6/6/1924 I wonder if your mother was violently shocked

June 6, 1924

To Wash DC and returned

Dearest old Cap –

Say, what the dickens are feministic creatures for, anyway?!! They’re about the uselessest animals in this part of the world. I believe about all they’re good for is to cook, sew and cry. Heavy on the latter.

Cry! I never imagined I had stored away within me as many tears as I have parted with today. I know now what that old saying means, “It seems you’ve been gone for a year, sweetheart, but you’ve only been gone a day. When you left me far, far behind you, you took my heart away.” I always thought that the man who wrote that sweetly sentimental and wrote a lot of bunk. He didn’t tho. He told facts! Oh, my dearest Big Boy.

I don’t want to make this a sob letter because that’s a h- of a letter to get when you’re far away and expecting to have a good time an see the world. It’s better to have a letter that reminds you that someone misses you, and is watching the mails carefully and so anxiously for a word, but it’s different to get a letter telling that folks are grieving for you as if you had gone away for years instead of only a few months.

It’s so foolish, and perfectly insane or me to cry. I’ve thought and thought why I cry so much, but I can’t figure it out. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to go, for, I’m so glad for you to have the wonderful opportunity to be one of a very few in the country who gets the opportunity. I’m glad it’s you who are getting the glory and fame instead of Day vault or any other of the southern discus men. You are worthy of higher things. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to go, neither was it because I was either selfish or little enough to be pitying myself and the fun I’m missing. That hardly enters my mind. It isn’t that I’m afraid I’ll lose you, for I’d trust you anywhere with anyone and know that you’d come back to me the same clean boy, strong mentally and physically as you are now. I know that you’d return to me and want me to share your honors. You’ve been too true blue, Fred, for me to fear losing you. I’ve thought of everything bu still the lump rises in my throat and hot tears come to my eyes.

Fred, never as long as I live will I forget this morning. I found that altho my heart may be nearly breaking I can still smile. I sent you off with a smile and a word of good cheer as I’ve always done. I could have kicked myself around the block 500 times last nite when I broke down and started the sob stuff. Of all times in the world why couldn’t I have kept smiling? But I had spent 2 sleepless nites, and I was nervois and upset, and it just finished me when you said good bye. You were so adorable and I thought that would be the last nite I’d see you for maybe months. I shan’t even try to get anyone to fill up those nites. I’m going to wait for you, however long it may be.

Fred, somehow tonite I feel almost hopeless. I feel as if my excuse for living had suddenly been taken away. Mother says I look as if I had just put on mourning and buried my best friend. Nothing nearly so dramatic as all that. I have merely been to the train, seen the dearest pal on Earth leave and then watched the train go around the bend and out of sight. And the card fade away. After that the lump in my throat gets about 5 times as big as it was before and my eyes fill up, but I don’t shed a tear no, sir not a one. We shop a while, I say the sun of about a dozen words, then I leave the folks and go to the picture show. There was only about 5 people in there because it was so early. Well, they had some sort of a sob story so for the entire length of the picture, I do more weeping than the sobbing heroine. All to myself, however. At one o’clock I leave because I can’t bear it any longer. I walked around our town, then phoned mama that I wouldn’t be home until later, and took in another picture show. I started to get a sandwich for lunch but I didn’t think I could eat it, so I didn’t get one. Then about 3:30 I got home and walked the house over, trying to find something to do, but such was not possible, so I cried some more, for maybe an hour. Then I eat a tomato, a piece of ham and about 2 bites of bread for supper and then I start in again. Great heck! I think I’m over it now, tho. Heaven knows I’ve wept enough tears to fill a drinking cup. Any why I couldn’t say.

Big Boy, all thru the picture shows I would think of that last moment with you. Of how I felt when the train left – but mostly I thought of that kiss. Did it seem so different to you? Did it seem to you to have the depth of meaning and love that it had for me?

Somehow, we’ve let our kisses go beyond being only the love ones, but they have none of them ever had the sweetness, the tenderness and pure ideal love that your kiss had this morning. It spoke more than the words ever could and it meant more. I wonder if your mother was violently shocked. But she knows I love you with all my heart and soul. And she also knows that that love is just as strongly returned by you. Oh, big boy, I wouldn’t take the whole world for you, either in money or travel. I only want to prove more worthy of your love, and to love you with a clean, pure, unselfish love. You mean so much to me that I could never give you up. I guess it’s a tiny bit of selfishness in always wanting you near me that makes me cry and long for you.

I feel a hundred percent better now, tho. Since I’ve talked with you a minute, I don’t feel nearly so weak and shaky or blue, I somehow can’t realize you’re gone, but I do know that from now on , I shan’t allow myself to become so horribly depressed. I’m going to keep busy and wait.

Please, big boy, write to me just as often as you can, for it means so much. And if you see some little dime remembrance of some of those places on the other side of the globe, were Rice to send you another dime, and jazz it down here to me, won’t you. Just any thing. and if you find a little pet monkey, why send me that, too. Remember, tho, I’d much much rather have a special delivery letter than a dime novelty.

I guess I’d better ring off for tonite. Everybody has gone to the Dawson violin


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