Letters

Letters to Bucky

February 9th, 1943

Hello Bucky,

Couldn't you at least pretend to sound a little more mature? Or perhaps a bit more formal? You're writing a letter to your best friend, yes but where are your manners. I know your mother taught them to you. And how typical of you to assume I've been worried sick. Worried? Yes. Worried until I'm sick? Perhaps not.

And of course I miss you you big oaf. Steve misses you too. It's quite different around here without you constantly hanging over our shoulders and pestering us.

Please be careful over there. I can't stand the thought of you on the battlefield. And I know war changes you, just come back in one piece please.

Steve is doing just fine and you shouldn't patronize him, of course he hasn't burned down the apartment building. He's not that terrible a cook. Remember that time when one of his meals was edible? We thought it was lasagna but it turned out to be something else. That's one of my favorite nights.

Yes, Steve still wants to go fight in the war and I don't know what else to say to not get him to want that. You know when he wants something bad enough, he's going to do everything in his power to get it. Besides, he's stubborn, I think he got that from you.

My job is going just fine. The printing business is flourishing. There's always a new headline, always new stories to write. More than half of the department now is women. And you're right, I expect to also become head of this place by the time the war ends. I'm surprised by the amount of support women are getting by going out into the work force. I hope it stays this way.

Steve and I have also talked about doing some traveling. We were thinking California. Steve made a comment about how we would fit right in with the celebrities and aristocrats of Hollywood. I think he's being a bit delusional. I don't dress nearly as nicely as they do. But you sure act like how I'd expect an actor to be.

I do not always nag you James but you're right about Steve. Someone has to put you in your place.

I know you'll come back to us. I'm not much of a religious person but I pray, if anyone is listening, that you'll come home safely. You're a part of me, a part of Steve and there's no way we will be able to live without you.

Don't say you'll see us at the end of the line. Tell me you'll see me at the end of the war. I love you and miss you.

Love,
Willow Peterson