Glory
April 11, 1943
IOWA CITY, IOWA
Dear Glory,
Congratulations on the birth of Corrine! How blessed you are, and how brave.
The thought of you waking up to your husband holding his new daughter had me smiling for days. I dont believe in miracles, Glory, but sometimes there are moments when everything seems to line up in the right order. Im so happy your family was together for such a momentous occasion.
The blanket that accompanies this letter was knitted with Mrs. Kleinschmidts best light wool. I told her it was for the Red Cross, so she didnt give me the business about using it. Dont worry about the lieI did my penance by sitting with Mrs. K. while she wrote her twelve daily V-mails to enlisted men who would probably rather receive letters from Mussolini. In between missives she told me, quite frequently, that I hold the yarn incorrectly and my shoddy technique would give me arthritis in my old age.
I hope Corrine likes it, even if it is green.
So, Miss Glory, I have some news myself. A letter from Toby came yesterday! Hes still stateside, but will ship off to the Pacific soon. Yes, hell be halfway around the world from Sal. I think Toby naively assumed Uncle Sam would drop him into his fathers lap in North Africa. To be honest, I was hoping that, too.
Toby predicts hell be granted some form of leave before shipping out, possibly as much as three days. He plans on coming home, even if for just a few hours. I told Toby Id meet him halfway if it meant we could spend more time together. And what else is there to do in Ohio but drink coffee and chew the fat?
At the bottom of Tobys letter was a message for Roylene. It said: Send me the recipe. Thats it. At first I thought, maybe he doesnt know her all that well. And if he did, why wouldnt he write to her on his own? But then it hit meits a code! Maybe Ive been going to the movies too much, but Im his mother and I know when somethings up. Im going down to see Roylene at the tavern this week to see what this business is all about. Dont worry, Ill be real slya regular Sam Spade.
Well, I cant wait to hear all about your victory garden. Digging in the dirt will help you reclaim your figure in no time. Im about to head out to give my soil a good flip. I just saw Mrs. K. leave, and I want to get it done before she returns or Ill be pulling double-duty.
Take care of yourself,
Rita
P.S. Ive taped a dime to this letter so Robbie can go to the drugstore to buy a candy bar or
two with his OWN money. Big brothers need their sustenance!
April 25, 1943
ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS
Oh, dearest Rita,
Thank you so much for the lovely blanket. I wrap Corrine in it every day and think of you. And Robbie loved having money of his own. It went straight into his piggy bank (hes so like his father!)
When I was a little girl, I used to cherish having money of my own, too. My fathers family was and still is very wealthy. My father was probably the smartest man in America during the crash. He was smart all around. I wish Id known him better. But money can do that to a family, make them strangers. Theres something closer about a family that struggles together. A bond. I watched the difference between me and Robert and then Levi, growing up. Robert and I came from another world.
We were summer people in this town. Wealthy and comfortable. And then there was Levi. Working-class and a year-round resident. But his family was so, so close. I used to wish his mother was my own. She never sat back on the shores and watched us from a distance under lace umbrellas. She always jumped into the waves next to us. And she collected mermaid toes (little peach-colored glittery shells shaped like toenails). Her name was Lucy and she died when we were all eleven years old. I try to be like her every day.
This war has been what I like to call the great equalizer. I feel comfortable living here in our summerhouse. And I dont feel above or below anyone. Women and men, too, are acting as if they both have things to give to society. Everyone has a straight back as they walk through town, as if we are all carrying the pride of a country. Its good to feel like that.
Enough about the war. Lets talk about my garden!
My garden is just lovely. I have all sorts of herbs and vegetables starting. Lettuce is already coming up. I cant wait to see it in full bloom. My hands are fairly caked with dirt each day and my apron, too. I love it. I love feeling the earth on my skin.
Now, your mystery girl and Toby are obviously saying something in code to each other. But what? Oh, its like reading a novel. Keep me posted on this!
With hope of peace in the near future,
Glory
May 2, 1943
V-mail from Marguerite Vincenzo to Seaman Tobias Vincenzo
Only Son,
I think there is a distinct possibility surrounding yourself with all that water has done something to your Midwestern brain waves. Shes a stranger, Toby. The thought of being stuck in a train car with someone incapable of making declarative sentences is enough to send me running for your fathers bourbon.