47 Glencairn Ave.
March 30, 1959
We were so glad to hear your mellifluous and honey-tongued voice over the telephone Friday night and to know that you were ensconced in the Plaza.
Last night we hastily looked at the T.V. hoping that you and Connie might be in the audience listening to Bernstein on Bach and Mozart. The camera brought the audience momentarily in focus and I fancied I saw you and called out to your mother 'Look, quick! I think I see her ostrich feather,' 'but no, she wouldn't be wearing that.'
Things are moving along in the same way with the following items emphasized:
Another heavy fall of snow on Saturday drat the white blanket I say twice as thick as your comforter.
A robin chirped this morning your mother heard it, I didn't.
I got up at 8:45 expecting mail which did not come.
I put on Don Giovanni last night.
Vi read passages from the Mozart handbook.
I am now re-calculating the tax return and each time there's a dime or more owed to me.
I hope to have it complete by the time you come back.
Blessings on you and Con and much love.
From long-suffering and patient Dad.