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 so close). Missed one? Check the chronological list.
December 11, 1961
Dearest Kay,
I am writing between yawns, which tends to slow down my efficiency. Worst of all, the yawns are preceding my psych class. This cannot continue unabated. But important things first. I will come down Friday morning except that I am prevented by an act of god in which case there would still be a struggle. Chicago is no place for me when you’re in Champaign. As far as El Deano is concerned I have no alternative except to take my chances, whatever they may be.
When is the dance scheduled for? I must also write Nelson and inform him of my imminent arrival.
Nelson is his old roommate, who did not drop out of school. Russ started out hating him. Remember how Russ used to hate everything?
After the exam Thursday all I have is a term paper, two finals, next semester and money about which to worry. Only the term paper is new and I only devote spare moments to worrying about any of them. I don’t have any spare moments, only stolen ones.
A classroom is a miserable place to write a letter where everyone’s unsatiated interest in reading other people’s mail must be manifested in reading letters as they are created.
I feel attacked.
The Christmas holidays are too slow in coming. And when they do finally drag around they will suddenly be over and back to the grind we go.
Please stop attacking me.
The Sunday before last didn’t leave any particularly peculiar feelings. Only the exceptional desire for your companionship caused by the warm balmy breezes. A beautiful night for a walk with a beautiful girl. Possibly I have become too insensitive of late to the more subtle influences of my environment.
I pass over many things until they become disconcertingly obvious. This is probably a normal result of the rut one gets in working 40 hours a week, going to school and studying the remaining 128 and sleeping not at all. (With the exception of 20 hours traveling time which is essentially wasted.)
I worked full time throughout college (both undergrad and grad school) and it was exhausting!
I talked to Mr. Anton today and he told me he was sure arrangements could be made whereby I could work at the CTA when I’m not in school, etc., which is one problem cleared up.
This reminds me of how I kept quitting and then going back to work at TGI Friday’s because they just wanted a warm body who could wait tables, probably?
I hope to have the rest cleared up soon. Last Wednesday I received your letter and started an answer, but it came out so depressing that I thought better to withhold it.
Imagine how dreary that one must be?
Things are gradually improving. But that’s another story. Anyway, I saw a Folksong festival televised from the campuses of the U of C. and N.U. and it reminded me of you and Illinois, and I felt almost unbearable lonely. Of all the things I might ask, the thing I want most is you. That is what I want for Christmas —
I resisted this song for years but, truly, it’s a bit of pop music genius and I embraced it as the perfect December bop it is!
And New Year’s and Easter and my Birthday and so on.
There’s a reason the verse in the song stops at Christmas.
Like this I could go on for volumes but I have no time and no proper vocabulary. So, Darling, until you hear from me again this must be it. Sleep tight, sweet dreams and take extra good care of yourself.
Love, as always,
Tiger
If you made it this far, SMASH that ❤️ button!
Dear Russ: Get a life!!! If you are miserable now, how miserable will you be with a wife, kids, and bills?