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240 Saturday 2 June noon Darling I was especially interested in this article because some time ago I visited this school (George Washington High) and met Mrs. Johnston. She seemed a good deal more attractive than her picture, perhaps because she smiled a good deal -a broad, infectious smile that showed both a natural warmth and a capacity for merriment. I took her to be about 35 until she remarked that she had been teaching school there for more than thirty years; Mr. Sanhez, the superintendent of schools afterwards said yes, she was in her middle fifties. Her husband, an American of Scotch parentage, came to the island in 1909 and liked it so well that he just settled down. (Mr. Sanchez explained after we left that, although elderly and ailing, Mr. Johnston was sent to Japan as a prisoner during the enemy occupation and died there about two years ago.) You would enjoy Mrs. Johnston. She startled me when she commented on her husband's immediate ancestry by doing so in good Scottish brogue, and with a becoming twinkle in her eye - I could hardly believe my ears for a moment. Her English is good and well chosen, with somewhat less than is characteristic in Guam of the inevitable [Chamorro?] accent. [pg 2] I remember being fascinated at the sight of agreeable racial mixtures in the classrooms which I visited. Roughly speaking, Mrs. Johnston's type was one extreme and out-and-out blondes were the other, with every shading of color and features in between. There were many, both boys and girls - I was, naturally, more observant of the latter - with large, liquid brown eyes and striking eyebrows and eyelashes. There was one blonde-skinned girl with golden hair falling freely to about 8 or 10 inches below her shoulders. The majority of these 9th -11th graders were handsome youths, tall, well-formed and healthy looking in the most natural and relaxed but supple way. Pleasantly impressed, I commented on this mixture, and with the same twinkle Mrs. Johnston replied - “Well, the Americans have been here for 40 years, you know, and they didn't come for nothing.” She had the same smile, too, though with firmness rather than levity - more firmness [pg 3] than sadness - when she commented on the half ruined buildings as I looked about. “Yes, it's the same school. We got it back. [She said ‘we got it back’ with a Scot inflection]. It's ruined, but it's ours, and we can rebuild it. When we came back here I felt just like a little child that has had a toy taken away from him by other children and broken - he doesn't cry so much because it's broken as because it isn't his anymore. And when he does get it back, he forgets that it's broken and rejoices because it's his.” She spoke with a restrained and quiet, but pervasive, joy, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that her fists tightened and then relaxed again as though she were the child. Some of her gestures reminded me of you. There must be many interesting people on Guam. The majority, of course, are simple pleasant people, some almost primitive. Not all the girls are good-looking, but a striking percentage of them are, and some of these are strikingly so. Despite the gay, flirtations - [pg 4] inviting look which many of them give you as you pass them on the street - not saucy, but a little more than friendly at times - they are protected by vigorous Spanish Catholic custom from private intercourse of any sort. Nevertheless, those same girls look as though they were made for love-making and as tho they are wholly unashamed of the fact - an attitude which gives them an added grace. It occurred to me - and I later found one who disagreed - that they were more attractive than the Red Cross girls and nurses, as good as it was to see American women. There's a lot more I could say about this article in general but it wouldn't be discreet. Keep it for later comment when I'm home. Till this evening, Sweetie I love you Warren
