I couldn’t find Abe Lyman playing “The Shrine of St. Cecilia,” but there are plenty of other tunes of his to choose from.
A transcript follows the letter images.
Jan. 30, 1942.
Here is the whole story of that Mrs. Harris I told you about yesterday.
When I got your letter today saying that you hadn’t received a letter from me, I was mad at the mail service. But, after thinking it over, it was my fault. I wrote to you every day. You see, I always write at night & then mail it in the morning. I wrote Saturday night but didn’t mail it Sunday morning. As I told you before, I wasn’t feeling so good
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Sunday & didn’t get up until about 5:00 o’clock in the evening. I mailed it then so I guess it took an extra day to get there. Mad? I knew you weren’t.
The pictures of you are swell, sweetheart. I told you you’d look handsome. I showed the pictures to quite a few people & everyone thought you looked swell. I’m proud of my sweet little soldier.
Abe Lyman, “the waltz king” is now playing “The Shrine of St. Cecelia”. They are playing the chimes & it reminds me of a wedding.
I guess I never told you why it brings tears when I hear “Because”. It is used at weddings only, I think. I have always dreamed of a wedding on my own & the dream wouldn’t be complete without that song. Before I met you, it made me cry because it takes two to make a wedding & that has always been my only ambition—to get married & use my experience in teaching children. Now that I’ve found my one & only, I still feel a tear drop on my cheek when I hear that song, because I’ll have to wait
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for a while yet before my dreams come true. Tsk. Tsk. Aren’t I sentimental tonight. I assure you it’s nothing new. I always have been that way. It may seem funny, but I can
w write what I feel, rather better than I say it. (I Love You.)
Ruby went out with Howard tonight. My dear grandmother is also out for the evening. She hasn’t been home one night this week. I suppose this is a mean thing to say but—it seems so peaceful.
I called your Aunt Ruth tonight. She said your
Aunt Dorothy & her husband are coming over some day next week & are going to bring your mother & your sister Ruth. She asked me to come up. Said she would call me at the office when they come. I’d like to see them.
I never told you this, but for a long while you didn’t go over home. Then you went over & got my ring & of course I didn’t go with you then. To tell the truth, deep in my heart I was lonesome for good old Franklin. It sounds rather silly, as I had only been there a few times
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before. I guess I learned to like the place because it was your home & you seemed so much happier there. Did I say I could write what I felt? That’s one feeling I’ve never been able to put into words. I can’t even write what I mean. I guess I don’t understand it myself.
I certainly am in a sentimental mood tonight. I think it’s partly because of the beautiful waltz music on the radio now. (I Love You).
As usual, nothing at all happened today. You know, I don’t know what
is wrong with me, but for about a week now, I have ached all over. Especially my back & legs. Growing pains—I hope not. Oh well, so what.
I think I’ll say “good night” for now, honey. Until tomorrow.
To my one & only from me with all the love I have in my heart—
(Mrs. W. E. Pittman)
I Love You
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(I could see that kiss you gave me. I’ve got good eyes, huh?)
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After I mailed your letter I thought you might need some stamps. Will send you a book of stamps Sat. night.
I Love You