Letters: Feb 15, 1951

         Received your latest letter in just six days from the time it was mailed--practically a record and it’s almost like a telephone call. But your letters--what a conglomeration of confusion and egotism plus some rather interesting points. But I love you and I don’t go to Stockton just to get a ride or what the hell do you mean. You also said you read (while home) some old love letters you received in 1943, which would put you in the 14 years old bracket then--you being 22 and your birthday Feb 5--which reminds me--today I sent you a small gift from your birthday. Hope you like it love. I don’t know if you wear things like that or not. Reason for telling you this is that I didn’t send a card or message with the gift-I did send it airmail and you may receive it before this letter…

        Congrats on your remarkable recovery to the A & B class in grades. Beneath that good looking exterior lies a PhD. But I would hate like hell to try to make love to a walking classroom with Plato’s principles and Freudian philosophy, with an offshoot of Euclid--wow, I didn’t think that would come out of me. -- -- I just reread your letter and the last part sticks with me. Ha! Where do these delusions start? But with a certain sharpness of mind at this particular moment I offer you a sort of payment--with the dough I’m saving each month (it’s going into a savings account) I’ll present you with three choices...when I return…-- A honeymoon in France (I’m not kidding) or the same in Bermuda--where I’ve always wanted to go--or three nights in a motel and no marriage. Take your choice.

        Nice that your folks are moving to Pomona--I think it’s one of the prettier towns in So Calif. In fact, I’ve thought of finishing my graduate work there--when I return to living.

        So Baby--all for now I guess. As you so aptly put it in your letters, I’m going to hit ye olde sack. A very happy birthday, belatedly, to you and please write real soon and real often.