Admittedly, I have many favorite letters of both Erwin and Eleanor’s, but one particular letter of Erwin’s reads as a delightful standalone story. It has such a lovely, “day in the life” quality, and such striking emotional depth. It did not make it into the novel (except by a few brushstrokes here and there), so I’d like to share it here.
May 28, 1922
Urbana, Ill.
Sweetheart,
I’ve let my Sunday be woefully cut up with things I wasn’t greatly interested in, and now I’m coming at night to write what I wished to write then the sun was shining warm and bright and my wits were a little less scattered. The avalanche was started by Mr. Lochte’s calling me up this morning and wanting to go to church. Well this is Memorial Sunday and I knew what the sermon would be, and I wasn’t wild to go. But I consented, and we went. After the sermon we went down town (Urbana) to Gilleland’s Cafeteria and had dinner. Then we began walking, and walked out north and west of Urbana along a creek, then along a drainage canal to the country club through some very pretty country. We continued west then toward Champaign and the University and stopped at the University library for an hour. By this time we were hungry again, so we went over to Cooper’s in Champaign, and had our supper. We returned by way of the furniture stores (Lochte is intensely interested now in gas ranges and refrigerators and the like, and I am more than mildly interested too), and looked at all the window displays. We then walked for an hour through the horticulture gardens, and I managed to head Lochte off from any more walking by pleading a thin sole on my shoe, and at seven o’ clock I got started “for home”.
On the front porch I was way-laid by Mrs. Parmelee, and compelled by politeness to meet the Episcopal minister and sit and talk awhile. Then other people came and there was no decent way to back out. Then other people and still others dropped in and my retreat was hopelessly cut off. Have you ever been entrapped that way? Sometimes I wish I had Everett True’s disposition and his very useful umbrella. You know Everett, don’t you, among the characters on the comic page? He smashes away nobly with his umbrella whenever conventions and tiresome people get in his way. (Roy Newton once told me that when he gets to be millionaire he is going to equip a regiment of Everett Trues and send them out to reform the world).
Well, tonight I just thought to myself: “You boob, what the Sam Hill keeps you sitting here in the midst of all this? Why do you sit here with that silly grin on your phizmahogany pretending to be interested in your landlady’s minute account of New Brunswick, New Jersey, when you’d rather be anywhere than here, and when the sweetest company in the world is waiting for you just upstairs?” And yet I sat and sat, til the night air grew chilly and the first guest took his departure, which was my cue to make a break for the stairway. “W’ich I did,” and here I am, sweetheart, what there is left of me and my sunny disposition. Forgive me, please, but I just had to get that “out of my system,” as the saying goes, for my landlady was unusually atrocious tonight. She does so love to be very adept in conversation and to meet and defeat all comers on their own ground, that she soon wears on my nerves, though I hope I never show it much. Hereafter I shall have a ready cut-and-dried excuse ready and besides slip in the back door on Sunday afternoons.
Let me tell you some of the interesting things I saw today. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Robin hopping about on the grass by the Library Building.Presently Mr. Robin spied a worm and seized upon one end and began to pull. No luck. The worm had a death-grip on Mother Earth. So Mr. Robin leaned back with all of his might. Suddenly something gave way and he landed just as neat flat on his back. It was the funniest thing I ever saw. He didn’t have time to get his wings into action, I guess. Mrs. Robin then began making the funniest little noises, scolding I suppose, and came running up in time to beg the worm away from him.Anyhow she got the worm and and he pulled himself together and went in search of more, with her close at his heels.
Then I watched some black-birds for awhile. Have you seen how they swagger about taking long important steps and giving the impression of knowing just what they want and how they’re going to get it? I think it’s a funny sight to see one stalking about in the grass rolling from side to side like a sailor and talking in his hoarse, matter-of-fact sort of voice. I like the robins much better, I think.
Sweetheart, I’m sorry that you and I couldn’t be together to-day as I so much wished. I still feel rebellious when I think that our Sunday is gone, for I needed to sit with you and to see your eyes to-day and feel the touch of your hand in mine. Love, I wonder if you missed me to-day even more because of my being so far in thought for most of the day. Eleanor, dear, would you feel stronger for the week if you could come and tell me all the doubts and heart aches that are besetting you now? And those problems at home that are so baffling to you, dearest, some sweet day when your dear head is resting close against mine, we shall try to understand them better, shall we not, Eleanor? Sweetheart, the dreariness we’ve seen isn’t a part or an outgrowth of love. It doesn’t have to be. So often it comes, I think, from stubborn pride which keeps even lovers sometimes from feeling the deep sympathy with one another that has been so natural to you and me, love, and which is so necessary to the abiding happiness of husbands and wives. Don’t you think that this is the element that’s often missing, Eleanor? Oh sweetheart, there must be that something that draws us to each other with the sweetest joy even when our pulses are beating slow. And mine is slow tonight, love but all my heart is yearning for you, and I have the sweet assurance that it will always, always be so. Eleanor love, my love for you is true, I know, I know. Are you very happy, Eleanor? Do you love to hear me say so, dearest?
Love, do you know how it went to my heart to hear you say that always I shall find the sweetest and noblest way to walk in? Dear, you’re happy in your love and faith. I’m very happy too, love. I think sometimes the words I write don’t show how happy I really am. Oh, love, I wouldn’t want a syllable of our lives any different. Even the pain, love, is just for a moment; I think we mustn’t have wild regrets even of that. Oh love, we’ve begun the building of a home already, did you know? Every reaction of our to present circumstance will determine our happiness in our future home. Have courage, sweetheart, for we know our love is very great.
Darling, I’ll keep you in my heart always. Will the thought of me always be your chief joy, Eleanor? Don’t answer, love, only creep up close to me and look deep into my eyes, with your brown eyes full of love and longing, and raise your lips to mine. I love you. I love you.
Your devoted Erwin.