Saturday
Dearest –
Saturday afternoons were made for you, dear – not for work. Yet it is Saturday, – you are in Cincinnati – and although it is after three o’clock I am at the office. Although the Ten Commandments, Laws of the Medes and Persians, Hoyle, Babcock, Duns and Bradstreets and all other known or suspected authorities – insist that it is sinful and atrociously poor form to berate against the decrees of Fate, – I can’t help but feeling that’s in good plain English it is just darn rotten luck. Either you should be here, or I in Cincinnati. I feel as though Fate had kept me from Mah Jonnging (Spelling questioned) with two crazy quilt and honor hands. – All of which is probably terribly mixed up to you – and has made you wonder at my writing it. However let it serve as the Preface, – the pages of which are never cut, – and pass over to the main part of the story.
In this story the form will be reversed as the appendix will come first. As I had written you concerning the pain in my side – I should have been considerate enough to have mentioned its progress. Thank goodness, I am again able to put on my shoes with out groaning at each downward bend. I was really worried for the first few days. I had visions of appendicitis and a dozen and one other equally cheerful ailments. However, the doctor advised castor oil – and after two days I was as strong as ever. I strongly advise this remedy for family use, and you have my permission to use this letter as a testimonial in any of your advertising. Should you desire to run my picture in the Police Gazette as one of your satisfied customers I will be pleased to send you a negative.
As I started out to tell you, sweet, I am working this afternoon. It has been a hectic week and I stayed down to clear up some work in the applications department before turning it back on Monday to its rightful head, – only it is flattering him by calling him a head because he hasn’t got any. He is one of these happy-go-lucky chaps that thinks everything will come out right in the end. That is where he is mistaken, for everything won’t come outright – the chances are that it will come right out! I know that from experience for I have never yet tried to hide anything that didn’t come right out in the end and embarrass me seventeen times over what it would have had I been out in the open in the first place. But still that is getting rather complicated so I had better change the subject and go on to Chapter III.
In this chapter our hero meets your brother. “It was evening again, and although exhausted by his day’s labor – Leon had summoned up enough strength to change his humble garments and drag his weary feet (you have to drag any size larger than #9) to Mr Clark’s foodery. He craved nourishment for he had not suffered food to pass his lips for nearly forty five minutes. Minutes of agony that can only be fully understood and sensed by those who have piously observed the Day of Atonement. But this famished young man had done nothing for which he should atone, so he had nothing to bolster up his morale – excepting the French fried potatoes and the two nestling poached eggs that patiently awaited him at the beanery.
As we have briefly told you our hero was hungry and had started out for lunch. His path (it was really a street) led him along a busy thoroughfare, lined with stores, Chinese laundries, apartment houses, trees, waste paper cans, more stores and beautiful vistas. As he was marvelling at one of these phenomena of our American cities his eyes rested upon a figure that seemed strangely familiar. (If anything can be both strange and familiar.)
Yes, you have anticipated the story so, I will not attempt to complete it. It was Lou returning from stabling his car. We passed the time of day and I accompanied him in to see his tailor where I left my brown trousers – which of course I carried under my arm. Lou looks fine but I imagine that you are missed a lot. We will probably get together a pinochle game some nite next week.
Last nite I started out to see my Wade Part customer who is still reluctant to sign our subscription card. She had a lawyer present so I had to again concede temporary defeat to Arthur Brisbane’s “Day by Day” and in that way saved myself by securing an opportunity to call again next week.
When I left her home I was near Rosenthal's so I walked up there. Justin was going out so having nothing to do I trailed along. We met some friends of his so thus the evening went. Rain kept me late as I had neither hat nor coat.
Tonite I will probably go to Keiths. I am going to call one of my friends as there will be no kick in going alone. I am not keen about the show but it is too cold in my room to sit at home. That is a very logical excuse, isn’t it?
Your special, written Thursday arrived at seven this morning. My fond landlady awakened me to deliver it. I usually find your letters in the evening when I return home. I received none Wednesday nor Thursday but found two last nite. The mail service isn’t so good.
You mentioned a possibility of your working in Cincinnati. As I don’t know whether you are serious or not I can hardly discuss the question. I am just mentioning it here because I wanted to know that the shot had gone home. You know that I miss very few of those shots. In fact I think you feel that I notice too many of them! Would you have me less sensitive? Sometimes I wish that I could pass things off easily. It would be much easier for both of us. You wouldn’t have to feel so bound down and I would worry less. I know that you repent it to some extent and I am trying to tell you that you should not feel inhibited from doing the things you wish. About the only things I have to tried ask you to refrain from were your associations with a certain few people. After that you knew that I didn’t care. If you care to do things – don’t stop for me. Need we go into that again? I have reiterated my stand so many times that there surely is reason for your misunderstanding me.
This is a peculiar letter. I have just wandered and said nothing. You seem miles away and I can’t seem to tell you the things that I want to. Of course you know that I miss you, dear. You repeatedly ask that question as though you believe that I don’t. As they say at the end of the flower strewn path – “I do!”
As tomorrow is Sunday this will be continued
Love
Leon
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