April 3, 1927

Mine,

This darned gang expects to read my letter to you, but of course they won’t/. And the rule is established that no one reads the other’s note. I wonder what sort of silly chatter they’ll write to you.

I’m not a bit nervous – ad if I don’t hear from you to the contrary, I’ll be in Lima Weds night at about 7:30 your time. If you decide not to come over until Thurs a.m. let me know and I’ll come thru to M.P. (That is if you’re still willing to marry me.)

Whitie has succeeded in spreading the news all over the church, and this morning, I was the object of a great many smiles etc, not to say, a good deal of kidding. Ann and Homer refuse to participate in any kidding match, but I expect a lot from other sources.

Dad has decided that you and I will come back to Cincinnati on Friday night, there to stay until Sun afternoon, and then return with them.  I have said that we’d do that, to keep him quiet, but I intend that we’ll do what we have planned. When we leave Louisville, it will be with the understanding that we’ll meet Dad and Mother in Cinty, but Mother understands that we’ll come.

I have decided that the 11:05 a.m. train our of Lima will be best, unless you’d rather take a night train.

I told Mr. Knepper that I’d do the deed this week unless he objected, but he seemed reluctant to offer any objections, so there’s apparently no excuse open to me.

I am not looking for excuses though – I’m too tickled to think that I’m to have you as my wife. I love you my sweetheart, and I want to prove that to you. I feel as proud as a peacock. I still smile when questioned and say “Easter or before” but that gag don’t work very much since Dad has told the story.

Hobo and 3 girls (and one of the girls’ mother) were here last night for supper. It was the old social committee of the Young People’s Society. By the way, I have been asked to run for the presidency of the Baptist Young People of Columbus. I said I’d run, but wouldn’t devote much time to them. And the Sunday School class is about to materialize, apparently. So it looks like the busy season.

But you can be assured I’m devoting a full share of my time to my wife – that’s you – YOU. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take a kiss before each meal, and some extras, too.  Be sweet until I see you, Weds night. I love you.

Andy

Dear Dot

The Lord pity you! Married life is heck!

Sister, Dot, life is what you make it. Start out like you intend to end it.  Don’t start anything you can’t finish!

Here’s to you. Call me next Sunday night if you want any corn meal mush!

Love “Ann”

Dear Dot:

Don’t tell Andy I’m writing you because he might be jealous. He is so busy flirting with my wife that he does not know I’m writing.

We are at the White’s tonight to see the old kid for the last time before your claims on him become prior.

Congratulations and best wishes for your happiness. Will see you at our house next Sunday night

Your brother-in-law

 Homer

This is station D.A.D. broadcasting. The next song on the program will be The Wedding March by Mendelssohn.  Here comes the Bride – can’t wait. See you [unreadable] Friday morning.

Dad White

My dear girl,

The children came in this evening and we are all waiting for you. Have been talking of you quite a bit and wish you were with us. Have all plans made and will see you Friday morning. Hope we have real nice weather from now on. Love to all and a lot for yourself.

Mother

March 30, 1927

My dear Sweetheart:

I never want to stop calling you that, but before long, if I’m called on to write you letters, I want to say, “my dear wife”. The time is growing short, but not speedily enough for me, does April 8 come round. Mr. and Mrs. Allen were out last night, and Chubby illustrated how each day meant one more day of freedom cut off – but even that does not discourage me. I know that I’ll enjoy you as “boss”.

I have been told that it will not be surprising to find myself in the “lake” next door, one of these fine nights, after a “belling”.  If that comes, too, I’ll have to endure it (unless you are able to protect me). Mrs. Young said last night that she has your job picked out – that you are to help her wait table at the dance. Of course you would marry me, so you have let yourself in for that.

I don’t envy you the experience of having a dozen girls come in to surprise you, though it is nice to realize that you have such good friends. Mother Veach was so pleased that the girls were coming that she fairly bubbled over with pleasure. (Really I began to fear that she’d tell you inadvertently).

We have hung your dresses in the cedar closet, and when guests run in, we eagerly drag them to the second floor to show that we expect a girl in the house. Everybody likes your rug, and the more times I unroll it to show it, the better looking I think it is.

Dot, I know we’re going to make a go of it. I have vowed myself that I’ll never by word or act do anything to make you regret having married me. I want you to always be happy in our home, and I am willing to go more than half way to see that you are content. There is no assurance that we’ll ever be anything but ordinary working folk, but there is every reason to believe that we can content ourselves with what we have. Once again I want to assure you that your happiness is the most important thing in life for me.

I’m coming to claim you next week, and then you’ll know that I mean it when I say, “you must be happy”.

I hope K was able to enjoy the surprise on Monday eve. I wish there wered some way of settling things for her and Bob.[1] Give them and mother my love, but save a big share of it for yourself.

Andy

[1] Dottie's brother Bob and his intended, Kathleen, were engaged for sixty-plus years, but never married, because "she wouldn't move to the farm and he wouldn't move to town."

March 20, 1927

My dear Sweetheart,

Mother's note explains itself. I was very much disappointed that things would not be ready when you came. But mother felt that you were acquiescing in the suite at Charlie's place, mainly because you wanted to be agreeable. I hope that you haven't done that. I'll go along next time, and judge for myself whether or not you are really pleased. Mother was dissatisfied because Charlie could offer no choice; and she thinks a lot of the Dustproof feature. She also thought that you'd enjoy another shopping trip - so tho things won't be ready, I hope you'll not feel too badly.

It was great to have you with us again - a grand and glorious feelin' to have you greet me on my return from the office - a wonderful taste of the good things in store for me when you're mine. Everybody seems to be as much in love with you as I am. Some have warned me that I'll have my hands full, and that I'll have to toe the mark pretty well, to wed the good looking girl I've succeeded in fooling so badly. It wasn't right that you had to go so soon. By every right I should have you in my arms at this very minute.

Yesterday, last night and today we had several hard rains. The lake next door is way up. The creek is within a few feet of the top of its banks. Dada predicts floods.  These week end rains are becoming a little monotonous - but I don't let them worry me too much.  One really can enjoy wet weather, I've found.

Another death pretty close to the office on Saturday a.m. Miss Macklin, wife of one of the firm's best clients died in Cinti. When I left you Friday I went to the funeral, then back to the office for a few minutes. Wheile there I received an accident report which said that the little son of a very good friend had been run down by an auto. I went to the home and found that the boy is not badly hurt. He has a gash in his chin which will probably become a scar, however. I can tell you that the parents are glad that they still have their boy.

It's wonderful how little kiddies tie a family together. The satisfaction a father and mother must have in guiding the little fellows along the way must be a recompense for the mother's suffering.

Mother and Dad are now writing to Claude and Laura. I wondered if you saw Helen, and got back O.K. And if the store is now off your hands for good.

I expect to see you Saturday, if nothing happens between now and then. But the folks insist that I start back Sunday evening. So plan things that way. I do not want to take Monday from the office - because in just a couple of weeks I'll want Thurs, Fri and Sat at least, won't I.

Tonight I'd like to be with you - to tuck you in and whisper, "I love you, sweet." But you know I love you, and want you, and that April 8 cannot come too soon for

Andy