A transcript follows the letter images.
I Love You
Oct. 24, 1942.
Remember me?—This is your Honey calling long distance to tell you that He loves you—or did you know. He do—He does—He did—He shall—will—forever and ever and ever.—Say did I say all that. I sure did.
How are you today—this is Sat.—the 24th or isn’t “Old Mother Nature” “on the Line,” Is that what you were going to keep me in suspense about or did I miss my guess. Anyway—I hope you are feeling fine. This time “popped” into my head the other day and out of a clear blue sky this is what I sang.
“Christmas time is drawing near, Then my Honey will soon be here
With her smile so bright and gay
On our happy wedding day.”
I’m kinda, just a little—maybe kinda goofy. No? Yes.
I’ve been doing Mechanic’s work for the last two or three days. I think about Mon. I may go on a night shift. I ask for it anyway. I hope I get it. That don’t sound like me does it—I haven’t got a Sweetheart to think about out here—that makes a world of difference. I wanted to be with you evenings, nights, days and all the time when I was at the Mill—It’s a different proposition now—I still want to be with you but——Coma Xmas. and I’ll be again a seein ya. Yes’m!
Tommy Jimmy Dorsey in on the radio—I wish we were listening to him—I feel in the mood
for my Honey—a frosted glass,—and some of his music now—Alas, all I have is the music, Some of these days we will “get on the ball”—astride a highball—”Give it the Highball” and lets roll,—Y’know Honey, I feel extremely good tonight—I am writing in time to the music, so if this writing looks worse then usual that is why. I can write much better to music. Can you—I know you can—your a song in yourself tho—Your looks, acts, talk and everything in general makes music for me.
I don’t know what they are playing now but—y’know—it sounds as if it were late at night—and every now and then you can hear a run on the piano
like it was breaking thru the hum of people talking—sounds like a nite-club—Wish we were at one—or rather alone listening to the music—not real dark—or rather —very dark with a very small light,—for I like to be able to see you. Indeed I do.
Fields and I call these our sugar reports—Ha. They may ration sugar but not your kind of sweetness—It isn’t for anybody to ration but you—And I know my Honey doesn’t ration it to me—Do you—Nope!
I see you I love you
I Love You—This call is running into money. Ha.
x Walt x
I Love You
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You’re You’re to be Mrs. by Xmas.