Dear Feiser, old thing, and th'uthers in old D.C.
Terrible things have happened since I wrote you. I thought that we would be able to come out for show, but I have fallen victim to a lovely case of jaundice (no kidding) and it seems that I must stay on my back for several weeks. Unfortunately, I feel just fine and the prospect of bed ain't too good. So, when Bill looks the other way (he's sterner than Shep or Wiz-wash ever could hope to be) I leap out of bed and get things done. Then along comes the old nausea and dizzyness [sic] and I crawl greenly into it again.
But Bill has gotten a job with Studebaker-Packard which starts on November first and will go down to South Bed Indiana and live in the YMCA until I can come down. They we find an furnishen [sic] apartment of some sort ... to await the draft of acceptance by the Naval OCS, and by that time we'll be pretty lonely for companionship I think. Then there's always the possibility that the company will go out of business...which has been in the air for some time. That's one reason Bill has been wanting a job with them, as they are small and at the moment inefficient. You know, young lad saves corporation single minded, and all that. But in South Bend is Notre Dame University and a Catholic college for girls (dull stuff) which either could offer me... fat chance...a job in the new million dollar theatrical arts dep-t, or pending finances I could join January classes as a non-credit student, therebye [sic] able to take courses at a different level than undergraduate with a Holyoke background in theatre. I don't think they would count it for much. Not with my marks and mentality anyway. Still we're upin [sic] the air at every momebt [sic], wondering when we'll have a place of our own. And, miraculously, I don't relly [sic] miss school! I thought I would, but I don't.
We had a kind of fantastic time in Europe, as we were going in the opposite direction from the other Americains [sic], and didn8t [sic] meet one until our last week over there. Of course, at times we found ourselves mumbling under our breaths when we had nothing more to say to each other. But then we would meet an English speaking person and he was trapped until we talked ourselves thirsty. It's surprising how many well educated people there are over there. The Northern countries require their students in grammar school to learn four languages...french, english, italian, german. [sic] And tey [sic] can speak them too. The Dutch are especially well educated. We got tired of staying in hotels, being all dressed up and tipping every hand that held a door open for us, so we bought a tent, stove and camp chairs to take up housekeeping on our own. The little Volksy was really loadesd [sic] down with junk. But when you can camp beside a cold mountain streem [sic] in Denmark Norway on the edge of the timber line, and watch the sun go down at about eleven, who would stay in a stuffy hotel? Of course we weren't fully prepared for the cold, and with three sweaters on in July both of us got sick in the tummy, with Bill barfing all over the fantail of a Fjord boat. At least he got to leeward. Then down through all the warmer countries, We [sic] didn't camp consistantly [sic], as we sometimes found ourselves without a clean shirt to put on...or worse, we itched from bathless days, and no place to go swimming. Got down into Italy and loved the climate and people so decided to heck with Franceand [sic] England and spent ages. You'd love Florence and Rome. We spent an afternoon just getting lost on the Palatine and Forum's hills. Wow. It's amazing what those people did. And, then Panthoen [sic] is ten times more spectacular than photographs can show. We couldn't even take a picture, as it would have come out as nothing. And, Napolean's [sic] tomb, in Paris, is an absolute masterpiece of theatrical melodrama. The inside is snow white and lit by light blue stained windows. Then, you look down at Nappy, buried under the same stone ancient Kings were buried under, and his tomb is lit by gold light from above, with caryatids around in a dissappointed [sic] row, with laurel leaves in their hands. Evidently they were about to confer more honors and the old guy died too soon. So you sit with your head inadvertantly [sic] bowed, and that's thet [sic]
And we looked into the brand new Vienna Opera house whice [sic] has 60 counterweight winckes [sic] the main stage alonge [sic], shit, I keep making so many mistooks. It's just my liver. the counterweight wheels are a meter across. There is a complete lowering stage, a revolving stage, a side stage, andmore [sic] darn room than you can imagine. The fire curain is sheet steel, and instead of painting it grey, it is a scene in semi-modern technique of Orfeo et Eurydice, at the moment when they come to the door of the world. Gluck being their most famous composer, Wagner and Verdi given honorable mention in the moulding in the lobby! You'd never realize where the bombs fell, everything is so well restored. Then, there was the Baths of caracella [sic], where we were out of Opera season, but snuck in the day they began totake [sic] down the lighting. The workmen gave up when they couldn't underdstand [sic] us and we blissfully prowled around. The lights were plastic stuff the British use. It was relatively insensitive to the elements, tho rain is unknown in summertime. The lights were no less than 1000 w atts [sic] each. Cables only 1/2 the size of ours, as voltage and safety requirements are so lenient. Nice and light too (cables), pplastic [sic] coated. Lights were like kleigls [sic], but outside olooked [sic] like diesel engines. Corrugated, silver. On each side of the pros. was five light stories where workmen could change gels on thd [sic] six lights. (Yeah, 30 in all on each side) In the audience was an Ebbetts field sort of light stand with twenty plus lights on each side, and then the follow spot platform had three of 'em. The lighting board below had cables running into it as big as my wrist, and the dimmer banks ran the length of a railroad car. There were a few tatters of Aida lying around, in the usual Aida style, nothing different. Someone in the prop dep't knew that noone would be looking at the idols too carefully, and had his own lewd time of it. Had every phallic and not so phallic fertility goddess from History. We saw them later in the Louvre. Gosh.
Well, time for me to eat some more damn carbohydrates. No fat for the yellow. And on potatoes and sour balls I'm down to 119? This is a new one. So, old top, hope the Bitches, I mean witches in show sing on key, and if you accidently come across a new cure for jaundice with a gel glue base, let me know. If they give me cortisone, I'll have hair on my chest. And pardon my nasty words, but I've gotten tired of sitting. just [sic] read Androcles and the Lion for the first time. Gosh. Keep forgetting how smart that old boy is. My husband is making my lunch and talking to himself in the kitchen. He'll make me a wonderful wife some day.. ...
Good bye.
PS. When she heard that I wasn't coming back, Genevieve Pratt sent me a letter of sympathy saying "I realize how important difficult it is to make these decisions" -
oh?
But will be with you at show in my old 1957 spirit, dorm spirit, school spirit, floor spirit, etc. Can't have any alcohol for a year, speaking of spirit. Seey. [?]
[With some sleuthing from another letter in this collection and Ancestry.com, the author of this letter is Mrs. William Addison Stone III. Wish I could figure out her maiden name, since she was in the class of 1957, but no luck yet.]