August 4, 1994

My Dearest Ken; Friday Evening

I should be shot for addressing such a messy letter to you; I am really sorry, and would have destroyed this sheet had I not already stamped the outside! I promise not to let it happen again. As you have observed, I started to write longhand [ordinary/proper writing] but decided that my hand was too tired. I have worked like a dog today—demonstrated making a lemon juice formula, and giving a cute little colored newborn baby a bath (Sutter Street), and after I finished oiling him he shined beautifully! Colored babies are always so cunning anyway. The infant’s mother had purchased lifebuoy soap because she heard it was good for “B.O” ; Well, that is life in my district to date!

Sweetheart, I wish I could give a personal gift for your birthday; one that would be really lasting, but in our present situation it will be impossible; the gift I’m thinking of present can’t possibly be mailed, it’s too delicate and fragile, and besides all that it has an incubation period of a considerable length of time! But you know that even though we’re far apart, I think of you all the time and keep living by the day until I can hear your voice telling me to meet you somewhere, sometime, at someplace. Perhaps it won’t be another two years either.

This semester I am so busy that I have little time to think, let alone worry about anything. Had a nice letter from Dave today and it seems that he needs a real slick potato peeler like mine—remember it? Bought it in Oakland

Happy Birthday again,

With all my love, BL