This is the seventy-sixth of 87 letters exchanged during World War II between Nicholas Salvatore and Elizabeth Galloway. For more see Nicholas and Elizabeth.
May 15, 1945
Arizona, but not for long
Listening to mom’s old records that have sat unopened for years. It sounds like the music of a lost generation. They lounge in their white linens, sip their wine and talk about the good old days. It makes me nostalgic for a time that’s not my own.
You’ll never believe it – I hardly do myself – but my mother found a developer interested in the property. It was my aunt’s doing – made a couple phone calls and there we are. It’s something about the rocks or the minerals here that they want to use in some new way in the manufacture of steel. It was the only bid and she was so excited she took a low offer, but I can’t blame her. This has become more than a millstone around her neck, more of a yoke. I know I’ve felt it bad but not like she has. As least not since she woke up to reality.
I don’t know when it’s supposed to happen but as of now it looks like it’ll go through and we’ll be out of here and on our way to New York City. Can you believe it?
All I can think of is being there to see you get off that ship and run into my arms. It keeps me going no matter what.
Next letter – May 22, 1945