Description
IX Sunday Oct. 1 8:30 pm Darling - Have just been to see my first movie since I came here (several different ones play nightly, free - but there isn't usually much selection); Gene Tierney and Don Ameche in “Heaven Can Wait”. Rather pleasant; not altogether satisfying, but original and imaginative enough not to be compared to the ordinary run of stuff. I started this letter in my room (which I share with eight other men, none of whom I've got to know very well - we’re all in and out of the place) half an hour ago, fixing myself a drink to make me sleepy and planning to turn in early, but I had to retire to the lounge because a guy who's been drunk (not obstreperously, but just [bl?kingly] and with rather thick speech, in spite of which he insists on talking) every night since he's been here wandered in, deserted by his drinking companions, and sort of fixed an Ancient Mariner eye on me to expound what seems to be his pet theory, that every man has at least one remarkable story to tell from his own experience. He knew a lot of guys who had told him such stories, and he had just the one he was going to tell me. Today was another good day and I feel as though I've made some progress, though I still have much to learn. I rather look forward to it, and wish I could share the adventure of it with you. (I missed you at the movie tonight, darling.) How is Wendy? I'm so anxious to hear about her. And about whether you moved into the house [pg 2] on Tuesday (I guess perhaps it was Wednesday or Thursday) -did you get my flowers? Oh, honey, did I tell you about the flowers here? They made me think of you right away - so many, and such lovely ones, even though this is not the height of season for them. The place where we mess has no tablecloths, the food is simple (tho not bad) and served cafeteria style - but on each table every day is a vaseful of flowers that would put the Waldorf Astoria to shame. They’re everywhere, and so are new and exotic birds: not quite tropical ones, but different ones from those in the States (which is how everyone here refers to the mainland) and with a little more color. And the landscape - well, you just must see them someday. The climate is just a trifle warm for me (I don't mind it at all) and I suppose it would be about perfect for you. I don't know whether to be flattered or not at Bev Nettleton's guess as to my age! Henry's mother guessed it as 27 - That was an interesting article on Dr. Hart. I may ask you to send me some books on the subject by and by. As a matter of fact, there's a book I’d like now or anytime you can get it (I think it's in the Modern Library [?]) - Parrington's “Main Currents of American Thought”. If I want books later on I'll send you the money for them, [pg 3] if I even get that San Francisco deal straightened out. It isn't yet, and as a result I can't draw any pay. Just a nuisance, though - nothing vital. [Did you get the allotment all right?] I hope to be able to do a little shopping in Honolulu this week - can probably take a day off, I have to pick up a dictionary at the Univ. of Hawaii bookstore if nothing else. Don't be disappointed at what I can find, sweetie - everyone says shopping is exceedingly difficult there; prices are exorbitant on all Oriental objets d’art or anything that might be classified as souvenirs, etc. Things are different where Bud is but I can't get there now, I'm sorry to say. Everyone who has time makes the [?] I may possibly be able to in two or three months. The drink I made myself is a stiff one and is taking effect, so it's time to go to bed. I'm hoping to get #4 from you tomorrow. I love you so much, darling - I don't feel weakened by it, so that I must come running home (much as I’d like to); there just is a job to do and one day we shall not regret having got it over with. You will remain close to me always, of that I am so sure that I just take it for granted now! So stick it out as cheerfully as you can and write me everything you know. Warren I often twirl my key ring and stop a moment to look at your ring and locket
