Saturday morning for Fri night. June 1, 1945. Dearest darling: Good morning dearest. It is cold and dreary day as usual -- Same June 2. As for June 1 -- Brrrrr! It is the strangest season -- not a nibble of Spring and summer less than 3 weeks away. I got from your letters that you were properly introduced to summer already and in fact, had complaints. We poor mortals never know when we are well off, do we? I didn't write last night because I arrived home from Mom's and Pop's at 12 midnight driving home with Tippie and Minnie. Since I had had an exhausting day and felt a little off the beam (as I do occasionally during certain dates in the month), darling, I couldn't have my talk with you. But I feel a little better this morning -- and I am so glad that we are not working Saturdays for the rest of the (summer?). So without further ado -- I go back to yesterday, early in the morning. Awake at 6:30AM as I had an appointment with Dr. Rosen, Dad's Dr., to talk over plans and matters with him at 8:30AM. Arrived there just in time. Told him all I knew about Dad. He seemed to think some trouble lay in the family.