Further down the road

I’m underway! But not there yet—still have about a third of the letters to go. And, yes, I am finding treasures. First the guy, my new friend, wasn’t kidding. My dad wrote to my mom almost every day—usually three pages, single-spaced on his little portable typewriter—from the time they graduated, both of them in journalism, in spring of 1933 until they married in 1935. This while he was working as editor of a weekly newspaper in Stephenville, Texas, writing free-lance for several other papers, and starting a novel. The man wanted to write!

            Some of the letters are, no other way to say it, soppy with love and loneliness, but others trace out his efforts in turning journalism classes in everyday work, and lots and lots tell about his dreams of writing, and what he was doing to make them come true.

            He was in his late 20s when he wrote these letters—more about that in another entry. He died at the young age of 54. But many of his dreams managed to come true in those 20 years. He wrote for major magazines, published five books, and was able to nicely raise two daughters as a freelance writer.

            This is a treasure indeed. Now I’m mostly sorting, getting things in chronological order. When I start reading—who knows what I’ll find?