Friday, Nov. 13, 1942
The letter continued:
“Now it’s after 9 pm and getting on toward the busy part of the night… but dern it this is just the part of the night when I like to sit back and recollect things. I’ll recollect some of them now….I like to imagine your trip home, what you did on the train, getting off in New York and feeling the thrill as you walk up the ramp out into the great open station* – and how you felt when you spoke to your parents and what you told them and what they said and what you did every day. I wish there wasn’t that huge gap between your arrival in New York and your telegram [presumably letting him know she’d arrived]. You arrived in New York at 9 am and yet the telegram was sent at 11 PM… But for the rest, I’ll see you in my mind’s eye sleeping late every morning and holding round table discussions with your folks every night.. I like that and smile all over myself when I imagine you telling them about the apartment and how we live and the things we do… Well, it’s time for rounds again. Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the vipers bite.”
The end of the letter tomorrow.
* He is referring to the old Penn Station, one of the most magnificent buildings ever. Sadly, trains from the west now leave passengers into a concrete basement. The last time I took the train from Chicago, the escalator out of the basement was even broken. The thrill is gone.