February 16 and 17, 1944 Wednesday and Thursday

February 16, 1944 Wednesday

Hello, dearest,

The sunny south is here again. Warm, springy and cheerful. I don’t mean to make you dissatisfied or anything, of course. But Kentucky is a fine state, what I’ve seen of it.

It is hard for me to imagine what you would sound like with laryngitis. Your voice is quite characteristic and I can’t imagine you with another. Don’t believe I’ve ever heard of laryngitis being a nervous reation. Bet you caught a bug or slept with your mouth open (as I often do). Hope it’s all better by now – must be a real handicap to a teacher not to be able to talk! Suppose it relieves you of responsibility for conversation. Good time to meditate.

Tom O’Donnell used to be quite a B.M.O.C. in his way. Don Richards and I classified him as a good man gone wrong. Don was particularly bitter toward him as having “sold out” (as he was toward many). “What a joker!” was his usual remark. In a way he was right, but Tom never fully “sold out” (to artificiality in general). He at least realized that he was playing games, and now has some good angles on political theory that he really believes. His bar-tending ambition shows that he has pretty much given up doing much but thinking about them, tho. He says I’ll give up someday, too. He always pulls his age on me when he says things like that and makes me very impatient.

During one of my relapses today I decided that if and when I become a tank leader, I will name my own tank “Man O’War.” I think that’s very good for a tank and for us, don’t you? [ed. Note: MAN= Marjorie Ann Nelson; WAR = Wallace Addison Russell] Now all we’ve got to do is get the tank to paint it on. Anyway, Man O’War will always be a magic word for us – it has lasted quite a while already, hasn’t it?

I love you always,*
Wallace

*very much more than I can say.

Surprise, here I am again, Bun. My feeble attempts at study weren’t too good. So I might as well spend my time profitably. I am now using another pen, since mine ran out of ink.

Tomorrow I’ll probably hear how your party went Sunday. The menu sounded good, and I do hope everybody got into the apartment. How is Uncle Carl? Last I knew he was the only remote relative of the family who didn’t have a cold. Along with your mother, he is an admirable person. He has taken a lot of hard knocks. You know, he lost his first wife. And all rumors say she was a very wonderful person. “Too good to live” my mother sentimentally says.

You were close to being right on the Valentine. I had that in mind, but they didn’t have any of the little dogs they sometimes have. There’ll come a time when they do, tho.

Judging from your list, I’m way behind on popular songs. “Mair-zi-dotes” is still just a catchy title to me – I know the words some but no tune. “Star-eyed” and “Besame Mucho” are strangers, too. Maybe I’ll hear the parade this week.
Bouquets to Anil and Parker. Hope the wedding came thru on schedule! Lucky people.

Bye again, Bunny. Time to go to bed. All my love,
Wallace


February 17, 1944 Thursday

Dearest Marjorie,

This is just an “I love you” line before I go to bed. I have had a busy little day, and feel as tho I was coming down with a cold or some such. Result of that slushy period I guess. So tonite I shall try to sleep just as long as I can. Have already stolen some time I should have spent at work to rest in.

How is your bridge coming on? Hope you won your match or whatever signifies success. Here we find the “Red Dog” and “Poker” outrank contract. But the gambling here is small compared to Wheeler. These Colorado men get the thrill of a lifetime shooting for a nickel. They are very likeable cowboys tho.

Here’s loving you again and always,
Yours forever,
Wallace