To Whom It May Concern

I’m research assistant for my campus’ librarian, and I’ve been looking through Central College’s student files from the first half of the 20th century. (Central is not my school, by the by, we just happen to have a large collection of files from various institutions). In order to find all the names and information needed for this particular project, I sometimes have to read the letters requesting transcripts because the transcripts themselves are in another file.
I came across this one transcript request sent in 1949, from Mrs. T— (nee D—), class of 1913. The letter was answered by the usual registrar lady who always replies to these requests, but I noticed there was a postscript at the bottom of this polite and courteous, if clinical, letter. The registrar typed the following:

P.S. Before I was married, I was E— M—. Do you remember me?

I found that simple, single line at the bottom of the page to be so sweet and refreshing. Day in and day out, this registrar had to reply to these letters (which are almost always addressed to her as “Dear Sir”) and ask strangers for a dollar processing fee. This one reply held to the same format as all the rest… except for that single moment of being a person, an individual, someone recognizable, hidden in a postscript.

-R— D—


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