Saturday, Nov. 7, 1942
My parents were now writing to each other at least once day – sometimes more. Letters were crossing each other and creating much confusion, something that would be unthinkable in today’s world of cheap phone calls, emails, texts, and who knows what.
My father opened his letter today with news of small victories:
“ Went to the dentist and got my teeth x-rayed….Got ½ lb of coffee… Put up hooks all over the house and in the closet, over the sink and in the bathroom. Now you can’t turn around in this house without getting your ears caught in a hook somewhere. ..Tomorrow I have two copies of ‘Life’ to read.”
Then, more seriously, “These 13 days that we are apart are going to mean a lot to us… Someone is singing ‘Goodnight, sweetheart’ on the radio and making me not only sad and lonely but very very sleepy. Goodnight, sweetheart, have a good time, rest yourself – store up lots of mental and moral strength – hard times may be coming and it will come in handy.”