art by Cher Jiang Yale Station: Letters of Love |
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| September 20th, 1947 My small one, As thou canst see, I got here ok and unhurt by bad company on the way. (Except there were three eleven-year-old kids sitting in the back of the car who used the bad word "damn" a couple of times.) The room looked as though my friend, Sherlock H. had searched here for a clue. Goodwin and Bob Lessley have other rooms this term -- so Mac and I are the only homeguard left -- there are two new fellows -- here for the first time (at the University) -- one is very quiet (like me) and rooms with Mac -- while the other is a talkative (big) virile-looking fellow, who rooms with me. We had quite a session last night. I can't seem to get his range just yet. He certainly looks the engineering, or allied type, yet he swears up and down that he is here for the liberal arts (name's Sloane). This puzzlement is deepened by the fact that he has spent seven years getting through school -- let me explain: he quit here when he was a junior (almost) and went into the service -- now, years hence (seven years from the time he first started -- at which time he was taking many courses of physics and math) he comes back to take up some liberal arts. (read the next thrilling installment for the solution of this devsstating problem.) Ralph looks a girl-bait brown after trips this summer to Cuba and points down rhumba way -- is moving his radio gear out this afternnon -- on his way to Boston. After the dig he gave me (clipping -- remember?) I related an item (upon which I congratulated him) from the newspaper of yesterday to wit: The National Congress of Correction has selected Boston as their big meeting place at the 48 convention. Mac is jovial and grinning as per wsual -- has gone to the football game this afternoon. The registration came off this morning withbut a hitch -- took about twenty minutes. Then the Red-skin and I adjourned the meeting and went to George and Harry's for some coffee. After that we ate in the Ritzy Trumbull dining hall -- cold-cuts. (The regular Sat. diet.) This afternoon, taking my good old time, I mosied around and got my books and supplies together. Have books and the room, in general about straightened out by now I love you Geo, PS (Confidentially -- don't usually admit this on such short acquaintance -- I was very lonely last-night.) |