Plumb Crazy

Addr: Miss Marjorie Hayne

Salem, Oregon
Febr. 22/42

Dear Marge:

Here it is, barely 8:30, and I couldn’t wait any longer to start a letter to you. I say “start,” because I’ll probably be interrupted about eleventeen times before I get finished.

We sure had a wild time last night, didn’t we? I really enjoyed it myself, but it seems that I should have shown you a much better time. Just the fact that I was with you was enough to assure me of a good time. I can’t think of anyone else whose company I could enjoy as much as I do yours. No matter where we went, or what we did for entertainment, I could always have a good time in your company. But I would rather like to show you a little more fun, and one of these days I’m going to be able to get a little more time off, I hope. A person as sweet as you deserves more than a fellow in my position can give her, but I’ll do my best. I still feel sorta guilty about breaking up your plans for the week-end, but I really can’t honestly say that I regret it. See how selfish I am about you?

Marjorie, you know I couldn’t have seen you without having recognized you, because since the first time I met you, you’ve been on my mind almost constantly. When I’m down town, I observe all the worthy citizens very closely, hoping that perhaps your boss may have sent you down after some paper clips, or spotted paint, or something. The State of Oregon doesn’t know how lucky it is that I don’t work in their office building, because I’d most likely be down visiting the liquor commission most of the time. (And not that I’m especially crazy about liquor, either.)

It sure hurt to have to get out of that auto and walk inside the gate last night. Guess I must have said “goodnight” a dozen times. Finally just had to walk away quick-like, because it was getting harder to leave every minute.

Everyone who knows you around these parts certainly thinks you are grand. As far as I can find out, you’re just about the most popular young lady who has ever met the 115th. Jim Hopkins is certainly proud to have been with you as often as he has, but he informs me that he hasn’t been with you nearly as often as he’d like to be. He seems to have taken quite a tumble for you, though he realizes that it’s not exactly the wise thing to do under prevailing conditions. In the first place, a girl as sweet as you undoubtedly has hundreds of masculine admirers, which doesn’t leave a guy like Hopkins much of a chance. Secondly, they the way things are now, he isn’t even sure that he’ll be anywhere near you for very long. We may be here for 24 hours, or six months, who can tell? I can think of a dozen good reasons why I shouldn’t let myself feel the way I do about you, but common sense tells me one thing, and my heart tells me another. Until three weeks ago, girls didn’t mean a whole lot in my life, and speaking generally, they still don’t. But speaking specifically of you, I can’t honestly say that. The first time we had a dance, I danced twice with you, neither time for very long, but from the very moment we started dancing until right now, you’ve been part of my thoughts everywhere I’ve been, and no matter what I’ve been doing. Your little blue hanky always brings to mind how beautiful you looked at the Chemeketan party. I keep thinking I should return it to you, but so far, I haven’t been able to make myself part with it. Please be sure that I can never knowingly, or of my own free will, do anything to hurt you, but war being war, and duty being duty, anything is liable to happen to cause a sudden change in any plans we may have made for an evening.

I know this letter will probably sound awfully silly to you, but I was sorta silly before I met you, and am even more so now. I think I better close now before you think I am plumb crazy. Will call you today, and see you Tuesday. Give my regards to Judy, please.

Love,
Jim
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