Dear Folks:
To answer your letter that came today and in better time than most, I am probably thinking of the same thing that you are tonight and that is how soon I can see Dick. I wrote to him a few days ago but so far haven’t received a reply. There is no use in telling you how much I’m chaffing because I can’t see him right away. I was thinking the other night (of) how many letters you have to write and how busy you must be to keep up with our demands. Probably you have written more the last two years than in your lifetime. I’m really glad to know that you bought the Buxby(?) house and nothing must ever make us give it up. Asking me the other night about being a bachelor, that reminds me of the dream I had last night. I was spending my money for house furnishings (in) prepatory to getting married. Quite a pleasing dream but seemed a long way from reality.
You said in one of your letters a while back that you had some negatives of Dan and Carol. I would like to have one of their pictures very much. Last night I played bridge but it was a bad session. Tonight there’s a fellow sitting opposite me slapping a guitar with great gusts but not so bad, so perhaps my tastes are depreciating. Tonight I borrowed a fiddle for a few minutes but it had such a dull flattened tone that I returned it soon. I even felt a little sentimental, recalling the first day I stood with nine others and began my lessons, and then remembering further the symphony at Nebraska and the brief luck I had at forceful and sensuous music. I guess this is the end of another episode. I’m afraid the cable arrived too late for your big day but I hope it conveyed some of my thoughts of you.
Love,
