He occasionally offers an amusing quip, such as when he presents Jablonski with a painting and notes As a painter, I'm still a pretty good songwriter or, concerning his 85th birthday, writes Incidentally, eighty-five is no different from eighty-four, and I’m sure if I’m around at eight-six it will still be the same (Berlin died at 101!).
Included in the correspondence is a photostat of a letter from Berlin to Harold Arlen of which Berlin is obviously proud and thinks Jablonski will be amused by the note and verse:
Dear Harold: When I seriously suggested that you consider doing a one-man show with your wonderful catalogue, your answer was, "I've shot my wad." Following is the verse I wrote about it which you liked and asked me to send you a copy.
"I've Shot My Wad"
A nightingale looked up to God/ And said, "Dear God, I've shot my wad,/ No longer can I do my thing/ Dear God, no longer can I sing"/ And He replied, "Don't be a schmuck,/ No nightingale has had such luck,/ Your songs have built a golden nest/ For Stanley Adams and the rest./ They're praying for the moment when/ You get off your ass and sing again."