P.S. I Love You

That's the title of a song written by Johnny Mercer and Gordon Jenkins, and I was surprised to learn it was written in 1934, because I always thought it was a WWII song. It's one of those songs that's been recorded by everybody and their mother, but I listen to the version that Bette Midler sings to the troops during WWII in the movie For the Boys. If you like Bette even a little bit (and don't tell me if you love her less than bunches or I'll be upset), watch the movie. She's a small-time radio performer who gets a USO gig traveling with a Bob Hope-type character and she devotes her entire life to performing for the troops.

Today concludes my first, albeit incomplete, week of being the wife of a deployed soldier. He's actually been in Lafayette all week and today is the first day this week I didn't lay eyes on him. He arrived at Camp Shelby, MS for two months of training today. I can't even say with any authority or experience how much this sucks, because I know that it hasn't really started sucking yet. I've done my fair share of crying this week, out of anticipation for how sad and lonely the year 2010 is going to be, and how, despite everyone reassuring me that the year will fly by, it probably won't. But I do thank God that I love someone enough to be so heartbroken by their absence, and I think the grief and fear right now is a good sign that Corey and I have a life filled with love ahead of us.

I've been thinking about the pop culture romanticism of war-time relationships, which is why I started this post talking about Bette Midler and For the Boys. I don't think any period of war is romanticized in movies, television and music more than WWII. Way, way back in the day when people wrote actually handwritten letters to each other and women were really in love with red lipstick. Charlene Stillfield ("Designing Women") used to dream in WWII storylines when her husband Bill was deployed during the Gulf War. I think "Beverly Hills, 90210" managed to work a WWII romance into their David and Donna story arc. Pearl Harbor is fresh in my mind, only because Encore! has been running it every few days.

If romance exists in a situation where a wife spends 400 days without her husband while he's deployed to a war-torn country, I'm ready for it. I'm skeptical that it exists, but here's hoping. I hope there is something romantic about being terrified of being alone, of being widowed and of not being able to put your family back together when he comes home. I imagine myself in print dresses with pin-curled hair, red lipstick and red fingernails, small handbags that match my shoes and maybe a little hat, writing letters on pink stationery sealed with kisses and spritzed with perfume. And of course, my letters will sound like Johnny Mercer and Gordon Jenkins wrote them.

If you absolutely do not have the time or the inclination to get the movie, and no you can't borrow mine, you can watch her sing the damn song:


Or read the lyrics:

Dear, I thought I'd drop a line,
the weather's cool,
the folks are fine,I
'm in bed each night at nine,
P. S. I love you.
Yesterday we had some rain,
but all in all, I can't complain,
Was it dusty on the train?
P. S. I love you.
Write to the Browns just as soon as you're able,
They came around to call,
I burned a hole in the dining room table,
And let me see,
I guess that's all.
Nothing else for me to say,
and so I'll close but by the way,
Everybody's thinking of you,
P. S. I love you.
I do my best to obey all your wishes,
I put a sign up "Think"
But I gotta buy us a new set of dishes, o
r wash the ones that are piled in the sink.
Nothing else to tell you dear,
except each day seems like a year,
Every night I'm dreaming of you,
P. S. I love you.