Letter from Etta Rice


Dearest Dave,

How dare thee say I have not written thee, why I wrote the biggest, fattest, longest letter the other day to you — but I forgot to mail — it.

Last night a bunch of we kids went on a green apple excursion and oh la: you know the feeling after eating 9 big green ‘uns — or do you? well naturally my stomach felt so full I couldn’t sleep – when I got home, so I persuaded Myrtle to climb out on the roof with me. I thought we looked terrible much like escaped idiots sitting on the peak of the roof, as no doubt you can imagine. But since it was so hard sticking up there and pretty moonlight too so we decided to get down so we slid down to the porch top. I wish you could have seen the seat of my pajamas this morning, they had taken on a blackened hue — and Myrtle tore a big hunk out of her gown. It was a delightful epoch — to be sure.

Did you ever see the picture “Kiss Me Again”. Florence, Myrtle and I went the other night to it — it was so silly, the name is terribly deceiving.

It won’t be so very long before Myrtle is leaving now and so we want you to come down and visit us — we probably won’t have as much fun as we had down to your house — but I won’t forget you and introduce you to some of the college boys. So we’ll have a pretty peachy time anyway. Maybe we’ll have a bunker party — there fun I think, don’t you.

I got a hair cut last evening and well, you should see me now — I suspect the “bober” of thinking I was a poor little girl and didn’t get a hold of .30c every day — so he gave me a short one. So I’m wearing my hair straight today.

Hark ye! I hear a melodious tinkle me thinks it is the 4 o’clock bell — so must close —

Bushels of Love

Etta “disha” Rice