438th AAA AW BN
APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.
Dec 5, 1943 Sunday 1530
Somewhere in England
Dearest, darling Wilma -
A measure of one’s happiness is truly a relative thing. Today – Sunday the 5th I received the first letters from you, your mother, my folks and my brother. It seems to me, Sweetheart, that I’ve been happy before in my life time, for instance when I graduated College and Med School, or when I opened my office – and I suppose many other occasions which slip my mind now. Darling I say truthfully that I was never more happy, never had a more elated, satisfied feeling – then I had an hour ago when I was handed a nice stack of envelopes with some swell return addresses on them. Gosh, dear – I know I’ve mentioned each day that I’ve written you about not hearing from you, but it took all the restraint I could muster not to tell you how really blue and lonesome I’ve been not hearing from you. I’ve wanted news from you so very very much. That’s all I’ve had to look forward to. And the things you’ve written me are just what I’ve wanted to hear. Darling – never feel that you are telling me too often; I look for it in all your letters and it makes me feel wonderful.
When I got all your letters – I didn’t know what to do. At first I wanted to read them all immediately. Then I thought I’d ration them, one or two a day as long as they lasted. But, darling, I made a pig of myself and read each and every one of them. But I’ll keep re-reading them, over and over again.
There are so many things you mentioned – I don’t know where to start. To go a way back – to the night letter I’m so glad you received. Although the sequence of the letter and the regular mail must have been a bit confusing – you did very well in surmising what you did and hit it right on the nose. The night letter however did not come from Boston, dear.
You were very sweet, darling, to write my folks and call them. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it or how glad I am that you want to. I can tell you how they feel though, because I got a swell letter from my father today, too. He writes that you were not only thoughtful, but lovable to do it and that my mother is “crazy about you”. They not only love you, darling (you are so easy to love) – but they are so happy that I’ve met and love a girl as fine as you. Knowing I’m happy too – makes them even more happy. They’ve wanted so much to see me get settled – not alone as I was in Salem, but with a wife, and I guess they know pretty well that we’ll be married when I get back. They have that thought to help them while I’m gone – and Sweetheart I have you to thank for making them feel a little better.
It’s funny your mentioning bridge. I’ve already referred to it. I haven’t played much this week – but I’ll keep playing it until I really know the game. The more I play it – the better I like it. That’s true of many things – like loving you, darling.
I laughed at what you had to say about Medwin. But I give him credit for discerning that I was very much in love with you – although as I think of it dear, that shouldn’t be too hard to gather. You did feign trouble a couple of times in interpreting whether I was serious or not, remember, dear? But on the whole – I think I give myself away pretty easily.
I’m glad about Shirley’s brother. He deserves all the credit due him. I remember seeing the N.Y. papers’ review of the program. One in particular was very favorable. It certainly was a break for him.
And about my brother at the dance – I hope he had a good time and continues to go. But the “auto girl” part interests me. No, no, dear – not personally. You are all I’m interested in – and that brings up another thing – that old friend of yours, Bill R. What you wrote was just what I wished you’d write – and yet I feel so guilty at your refusing to see him, or any other fellow for that matter. I’m a jealous fellow, dear, I believe I’ve told you before. And knowing you were out with someone else – would make me very unhappy, and yet you are young and have so many opportunities, I hate to think of your having to refuse them. I don’t know how to couch my words. I want you to live and enjoy yourself and go out and meet people, and yet Sweetheart – I want you to be mine and no one else’s. That’s selfish, and I know it – and the only unselfish thing I can do about it is not have you mention the matter at all. Remember, darling – you have my love, I have yours. You are willing to wait and I want you to. Nothing else matters to me – but I don’t want to lose you to anyone else!
I’m awfully pleased that J and J remember me and refer to me as they do – even jokingly. We’ll show them, darling – and a lot of other people besides.
I’m going to stop now – but I’ll continue tomorrow. Darling, I’m very happy and very much in love with you. Being married to you is going to be wonderful. You know what I wonder about sometimes? Well I try to imagine what our first difference of opinion will be about; you know everybody has them. So far I haven’t got any idea what it could be. And – one more thing – I think it’s swell of the girls, all of them, to be so thoughtful about me and please tell them – we’ll have them all over to our house for a big party after the war – so I can thank them personally.
A measure of one’s happiness is truly a relative thing. Today – Sunday the 5th I received the first letters from you, your mother, my folks and my brother. It seems to me, Sweetheart, that I’ve been happy before in my life time, for instance when I graduated College and Med School, or when I opened my office – and I suppose many other occasions which slip my mind now. Darling I say truthfully that I was never more happy, never had a more elated, satisfied feeling – then I had an hour ago when I was handed a nice stack of envelopes with some swell return addresses on them. Gosh, dear – I know I’ve mentioned each day that I’ve written you about not hearing from you, but it took all the restraint I could muster not to tell you how really blue and lonesome I’ve been not hearing from you. I’ve wanted news from you so very very much. That’s all I’ve had to look forward to. And the things you’ve written me are just what I’ve wanted to hear. Darling – never feel that you are telling me too often; I look for it in all your letters and it makes me feel wonderful.
When I got all your letters – I didn’t know what to do. At first I wanted to read them all immediately. Then I thought I’d ration them, one or two a day as long as they lasted. But, darling, I made a pig of myself and read each and every one of them. But I’ll keep re-reading them, over and over again.
There are so many things you mentioned – I don’t know where to start. To go a way back – to the night letter I’m so glad you received. Although the sequence of the letter and the regular mail must have been a bit confusing – you did very well in surmising what you did and hit it right on the nose. The night letter however did not come from Boston, dear.
You were very sweet, darling, to write my folks and call them. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it or how glad I am that you want to. I can tell you how they feel though, because I got a swell letter from my father today, too. He writes that you were not only thoughtful, but lovable to do it and that my mother is “crazy about you”. They not only love you, darling (you are so easy to love) – but they are so happy that I’ve met and love a girl as fine as you. Knowing I’m happy too – makes them even more happy. They’ve wanted so much to see me get settled – not alone as I was in Salem, but with a wife, and I guess they know pretty well that we’ll be married when I get back. They have that thought to help them while I’m gone – and Sweetheart I have you to thank for making them feel a little better.
It’s funny your mentioning bridge. I’ve already referred to it. I haven’t played much this week – but I’ll keep playing it until I really know the game. The more I play it – the better I like it. That’s true of many things – like loving you, darling.
I laughed at what you had to say about Medwin. But I give him credit for discerning that I was very much in love with you – although as I think of it dear, that shouldn’t be too hard to gather. You did feign trouble a couple of times in interpreting whether I was serious or not, remember, dear? But on the whole – I think I give myself away pretty easily.
I’m glad about Shirley’s brother. He deserves all the credit due him. I remember seeing the N.Y. papers’ review of the program. One in particular was very favorable. It certainly was a break for him.
And about my brother at the dance – I hope he had a good time and continues to go. But the “auto girl” part interests me. No, no, dear – not personally. You are all I’m interested in – and that brings up another thing – that old friend of yours, Bill R. What you wrote was just what I wished you’d write – and yet I feel so guilty at your refusing to see him, or any other fellow for that matter. I’m a jealous fellow, dear, I believe I’ve told you before. And knowing you were out with someone else – would make me very unhappy, and yet you are young and have so many opportunities, I hate to think of your having to refuse them. I don’t know how to couch my words. I want you to live and enjoy yourself and go out and meet people, and yet Sweetheart – I want you to be mine and no one else’s. That’s selfish, and I know it – and the only unselfish thing I can do about it is not have you mention the matter at all. Remember, darling – you have my love, I have yours. You are willing to wait and I want you to. Nothing else matters to me – but I don’t want to lose you to anyone else!
I’m awfully pleased that J and J remember me and refer to me as they do – even jokingly. We’ll show them, darling – and a lot of other people besides.
I’m going to stop now – but I’ll continue tomorrow. Darling, I’m very happy and very much in love with you. Being married to you is going to be wonderful. You know what I wonder about sometimes? Well I try to imagine what our first difference of opinion will be about; you know everybody has them. So far I haven’t got any idea what it could be. And – one more thing – I think it’s swell of the girls, all of them, to be so thoughtful about me and please tell them – we’ll have them all over to our house for a big party after the war – so I can thank them personally.
My deepest love, Sweetheart
Greg.
* TIDBIT *
about Shirley's Brother
Leonard Bernstein
about Shirley's Brother
Leonard Bernstein
"Shirley's brother", referred to in this letter, was Leonard Bernstein. On the 16th of November in 1943, Leonard Bernstein, who had only recently been appointed to his first permanent conducting post as Assistant Conductor of the New York Philharmonic, substituted on a few hours notice for Bruno Walter at a Carnegie Hall concert. The concert was broadcast nationally on radio, receiving critical acclaim. Soon orchestras worldwide sought him out as a guest conductor.
