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Postmarked 10-6

Oct. 3rd, 1932

Dearest Daughter,

Enough of frivolity such as has been transmitted to you in my past missives. I should write more conspicuously, or should I say, confine my mirth to a later date after my last rhapsody. Looking at your picture with you shrouded in your habit, I should dramatize my thoughts, as you look so solemn, but only in garb. Your face radiates divinely, and from what you say, my implication is, that it is genuine. My letters to you must be versatile, so as to amuse and interest. Your indefinable manifestations of gratification when being the recipient of these letters in not a solo, as I too am enthusiastically imbued with the same pleasure.

 

My second nature is animation. Seriousness with me, as mother would say, is only veneer, so I suppose I must go thru life emulating the clown and to mimic the comedian. Anyway, life is too sweet to be morose, so I am going to be a gloom chaser, or be an optimist. My tenacity for pleasure is only mitigated when I think solemnly of your new vocation, so you see my objective must be relegated to compunction. Your surroundings are congruous to later adapt yourself to be a pedagogue. Your sedate censors might scrutinize this absurdity and offer a rebuttal, but I must have my unconstrained jollity. October 16th when I hope to be a visitant at your home, I trust to be excused as a mendicant, such as I was at my initial visit when I partook of the hospitality afforded me.

 

Your letters are exquisite, so expressive that the first one brought a nodule to my throat. Your consternation, also your tolerance to such extemporaneous outbursts is indicative of your marvelous amenity. By this time the monstrosity of the communication should be dissipated to a degree so as to permeate your cranium. Your conjectures might evolve to even greater mental potentialities if you concur with me, my little intrepid idealist. Sis—I must desist as this taxes my intellectual capacity to excessive tension. Please excuse my calligraphy as I conclude with love,

 

From your dad

 

[To go to the next letter, click here: 10-7-1932 Viola]