Addr: Miss Marjorie Hayne
Febr. 12, 1941**
Another letter from the little princess today! Boy, am I lucky! I’m really enjoying this friendship of ours, although I’m sure it would be more enjoyable, at least on my part, if it didn’t have to be carried on by mail. Wonder if a writ of habeas corpus would get me out of here?
You don’t know how much I’d like to say that I could be with you Saturday night, but it’s impossible for me to plan on anything like that. In the first place, I’m not sure I could get out at all, and am morally certain that I wouldn’t be allowed out that late. The only reason we got to stay the other night was that we were all together, and were practically the only ones away from camp. They couldn’t allow me to stay out that late without allowing others the same privelege. Therefore, I reluctantly suggest that you invite someone more dependable than I. Thanks a million for the invitation, and it’s awfully hard to decline, really it is.
Yes, I saw the double rainbow yesterday, and since you mentioned it in your letter, I’m afraid that every time I see a rainbow from now on, I’ll think of you. Not that thinking of you is unpleasant, but the fact that it’s so far between meetings. To be perfectly frank with you, I’ve had a certain little blonde princess on my mind more often during the past few days than is good for me. You may think me forward in telling you that, but it’s fact. I wish I could see you more often, and that I could be near where you are for a long time to come, but the present situation is too uncertain for a person in my position to plan ahead as far as Saturday night. That’s why I say that I think of you too often.
Glad you had a nice day for your holiday. I did get out of camp today to go down town and buy some stock for our store here, and I thought of you as I drove past the capitol. Had I remembered that today was a legal holiday, I’d have called you, but I didn’t want to call you while you were at work. Wish I weren’t so dumb! When I do get a chance to get out of here for an evening, it will most likely be on short notice, as everything seems to be around here. This confinement can’t go on forever, even though it’s been nearly that long already. At least it seems that long. So near, and yet so far, dad-blame it! As someone said, “It goes on and on like this, and then it gets worse.”
You say you are a music lover. So am I, although I’m not a musician by any stretch of the imagination. Can’t even read music, but I sure like to listen. My favorite piece is “Tales From the Vienna Woods.” Saw “The Great Waltz” three times, just to hear the part where they played that. I like nearly every kind of music, but not in large doses of any one kind. About the only kind I don’t care for is Hawaiian. Got too much of that as a kid when we had a phonograph. My dad played those Hawaiian records until all the rest of the family grew to hate it.
Perhaps I could throw a little light on my background without boring you too much. I’m from Casper, Wyoming, the eldest of a family of four children. Three girls and one boy. I’m 24, my oldest sister is 21, and her name is Marjorie Ann. Then there’s Lois, age 15, and Donna, age 3. Donna is really the beauty of the family, at least she was about a year ago when I last saw her. She has dark hair and eyes. We couldn’t tell the color of her eyes, because sometimes they looked like a deep blue, and then at other times they were decidedly brown. She has the most beautiful eyelashes anyone ever saw. Marge works at the telephone company, giving wrong numbers, Lois goes to high school, and Donna stays home and helps (?) Mom. Donna’s not old enough yet to know better, so she thinks I’m pretty swell. Guess that’s enough about the tribe, so will drop that subject.
I hope your mouth heals up all right after the battering it undoubtedly received at the hands of your dentist. Boy, do I hate to go to a dentist! How about you?
Must close for now. Hope to see you again soon, and it can’t be too soon to suit me. I know you’ll have a good time at the party, and thanks again for asking me. You’ll never know how much that “ask” means to me.
Goodnight, little princess,
*Editor’s Note: I’ve no idea what these numbers mean. They’re hand-written at the top of the first page, in a different color ink from the rest. Probably completely unrelated to the content, but I promised to transcribe letter-for-letter, though, so here they are. Also note that Jim’s spelling error in para. two is his, not mine.
**Editor’s Note: Oops, Jim goofed again. It’s actually 1942.