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 Tracy A. Sugarman to his wife, postmarked August 10, 1944

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letter from his big brother which was pretty impersonal. "Just like a business letter, he said. That's not my brother." I tried to snap him out of it - but I'm pretty sure I can't help him much. All of a sudden Schmitty is realizing how alone he really is - and he's growing up. And he's disturbed and scared. "You know what I'm afraid of? I'm afraid I'm going to go home." My heart went out to the kid - but what can you do? I remember so clearly last year - at just this time, too, honey. All of a sudden I felt alone - and for the first time in my life. Do you remember my writing you of the nights I'd bounce out of bed, and smoke, and walk, and throw myself back in bed? Sometimes I'd write you - and the realization of my own oneness shook me from head to toe. So I think I can know what's happening to Schmitt. Its [sic] that tragic moment when you know you've got to discard a whole phase of your living - and stand alone. And you're disturbed, and uncertain, and very unhappy - because it was good - and you knew it was good - and you don't want to leave it But the tragedy is that you ^do know it - and you know too that you must leave it. What pain there is in growing up, darling. Its funny that we accept ^authors like^ Booth Tarkington and plays like "Ah Wilderness" to pay their sorry tribute to adolescence. How terribly unfunny it all really is. But why have I

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 Tracy A. Sugarman to his wife, postmarked August 10, 1944

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  October 26, 2011
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