Spitball Army

June 11, 1943
Friday  8 p.m.

Dearest Darling:

Loving you more and more every day and every night.  How I miss you!  Please, Darling, take good care of yourself – be careful.  I love you so much and would love to be able to cuddle in your arms and have you hold me close to you.

Remember the lovely pink-flowered bush we had outside of our cottage door at Mission Beach and the seeds we gathered from it?  Well, I just finished planting some of them, and am anxious now to see what they will do.  Wouldn’t it be grand to have Calif. flowers in Minn.?  They’ll bring back a lot of pleasant honeymoon memories too.

Spent another full hard day at N.W. Hospital, cutting stencils for an anatomy and phys. final; writing letters, and stapleing [sic].  I do get a lot accomplished there and they do seem very grateful.  The more I think, though, of that Blood Center job, the more I want it – if I can only get someone to help here at home.  I still hope to set out some tomatoe plants.  We were looking all over town for a garden fork, but no luck in finding one – guess we’ll have to borrow from the neighbors.  Dad doesn’t seem to have any tools at all to work with.  Honey, won’t it be wonderful to be together again – to have our very own home and garden and I do hope – a family.  I’m praying for it – never giving up.

“To everything there is a season –
a time to be born, and a time to die –
a time to kill and a time to heal –
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war and a time of peace.”
That’s what the Good Book says – how true that there is a season for all things.

‘Bye Lover
With hundreds of kisses

Love,
Bev

June 10, 1943
10:30 p.m.

Dearest Darling:

I love you and have been thinking of you constantly, as usual, and missing you, and wishing you were home.  Some day soon, you’ll be here – you’ll have so many interesting things to tell me.  Are you able to collect many pictures or postcards?  I can just hear your asking me, “Bunches, care if I show my ______ pictures?”  Just as you always did about the Icelandic ones – you Darling.  I love you so.  I’ll never object – and am always proud of how nicely you explain them and make them so interesting to others.  Yes, I’ve said and done many things that you should have just taken me across your knee and given me a good licking – but instead, you just gave me one of your perfect smiles and forgot about it.  You have such a grand disposition!  I’m so glad that you’re the way you are.  I wouldn’t want you any differently.

June brought her letter downtown yesterday and let me read it – the one you sent her and Paul.  It was such a cute letter.

Audrey and I were shopping today.  We both bought ourselves some Summer hats and shoes – yes, Honey – hope you didn’t care as I did want some white ones to wear with my Summer dresses.  White shoes though, are dreadfully hard to find, but I finally bought some white sandals which are comfortable and don’t look too bad.  I really don’t have to get anything else now in the line of clothing, as have plenty.  That’s a relief, isn’t it Honey???????

We’re waiting for the rugs to come back from the cleaner’s and then we will actually be settled.  We still have many boxes to look through in the attic, but there’s no hurry about that.  The living and dining room curtains look very nice.  I’m really proud of our curtains – even had to do some altering on them on my sewing machine to get them to fit the windows correctly.

I called Helen Jaeck to-night, and was very much surprised to hear that she had just been discharged from the hospital after having had pneumonia.  She talked to me, but seemed very weak.  She thinks James is in So. America, but is expecting him back in the States in July, and hopes to be with him then.  She seems quite discouraged about things, as feels it will be a long, long time before we can have peace again, and live normal lives.  I try to think positive and not negative thoughts, though, of course sometimes it’s hard to influence others that way.  It should be just as easy for us to be happy, and much healthier, than unhappy about this whole situation, for if we’re doing our part in the war effort, and are praying, that’s all we can do.

Sweetheart, write every day, won’t you.  I am – I’m expecting a big stack of letters any day now from you.  Your mail means so much to me and I dearly treasure each one of your letters.

Goodnight Lover,

Love,
Bev

6-10-43
Wed.  10 p.m.

Dearest Darling:

What I wouldn’t give just to be near you to-night? – to hear you say “I love you” and then to feel your fond embrace – it would be wonderful!  I love you, Honey, and miss you more than I can ever say.  When I think of those months we were together, it seems that every day was a day of romance and adventure too.  Marriage is an adventure, and what an exciting, beautiful one.  Those months were just one perfect honeymoon – let’s always keep them that way.  There’s no reason why we can’t, for I’ll always love you, and always want to do the little things that please and make you happy – always.

Now we have our kitchen curtains finally up, and do hope to put up the living and dining room ones tomorrow.  We want to do a little shopping tomorrow also; so will have another full day – but that’s what I like – never an idle moment to think of things I shouldn’t.  The kitchen curtains are bright yellow and really make the room very cheerful and pretty.  I was downtown today having lunch with June, Irene, Dorothy, Martha at Dayton’s Tea Rooms.  Irene is returning to Alabama next week, and so the celebration.  Also Dorothy has been out West and returned here for a visit.  I had some delicious salmon steak.  There is an orchestra that plays during the lunch hour, and I do like music while I eat – especially, Darling, when I can’t have you sitting across from me – you’re all I’d ever want at mealtime or any times – I’d rather hear your voice and see your smile than anything else.

Was telling Dad about the position offered me at the Blood Bank, and he said that if we could get a housekeeper to do the work and return to her own home each night, it would be OK with him.  I would like very much, I know, to be doing that type of work, for it is still for the Red Cross and yet a paying job.  Maybe I’ll start advertising for help and see what happens.

Seems rather odd to be back up in North Minneapolis, but it is lovely on the drive here, and if we ever do see the sun shine again, I will be happy.  We certainly have had our share of rain and cloudy weather this Spring.  As long as I’ve been so busy indoors, it doesn’t bother me so much, as wouldn’t have a chance to get outside anyway.

Goodnight, Dearest One – guess I’ll call it a day.  Have another busy day ahead tomorrow.  Hope you’re still able to have a good time – hiking – hunting – fishing – all the things you like to do.  I’m happy for you – take good care of yourself, though, and hurry home – I’m waiting with open arms, and all the love in the world.

Affectionately,
Bev

Number of times the alarm clock sounded before I turned it off:  5 (that I remember hearing).

Number of minutes after turning the alarm clock off before actually getting out of bed:  70 (ish).

Number of cups of coffee I drank:  1.

Number of days since that coffee had been brewed:  2 (sorry, CJ!).

Number of times my cat Ziggy screamed for his breakfast:  37 (which is 2,716 in Cat).

Percentage of the can of cat food that Ziggy ate for breakfast:  75.

Percentage of a whole thyroid pill that Ziggy ate with his breakfast:  50.

Number of times my other cat Barbara screamed for her breakfast while watching Ziggy freak out:  0.

Number of pieces of mail waiting to be sent out:  33.

Number of pieces of mail that I addressed before the power went out:  2.

Number of minutes before the Alabama Power truck showed up on the street to fix the power problem:  42.

Ratio of grunts to words uttered by the Alabama Power workman in response to my questions about the power problem:  13:6.

Number of minutes that I was late to the pool:  90.

Number of miles I swam:  1.

Number of pool lengths in one mile:  72.

Number of other people in the pool throughout my swim:  7.

Number of miles I have swum in the 75-mile challenge:  27.

Number of miles to go:  48 (whew!).

Number of pieces of mail waiting in my mailbox when I returned home:  4.

Among those, the number of bills:  2.

The number of pieces of junk mail:  0 (a miracle!).

Number of phone calls received today from unknown phone numbers:  7.

The number of those that were hang-ups:  3.

The number of those that were recorded messages:  3.

The number of those that were real live people speaking in Spanish:  1.

Number of times that Deborah Vance’s name was Googled, leading to this website:  4.

Number of ways that Deborah Vance’s name was entered into Google, leading to this website:  2 (“deborah vance” and “chief of staff, deborah vance”).

Number of days before the Bev and Ande correspondence comes to an end:  5.

Likelihood percentage that I will have a post-partum reaction, however brief, when that happens:  100.

There is absolutely no telling where it came from, but, for the last several weeks, I have had a ravenous craving for blueberry pie.

On my few trips to eat out, it hasn’t been on the menu, though I guess I could have called around to ask restaurants in the area if they were serving fresh blueberry pie.  It seems somewhat odd to have a meal based around the dessert course, though I am sure it’s been done before.

My other option was to make it myself.  The blueberries at the grocery stores (not the frozen ones…blecch!) are gargantuan, and taste of water.  So I’ve been watching out at the local growers’ markets each week for the appearance of the berries of blue.  This weekend, at Pepper Place, they appeared.  I bought three pints: two for a pie, and one for my morning oatmeal.

Back when I lived in Cambridge, I had a cooking/bartending job that gave me access to a huge kitchen within which I tried many new and experimental recipes (for example, a savory avocado/sausage loaf that was to die for).  A few years later, I moved to a neighborhood where several friends resided, and we had regular dinner gatherings for which we would each bring a meal component.  During these times, I fastidiously collected recipe cards.  One of my favorite dishes was a blueberry glacé pie that my friend Sue had learned from her mother.  I copied down the recipe.  That is what I turned to this morning in my preparations for a slice of fresh blueberry pie.

The recipe:

My notes on the recipe:
– This was a mercifully EASY dish to make!
– While this recipe calls for just a “pinch” of cinnamon, I opted to go with the equivalent of about four pinches.  Though this wasn’t necessarily a mistake, it did not allow the cinnamon flavor in the pie to be truly subtle, as may be ideal.  In the future, I will go for one, possibly two pinches of cinnamon.  That would allow the flavor of the berries to come forward a bit more cleanly.
– I saw no need to place the berry mixture in a blender, as the cooking process rendered the berries mostly liquid anyway.  The only advantage to using the blender would be to completely liquefy the mixture, resulting in a gelatin-like substance.  My tastes – a bit more rustic, I guess – enjoyed the few bits of berry “skin” in the pie.  Using the blender would have eliminated those.
– I combined the whole berries with the mixture when the mixture was tepid, not completely cool.  That worked just fine.
– Whipped cream was terrific atop a slice of this pie.  A very slight shaving of lemon zest might be a nice addition, as well.
– This pie holds together very well – no runniness or ozziness on the plate.  Be sure not to skimp on the corn starch, which is the magic ingredient that holds it all together.

The delicious, finished product:

(photo: spitballarmy.com)

If you lived close to me, you could be eating this right now: I distributed the pie to my neighbors, in an attempt to share the wealth and not end up with a massive blueberry pie belly!

And, for my next culinary trick…
[audio:Roches___The_Troubles_(excerpt).mp3]
from “The Troubles,” by The Roches

Cabdriver Thanked for Returning a Stradivarius
By RICHARD G. JONES
Published: May 7, 2008

After the return of a lost Stradivarius violin, valued at $4 million, a musician gives a concert for cabbies outside Newark Liberty International Airport.

[slide show]

June 6, ’43
Sunday  11:30 p.m.

Sweetheart Darling:  I love you and want you so much.  Do hope you’re fine, and I do know you’re as wonderful as ever, because you always are.

This hasn’t seemed like Sunday at all, as we’ve spent the whole day working.  Audrey and I painted the kitchen chairs – gave them their first coat today and did some more straightening around.  Soon we’ll be in order, I hope.  We still have to wash walls, clean paper and do other painting, but we like our house and enjoy working in it.

Ted Paulfranz came over this afternoon and invited us over for the evening; so we were there, just returning a few minutes ago.  They’re quite near us now, living at 38th and Washburn.  We do have many friends near by – but Honey, I’d trade everyone of them, if I could only have you here with me, because you’re really the only one that counts.  I love you so and miss you too.  Please be careful – hurry home – I’ve got 100 flute dances saved up – can you take that many?

With love and kisses,
Bev

June 5, 1943
Sat.  11:00 p.m.

Dear Darling Sweetheart:

Loving you so much and am very, very lonesome for you.  At last, we’re actually in our new home, and are quite well settled too.  There are still many things in the attic to be sorted and arranged, but as far as the large pieces of furniture, dishes, and linen, are concerned, they’re in good order.  It has rained again practically all day.  The moving van left from our other house after packing for three hours and didn’t leave here until 6:30 to-night.  They started at 1:20 – so you can see, we really had plenty of stuff.

Received a letter from Arlene McCurry and also from Mrs. Kirk today.  Remember the picture taken of us in the jeep at the Kirks’?  She sent us the negative, so will get it developed and send it on for you.  Mrs. K. has been working for the U.S.O., but says she can’t make up her mind as to what she really wants to do.  Said she has been nursing a finger “which the monkey tried to bite off.”  Also made the statement that Hope does not write as often as she would like to have him.  Well, Sweet, as long as you keep writing every day, I can’t wish for anything better right now, though of course, am wishing and dreaming for you and ours in the near future; for I do need you so much – you’re a part of me, and it’s hard to live without you.  Mrs. K. said too, that she had an Ensign and 2nd Lt. living in her house now – both of them from Minneapolis.  She said also to be sure and give you her love and to take good care of her “Pop.”

Take good care of yourself though too, Sweetiepie.  I do love you very much and look forward so much to the day when you’ll be returning.

Lots of flutes and all  my love,
Bev

[handwritten in the left margin of the letter]
Bought a $100.00 bond today & gave Dad $15.00 to help in the moving expense.

[handwritten at bottom of the letter]
I think you’re wonderful.

Tonight is the first half of the “Top Chef” season finale on the Bravo channel.  I am addicted to this show, if only to vicariously experience those culinary wonders that I will likely never enjoy (and I’m not referring to the butterscotch scallops from two weeks ago!).  The creative challenges faced by these four chefs are going to be hair-raising, you can be sure, and the ranks will be whittled down to two (I think) tonight.  If there is a God, (Please, God!) rid us of Lisa, she of the sourpuss, greasy hair, and victim complex.  Last week’s fascinating focus on how to cook the perfect steak – from butchery to pan cooking – was terrific, and ended with the merciful expulsion of Chef Spike, he of the finger-pointing, frat-boy ‘tude, and stupid hats.  My virtual money is on Richard and Stephanie to face off in next week’s “final” finale.  That would be a good pairing of two very talented chefs and pleasant people.

The previews for tonight’s show hint that there will be pigs a-cookin’.  I thought of that as I read this article by Kim Severson in today’s New York Times.  This essay was tailor-made for my friend Elisa M., who is an avowed foodie.  Among its gems:

Melissa Steineger, a good cook I know in Portland, was long a slave to such recipe tyranny. It started with the Coyote Cafe cookbook from the Southwestern chef Mark Miller. She recalls recipes that required ingredients like “wild boar from the hills surrounding Santa Fe.” They went unmade until her cooking skills improved and she had an epiphany: she could substitute.

“That freed me,” she said.

I doubt there will be any substitutions on “Top Chef” tonight.

Coincidentally, I happened upon an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations” the other night, in which Chef Bourdain and a gathering of Romanian locals devour several roast suckling pigs.  It was a step-by-step television seminar on how to dismantle and eat this animal.  One key point: the pig’s snout is considered a delicacy.  Bourdain practically dove across the table to secure the snout as his own.  He just ripped it off the pig’s face, conjuring immediate thoughts of Hannibal Lecter.

And, in more food-related news, I am working my way through the original British version of “Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares,” courtesy of Netflix, one disc at a time.  Chef Gordon Ramsay comes off as a much more sympathetic and reasonable person than he does on that train wreck of a show called “Hell’s Kitchen.”  And the DVD company didn’t bother to edit the multitude of “fucks” out of the show.  As a result, the viewing experience is less noisy (fewer bleeps).  And Ramsay is a pretty savvy businessman – besides being a solid chef – so this show has a restauranteur angle to capably exploit.

Bon appetit, con aperitif!

6-4-43
Fri.  9 p.m.

Dearest One:  I do love you and very, very much too.

This is being typed on your typewriter, and say, it works all right – even the ribbon is nice and dark!  It was right where you said it would be and covered with the piece of purple cloth as you described.  Audry and I went over to Uncle Axel’s yesterday, and did we ever have a time getting there with Betsy which all the more convinces me to surely sell it this summer, and I will too.  Our Aunt and Uncle look fine though Uncle Axel still isn’t working.  Clarence is still at Fort Snelling and what do you suppose – Clarence has given that Margaret a diamond and is planning on being married this month.  Guess they will live with Clarence’s folks, as Clarence probably isn’t making much of a salary.  His wife will keep on working.  Looks as if we’ll be having two members of the Anderson family take the big jump in June.  Well, Honey, I certainly would never discourage marriage if couples are in love.  I feel, that so far, ours has been very successful (someone might say – sure because we haven’t been together long enough) – but those eleven months were a good sample of what we can make our life-long marriage, I think.  And those too few months were wonderful!  Uncle Axel was so cute – even went out and picked me a bouquet of lily-of-valley.  He thought we didn’t stay half long enough, but it had taken us so long to get over there, that we had to turn practically right around again to arrive in time to get the roast on.  I fixed the dinner last night for the kids – having roast, onions, carrots, date-celery-orange salad, and strawberry pie for dessert.

The Club picnic at Powderhorn Wednesday was a lot of fun.  We had some grand baked beans, salad, cake and coffee.  Played volley ball later on and did a lot of singing.  They’re having their week-end party at Lyman Lodge but have decided not to go, as the house will need straightening up after our moving on Saturday (tomorrow).  I’ll be so glad when that job is done.  Just wait until you and I start our moving eh?  We really do have so many things to get collected and organized.  But think how perfectly wonderful it will be for you and me to some sweet day get our things all together and settle down in our very own little home.

Maxine Simon sent me a very lovely letter which I rec’d yesterday.  She said she is keeping busy doing housework, as they have not been able to get any help and have had to clean their own ten room house.  They also have a large garden to care for.  She said Jules writes very often and sounds homesick and very lonely.  Said he had not seen you since landing.  At present, he is Liaison Officer between the Naval Hospital and the Marine Division.  She said he seems pleased with this assignment, but it is only a temporary one.  He is living at the hospital and emphasized that he is sleeping between sheets!

Yes, Honey, the missing you is much greater this time than last, and I thought then that I couldn’t miss you much more.  It’s because I’m loving you more all the time, and do feel so lonesome for you.  Please take good care of yourself.  I’ll be typing from now on, on these V mails.

All my love,
Bev

The YWCA Lyman Lodge Conference Center on Lake Minnetonka, circa 1986.
During the summers of 1983 through 1988, the Self-Realization Fellowship of Minneapolis held several all-day retreats here.