Deborah

Oh, yeah.

So let's, why don't we just start off by reading the first letter.

Here goes.

Dear Deb, Finding myself with a few spare moments

Jerry's first letters are from the spring of 1940, nearly four years before he enlisted.

My mother advised me that she doesn't mind my staying in your house till all hours of the night.

She likes you quite a bit, which practically makes it unanimous.

Deborah and Jerry had been friends since their elementary school days in Brooklyn, but their friendship was beginning to blossom into something more.

What were you guys doing until all hours of the night?

Talking.

As passionate as it was, it was never consummated, which is my regret.

It is a regret.

Oh, intensely so.

Deborah says she was waiting for marriage.

But we would have had a hot time together.

I forgot that I'm being recorded.

Jerry lived over an hour away by subway, and before texting, emails, and the prevalence of phone calls, weekend rendezvous were planned out over letters.

Jerry's writing is clever.

In one missive, he invites Debra out to a show for New Year's Eve.

When she doesn't give him a straight answer, he sends a follow-up.