Jan 18, 1923

Dearest beloved,

There are times when you just can’t get your mind on lessons. I’m like that now. The facts of the case are that I’ve got a bad ankle and it’s hurting so much I can’t hardly think straight. Yesterday, I was hopping around as I always do for you know I’m never still and in some way I must have turned it. It was weak anyway and getting a strain yesterday made me feel the effects of it today. Anyway, it’s hurting like the old Harry and I don’t feel so desperately well, either. Tonite’s the nite I’ll have to go to Camp Logan the time I really want to be good but how can I when I feel like I do. I can just hear you say – Oh, it’ll be all right. You’ll be as good as ever – but I fear I don’t — oh darn this ink. You should feel highly honored. I’m writing with the teacher’s fountain pen. She’s doing a rash thing. It sure writes rotten or maybe it’s me. I can’t tell. Gorsh – she passed by + I thought she might stop to see what I was writing with her pen. Luckily, she seems to trust me [eal] for altho I’ve never given her cause to, she’s called me down a hundred times + screamed bloody murder at me. I’m glad somebody does trust me.

Just finished writing in an adorable graduation book. When I get mine, will you write in it and wish me the best of luck? Or wish me anything you want to. Most of your wishes are nice anyway so I’d be content with any.

I wish you’d tell me why I write so much to you – Reckon it’s because I get so wound up that I have to run down.

There’s a poem I just remembered that Dad told me long ago.

It’s a good old world that we live in

To give or to buy or to lend in

But to beg or to borrow or get a man’s own

It’s the darnedest old world I ever have known.

Ain’t that cute!

I’m going to quit writing to you forever, ’cause you’ll get tired of reading all this trash and you know, it never pays to make a thing common. Maybe that’s the reason I adore your letters so, ’cause I get one once in a blue moon – Ain’t that the truth?