May 28, 1968
[West Barnstable, MA]
I ask a favor for your mother's sake: please look awfully nice at your graduation. She is a dear, romantic girl, and I want her to be as happy as she can possibly be at the graduation of her only son.
I am talking about hair, of course. The beard is fine, and characteristic and, hence, beloved by one and all. What I am suggesting is that the hair on top of your head be styled somewhat—that you look like nobody else on this earth, perhaps, but, in a movie star way, look handsome as hell all the same. So she'll nearly swoon. You have achieved this before. You can achieve it again.
Edith promises to be home in time for your graduation. Promises, promises.