art by Cher Jiang

Yale Station: Letters of Love
April 8, 1947 pm My Small One, Sinbad (George) Senn (my friend who left) came back from his trips In the Merchant Marine last night -- and we have been "shooting the breeze" ever since. This afternoon, I took a couple of hours off and we went to see a show. The only one which appeared half way decent was "Boomerang" but of course it had its necessary evil double feature; we didn't wait to see it. Boomerang was a definite run of the mill picture. I have seen 1t many times before under different titles. But somehow I enjoyed it. There was something majestic about it -- perhaps in its presentation. At any rete it left me with something good to think about. One usually forgets about the usual picture as soon as 1t 1s over. Things seem very clear and much more orderly now that I've had a rest. I'm trying to be in bed by 12.30 each night -- on the advice of a very special little person. George saw your plciures and I'm afraid now for you to come down -- since I might lose you to this six fool, sun tanned, smooth-cheeked, hunk of male. He didn't say anything -- just had that primitive look in his eye. He's come back to attend the University's Progressive School of Photography until the summer. Then he's going to try to cone back in the fa11. He's an electrical engineer -- good sensible fellow {for picking the best career). You wouldn't love me if you could see me now. Unanswered letters strewn over the desk. Unshaven. Books plled on books. Several papers 1n progress. And I've been writing a little. One wouldn't know, looking at me, that I'm the happiest man (and the luckiest) in New Haven, Connecticut. : : I work very hard, trying to forget that life for me now, is nothing but unbearable waiting for Sundays. Bearable only because I know the value -- the very grest value -- of whet I'm waiting for. I love you, Small one, your, George
I saw a man go by -- just an ordinary man; But even in his inoffensive glance Was all the substance which is life to me: He breathed. I breathe. His muscles quiver in the cold, free air, And so do mine. I do not know him and yet I have never known anyone else. I face him on a quiet corner some day, Waiting for lights; his passive message Unconsciously resisting those thing between us That tie our roots in yesterdays together...

letters through April 17, 1947

  1. from another correspondent, January 6, 1947 (typed)
  2. from George to Emily, February 19, 1947 (handwritten)
  3. from George to Emily, February 21, 1947 (typed)
  4. from George to Emily, February 22, 1947 (typed)
  5. from George to Emily, February 23, 1947 (typed)
  6. from George to Emily, March 14, 1947 (typed)
  7. from Emily to George, March 23, 1947 (typed)
  8. from Emily to George, March 24, 1947 (typed)
  9. from Emily to George, March 29, 1947 (typed)
  10. from George to Emily, April 5, 1947 (typed)
  11. from George to Emily, April 6, 1947 (typed)
  12. from George to Emily, April 7, 1947 (typed)
  13. from George to Emily, April 7, 1947 (typed) (current letter)
  14. from George to Emily, April 7, 1947 (handwritten)
  15. from Emily to George, April 9, 1947 (handwritten)
  16. from George to Emily, April 10, 1947 (typed)
  17. from Emily to George, April 15, 1947 (handwritten)

Return to introduction.

Minnie Renzer Bostick (1881-1955), father of Glyn Bostick, Fort Worth, Texas, 1911.
Minnie Renzer Bostick and wife Lily, on the road near Childress, Texas, 1938.
Emily Greatrex in New York City, 1939.
Emily Greatrex (left) with her friend Millie Gonzales-Coto, 1939.
Glyn Bostick, San Francisco, March 21, 1942.
Emily Greatrex (upper left) helps decorate The New York Daily News office Christmas tree, 1942.
Emily Greatrex, age 23, July, 1944.
Emily Greatrex, November 13, 1944.
Clipping from The New York Daily News, January 6, 1947.
Emily Bostick with first child Chris, Long Island, New York, March 13, 1952.
Glyn Bostick arm wrestling with Diane and Chris, Syracuse, New York, March 25, 1959.
Glyn Bostick, posed portrait, Syracuse, New York, January 23, 1983.
Glyn Bostick U.S. passport photograph, June 14, 1990.
Glyn and Emily Bostick, Syracuse, New York, March, 1997.

Website by Studio Mulduzi.
Typewritten letters converted from image to text by FreeConvert.com, a free Optical Character Recognition tool.