Every Friday I send out a real love letter that I’ve transcribed from a stack I bought at the flea market. Missed one? Check the chronological list.
If love letters aren’t your thing, don’t fret. More View-Master and related content is coming soon!
January 14, 1961
Dearest Kay,
Yes, ‘tis me again. Actually, I shouldn’t say “again” considering the frequency with which I am writing lately. Of necessity, this letter must also be relatively short. I still have much studying to do for the Chem. hourly I have Monday night.
With the way things look now, it doesn’t look as though I’ll be in school, as a full-time student, at all next year.
So… just yesterday he sent a fervent letter asking her to go to Navy Pier’s extension campus with him. What in the world. Bro is on an emotional coaster.
However, I could look at it optimistically. Then I don’t know where I’ll be. Without hesitation, I wish this was the spring semester so that I would have time to decide “what’s next.”
Actually, I have pretty well decided what I’m going to do next fall. It’s just that this spring semester is up in the air and that’s what I don’t have time to think about.
What I know I need is a vacation. Quite literally. My nerves are shot. Mainly, though, it’s the colitis which is aggravated by nervous tension that I worry about. I’m a long way from suffering from any other nervous disorders.
I’m just an armchair psychologist, but I beg to differ.
And some nervous tension isn’t going to bother me adversely—except for the colitis. Have to get that under control, and I don’t think I can do it down here. However, I do want to go to school next semester. Charming situation.
He’s pooping out of school! [I’m so sorry.]
Never before have I said this, but if I had the chance to go back 1.5 years, would I do things differently. You know the old story, “If I knew then what I know now” type of thing. Would’ve started at a smaller school and never developed colitis in the first place. I would’ve also moved into independent housing and/or either roomed with a good friend or gotten a private room. It is even within the realm of possibility that two people can arrange their schedules so that they are very good friends and are willing to go through some inconvenience at times. Either that, or one learns to sleep with the light on and someone moving about.
Could this guy be any more delicate? I guess I was raised to be adaptable and roll with the punches and even though it wasn’t great? It has served me well.
Incidentally, you are moving into a double room next fall. Unless you fall into a very sound sleep very quickly, I would be very hesitant about taking potluck as far as a room-mate is concerned.
Me, I am used to a room to myself when I fall asleep, and while I tolerate a nominal amount of noise outside the room, the room itself must be more or less dark (not pitch dark, but too dark for somebody to read in) and I cannot tolerate someone else in the room awake since it is impossible for them to be quiet at all times.
I really do feel like I can diagnose Russ from my position of expertise as a woman who has been married to a man with intensely medicated ADHD for 20 years.
They always make a certain amount of noise no matter how hard they try. And it is most annoying. I imagine you are also used to sleeping alone and consequently you should make a careful choice in room-mates. But all this is hardly relevant.
I’m just chattering on, trying to renew my spirits. Although my chattering is not entirely without meaning, although it may be on varied and diversified subjects. I’m trying to keep out of depression. I have given up trying to be gay and carefree. I’ve got too far to fall when I do get depressed then.
All of this puts the earlier, weirder, stream of consciousness letters in context. He couldn’t talk about what was really going on — he’s losing it at college and the stress has him sick and desperate. Just my luck to buy love letters that never get juicy but should end in everybody taking Adderall.
I got your card today. Wild. I only wish it was real. And congratulations on your resisting the temptation to participate in the “temptress” of all college students.
I must also thank you for your vote of confidence. I needed it, believe me. But you need worry even less than I. You’re probably come up with a 4.0, if not better.
MAN, I wish I had their report cards. And her letters.
I’ll have to close now, Sweetheart. Chemistry calls with a somewhat macabre tone. Until I see you again, take care of yourself and show ‘em that there’s nothing a senile bunch of pseudo-teachers can do to keep you down. After all, who’re they when compared to you. Well, anyway, you’ll make out all right. Good luck, sweet dreams, and remember that I miss you more than ever.
Love, love, love,
Sambo
I can’t wait to figure out where he ends up because I still have quite a few letters left in the pile!
“Nervous Tension.” We renamed it anxiety. He is having a meltdown. Does anyone have a DSM-5? If he’s depressed now, just wait til after he’s married and has to pay the bills - for his wife and kids.