Written during WW II by my father to my mother. They were married in 1942 in Killduff, Iowa, while he, an army NCO, was stationed at a nearby base for troop training. After the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, mother joined the Navy, and both were stationed in the Pacific Theatre until the end of the war.
From a letter written by father to mother, taken from a note written by one of my siblings, who is transcribing their letters:
It started to rain this afternoon and it’s still raining at 9 PM this evening in a dispirited, disinterested sort of way. The aimless monotonous drizzle that reminds me of Minnesota’s mid-April when spring is a vague hope and winter is on the way out.”
It’s the kind of a night you’d like to be with your favorite girl, her in your arms listening to the rain and the song of the wind in the trees. The nicest thing to be said for a night like this is that it puts you into the mood to imagine yourself someplace else, and when the morning comes, the weather has cleared. So weather like this isn’t so bad after all if you have any imagination.
The year is 1943 and Dad is talking about the hypothetical house he and Mom will live in some day.
There will certainly be an open air porch of some kind in our house so we can watch and wonder at the stars at night. You seem so close to God when you are out under the stars. It gives you a funny feeling, a hollow feeling in your stomach, sometimes when you look at the stars and realize how small you are and how large the universe is.
But someday man will discover all the secrets of the universe, but I hope not. I don’t know why I say that. But I hope he doesn’t.