Text: “Saturday noon. My Own, own Sweetheart — At last a few minutes breathing spell — to write you, to tell you that I do love you, a whole, whole lot. If I had simply been preparing for you no letters occasionally as an excuse, I would feel badly about it, but I have really been terribly rushed these last few days, and expect to be for some ten or twelve more. I know that you know that I love you, love you with all my whole self — but I want to be able to have something to show you that I love you, and every now and then you do have to buckle down to straight hard steady work. As a result of my extra work and studying in this last months chemistry, I feel like I made a real good grade on the last of the monthly written in that course, which we had yesterday afternoon. I certainly “know my stuff,” and told Dr. Hendrix afterwards that I felt like my paper was going to be worth some where in the 90’s. He grinned and drawled out: “Well, it take’s [sic], er - er - a might - er good paper to make that under me.” Hope I did. We had the quiz from 5 to 6, then at six I rushed down to the Masonic temple and took my fellow craft degree, then came out and studied till 12:30. Well, all this may not interest you especially — but — I love you, I love you — my whole life is yours. I am so so glad you are doing so well with your school, and am so pleased to hear the good things that other people are also seeing in you — but they don’t know who is absolutely the sweetest girl in all the country. Sweetheart, I love you. Today is certainly a regular spring day, I would about be tempted to go swimming — if I had time. And what do you know — I saw the new moon last night for the first time right square over my left shoulder. Of course I don’t believe in signs, nor am I superstitious — but, well, maybe I’ll pass chemistry after all! My, but I do wish I could have a date with you tonight — to ride and ride — (and maybe stop?!) — I myself have a terrible amount of prep today, and feel like I could hold you, love you, almost cruelly — indefinitely. But there goes the dinner bell — so I’ll have to run fill my tank up before it’s all gone! —— Now that’s over, I can come back to you for a few lines. I got a “medical” — and here is a little poem from it: Blues / Finals are coming / Riding’ the waves, / Eighty fo’ freshmen / Diggin’ their graves. / Tell us how long do we have to wait, / Before we may ride on the north bound freight! And that expresses the sentiments of a goodly number of the class. It is rumored that the faculty intend to bust out some 20 freshmen — eenie-meenie-minie-mo! Sweetheart, they’re all gathering in here to calculate together our reports for our diet analysis, so I’ll have to get in on it. I love you, love you. Kiss me so sweet. Your very own - Felix.”
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Place Name coordinates. (May be approximate.)
