DIY History | Transcribe | World War II Diaries and Letters | Laura Davis letters to her husband Lloyd Davis, November-December 1942 | 1942-12-11 Laura Davis to Lloyd Davis Page 3

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Laura Davis letters to her husband Lloyd Davis, November-December 1942

1942-12-11 Laura Davis to Lloyd Davis Page 3

take a drink. I suppose instead I should have been glad you weren't a drinker and I know you've never taken enough to mention since you kept me company. But sometimes when I'm alone my mind goes back to those old smashed feelings of mine and I just wonder if I'll always feel bad and speculate about whether at any given circumstance you will drink for politeness and whether it will hurt as much (or more) as it always had. At Steeles dinner when Mother was there you smacked your lips and your eyes were appreciative as you said how good the wine. When you came home from moving the chicken house you smelled like sour apples, were all restless and finally got up and read after you had already done a day and a half's of work in one day. It was no good that night to share a bed with you. When you thought I was too particular at the bowling alley you were right in that I should have kept a very cheerful public face. But I've had my feelings hurt by the matter of a drink, out of absolutely all proportion to the seriousness I know, more than I think you've realized. When Ardy and I brought over nuts we gathered you said you'd been to Rays and had had Rock & Rye. Whatever it was you smelled of it and my pride in you was so

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take a drink. I suppose instead I should have been glad you weren't a drinker and I know you've never taken enough to mention since you kept me company. But sometimes when I'm alone my mind goes back to those old smashed feelings of mine and I just wonder if I'll always feel bad and speculate about whether at any given circumstance you will drink for politeness and whether it will hurt as much (or more) as it always had. At Steeles dinner when Mother was there you smacked your lips and your eyes were appreciative as you said how good the wine. When you came home from moving the chicken house you smelled like sour apples, were all restless and finally got up and read after you had already done a day and a half's of work in one day. It was no good that night to share a bed with you. When you thought I was too particular at the bowling alley you were right in that I should have kept a very cheerful public face. But I've had my feelings hurt by the matter of a drink, out of absolutely all proportion to the seriousness I know, more than I think you've realized. When Ardy and I brought over nuts we gathered you said you'd been to Rays and had had Rock & Rye. Whatever it was you smelled of it and my pride in you was so