2270 South Vine
Come with me as I meet my Mother through this series of letters, she died when I was 6 months old and this is my very first real glimpse into her world, who she was, who she wanted to be and how she loved my Father.
A collection of 36 letters hand written by my Mother Joyce at University of Denver and sent to my Father Earl at University of Colorado Boulder when they were first engaged in 1952. The letters span from September 1952 - January 1953. My Mother died from Breast Cancer in 1971 at the age of 40. The original language of the letters is read intact to maintain the integrity of the authenticity of her words, 1952 is a very different time culturally and economically.
2270 South Vine
Letter 1 09/22/1952 Dorm Curfews, Stolen Pens, and Stationery
In the first letter of this series, dated September 22, 1952, Joyce gives a lively and unfiltered account of her early days settling into college life. From chaotic dorm curfews and cafeteria politics to leaking pens and awkward blind dates, her letter paints a picture of dorm dynamics, part-time jobs, and emotional undercurrents. Despite the stress, homesickness, and a failed attempt to cry, she finds time to write eight letters—including this one, reserved for someone extra special.
Topics include:
- New dormitory rules and student rebellion
- First job shifts and unfair diner pay
- Dorm gossip and campus dating culture
- Stationery etiquette and personal touches
- Scheduling, band nerves, and academic registration
- Homesickness, loneliness, and emotional resilience
September 22nd 52 on Delta Omicron Joyce Eddie stationary Dear sweetheart now. I know what it feels like to get up at 545 Tomorrow I'm going to set the alarm for 6:15 instead About 8:30 last night. I was all set for a long night, but it seems there was a party and at 12:30 I finally got to sleep Next time I'll just get out of bed and tear around too because I didn't get to sleep until they quieted down anyway. Guess what? The latest is with the dorm rules. All of the dorm crossed out in parentheses, excuse please, doors will be locked at 5 p.m. except the lounge door and absolutely no late keys. In other words, if we have underlined to be late, some joker will sit up and wait for us.
Now I wish I'd applied for counselor. Most of them are 19 and 20, and all of them are very pleased with their importance.
By not giving us late keys, I guess they'll stop us from getting them made, or at least they think they will. I wish they'd switched the locks from five. I've still got that key. Work went real easy and May did all the dirty work. I just sat. But the kindhearted soul has decided that eight hour workers can only have two meals in four hour works. One, I'm getting two meals a day anyway, but the louse insists she can only give me 50 cents unless business picks up, she says. I'm going to yell again in a couple of weeks when the kids get back and things get rolling. And after all those promises, 50 cents. This beastly pen has sprung a leak. But considering the fact I swiped it, I guess I can't complain. The welcoming in parentheses committee gave us all two sheets of stationery to write home and rave about DU. I almost wrote this letter on them. But since you're extra special, I thought I'd use my best stationary.
Now that I think it over, I had a blind date with the little boy who sold me this. He was the first person who told me a man couldn't rape a woman and he wanted to prove it. I told him I was already convinced and went in. This afternoon, I must run down to Jafay's and leave the proofs. I'll tell him to make up the number 13 and I hope it turns out okay.
The latest is they've notified the fellows of their curfews and are they annoyed? I heard it was to be 12 o'clock weeknights and 2 a.m. What a rat race. Our freshmen have their beanies gold with red brims. I'd like to get one for a keepsake. Maybe tomorrow I'll go over to the five, and at least set the trunks in the hall, mark them, and ask housing if someone will move. They'll probably make a mistake and cart them down to storage in five, and I'll have to start all over again. So far I've read The Pinochle Rules three times, and none of the versions look quite like the way you played it especially counting. Tomorrow or Wednesday I have to trot back down to Lamont's stupid registrar and see if he can figure it out yet. I'm hoping to be able to take advanced typing as an elective if it's legal and also an upper class course, but I've got a sneaking suspicion it will be a lower division course, even for business typing. Does typing have an E in it in parentheses? No mama, it doesn't. Some little frosh got lost, but I put her in one of the counselors for advice.
Someday she'll learn that the more she does without asking permission, the more she's going to get done. It seems the things they don't like, they scream about and the rest they don't even notice.
I meant to tell you Marie told me that she only got 75 cents an hour at the place for cooking. Even we have a 38 year old Negro work male and Marie is back in the front and I just hope he can understand English. mother. So far we haven't discussed Saturday work. My freshman year. I worked a worked two, four to five hours a week and couldn't keep my grades up. So I quit.
Maybe I'll try Saturday for a while and see how time comes out, but then it's probably easier to fight it out now. This blank ink is all over me. So one of these days I may break down and clear the pen. Does that help? Since it's one o'clock and band starts at four o'clock, I should stop writing and hop downtown. I just about lost all my nerve as far as band is concerned. Anne wants to go so she won't feel so green, but she can at least play the horn.
I guess I should have practiced this summer on the glockenspiel. There wasn't any mail today, but in a few days I should start cashing in on the eight letters I wrote you last week. I even wrote Reverend Hall after six months of promises. Really, sweetheart, I must quit and get going to town and I won't be in band for sure. Be good and write to me. All my love always, Joyce.
P.S.
I was going to cry Sunday night, but Winnie was home and I don't like to cry in front of people, so I quit. I guess it's kind of silly anyway. Bye bye, I love you lots and miss you lots too.
