10 August 1948.

Aug 10

Dearest “Cyclone”,

Well, we are in Rio now, on our way “home”.  No mail from you!  What an empty feeling it gives inside.  But, I realize what happened, and when your letters do start coming through again, I’ll appreciate them that much more.

Darling, here it is, August 12th already, and I haven’t had time to write since the above attempt.  Oh!  I’ve written to you every night, mentally, on watch, in fact darling, I’ve written a song about, “Cyclone” (my cyclone that is).  But, it’s been so hard to find time to get words down on paper.  It’s not so much the fact that I’ve been busy, because I know you have been busy too.  It’s just that sailing hours are so inconvenient that they take all the pep out of you.

We are only in each port a few hours, most of that time I’m working cargo.  Then, we always seem to sail around 2:00 am which means I get into the sack about 2:45 am, and have to get up for my watch at 3:30 am, which, as you can see makes me rather tired the next day.  This procedure is repeated every two or three days until we leave Trinidad, then I can catch up on my sleep for New York.  Now, if I can only concentrate on getting a few of these mental letters that I write on watch, down on paper and mailed to you, I imagine you would be a lot happier.

Oh sweet cyclone, excuse me for saying it, but, I know how much you love me, and want my letters, even if they are scrawled fast and unreadable on the paper, just as the contact between our two hearts is as constant as possible, and I feel awful when I’m too tired to write.  But, I’ll work out a routine yet, so that the letters will keep coming even if all I can say is: 

“My love, my heart, my cyclone,

I’m your Dave forever.”

G’NITE

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