[Some paragraph marks added for ease of reading]
Friday, 11 pm
Darling Stef,
Hi there! Just returned from another concert. What a pain! I don't mean to complain, but too much is more than enough, if you know what I mean. I just realized that I haven't had a Friday evening without a concert since Spring Vacation (not including Passover, of course, but that wasn't free, either). That's downright intolerable, don't you think? I certainly resent it, and were it not for the fact that some of the concerts are even enjoyable, I wouldn't put up with it. Last week's concert was a nuisance, if you know what I mean, and I was uncomfortable (that's putting it mildly!) throughout the entire thing, because they forgot to bring my horn, and forced me to run all the way to Hendrie for it. Tonight's was another pain, because it didn't get started (we only had to play the second half) until 9:45 and wasn't over until 10:45. How much studying was I supposed to do with that hanging over me? I mean, I wish I didn't have to play so much. Thank God, next week's concert (another one!) is the last for a few weeks! (it's also the night before I see you so I should be in such a great mood that not even the prospect of another concert - when I should be studying for my Poli Sci exam - will dampen my spirits!). I love you, darling.
I just had to write you this letter, dear, because I've been thinking about this for several days now (it's becoming quite an obsession) and I wanted to put it down in paper, so someone could hear me out, once and for all, and tell me I'm crazy, or whatever. In any case, I had to communicate the substance of my thoughts to someone, and that's your punishment for being the object of my love! Here goes ...
Once upon a time there was a young pre-medical student (who also happened to be madly in love with a beautiful young lady at Holyoke - he went to Yale) whose mind was very much adapted to dreaming. One of his dreams went like this: after med school, and after receiving his P.H.D., he had this unquenchable desire to serve in the U.S. Public Health Service in a Peace-Corps-type role (of course with a much more attractive salary!) in a rural, backward American village. This dream found him (and his wife) helping the people to help themselves just a bit, to raise themselves out of the miserable rut of poverty, and to elevate their dignity as humans. The young man saw this as serving two purposes: one, it would help the people, and secondly, it would advance his own career, since it would prove valuable field experience in Public Health.
After this stint (about two years), he planned to enter the teaching field (or to take a position in the Public Health Service, in Washington), and to write a book (or two) on his experiences in this village. This book would tell the story (it would be a novel, or as close to one as he could make it) of a young man growing up in the poverty of the village, his intelligence versus the timeless hopelessness of the villagers' plight, his eventual triumph or failure (at this point, the young man hadn't decided yet which it would be). This book, of course, would be read by most everyone, and the young man would be acclaimed as a leading man in the field of sociology and public health.
Then, of course, his stature would rapidly rise, and he would accept an appointment as Professor of Public Health at some university (Yale, if they offered it), and perhaps publish another book, perhaps similar to the first, perhaps more factual (the young man had not decided this either). At any rate, this would win him more acclaim, and he would leave his university post to accept an high-level post in Washington in the Department of Health, Education and Welfare.
(At this point the young man's dream became more vague) The programs which he would institute and fight for would eventually triumph, but not in his tenure of office, and he would leave Washington after a number of years to seek the relative quiet of that university post (of course, will open to him). After a few more years, he would again feel the urge to move on, to seek out new and greater adventure by accepting another high-level post, this time in the American Medical Association. The young man (by this time, somewhat advanced in years) would procede [sic] to reform that anachronistic and reactionary body somewhat and would attempt to instill in it the responsibility of leading some of the more liberal measures he himself had advocated as Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare (why not?). After that, the young man dared not dream ...
Well, now, back to reality! I'm me, and you're no longer a bemused (or horrified) reader who recognizes herself as the heroine of this little adventure. I imagine that story would have made good copy for a psychoanalytic study (I should have given it to Schwartz, only at the time I had thought of it). At any rate, it's not all part of the dream, nor is the dream all that clear. What does concern me, though, is this passion for writing. I have a tremendous desire to put in print many of my thoughts (which I have yet to think!) on life as seen through the eyes of someone else. I hope you're not alienated by this little fable, the greater part of which is nothing but pure fantasy, not likely to be realized, but naturally to be striven for, in any case. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't think too much about this little "dream" (is that what it is?), but would store it in the back of your head until we two can talk about it (although I guess it loses much of its appeal when defined, clearly stated, and objetively [sic] discussed). In many ways, I realize I am more mature than many of my contemporaries, yet in some respects, I am more of a dreamer (I'm not sure that that qualities is [sic] a reflection of immaturity, or of madness) than most. What do you think? (that's not an invitation for you to write! Study and work, instead!).
You know, I love you dear! That's nothing too new, but it never ceases to amaze me, nevertheless. I don't think I could ever become "tired" of loving you (why even think such a horrible thought?), and that is a good thing - very reassuring for someone who is convinced that he must wait a few years before realizing of one [sic] his greatest dreams!
Well, the hour is fast approaching that witching hour of midnight and while I'm not likely to turn into a pumpkin (I'm on a diet!), I am planning to get up for breakfast tomorrow, so I will prepare to say, "Hasta muy pronto". Tomorrow, I'm going to "take in a few rays" as the expression goes, and replace this sickly white body coloring with some healthy tan, I hope (watch it rain!). I should get some studying done at the same time, so it will be time spent wisely, indeed. Sunday morning my father will be arriving about 9:30 to play golf, so I should get some more sun then. Maybe, with all the outdoor studying I plan to do, by the time you see me (Saturday), I'll have a respectable tan, but perhaps that's just wishful thinking. We'll see. I love you very much, darling, and miss you that much too. Can't wait for next Saturday when we'll have lunch together and after my exam, celebrate your birthday in the isolated corner of the world that is a hotel room in New Haven. MWA!! Please stay well, and know that I care for you deeply. Much love and many kisses!
Love,
Lar (who else would write such a nutty letter?!)P.S. You once said something about being content just to be close to me and to hold me tightly. Well, dear, I'm coming to feel the same way. I want your presence more than anything else in the world. I want to hold you close, to feel you next to me, to kiss you tenderly. That would satisfy me deeply (for a while!! I'm just kidding). I love you, I guess. I can't help it, but I sure can enjoy it!