Every Friday I send out a real love letter that I’ve transcribed from a stack I bought at the flea market (until they run out — and we’re getting close). Missed one? Check the chronological list.
December 4, 1961
Dearest One,
My “honorable” psych instructor has yet to show his bright, shiny face this evening so I thought this would be a good time to write. Anytime is a good time, but I have so much to say I can’t pin myself down to one thing long enough to put it in writing. And there is much that cannot be written — which words don’t express, and which create a sort of quiet sadness.
And I don’t want to write depressing letters although I often do.
SELF AWARENESS THY NAME IS RUSS
But in view of the situation, I suppose it can’t be helped. I can’t be really happy until I have two things —
Thinness and money?
My re-entrance to Illinois and you. Right, I haven’t got you either, so…
But I do have the thought of having you soon and that is half the problem solved.
I will never get over his failing out of school due to colitis (!? and depression) only for his girlfriend to go to the school as soon as he moves back home!
My unco-operative Psych instructor just gave us the glorious news that we have an exam the evening of Dec. 14. Whether or not I can work things out as planned in my preceding letter will depend on train schedules. I will know tonight when I get home. If I can’t wring Thursday then I’ll come down Friday morning on whatever train I can get.
Later:
Either the U of I. moves closer to Chicago, or Chicago moves closer to the U of I. Either alternative will be satisfactory, but one must be chosen. At least for the time being. As “time marches on” it gets worse instead of better. One would think that I would get used to being without you, but such is not the case. Each day, more of a void is created which takes correspondingly longer to fill, which is never filled completely anyway because it begins forming again as soon as I leave you. But it’s better when you’re nearer. The bus has started, and, typically, (for me), writing in a moving bus is a no-go. I will have to close soon.
I know I’m a curmudgeon, rarely moved by Russ’ letters, but this bit was moving to me. I can picture him rocking back and forth on a Chicago bus in December 1961, wrapping up this letter to his girl. And, maybe it’s just the seasonal depression and low vitamin D talking, but there’s something sweet and sad about this to me. Imagine writing a letter by hand to the person you love who is just a couple of hours away? Pining for them to be closer and not having any immediate gratification in the way of text messages, pictures, video calls. It’s a world that is completely lost to us in our modern world.
I’m almost done with these letters and somehow I’m just now getting all sentimental about the past! What in the world is happening to me?
Incidentally, how’s the weather in Champaign? Saturday and Sunday were beautiful days, except for a few showers, which were light and short, and I especially wished you were here. Monday (today) is not so good and all evening we have had wind that could knock over less sturdily constituted individuals, especially in open, unprotected areas. All in all, it hasn’t been bad, though, and we could have spent one wonderful weekend together. Wishful thinking — next Dec. 15, that’s the day.
So anyway, until you hear from me again, sweetheart, sweet dreams, sleep tight and take real good care of yourself. Good luck,
Love and kisses,
Ad infinitum,
Tiger
P.S. The IC is unco-operative and does not run any trains in the vicinity of 9-10 p.m. Therefore, I will have to come out Friday morning. There’s only one train, which arrives in Champaign at 9:55 a.m. So, if you can make an appointment for after 11 a.m., and please write, darling, even if I’ve been somewhat delinquent and my letters lack a little in coherency. I need your letters. Most of all, I need you, but since that isn’t quite possible right now, your letters will help much, much, much. But I’d better close and get some sleep before I start rambling. Being able to write to you brings me much contentment, but only within limits and overdoing it all at once is not good.
More love and kisses,
Tiger
If you made it this far, smash that ❤️ button!