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Saturday | Saturday | ||
Dear | Dear Monte - | ||
We came home | We came home to a sad Christmas. Eleanor's mother a very beautiful and remarkable woman, we all loved, had been found dead in her bed. | ||
It is a grand way to die and she was old and tired but something inside her never had tired. Her death wrecked us. | It is a grand way to die and she was old and tired but something inside her never had tired. Her death wrecked us. | ||
Monte dear, your confession of love is the finest Christmas gift I could have. I shall hang it up on a peg in my inner mind | |||
Latest revision as of 00:21, 28 June 2022
in pencil in top margin Bartlett Dec 28 '40
letterhead PRIVATE OFFICE HOTEL FARRAGUT KNOXVILLE, TENN.
Saturday Dear Monte - We came home to a sad Christmas. Eleanor's mother a very beautiful and remarkable woman, we all loved, had been found dead in her bed. It is a grand way to die and she was old and tired but something inside her never had tired. Her death wrecked us. Monte dear, your confession of love is the finest Christmas gift I could have. I shall hang it up on a peg in my inner mind