Couldn’t Dim The Moon

Salem, Oregon
March 31, 1942

Dearest:

I got your letter this afternoon, and I’ve read and re-read it I don’t know how many times already.

I’m sorry you were alone and had the blues. If only I could have been there, I’d certainly do my very best to chase the blues away.

You asked if I had heard any recent rumours about our moving out soon. Well, I hear at least one new one each day, but I don’t put very much stock in anything in the way of rumours any more, because 99 times out of a hundred, nothing develops. Please don’t let them bother you, because as you say, it has to come sooner or later, and we have to face it. Let’s don’t let the thought of our being separated interfere with our happiness, because you know that no matter how far away I may have to go, or how long I will be away, I’ll love you more and more each day, and there can never be anyone who can make me forget you.

Yes, I do like picnics. Just Monday, we were out in the country, and it was such a perfect day, that I fairly burst just thinking of how nice it would be if we could have a picnic. We went by your office on the way out, and came back down Center Street just about noon-time. I stuck my neck out of the truck trying to see if you were around anyplace, but no luck. You wouldn’t have known me anyway, because I was absolutely caked with dust. It was about an inch thick all over my face.

I stepped outside just before I started writing, and saw the most beautiful moon. The clouds were scooting by; but they couldn’t dim the moon. I just wondered if perhaps you weren’t someplace looking at the same moon.

I sure hope you can get home this summer. Your parents couldn’t help but miss you terribly, because I know how I miss you just for a day or two. They’re mighty lucky people to have a daughter like you.

Sweetheart, the lights are just about to go out, and I have a million more things to tell you. They called off the alert today, and I’ll call you tomorrow, probably even before you get this. Please keep praying for us. Keep your chin up, and please don’t worry about our being separated. They can never separate us spiritually, even though they may do it physically. Keep working on our pillowslips, etc. and perhaps we’ll need them sooner than either of us may realize.

 

Good night, Sweetheart,
Jim

P.S. – I love you.

Ed. Note—This letter has a bit of shorthand hidden inside the envelope flap. @HeatherJoyLove and her mother, Tammy Miller, have been kind enough to translate it thusly:

Darling I love you in every moment. There’s no one else in the world as sweet as my Marjorie. Please try to love me just half as much.

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