Fifties life in the married lane. Okay, it's 1962. But believe me, it's the fifties.

My old friend Martha writes from Liincoln, Nebraska. The stationery has a cartoon of a plump woman hanging out clothes. Caption: "I'm more BEHIND than I thot I wuz--on writin' you this letter--But I'll SQUEEZE in jest all I kin--and next time I'll do better."

The word "married" is used at least four times, once telling me she and Bob have been married one year, the others all relating to other women we knew from high school. Her husband is in "the service." There is no Viet Nam. I think I've mentioned that going into "the service" was what every manchild did after high school or college. There was a peace time draft. It was very accepted. Not always joyfully, but understood that every young (man) owed at least two years to his country. She's happy I'm going with a college man. She thinks he would go in with lieutenant's bars. He didn't. I don't know why.

They have a new car, a '62 Corvair Monza. And then there is this:

"Barb, my dreams came true. I have my first fur. I could have died when Bob gave it to me. It's not a mink but it's what I've wanted for ever so long. It's a street length gray cashmere coat with a silver blue fox collar, one of those hairy jobs. It's real sharp."