Now This Is A Love Letter
One in a series of old Love Letters that I bought at the flea market and am now transcribing for my nosiest friends.
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!
November 5, 1960
On the day this letter was written, Tilda Swinton was born. That’s how much the world has changed in a generation, you guys.
Dearest Kay,
Greetings, Sweetheart. Tonight I feel soft and sentimental so if it seems like I’ve gotten carried away, that is the reason.
Heeeeeeey now, what happened over Halloween weekend in 1960? Did Russ discover what married men know?
When you love a girl though maybe it’s right that you should get “carried away” once in a while.
I’ve missed your letters, cards or whatever you send along with them. To say I look forward to hearing from you is a gross understatement, believe me. I keep hoping the next day’s mail will bring something. I worry about you because you mean a lot more to me than just a friend.
Darn it. I know how I feel, and I’ll be hanged if I can put it on paper.
Probably that’s because what I feel is too complex and human to be set down in exact, cold words on inanimate paper. Poetry conveys emotion, but that (poetry) is not my field.
DO NOT WRITE POETRY. PLEASE, RUSS. STAY IN YOUR GRUMPY LANE.
A letter is no substitute for the real thing. And that applies to both sender and receiver. I can’t derive the satisfaction of being able to see you from writing a letter. I’m jealous of everybody in Chicago because they can see you easily and I can’t.
The word “love” has become well-worn through time, but it has lost none of its meaning. It’s still a human being’s most treasured gift, to be given or received. There is no greater gift I could give that would equal or be more lasting or valuable than love.
To be loved by another has always been, to me, a source of endless amazement. Once, when thinking about it, the concept of love itself, from any source, impressed me so deeply that I have never forgotten the feeling.
Russ, then and now.
I could never explain it rationally and could never say exactly what it was about it that affected me, but it still happened. And the reward I have is a true appreciation of what love can be.
I have since acquired all the so-called “down to earth” notions about and characteristics of love, but there is still that little unexplainable part that makes it a little more than a rationally explainable phenomenon. It may not be something to use as a reason for losing all sense of reason over, but it is certainly a thing to respect and treat with care.
Love is amazing so long as it you keep it in perspective. Got it.
Fortunately, love is self-evident and does not require elaborate, accurate explanations of it.
You’re on my mind all the time in any case. I’m not so unrealistic as to say that you are the only thing, but you occupy space more important than any other. It is fortunate that I can think about more than one thing or I would never get anything done just sitting around thinking of you. Right now, you are all I’m thinking about and I feel wonderful, if somewhat lonely.
Y’all I’m DYING to know what happened over Halloween weekend. This is more mushy than after homecoming when he made it rain in her mailbox for days.
This is a love letter. I’m human. I can’t think and feel all these things and never express them. I’m not excusing myself. Rather, I’m adding weight to my sincerity. I can’t really do justice to what I really feel, and the result is probably kind of garbled, but I can try.
Emotion is too frequently overlooked and played down. Emotion which is uncontrolled, and in being that way interferes with a person’s objectives, is not good. But emotion which is felt and which should be expressed is being wasted if suppressed.
Maybe I’m just a lovesick fool, but I don’t think so, and if others do, then at least I’m happier than they are. Darn it, I’d make a lousy lover.
Russ did not discover What Married Men Know yet.
I’m crazy about you so the spirit is there. As I’ve said before, eloquence fails at the most important times. What else can I say. I love you. That is to the point and does not beat around the bush. It’s just that such strong feelings seem to require more. But, on the other hand, what addition can one make. Hang it all, I’m confused.
“I love you not only for what you are but also for what I am when I am with you.”
That’s a beautiful line and I just remembered it, and it applies to you. Of that I’m sure. I’m sure of several other things but don’t know how to express them. I’m still confused.
This is a fine state of affairs for an experienced college student.
Completely baffled by himself. I feel so inadequate, and I am beginning to think that you’re beginning to think I’ve lost my sanity. No, no, I’m not crazy. That’s what they all say, isn’t it?
I still think you’re the greatest and without equal in my mind. Stay as sweet as you are, and take care of yourself.
His ability to jump back and forth between declarations of love and bland yearbook platitudes is something.
I’ll write more tomorrow and include something that doesn’t give me all kinds of problems in expression. Good night, sweetheart. Don’t forget to write and remember what I’ve expounded upon throughout the letter. Love you lots.
Love and kisses,
Russ
Next up: Beverly is really having trouble with her roomie Rosemary/Rosemarie (we first met them way back in Letter #2) and I LOVE IT.
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