Wouldn't It Be Something(5/21/15)
Dennis DepcikDennis Depcik  • 2015-05-21 00:00 查看:302
In her next letter, Maggie answers with such honesty and openness. She thanks me for the advice I gave her in my last letter then tells me how she feels for me at this moment. She also tells me what awards she won playing her piano. Maggie’s awards were for classical piano.
                                                                                                                                                                                               10/8/67
Dear Dennis,
I only have four pieces of writing paper left, so you may have to strain your eyes to read my writing, excuse all mistakes and, pardon my frankness, and bear with me if I must stop suddenly in the middle of an interesting topic.
Is it possible that you know me so well as to actually see my capacity to love? Sometimes I really believe that you understand me better than I. Of course I never believed that love was merely attention and security. The truth is I haven’t been giving myself to the right person. I haven’t met the guy who will accept me as I am. To my amazement I’ve also found what an important part trust has to do with love. No man has ever really put faith in me. When I speak of faith, I’m speaking of the fidelity type of faith. For some reason, I’ve been thought of as a flirtatious butterfly and I’ll never really know why. I don’t look at the guy in the next car when we all are waiting for a light to change. I don’t return winks or rub somebody else’s knee under a table. I don’t have a list of the guys I’ve dated since1961. I really don’t understand why people might think I’m a flirt! Putting two and two together, I’ve just discovered that once again the reason is that I’ve been giving myself to the wrong people! Thank you for telling me that. It’s solved so many mysteries for me.
I have a great deal of love to give and so much time to give it. This means that one of these days I’ll find someone who will accept my love and I, being young, have so much time to give it. As of now, you are the only one receiving my love. I don’t really know if you have fully accepted it. If in time you should refuse it completely, my love for you will probably turn into a friendship. I doubt if I could ever dislike you. If you should accept it, I’m positive that I will always love you, that is, if I receive love in return.
I definitely am eager to give my love to one person. No one else will have it until you refuse it. This may all sound so ridiculous to you, but it is what I feel and therefore very sincere.
Answer time about the award I won for my piano playing:
I was entered in piano competition for district members in 1963 and was the winner of that district. In 1964, I qualifiedf for Illinois State Competition. This meant more pieces and more competition. I was awarded first place in this competition. In 1965, I entered State competition again and won again. In 1966, I gave up all contests and enjoyed my senior year of high school. I think it stupid to compete at the piano. My piano is my emotional outlet, not my medal winner or my means of earning a living. My piano is now my friend and only becomes an enemy when I must use it as a tool for success.
I have so much more to say, but rather than stop in the middle of an interesting topic, I shall stop now and wait until I can find some writing paper (Besides I’ve got spaghetti boiling on the stove and my dad, home for Sunday dinner, is very hungry.
Love,
Maggathie
P.S. have I ever told you how very much you and your letters mean to me?
I write a short letter to Maggie just to feel near her. In it, I tell her about an oil painting I bought and begin making some plans in hopes of my coming home for Christmas. It\'s a pretty boring letter.
                                                                                                                                                                             Around 10/15/67
My Dear Miss Maggathie:
It is a somewhat lazy Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining through an overcast sky. I’m not doing much of anything today, simply sitting in my apartment recording some jazz albums. Had plans of spending the weekend in Luxemburg, but a little problem at work spoiled that. We thought we lost  a piece of classified material. A mild panic went through the station. After two days of checking and rechecking, it was discovered that a clerical error was the cause of the problem and the material was never lost.. We were all relieved, but I guess we better get ready for a lecture from the Major.
I went over to Walt and Betty’s house yesterday to play some cards (Walt’s a friend of mine from work and Bettyis his wife). Two Dutch painters stopped by to show some of their works. I’ve been looking for an oil painting since I’ve been inEurope, so I bought one. I guess I could try to explain it. It’s a scene of a lonely beach at sunset. The tide has just gone out as can be seen by the wet sand. In the center of the picture stands a man, ankle deep in water, slightly bent at the waste, patiently fishing for clams with his pole net. To his left patiently waits his horse with an old wagon tied at his rear. The sun is setting and is completely hidden behind the clouds on the horizon. A glow can be seen over the clouds and knifes its way across the water. It shines in the puddles of water still on the sand and makes a mirror of them which shows the images of the horse and wagon and the fisherman. Three seagulls are  flying overhead and are surrounded by the soft glow of the fading sun upon their wings.
Miss Maggathie, do you ice skate? I don’t remember whether or not you do. If so, and if we have time, and if it’s cold enough for there to be ice when and if I come home for Christmas – how would you like to go ice skating? God, with all those “ifs,” I guess that was a loaded question. If just one “if” goes the wrong way, the whole question will have been useless.
I’m very sorry, Miss Maggathie, there’s so much more I wanted to say. It is now 11:45 PM and I haven’t been able to write a word since 7:30. A half-drunk fellow officer stopped by my apartment and took up all my time until now. I’ll write again as soon as time allows.
Affectionately,
Dennis
 
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