May 17, 1980

Berkeley, May 17, 1930



My sweet little Alice,

Finally I have time to get a few lines to you, our first anniversary sale is on, that keeps me busy every minute of the day it is now Saturday night 8 o’clock, Fred is still trimming windows and while I am waiting for him, I’ll have a little talk with you. Your last letter sure was sweet, a wonderful message of love, if I only could be with you to show you my appreciation. Fred suggested to have you come down here, what do you think to that? Do you think that your folks would let you go? I sure hate to be alone much longer. But what can we do about it? Well, I leave that to you. It doesn’t seem possible for me to count on a permanent home for a number of years yet, most people down here are moving along constantly, but you sure can’t gain much by doing so.

How I wish I could enjoy one of those lovely May-nights with you as I did long ago, now everything is is so dry and solemn, every day the same, the same sun, not cold, not warm, people cold and heartless, that golden California…if I didn’t have Fred I sure would be lost. Tomorrow we will stretch our lazy bones in the sand on the seashore, we got us red hot bathing suits, maybe we can get some attraction.

You will write me again soon, won’t you dear? I am waiting with every mail for a letter from you, they are quite an encouragement to me.

Always your loving friend,
George

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