Spitball Army

An asymptomatic condition of some concern to my primary physician found me sitting in a specialist’s examining room on a recent morning. Pushed up alongside one wall was the examination table: a well-worn piece of equipment with cracking leather corners, faded paint on its legs forcing a resemblance to an abandoned pommel horse base circa […]

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This card pictures “Jefferson Hillman Hospital, Birmingham, Ala.”

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CT tech says to hold my breath 30 seconds: “Most people can’t.” I make it 62 to prove all those swimming years good for something.

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I love you Sweetheart. Stick around. I’ll be home one of these days.

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I’m afraid I missed writing yesterday but I have a long sad story to tell about it.

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Do you remember how large the patch was on my arm where I couldn’t feel the point of a pin? Well, it isn’t quite 1/3 as big now.

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At midnight Mayor O’Dwyer shut down the stores, factories, places of entertainment including bars, night clubs, and shows, and part of the subways. All because of the tug boat strike.

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I found something when I opened up my lunch. Right in the middle of the box was a twenty dollar bill and a quarter. I wonder how they got there.

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[Written to Alice in Acton, Indiana.  Return addressed: Richard, Ward 11, U.S.N.H., St. Albans, L.I., N.Y.  Postmarked at Jamaica, N.Y., on 7 Feb 1946 at 6 P.M.] Feb. 7, 1946 Hello Sweetheart,      Do you remember what that “Hello” is supposed to mean?  Well, thank goodness there weren’t many letters that I had to use it […]

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I think I’m going to St. Auborns, New York. I don’t know how to spell [is] but that it close.

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