Then Again - Diane Keaton [7]
Good night, my love,
Dorothy
January 18, 1946
Hello, Honey,
I wish I wasn’t such a crybaby. I don’t understand me. Until I was married you couldn’t make me cry over anything. I thought I couldn’t cry—but now all I have to do is think of you and how swell you are and I miss you so much before I know it I’m bawling just like Diane. I sure do love you more than you could know, honey. Even if I don’t tell you very often when I see you, I’m always thinking it.
Diane & I had our picture taken—just small cheap ones. I’m afraid they can’t be too good of her—she’s so tiny—and naturally they won’t be good of me, but that’s to be expected. I hope you can at least see what she looks like a little bit. The photographer said she was very good for a baby her size & age. She’s not fat like her mother used to be. Incidentally I’m still on the plump side = darn it. She weighs over 9 lbs. and, as I say in every letter—gets cuter everyday. I think that’s a nice idea of yours, sending her $2.00 bills. I’m putting them away for her. It’s adding up. Maybe pretty soon we could start a savings account for her. Good night, my Honey.
Love,
Dorothy
February 21, 1946
Hello, Honey,
I’m so disappointed. Those pictures are just as I expected—awful. Diane looks kind of funny. I’m not going to send them cause you’ll think I’ve been kidding you about how cute she is.
You said in your letter today that you wish we could relive those good old days again. I sure look back and dream about how swell they were. We don’t want to ever change, do we? Even though we have a family and more responsibilities, I don’t think that’s any reason to act older and not have the fun we used to.
Right?!
Good night, Darling Jack,
Your Dorothy
March 31, 1946
Dear Jack,
Right now I’m so mad at you I could really tell you off if you were here. I don’t know whatever gave you the crazy idea that I might have changed and “start liking someone else.” You aren’t the only person that believes in making a success of their marriage—it means just as much to me as it does you, and if you think I go around looking for someone that might suit me a little better, you don’t think too much of me. Don’t you think I take being married seriously? You ought to know how much I love you—so why in the world would I try and find someone else? You said you wanted me to be happy—well, believe me, you couldn’t make me any more unhappy if you tried. If you would just have a little confidence in me and trust me more you wouldn’t think such things. You don’t have to keep reminding me of the fact that we promised to tell each other first if things had changed. That applies to you too. Would you like it if I kept telling you I didn’t think it would last long and you would soon find someone else? Well, I sure don’t like it one bit so please don’t write like that again.
I probably shouldn’t send this but the more I think about it the madder I get! But no matter how mad I get, honey—I love you as much as I can and if I looked the whole world over I couldn’t see anyone but you because no one could ever make me any happier than you always have and always will. I feel better now—not mad anymore, but I’ll be really mad if you ever write that way again—don’t forget.
Love,
Dorothy
P.S. I’ve decided to send you our photographs after all.
April 25, 1946
Hello, Honey,
So you didn’t like the pictures, huh? Please don’t think your daughter looks like that because I assure you she doesn’t. And even if she wasn’t cute, she would be darling just from her personality alone. She has one already—very definitely. I think I’ll wait awhile before I have her picture taken again.
You know, of course, that we have a very remarkable and intelligent daughter. I was reading my baby book about what a 4-month-old baby should be doing and she was doing everything they mentioned when she was 2 months, really. She tries her hardest to sit up, and they don’t do that until