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From Larry Wachdorf
(Original a very blurry carbon copy, single spaced, but at least there are paragraphs. Spelling oddities left in place. Note that Jerry's dog was a Dalmatian, which makes one of the final paragraphs a little easier to understand, and that the New Year's deadline mentioned at the end is for the birth of a child--didn't make it, baby born in January)
Art = brother
Boop = sister Dolores
Bunk = brother Frank
Elly Kaphleg = I'm guessing that's slang, but don't know who he meant
Harry = brother
Jerry = brother with pet Dalmatian
Les = brother-in-law, husband of Dolores
Marge = sister-in-law, wife of Ed
Officer Therkorn = the cop who gave him a ticket
December 17, 1954
How can it be an old fashioned Christmas when the sun is shining and temperature is in the 80's? My head is still self sealing, no holes or anything, so I'm no complaining. I've never had to shovel sunshine off the walks...
Sorry this is so long-delayed. There are checks here for you-all to please shop and buy your offspring something appropriate, get them something foolish, something they'll enjoy, like haircuts, false teeth, and shoes... Hate to set a flat price on them, sounds terrible, but can't think of any other way except shopping myself; that sounds worse. So under the assumption that any child with me as God Father is under twice the handicap of the rest, am sending $10 for God-children, $5 for rest. Meant to get these off two weeks ago, but am just plain lazy. On second thought, I'm pretty fancifully lazy.
Writed a Christ-mass poim:
Across the windy barrens from the Icebound Arctic pole
Races the team of reindeer; the time has come to roll
around the world in a single night spreading peace and cheer
The tiny sleigh's all loaded up with gifts for this spinning sphere.
The driver's a roly-poly elf all swaddled in bright red clothes
And his eyes are a twinkle w/loving light as bright as the lead deer's nose.
He starts at the dateline and race the sun thru ice, sleet, rain and fog,
But he'll have to skip Los Angeles, we're still under our blanket of smog.
That's my ten-second effort. After you-all read it, I have 10 seconds to clear out.
On S-D day (that's safe-driving day, you ignorpoopuses) some (Ta Ta, it's Christmas season) ____ cop gave me a ticket. I parked at home at about 11 PM and as usual faced so I'd be headed right in the morning, and as usual it was facing the wrong way. At 12:01 AM beginning S-D day, the coppers started their round-up. I thought it was kind of peculiar in the morning, finding and advertising circular under my wiper blade; even out in Calif they generally don't work at night, or at least all night, trying to sell things. And they don't sign their names as Officer Therkorn. The ____ (Look, Santa, I didn't call him anything). After work on S-D day traffic was all tied up on Lincoln Blvd. Seems these two fellows are moving along this traffic lane at about 45 mph, but unfortunately were each headed in a different direction. It was a goodie and you can't hardly get them anymore. There are 3 lanes of traffic in each direction on a curving climb, and some joker at the curb pulled out as they roared up at him three abreast. Each man swerved out, and that left the end man, Mr. Bones, on the wrong side of the double line; he never made it back, may he rest in peace. Teach him to pick a F O R D.
Found that by gobbling my lunch I can get up to Loyola during my lunch hour and squeeze in some golf; students only course (where's my beanie?) Play five balls for four holes, Ees game, ne c'est pas?
Now if I'm allowed to pick a few contents from your letters: Harry: I'm going to Denver, and I'm await until you face west, and then I'm agoin to punch you right in the nose (you'll be in range, boy): the Red River's going to run real gone red if you keep sending a salutation and a signature only. Some day, POW, right? Les: It'll be easy to stop Dolor's bingo gambling; take her to the horse races; then casinos to break her of horse playing; simple, no?
[Next side of paper]
Of course on the other side; you didn't think I was going to waste two sheets of paper on you, did y'all?
Marge: Quiet suddenly, isn't it? Art: Wassa matter, boy, you too busy eating to write? Or too busy making Elly Kaphleg laugh when she's cutting records? Bunk: Or should I say Father Francis? Careful, Bunk, or your wife will make a convert of you... Jerry: That's my dog. I can tell because she's so stupid. Better tell her the snips and snails and puppy-dog tales... There's a damnation here identical in appearance, a female also (and a pedigree) who's just as tough. Honest. I see her owner (not her master) walking her, and all opposing traffic detours; she rumbles like a V-8 with straight pipes. And what pretty white teeth she has; she's so proud of them, always showing 'em off.
Then there was the playboy who picked up this so-beautiful doll. Class; knew he'd have to turn on all the charm to make out. Took her up to his apartment, showed her his first editions, turned on a Bach Concerto (can't spell Bethoven?) then suggested he put some Sherry on to chill. She said please do in a controlled contralto that sent the shivers racing along his spine. I just adore Sherry, she continued. It's truly the nectar of the Gods. To see it shivering in a crystal goblet, refracting the light in deep amber glints makes me passionately alive. And to sip it's golden mellowness and feel its transmuting heat steal insidiously along my nerves makes me both languorous and excited.
On the other hand, port makes me fart ["fart" crossed out and he's added by hand "belch (Mom proofread)"].
[added by hand] Boop: the Murine follows. Sorry, but sent six copies out and guess who got the last one? Am forgiven?
Les: try ride over a bumpy road to beat that New Year's deadline.
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