Most Fridays 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.
Oct. 19, 1961
Darling Kay,
I got your wonderful letter last night. More than anything, I was worried about not hearing from you. Although I know well how there seems to be only 12 hours in a day and no time for anything. However, your letter yesterday was great, so I have no complaints.
She’s totally seeing other people?
The only thing I want to do now is get down to Champaign and love you to death, Darling.
This letter, too, must be short because I want to get it out as soon as possible this morning and I’m writing it at work.
I’ll be down on the 5:40 train from Chicago, which is a special and should arrive about 8 p.m. — daylight savings time.
Have I mentioned how important daylight savings time is to me, a Chicago-area resident with seasonal affective disorder? Imagine my surprise when moving here from Michigan and discovering it gets dark at 4:30 in the afternoon in the winter! It sucks.
Specials are generally on time so I shouldn’t arrive much later, if at all later, than that. And I’ll be down with bells on with the thousands of other weary travelers.
The past week has been busy busy busy for me also. But I like it, except in the morning and would be bored to death if it were any other way. My thoughts of you kept me going strong so as long as you’re with me everything will be rosy.
Better get this mailed. Good morning, good night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, and take real good care of yourself. Good luck and keep your chin up. the U of I can’t keep our team down.
Seriously, how tough was that school in the 1960s? He talks about school like he’d rather get shipped off to Vietnam.
Love, love, love, ad infinitum,
Tiger
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He changed his name to Tiger?