art by Cher Jiang Yale Station: Letters of Love |
|
![]() | |
February 23, 1947
pm
Dear Emily,
What an absent minded professor I am. I asked you to our
dance, thinking, cunningly (and derkly) to myself "and then
I'll ask you to the Prom later on." Because, you see, the
prom and our closed private dance occur on the same week-end.
The prom 1s on Friday evening, March the 7th, and our dance --
one of the many little affaire which always spring up around the
main event, is on Saturday night, the 8th. So now, you are
asked to honor us on the GREAT night.
I know you might be reluctant to accept such an invitation,
having never seen me; and I suppose you know me well enough
by now to knew whether or not you'd ever want to see me.. It
would mean a great deal to me 1f you could come -- seems almost
necessary -- but the council and I will try our best to forgive
you if you snub us.
So much for the planning until I hear from you.
One night last week I had a conversation with myself; it was
just after dinner, Ralph was playing the Wm Tell overture on the
player, and Mr. Knight's "Clrcult Analysis" was growing a little
thick. Therefore you can well imagine how surprised I was to hear
myself say:
"George, how yould you like to talk to that little girl
with the 'high childlike voice'?"
"What an absurb question!" I snorted.
"Well, then, why don't you?" I asked.
I looked up cooly and said, "You nuts, my friend?"
"Not at all," this sport answered, "Just run out and
call her."
Although it sounded unreasonable, it wasn't at all
an unpleasant ldea, but then I saw the catch.
"How about the number?" I demanded, impatiently, "How'll
I get hold of her in a place like New York?"
This cynical customer sneered disgustedly at me and sald,
"Where's your brain, my boy -- New York's a little place,
not one half as big as Texas."
Well, you must admit this sounded highly encouraglng,
so I set out for our library phone, Just down tue hall, amazed that
it had never occured to me before just how small New York really
was.
|