"It's a quiet Sunday evening -- not much different from one at home. We're sitting around the girls' apartment downstairs reading and writing letters after eating popcorn and popcorn balls. The party is waiting for a banana pie which Ruth cooked up a while ago. The pie has to cool enough for eating -- it was sort of runny at the last attempt."
--Letter from my father, Washington, D.C., to his family, Bloomington, Kans., Sunday, March 31, 1946.