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<p>[QUOTE=&quot;Marie Forjan, post: 201767, member: 147&quot;]OK, here it is. Know that my mother lived in Philadelphia and may father was working in DC just before they married. This letter was written June 24, 1941, they were married on June 27.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Washington, June 24, 11:30PM</p><p><br /></p><p>Dearest Sweetheart,</p><p><br /></p><p>The bachelor dinner is all over and the boys have just left. We had quite a gay time and I was complimented from all sides on my cooking. I grilled steak a lo my Darling Mary. We drank several toasts, one one to the Bride proposed by the groom, after which we destroyed our glasses so they would never be used in a less honorable fashion. This was in the nature of a minor tragedy since it left us with three glasses. Thereafter one of us drank from an egg cup and one from a tea cup. Altogether we assimilated slightly less than a gallon of wine, <i>(something I can’t read here, I think about coffee)</i>. One of the boys had to walk off a fit of nausea and the other three were quite gay. I felt quite as normal, probably because I ate so much. Right now I am a little sleepy. </p><p><br /></p><p>We sang for a while, especially those songs with Mary in them. <i>(Mary was my mother’s name.)</i> “Flow Gently Sweet Afton”, “the Rose of Tralee”, “Mary is a Good old Name”, and the like. It was all a lot of fun.</p><p><br /></p><p>I’ll cut this short Dearest, to make the last mail. I hope it reaches you before breakfast, but I’m afraid it won’t. I will be in at 9:18, and please meet me at the escalator. I love you as much and anyone can.</p><p><br /></p><p>Your affectionate lover,</p><p>Harold[/QUOTE]</p><p><br /></p>

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