during baby-sitting time. I'm surprised you didn't find a dab of jelly, a gob of sticky caramel or some other unidentifiable stain on it! The younger children especially loved to sit with me while I was knitting. And they love to touch things at their age. I ended up using a lot more yarn than it should have taken because they loved playing with it so much! Rather than them handling your burgeoning sweater, I let them play with the extra skeins I kept in my basket.
The kids have been good for me in a lot of ways. Nights are usually filled with helping Susan or Jackie (because both their husbands are SAC pilots who fly B-52s and are away more than they're home-sound familiar???). I've become Auntie Gale to the children, and I rather enjoy my status. There's something about a child's smile when it's given to you, or the touch of a child's hand that just can't be duplicated anywhere else in life. Do you like children, Kyle? I know you were an only child and never had the pleasure of sibling company. Let me know. I'm curious.
Take care. And you're right: enclosed is a huge bottle of vitamin C! You'd better be over your sniffles by the time the New Year call rolls around or you're in deep you-know-what. As always, you're in my heart and thoughts.
Your friend, Gale
December 20, 1977
Dearest Gale,
Another Christmas. Life goes on, doesn't it, whether we want it to or not? This letter will reach you down in Sedona. I'm sure Mike's folks are delighted you're there again for them. I don't see how you do it. You've got a hell of a lot more courage and internal fortitude than I would under your circumstances. Just your being there has got to lift their spirits. If you were here at Griffiss AFB, which is near Buffalo, New York, I'd give you a big hug and kiss for what you've done for them. You're one hell of a lady in my book.
Well, I'm finally settled into my new base-I have more responsibility, less flying time. I don't like that. If I wanted to fly a desk, I wouldn't have joined the Air Force.
Buffalo is-well, let's put it this way: it's not the most exciting place for a bachelor. We've already got a ton of snow. Hell of a change from my Florida base. I guess I live a life of extremes. I wear the sweater you knitted for me a lot nowadays when I'm off duty.
Until you told me, I often wondered what your favorite flower was. A daffodil. I pictured you like spring flowers, so I was close. Fall is my favorite time of year. I like the riot of color. Makes me think of some invisible painter who's gone wild with a palette of colors, slap dashing them here and there. I like the smells, too. Funny, since I've known you, you've put me more in touch with my senses. I never used to notice subtle shadings or pay attention to smells in general.
You're right: pilots are put in a little box, certain skills they possess brought out and honed to a fine degree, but everything else just sort of sits there, ignored and untended. You're a hell of a gardener, lady. I like being cultivated by you. I like seeing life through your eyes. It's made me see my world differently. Better.
Because of my transfer to Griffiss, I can't be home for Christmas with my parents. Too bad, I'd promised them I'd make it this year. I know you'll drop by and see them for me, you're that kind of lady. Don't tell my mother that I'm unhappy here. Lie. She tends to worry too much. I think she got all her gray hair while I was over at Udorn flying missions over Hanoi. I don't want to be responsible for any more gray hairs on her head. Worst of all, I can't be there while you're there. If nothing else, I could have offered you fortitude with Mike's parents and been there in case you needed a shoulder to cry on.
Hi… this is a supplement. A KC-135 tanker just slid off the end of the runway during an ice storm and I had to go help. Not much for me to do, but as one of the few officers left on base during Christmas, everyone becomes more important or integral than usual. Luckily, the crew is fine. The 135 is going to need some major structural work, but it could have been worse. Much worse.
God, it's freezing cold here compared to Florida. I think my blood's thinned too much. It's dark and gloomy here in the office. I really didn't want any lights on, I guess. It's 1600 and the dusk is coming up rapidly. I was sitting here in my new office, leaning back in my chair, my feet propped up on the desk, a warm cup of coffee in hand, and I got to thinking about you. It was a good, warm feeling, Gale.
You've taken the last few years with so much grace. You haven't faltered at work, and you've gone on without Mike. Hanging in limbo must be a special hell for you. It's got to be. And yet, you survive. The last year's worth of letters from you has explained so much to me about you, how you work, think and feel. Reading about your world has affected how I see mine. I've got the best end of the deal, I think.
Maybe I'm feeling guilty… feeling something, that's for sure… hell, I don't know
We've shared a lot of ground with one another, haven't we? That's the good thing about our friendship. I've never had a woman as a friend. (Don't comment on
Give my folks and Mike's folks a big hug for me, will you? Tell them I'll make it next Christmas or else, okay? And give yourself a big hug from me.
Warmly, Kyle
December 26, 1977
Dearest Kyle,
I'm here in the guest room at Mike's parent's home. Your last letter touched me so deeply, that I cried. Oh, I know, you didn't intend on making me do that, but I couldn't help it. Loneliness is something I know well, and so do you, in another kind of way.
More than anything, I wanted to meet you here so we could have celebrated a Christmas together. Wouldn't that have been nice? We both could have drunk a toast to Mike and been here to help support his parents. They still are suffering so badly, I just don't know what to say or do. I talk a lot with Mom about this, and I think it helps to alleviate some of her fears. This year, she really unloaded and revealed a lot more to me than last year. I think she's really beginning to trust me. After all, I was a stranger who walked in, married her son and then left town. I really like her, but she's gotten so many gray hairs worrying.
Mike's dad has internalized the whole thing. His ulcer (which he got after Mike was M.I.A.) tends to act up at this time of year, according to Mom. I spend time with him down at Oak Creek. You know how he loves to fish. I just sit there on one of those smooth red sandstone rocks and let him do the talking, if he feels like it. For the first time, he spoke about Mike. About the possibility that he was dead, not alive. It hurt to hear him feel that way.
I guess men are more pessimistic than women by nature. I hold out hope he's alive. Dad has not. But Mom has. I really wished you had been here. It got pretty emotional for me with each one of them unloading on me. They didn't mean to, but who else could they talk to? I went for a hike on Christmas Day and wished you were here. I know that I could have cried in your arms and it would have been okay. I didn't dare cry in front of Mom and Dad. They were feeling miserable enough.
Oh, Kyle, I just hope this is over soon. What's wearing me down isn't myself as much as those I love, like Mike's parents. It hurts me to see the pain they carry with them daily. With your help, I've been able to put my pain into a perspective of sorts. I don't know what I'd have done without your care and help through all these years. I'm thankful for your support. And, like you, I love where our friendship is going. It's a privilege to know the
I'd better go. I hear Mom downstairs. I woke up early and wanted to get this letter off to you today. I can hardly wait to hear from you on New Year's Eve! Your parents and Mike's can hardly wait, either. How I wish you could come home for Christmas. Any Christmas! You're dear to my heart, my best friend…
Gale
