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Wednesday 9:45 a.m.     734-13th St. S.C.
                        Washington, D.C.
                        March 4,'96

Dearest Ida,
Your card was awaiting me when I got home this afternoon.  Do you know I feel so upset when I don't hear how things are.  Sometimes I almost dread to answer the bell lest there should be painful tidings. I went to the Y.M.C.A. Fair last night, and the exercises were in charge of its Athletic Department. They were fine, but in the midst of the various gymnastic 'antics' (begging their pardon) which they indulged in for the edification of the gaping public,- I was silently wondering about and praying for "our dear boy." The last and first thought daily are for him. 
The enclosed slip I cut from yesterday's Post.  It speaks for itself.