My Dear Miss. Madson:

I've been doing some serious cleaning lately, and came across a copy of a letter my Grandfather wrote. My Grandfather died in the 60's sometime. I was really quite young so I don't remember him much, but I guess he was really quite a guy. He was 83 when he died, which means he was probably born sometime in the late 1880's. He roamed the country when he was young, was a cowboy for awhile and eventually settled down and became a farmer in central Wisconsin. He had a squaw living with him to cook for him and keep house, and eventually he met my Grandmother - who was 20 years younger - and married her. They ended up having 7 kids, one whom happens to be my father.

In the early 1900's, my Grandfather (in his early 20's), who was quite literate and able to write prose quite well, had a friend who was in love with a girl. This friend was not as literate and was totally tongue tied when it came to expressing his emotions to this girl. The friend called upon my Grandfather to write a letter to this girl for him, so she would understand his feelings for her. I have a copy of this letter with my Grandfather's hand written note on top "Joel Jacobson like Miss Madsen and wanted me to write a letter to her, for him, so I wrote one." Here is the letter. (I am writing this exactly as he has, with exact spelling and punctuation.)

My Dear Miss. Madson:
Every time I think of you, my heart flops up and down like a churn-dasher. Sensations of exquisite joy caper over it like young goats on a stable roof, and thrill through it like Spanish needles through a pair of tow linen trousers. As a gosling swimmeth with delight in a mud-puddle, so swim I in a sea of glory. Visions of ecstatic rapture thicker than the hairs of a blacking-brush, and brighter than the hues of a humming-bird's pinions, visite me in my slumbers, and born on their invisible wings, your image stands before me, and I reach out to grasp it like a pointer snapping at a blue-bottle fly.
When I first beheld your angelic perfections, I was bewildered, and my brain whirled around like a bumble-bee under a glass tumbler. My eyes stood open like a celler-door in a country town, and I lift up my ears to catch the silvery accents of your voice. My tongue refused to wag, and in silent adoration I drank in the sweet infection of love as a thirsty man swalloweth a tumbler of hot whisky punch.
Since the light of your face fell upon my life, I sometimes feel as if I could lift myself up by my boot-straps to the top fo the church steeple, and pull the bell rope for singing school.
Day and night you are in my thoughts. When Aurora, blushing like a bride, rises from her saffron-color couch;

Unfortunately that's where it stops. It is signed "Joel Jacobson" but the way it ends hints that there was more to the letter. This is all typed out on one page. Also unfortunately, no one seems to remember the rest of the story, whether Miss Madsen was impressed and allowed Mr. Jacobson to court her or not is lost to history. I just love the way it's written and the oh-so-romantic references it makes, such as the heart flopping up and down like a churn-dasher, or the thrill his heart gets, like Spanish needles through a pair of tow linen trousers. :D

Anyway, just thought I'd share..... :)

Debbie,

I love finding things like that!! I have a love letter that my Dad wrote my Mom when he was in the Navy (he was 17, she was 15). It was a side of my father I never new before. He talked about marrying her and raising a ton of kids, holding her in his arms. It's a letter that I truly cherish.

Oh Debbie, that's the most romantic thing I've ever read. Your Grandfather had quite a way with words and I would be thrilled to get a letter like that. :)

Are you sure Terry didn't write that to you??? ;) :D

That's so sweet! A real-world Cyrano de Bergerac story. :)