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 35 01/18/1953 The Apology Letter
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Show Notes:
January 18th, 1953 — Joyce’s tone softens in this deeply emotional letter, one that begins with laundry, dorm fights, and small domestic details but quickly turns into something much more vulnerable. This is her apology — to Earl, to herself, and to the life she’s been trying to build.
She admits she’s been “snotty” and self-pitying the last two weeks and finally sees the root of it: loneliness. What she really wants isn’t more comfort or less work — it’s quiet time with Earl, away from the crowd, where she can laugh, speak freely, and kiss him without interruption.
In the letter, Joyce reflects on how her stepfather’s strictness stifled her joy as a girl (“he would not let us laugh out loud”), and how it still affects her. She’s funny and self-aware even in her regret — promising to “get some scratch paper and learn to write better,” and confessing that she’s tired of her own dramatics. But her honesty shines through: “I’m just not a complete person without you.”
Before bed, she sets Earl’s photo on an empty desk beside her bed and writes, “I sleep better that way.” It’s one of her most intimate and introspective letters — a portrait of a young woman learning the language of love, forgiveness, and emotional self-awareness.
Topics Include:
- Apology and emotional self-reflection
- Long-distance loneliness and intimacy
- Childhood trauma and the loss of laughter
- Dorm life and desire for privacy
- Early 1950s gender roles and emotional vulnerability
- Writing as therapy and confession
- Romantic dependence and self-awareness
January 18th, 1953, my darling. I'm real proud of me. So far, I haven't cried tonight. My laundry's done and my hair up and the kids have had a fight already. Winnie and Connie versus Ann and Sandy. They have some of the gayest times. You know, if they move to third floor and I think I'll demand the room for two and stay in it by myself.
Or even if one of the kids lived with me, I'd still have more privacy. Actually, this is a letter of apology, so I might as well get started. I really hadn't realized how snotty I have been the last two weeks until you asked me why we had been fighting so frequently. I guess I've just been feeling sorry for myself. Actually, if I were half as...
bad off this past few years as I thought I was, I probably wouldn't have survived. I've always been selfish and wanted things easy so I could have lots of fun and good times and go to concerts and plays and stuff. When I had to work to get through school and not party all the time, I was willing to do it.
but I never liked it much. And then as a little girl, I was the most fun loving kid around. But from 10 years on, my stepfather would not let us laugh out loud. And I always felt I'd really gotten a dirty deal from fate. I didn't laugh much when I got away from home for some strange reason. I guess I got out of the habit. Or else I was so busy feeling sorry for myself, I guess.
I guess the main thing that bothers me is I'm so seldom alone with you for any length of time. Home is always warmer and more comfortable, but somehow awful stifling. I don't really know why, but I'd almost rather sit in a cold car and be able to say and do what I want than be around everyone anytime I want to kiss you.
When we are alone, it's always for a few minutes and we are always in a hurry or Junior is the main reason we are alone. And I don't know why I haven't realized sooner what's been eating me. I began to suspect it Saturday night, but I guess I found out how much being alone and away from everyone but you.
really meant to me tonight when we had a few more minutes in the car than usual. I never hated to get out of the car so much in my life. I guess I'm self-centered. How can you stand me the way I act? Someday I shall get out some scratch paper and learn to write better. I think I'm a lousy writer because I write so fast.
without taking time to form the letters, right? I guess I owe you another apology for saying I'd go home for a year if we weren't married until 54. I was feeling sorry for myself again, for not being married already. I'm just not a complete person without you, somehow. But if we're not married till 54, I still wouldn't leave you. I just couldn't.
If I did go back, I'd be most miserable and nasty. Please excuse the corner torn off this sheet and the messy when. It tore off when I ripped the sheet from the tablet. It's 11.45 and by all the mistakes I'm making, I think I'm kind of tired. So my darling, I'll leave you now and take your picture to watch over me while I sleep.
We have an empty desk by my bed and I set your picture up there every night. I sleep better that way. Good night, sweetheart. All my love and thoughts are with you always. All my love, always, Joyce. P.S. my darling, I love you so very much and miss you so very much. Good night and I love you, my darling. I'm sorry I've been so snotty. All my love, always.
Joyce and then I love you so very much.
