As I said, his sister lived on our block. A Grand Ole Opry show was coming to town and performing at our school. My sister and her boyfriend wanted to go, but I had to chaperone. I did not want to go, because I was sewing myself a dress, and I so wanted to finish it because I wanted to wear it to work the next day. I was such a perfectionist that if there was a stitch out of place, I had to fix it and make it so I felt good about it.
Being wintertime, now, this huge potbellied stove was going in the auditorium. I decided that I would stand there and get warm, and stay long enough that it was kind of safe to sneak back in at the house. If I went back too soon, you see, it might be discovered that I was sneaking back in. I had never met Aunt Bertie yet to know what she looked like, but there was this lady and two small girls. When she saw me there at the stove---I guess the little girls told her who I was---she approached me, and there was this guy, this HANDSOME sailor that was with them, that just really swept me off my feet. She introduced him to me as her brother. (question from me, as I type---Tawa, you had recognized him as the picture by then?”)
to write to sailors and soldiers during the War, and you’d get a list of five or six, and correspond.
The last letter that he wrote me before coming home on Sunday, April 22, (I did not receive it until after we were married)---the content of this letter described how he loved me and that I love him and that each of us knew their love for the other. I can see the point in this line of writing where this statement started:
and Moire Non . . .