A letter from the fiancee's dad - to the fiancee'. Don't know how it ended up here. Nothing earthshaking. His father owned a hardware store. That fact was a huge factor in my decision not to marry him. Because he had every intention of going into business with his father (and, in fact, he did). Today I would say, "wholesale hardware for me - whoopee" but I did not have that kind of sense in those days. This is the man (my fiancee') who introduced me to jazz and baked potatoes with sour cream, the Chicago Art Museum and minty liquours. I had some kind of life in the big city in mind. As he was more and more determined (and he was/is a very determined man) to go into business with dad, I was less and less entranced.

Dad says, "...sure miss you in the toy department." Christmas must be coming, since he also says "will put loud speakers outside tomorrow for Holliday spirit." It was a nice little hardware store, downtown in a small town. It is now a big hardware store - Ace or some such franchise - still in the family, but out on the road into the small town now. I've been there. I have no right to miss the old place, but I do. It sounds like a scene out of "A Christmas Story." That's the charm for me of these old letters. Not only do I get to analyze myself and how I got from there to here, I am also perfectly free to romanticize the life I never had. It's okay. I've had a pretty romantic life myself. If I had lived that one, I'd be fantasizing about this one.