Dearest Dad:
It’s high time I sat down and once again wrote you a letter. I received yours a couple of days ago and I believe it was the only one during the week.
This is Saturday night. Although it’s been many weekends since I’ve enjoyed a civilian weekend, I was especially reminiscent on the subject tonight. I listened to The Hit Parade and some dance music and that helped recall those lost day of follies. Right now Fred Allen is on and it is always a marvel to me that both of us can listen to the same program. In a loose sort of a way it forms a feeling of nearness.
Next month I hope that I can have a few photographs taken. Good photographers are not in abundance but their work is acceptable. They are all Japanese, who all seem to possess a curious mania for cameras.
The bridge foursome got together again tonight and it was a successful session for me. We just finished a few minutes ago. I believe I am improving regardless of the dubious tutelage.
I hope that you have received the knick-knacks by now and it was too bad they couldn’t be there for Mom’s birthday. I am doing considerable reading and it seems that I can never read enough. There is such an infetertmable number of articles in my brain and the resulting consciousness of my inadequacy is very depressing.
Well I’ve come to the end of another very brief letter. Physically I’m very well and have not been on sick call since being on the islands. For all I think of you I should be able to write more and I do hate to stop. I’ll write tomorrow. A million times I’ve gone over the first day when I get home.
Love,
