Judy

I found Judy L.!
Here's how: Among the letters Pat kept were not only ones from Judy, but one from her mother, whose name was Edna.  She wrote on her husband's stationary, inscribed "Otto L."  I put that name in Google and got his 2001 obituary, which listed "Judith L. K." as a survivor.  Bingo.
Using "White Pages," I easily found Judith in Pennsylvania and discovered that she's married to an orthopedic surgeon. What's more, he had been at Hahnemann, which is where Judy got her R.N.  Presumably, he still practices, as he's listed on the staff of a hospital in Bethlehem, PA; there's even a picture of him on the hospital site.
I had sent a private message via Facebook to a Michael L. (same as her maiden name) and received an e-mail from him, saying his parents were not aware of any Judy among their relatives. However, he was very cordial and asked to let him know if I was successful in my search.
And that was almost it for the day, aside from a quick excursion to B.J.'s.  I spent it in the fifties, reading and reading the letters my husband had saved.  It's a melancholy task, but also satisfying and kind of sweetly sad.  What ever happened to those young people so strong, so careless of life, so full of exuberance, so sure the future was theirs?  Most of the guys--virtually all of my husband's friends, in fact--enlisted in the military to avoid being drafted into the infantry.  A few of the girls went to college, but many didn't because what was the point?  Their goals tended to be housewifery and motherhood and why would you need higher education for that? I was brought up with that idea myself, and unfortunately bought into it.  One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I didn't get my bachelor's degree until I was 54 years old.