Dearest Gee.
Well, honey, I finally got some letters today. Got your Nov. 12, and 15th airmails and one from Bernie of the 15th. First mail in several days. Mighty glad to get it too.
So you went to Chicago and didn’t buy yourself anything! I can hardly believe that kid. You must be slipping. How is my old joking pal, Val, now? Is she as full of jokes as ever? It sounds like you must have had a good time even tho you did get tired.
I sure can’t picture L[ittle] Harry singing in a choir and liking it. It must be so tho. Has he taken a turn for the better? And you say he got a case of stage fright? Boy he must have changed.
Well, honey, I guess our censorship must be entirely different from Chick’s. That’s the only way I can explain it. I don’t care so much about writing about it anyway. I’ve told you all about the scenery and a few of the more pleasant things that happened but the quicker the rest is past history the better it is for both of us. Chick, being single, should be able to have the time of his life in the midst of his work, but — I just want you.
I’m glad you sent the names of these perfumes. If I ever get any money again I’ll look into it. I hope you like that Tabu I sent. Also sent you some folders of Menton and Cannes. The States have nothing on these places for nice buildings. They really go in for fancy stuff.
I suppose you’re deep into the Christmas shopping now. I see lots of things I’d like to get but boy they want a fortune for them. Saw your fur coat for thirty thousand francs. Cheap stuff. They are having a little trouble with the French trying to pawn off cheap perfume on the G.I.s. These people are kinda making me mad too.
Guess we’ll have to write those four rolls of pictures off as a total loss. Never found them and now I give up.
So you think I look thin. I feel pretty good. You’d better not buy too many clothes while you’re so thin because some of these days you’ll put on weight again. Get it? I’m hoping to be home sometime this coming year, all we have to do is convince the Jerries to give up. They sure are stubborn people.
Well, honey, I’m running low on conversation. This looks like a bunch of hen scratchin’ but my hands are cold.
You’d better stay off those ladders in the fix you’re in. How are you getting along now? Sure hope you get alright soon. Sure do love you, honey, and miss you like everything. Be good and take care of yourself.
So long.
Snook
Letters From Snook 