8 Brookside Avenue
Pelham 65, N. Y.
A/C Judson Clark
Sqdrn 5, Class 45-A
Newburgh, New York
Well, you probably won’t receive this letter until after Saturday & everything I’ll say in it I’ll probably have said to you already. What a horrible day this has been. To start it all off fine, there wasn’t a letter from you. Then it’s poured all day & it’s damp & just dismal in general.
Then to make everything just great, I called up work today. Ginny sounded sorta queer & I thought maybe something was wrong. She started mumbling something or other about a letter. I didn’t know what she was talking about so she said that since they weren’t doing a darned thing except sitting around all day that they’d decided to let Rosemary and I go. Well, I’d more or less expected that sooner or later but of all times just before Christmas. She felt awful about it but of course it wasn’t her fault.
She was talking to the girl who pays us to see if she’d written the letter to me but since she didn’t know about it, Ginny’s going to see if maybe they’d just fired Rosemary & not me. Oh, what a mixup. I’m waiting for her to call back now.
Oh, well, it won’t make much difference, I guess. Wherever I work it will only be for a few months.
My life certainly isn’t dull anyway. Well, now, I just finished talking to Ginny again. She said that they seem to have forgotten all about firing me & to come in. Now, I don’t know what the story is. Golly, I hope that they make up their minds soon because it’s very annoying. The only reason I’d like to stay there is because of the clothes.
Here’s something I found in the paper when I was cutting out some of those engagement pictures—
“It was a rather dull day, and the two little sardines were swimming about in San Diego Bay. In a bored tone, one of the sardines suggested they go up to San Francisco for the weekend—
“Oh, no,” objected his companion. “It’s much too long a swim to San Francisco.”
“We could make the trip on the train,” ventured the first sardine.
“What!” shouted the second, “and be jammed in like a couple of soldiers!”—
Don’t throw anything. I’m too far away, Darn it! I thought that was cute. I know—simple things amuse simple minds.
Just washed my hair. It’s hanging all over the place. I wonder if you’ll still love me after you’ve seen me just after washing my hair. I look horrid! What am I telling you that for.
Gee, I love you, honey. You’re so sweet and thoughtful. You’re just everything I love. You always say the right thing, hon, how do you do it? I miss you so. Today seemed so long because tomorrow I’ll see you.
I love your voice. You sounded so nice last night. Guess from the drift of what I’ve been saying people’d think I was in love with you. How silly.
This is silly to ask you because you’ll get this too late to answer. Anyway, what time will the Air Show be over, darling? Was talking to Mrs. Godfrey a few whiles ago and she has to meet you. She’s like my second mother. She used to be my dancing teacher and is so nice. If we have time on Saturday, I’d like to go & see her for a few minutes and show her you & the ring.
I love you so. Just in case you didn’t know. But I still don’t care for “Leslie.”
You should see the mess my room is in. It’s a good thing you can’t or I’m sure you’d never marry me. I just detest housework, too. I got out all my old letters and there isn’t enough room to get them back—can’t understand it—oh, well—maybe I should throw them away.
Honey, do you worry about things? I hope you do in a way because I don’t & one of us has to. I really mean it when I say I want you to be boss, honey. I hate men who let women tell them what to do & run their lives. Of course that doesn’t go all the time; there have to be exceptions to everything; but, I want you to be the one who finally makes all the big & most of the small decisions. That’s the way you’d like it, isn’t it honey?
Wonder what we’re going to do this weekend. Gee, it will probably fly again only twice as fast because of the long (hah, hah) weekend last week.
What a crazy letter this is—I feel very wacky now. I wish you were here. Well, tomorrow isn’t too far away. I love you so. You’re too wonderful.
Well, I have a fairly good idea of what I’m getting for Bobby & Mom (yours) but Nanny is a problem—Don’t know what on earth she’d like. You’re a problem, too—I love problems like you, though.
Have you heard anything definite about Advanced? Woody & I were going mad trying to decide whether Kansas was a state. I was sure it was because in the “Wizard of Oz” the girl came from Kansas. Woody was almost convinced by that argument. Boy, we sure know geography.
Wonder what will happen with Woody & Steve this weekend. It should prove interesting anyhow. That was a dirty trick—you writing that you were going to find out how Woody felt towards Steve & then hoping I wouldn’t get it ‘til Monday. The trouble was that I didn’t.
This darned cold won’t go away. I wish you’d keep it this weekend instead of giving it back. I love you, though.
Honey, what do you think you’d have done if I hadn’t let you kiss me that first night. That’s something that I’ve done once before. It was quite a surprise to me—I was wondering all evening what I’d say to you. I’ll probably have talked to you about that this Saturday anyway. Maybe if I mail this tonight, you’ll get it tomorrow morning. It doesn’t seem probable but who knows.
Last night I was listening to the war news. Golly, hon, I don’t see how they can possibly beat Japan before three years. They’re all over China & on so many of those islands. All the experts were predicting that Germany would be defeated in October. We’re far from victory there, too. It just seems as if the war would never end. The worst of it is, for me, I’m not doing one thing to help win the war. Buying war bonds, but outside of that nothing. I wish I could act or sing or play some instrument & go overseas in a U. S. O. camp show. Then I’d feel as if I were doing at least some little thing to help. That wouldn’t be much, but at least it would be something. I wonder if I should get a war job. That wouldn’t be too smart because I know I’m not fitted for that sort of thing. But, honey, when we’re married, I won’t be content to be doing nothing to get you home sooner.
I’d like to do nurse’s aide work but I haven’t enough free time to do it. Besides all the classes are during the day. I wish the war would end.
I was just thinking of the places they might send you & this struck me very funny. Suppose they sent you to South America. That I’d like but Bill’s there & wouldn’t it be a riot if he were put in your crew. It really was a wierd [sic] thought but as you can see I’m just writing anything that comes to my mind.
Well, darling, I’d better get busy & straighten up this room. Golly, what a job. I hope you’re neat & orderly because then you’ll be a good influence on me. You are anyway.
I love you very, very much. Please don’t forget to write when you get a chance. It’s awful not to get a letter from you. I love you, honey. Now I have to wait for Mom to call & tell me what you said. I hope we can go early, darling. Every minute more that I can be with you is wonderful. I miss you so & it’s just as lonesome as it can be without you, darling. I love you, honey.
I wish tomorrow would hurry & get here but take it’s time about leaving. Why does time have to go so slowly when you’re at Stewart & so quickly when you’re home. That’s love maybe. Remind me some time to tell you how wonderful you are—
I love you, honey—
All my love,
P. S. Are you legal yet? (Your name, I mean).
Recommended CitationSix Clark, Dorothy A., "Letter Written by Dorothy A. Six Clark to William Judson Clark Dated December 8, 1944" (1944). Clark, Dorothy Audrey Six and William Judson. Paper 104.