and bought and bought three things—big things—a coat, shoes (dressy) and a handbag. Now for details: I saw the enclosed ad in the paper and really went for the backless toeless shoe pictured in the center and the handbag. Can you picture me pay $9 for shoes at I. Miller’s? Well, that's exactly what I did. The heel is not nearly as high as demonstrated, in fact, I'd say it was half the size. It's a high heel, but comfortably so, and one of the most flattering, good-looking pair I've ever possessed. They are rich brown tone and I bought them mainly for my fur coat. I'm getting ahead of myself, though. 

I left the house at 12:15 and met Sarah at Snellenburg’s at one. The one single coat that she had seen was still there (reduced from $40 to $15—I can’t get over it, except that the coat is rather soiled and will need cleaning immediately) fitted me perfectly, (the sleeves have to be lengthened just a trifle for my long arms) and I bought it. It's a very light beige color, double-breasted with a very low cut sports collar, two rows of three large tan colored buttons, two deep pockets with flaps and a small inside pocket on the left breast. The back has a small wide belt that holds in place two large pleats on either side of the back. It has raglan shoulders, well-padded that make me look like a football player or sumpin’, and very flattering lines. I hope to have a snap of myself wearing it as soon as we have some nice weather. March came in like a lion, for it was windier than windy, and I don't mean maybe. (The material is 100% wool, very soft and good looking, and the lining is a lovely rich satin). 

On our way out, I suggested we pass the handbag counter and spied a bag very similar to the one pictured in the ad—cost $4.95. Since there is a tax to go into effect on bags, and since I haven't a decent one, I decided to get one right then and there. It has four pulled-in pleats in the front and the zipper top. I yanked the handle off already (that's the kind of junk they put out today and I think I can fix it myself.  The leather (oh yeh!) is fairly nice and should wear well. It matches the shoes perfectly. The bag pictured was very tiny and not half as nice as the one I bought. I bought the coat and bag on Betty’s charge account as my check did not come through today and if it doesn't show up tomorrow they are going to hear from me. (I don't have to pay Betty til April 15). 

We walked (or were blown) down Chestnut St. to get the subway when we chanced to pass I. Miller’s and I recalled the ad when I saw the shoes displayed in the window. Luckily, I had my ration stamp with me. I tried them on, liked them and bought them—just like that. I'm still in a daze, but it feels so o good. That's the best remedy for what ails me, especially when I go at It so wholeheartedly. It's only the beginning, for I'm sorely in need of several dresses, which I fully intend to buy in the near future. 

I'm working all day for Miss Hahn tomorrow and it will help me out of my present predicament. I really shouldn't have spent so much money, but I think I'll be able to squeeze through, even though I may have to borrow at the end of the month. 

I'm glad, sweetness, that you derived so much pleasure from the snaps and (and I said this yesterday) I'll take that Clare Pruett picture next week. First I must get Adele shoes, as her present ones are positively a mess. I'm against your suggestion to melt your school ring and make Adele a baby ring. I’d rather melt your school ring and remake a nice ring for you, very much, if you don't mind. I'm not going to buy Adele any jewelry at the moment, and perhaps we'll get to buy her that together in the near future. Hope you're in accordance, sweet, as it does mean quite a bit to me. 

Don't worry, honey, I'll squeeze in all the chocolate I can and have asked Ruth (she does all the shopping and pulls all the strings for such things) to get me a box of Milky Ways, Mars etc., or whatever she can get her hands on. As I said before, I have a box of Stevens chocolates on hand and have ordered another box of chocolates and a box of chocolates straws. 

I thought your Valentine offering very cute, dear, very cute indeed. As for saying anything “Fresh”—don't worry—I'm not bashful with you. I don't like to say fresh things anyway, unless you're right here and then—(I'll really get “fresh”). 

Harry and Goldie went downtown to buy him a hat to match his coat, or rather go with this coat. I was supposed to go to Marshall St. with Mom today (this evening) If the checks came. Rae came over for dinner and took Mom in town to see a show “Jane Eyre” with two passes Mickey had given her. They had intended to go shopping first, time permitting, but time didn't permit. 

Had a nice letter from Gloria today and she hasn't heard from Jack for a long time and feels he's on his way again. Mom is kind of worried, as usual. Did I tell you that I wrote six letters the other day? How does the typed letter line up with the written? Don't compare! What a difference! I do have lots to say this evening and I'm glad I'm able to type such a longie. This will never get into the mail tonight (I'm very tired now and making too many errors) as it is past nine. I told Mom to dash off and had to do the dishes and put Adele to bed. I washed as many dishes as Adele would let me while she was up and had to leave it til I got her to bed. Then the sink stopped up and I said the hell with it,  and sat down to type. That brings me up to date, baby, except that I still have to wash a few things before hitting the hay. Adele wet all her overalls while I was gone, “Did” in her panties and whatnot. Just shows you the care a mother gives a child. Goldie never offers to stay with Adele or even watch her, and is terribly finicky about doing any sort of laborious work in the house. She even saves the ironing board for Harry to put away! I won't judge severely as she is pregnant, but, nevertheless, she isn't inclined to be overly ambitious. On several occasions I could have gotten out had she offered to just look on Adele—but nothing doing. I still don't like to leave her with Mom, although I trust Mom with her more than I did before, except that Mom can’t take her up and down the steps and that's one of the more important reasons. I feel best when I leave her with Ruth or my Mom and have come to depend on them exclusively when I wish to leave her. Adele her carriage and hichair are being moved to my mother’s so that I may work all day tomorrow. 

I forgot to tell you that I weighed myself recently (after Adele's illness) and weighed 118, which is pretty good. I think I dropped a few pounds while she was ill and I'm doing my best to put it on again. I think my bust has developed a bit, at least Mom mentioned it—so there now. Think I'm “fresh”? (Boy, I'd like to read your mind right now!) 

Sarah and Betty have been perfectly wonderful to me, Phil, and they shall be my everlasting friends for it. They have been a great help to bolster my crumbling morale since our separation, and I appreciate it no end. Room to send all my love, precious Phil, and a kiss from Adel-e, as some call her. 

Your Eve

March 1, 1944

My Own Darling, 

Today I am CQ once more. The first day of any month is usually a busy one for me. This 1st of March was no exception. What with Soldiers’ Deposits, money to be cabled home for those desiring it, reports to get it out, etc., it was a very full day. I had very good hopes that today would bring the “jackpot,” but there was no mail at all. This is the sixth mailless day for me, except for that V-mail I received yesterday. However, I hope I shall find enough to talk about to fill this page. I think you would consider that a pretty big letter, wouldn't you, Sweet? 

I had a helluva time just now trying to get a fire started, and only succeeded after fooling around with it for about an hour or so. I still have the bunk to make up. If I manage to finish this by then, I expect to hit the hay by 10 o'clock. At first I had every intention of writing all those letters I owe to my correspondents, but I'm much too tired for that, and somehow, the time slips by almost unnoticed. It will take me to the small hours of the morning to knock out the three or four letters I owe. 

The picture at the theater is Red Skelton in “Whistling in Brooklyn.” Red Barnhart had asked me to go with him, but since I am CQ tonight, I couldn't accompany him. I must rise early (6 o'clock) tomorrow morning to kind of do the chores of a bugler (without a bugle). Needless to say, it is a thankless job, bugle or not. 

Last night I invested what little I could afford—and lost! All I have to my name now is a couple of pounds. Hope Eddie doesn’t arrange a “date” in London this month, ’cause then I'll be forced to borrow again and I hate to do it. I'm surprised I haven't heard from “Jack” Gutkin I've written twice to him about three weeks ago, but I haven't heard a thing. 

Well, Chippie, here it is the beginning of our “big” month and although I had had hopes at one time that I would be back home by now, it looks very much as though I won't make it. Still, it wouldn't surprise me too much if this proves to be the decisive month. So you see, Baby, I'm far from discouraged. I feel that we are nearing the end of our time of trial. Just how long it will be before I can see you, once it is all over, is difficult to say. The “powers that be” can't seem to make up their minds about it, but I don't think it will take more than a few months. You said a while back that you don't expect to see me home before ’45, but I don't think you really believe that, Chippie. Maybe I'll surprise you yet! 

Now that I've started the second page, I'm trying hard to find thoughts enough to fill it. 

I might mention that I haven't received any of the packages yet. I sure could go for some chocolates right now! Or better yet, Ev, how's about taking a walk to Ben’s with me for a malted milk or a Sundae? At the moment, I am chewing a stick of the Double-Mint gum that you were good enough to send along. You have no idea how precious chewing gum is over here, Baby. While we're on the subject, if you can manage to get that halvah, I wish you would include it in your next package. Send as much as you are able, 'cause there are plenty of guys here to help me eat it. 

It is very quiet here, in the orderly room. The stove is red-hot now and the heat feels good. Red was just in to inform me that the picture was very funny. He didn't stay long because he's in the throes of frying a quail and a rabbit that he shot while hunting yesterday. Here he comes again. He has a piece of the quail that he wants me to taste, but I don't care for it. I told him I was just talking about him—he says “hello.” 

It's after 10 o'clock now, Sweet, and my bunk still isn't made up, so I'll say good night now. A great big hug and kiss for the punkin. My love to all, and the same old brand of love for you, my Chippie. 

Your devoted hubby, 

Phil 

P.S. I'm “fresh out” of Air-Mail envelopes; hope this “Free” mail reaches you just as promptly. 

March 1, 1944

Wednesday Nite

Dear Cousin Phil,

How are you. I received a letter from Evelyn and upon request I got your address and the addresses of your cousins also. So you are in England, and I understand that you contacted Jack. I hope you both finally get to see one another. I bet there would be plenty to talk about. I sent the kid your address and so did Evelyn send you Jack’s. My 2 brother-in-laws are somewhere in England also, and in my next letter to you I’ll send you their addresses, one’s a Staff Sergeant and the other a Corporal. 2 swell guys. First I hope you get to see Jack. I hear your kid is adorable. We received a letter from your Ma and she raves about her. You must be a mighty proud Daddy. I guess Evelyn wrote you that my husband is in North Africa, but he doesn’t expect to stay there long. I’ll give you his address anyway. Pvt. Carl J. Furr 32893347-6702nd L.B.T.S. A.P.O. 600, C/O P.M.N.Y. Every time I get mail he has another number. Well coz, I’ll have to say so long for now. God bless you and may this whole mess be over real soon so that we can all be together again in the very near future.

Your Cousin,

Anne

Regards from the folks.

Keep your chin up.

Translation of Yiddish Letter from Bella (a.k.a. Rebecca Strongin) to her son, Philip

March 1, 1944

My Sweet and Precious Son Philipka,

I can write to you that we are all fine, healthy and are proud to hear good news from you, my precious son. I have read your loved and precious letter with great pleasure. I am happy to have heard that you are in good health and see that you write so sweetly in Yiddish. Every word has a healing effect on my heart. Forgive me for not writing to answer your letters right away. You know that every day I am busy preparing supper and with housework and in the evening I am dead tired. I sit myself down alone by the radio to rest at the end of the day and that is how every day passes quickly by.

Nu? And soon I will become a very proud busy lady when Ethel, who is expecting any day, goes into the hospital and gives birth. When that happens, I will be going to their house to take care of Paul. I will be cooking supper and afterwards, when she comes home from the hospital, God willing, Goldie will be next, and because of that, I will be busy again. 

May God continue to give you good health. It was good to hear good news from you as it alleviated much of my anxiety and I am very happy to be busy so that I don’t dwell on other things. This is what my life is like, my dear son. I do not have so much worry now that I received your letter. Because it was three weeks since your last letter, my anxiety level was beginning to affect my health, but now that I have, thank God, gotten this good letter from you, everything is all right. Now that I understand that you didn’t write for a while because you were busy driving for the base, I forgive you. I know that we are all busy.

What else can I write to you? I’m sure Evelyn has already written to you about my allotment. I know this situation will make you happy. May God grant that you find yourself home next week and that would make me even happier. May God forgive me for bringing this up, but I suppose that Evelyn has already written to you about Goldie, and that she doesn’t do anything around the house. Because Evelyn writes everything to you, therefore, I have not much to write to you.

This I am happy to share with you. I am delighted to tell you that your daughter, Adele, is my entire life’s pleasure. She is a doll and very intelligent and very sweet. She should live a long life only with luck! May she continue to grow in such a way that when you return home in good health, you will be proud of her. Amen!

Phil, Adele, the little “pisher,” (a Yiddish endearment?) just ran into the kitchen, saw me writing this letter to you, and she said “Da-da, da-da!” A blessing on her head! Amen!

Greetings from everyone, and I beg you, Philipka, when you have time, write me a Yiddish little note to let me know how you are faring. I wish you would write to me to let me know what you would like for your birthday.