ONEChildhood and College
1935–1943
ONEALTHOUGH HECHT WAS LATER TO DESCRIBE HIS CHILDHOOD AS unhappy, the letters written to his parents during the five summers he spent at Camp Kennebec in Maine, from 1935 to 1939, offer an altogether sunnier picture. For the most part, they are filled with good-spirited fun. The young Hecht clearly enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow campers, some of whom he knew from home, and the occasional pranks they pulled on one another, the physical stand-offs, tussles, and small triumphs that formed part of the socialization into the lightly masculine culture of camp life. He liked to include visual testimony of his activities: a paper bull’s eye target used in shooting practice, for instance, carrying his score. He also created sample charts to show his daily schedule, passed along jokes he had heard, especially to his father, drew a box representing a special space he had kissed, and asked for a paw print of their pet dog Peppy. Very little figures into these letters that might reflect the family problems recounted in his powerfully autobiographical poem “Apprehensions,” published some forty years later in Millions of Strange Shadows (1977).
Much of the charm of these letters is their simple emotional availability, a frankness made more graphically immediate by the boldly penciled handwriting, in concert with the quickly maturing persona. “Love from your best pal,” he concludes one letter to his father in 1936. He begins another the next summer addressed to both parents: “I am terribly sorry I didn’t write to you this past week. I had no idea you were going away and was very much surprised and slightly frightened when I received your letter from Rhode Island. I thought perhaps someone was sick.” In another, from 1938, he comments: “since you gave me an idea of what you do everyday, Dad, I’ll give you about the same thing except I don’t know the time as everything goes by bells.” Then appears a vertical-spaced list of the day’s events, including the ritual “daily trip to the House of Lords.”
Childhood, children, auguries of innocence shadowed by a world of experience are huge themes in Hecht’s poetry. Many years later, in response to a question by Norman Williams, Hecht spoke about his camp years in relation to his sestina, “The Book of Yolek.” “As for whether I ever actually camped out as in the opening stanza of ‘Yolek,’ the truth is that as a very young boy I was sent to a summer camp, where they did all those things: fishing, canoeing, hiking, etc. It affected me much as you suspect it may have affected your son, and turned me into a confirmed reader.” Hecht’s remark, with its concluding whiff of humor, points to how his experience at summer camp occasionally served as a potential resource for a number of his poems: not only “Yolek,” but “Third Avenue in Sunlight,” with its description of strange tribal behavior, or the elegant athleticism recorded in “Swan Dive,” to say nothing about the general sifting and redirection of these innocent pastimes—the ceremonies and rituals—as filtered through World War II experiences. In part because these letters form a striking contrast to Hecht’s later, more meditative person, the person who became “a confirmed reader,” but also because they intimate important connections to that same person and his poetry—the camp yearbook for 1935 identifies him as the “quiet but witty boy of the cabin,” more drawn to the cultural than athletic side of camp, and in 1939 it lists him receiving the award for “best actor”—I have included here a small selection of the fifty-five surviving letters written from camp.
Camp Kennebec was founded in 1907 as an all-boys camp. It is still in business today but as a golf and tennis academy and is located in North Belgrade, about seventy-five miles north of Portland, Maine. In the 1930s, it was reached by an overnight train ride from New York City. “Mike and Meyer” were the characters played by the turn-of-the-twentieth-century comic team Lew Fields and Joe Weber, popular in Hecht’s parents’ lifetime and based on immigrant stereotypes. “Trapped” was probably based on the film version of the 1931 crime drama. “Uncles” refers to camp counselors. “Ted” referred to in the letter of July 17, 1938, is Ted Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, a family friend, who will reappear in the army letters, and was perhaps a source of inspiration for Hecht’s early interest in light verse.
1935
Dear Mom,
I am sorry I made that mistake about the socks. Mike and Meyer went over with a bang and Alan acted as Mike. I am learning to swim and as I am a freshman the boys are pouncing on me. I wanted to tell you that it has been raining here for two days and it is necessary to wear boots. I am very sorry I have to ask for these things and I don’t care if you don’t want to send them but all the other boys are using them. We have an art teacher with hair on his chest. To night all the new uncles are giving a show. We made such a hit with Mike and Meyer that I am in the dramatic club. […]
Love
Tony
Dear Mom
I am having a swell time up at camp. The other night we had grand council. We were dressed with blankets and walked slowly down to the council ring. Mr. Fleisher dressed as an Indian Chief was beating a drum. Uncle Mac who was medicine man blew the pipe of peace and the chieftains of each tribe were chosen, and then we were awarded feathers and wrestled for championship. Yesterday morning Schwabacher and [I] were fishing with my line because his busted and after catching some fish Schwaby caught a large white perch. He was pulling it in when we saw a pickerel over two feet long. He put it back and the pickerel half swallowed it but the line broke.
Love
Tony
Dear Mom,
I just received the uke and I have been playing and learning new songs on it. Fishing is great and I’ve caught very many fish. I am in three plays. Trapped; The Mello Drama and another. This is all because of the big success with Mike and Meyer. All the boys brought gum and our cabin has a spook house that boys pay gum to go in. In nature we have studied trees. We have a ousyla [pig Latin for lousy?] uncle.
Love
Tony
P.S. Tell Dad to write his letters to Roger because I don’t go over there [Camp Androscoggin].
Dear Mom,
Today I got a postcard from Grandpa and I got a French stamp from Dad. Sunday afternoon we had a swimming meet and I almost made twenty-five yards. Uncle Ski and Dusty did some funny dive.
Sometimes Schwabacher and I go out and catch frogs. This afternoon we are going fishing. I was in a play last night and tonight I will play the uke in lodge. Dicky and Buddy and I want to thank you very much for the gum. The shoes have not arrived yet.
Love
Tony
Dear Mom:
I am out of the infirmary and feeling fine again. The other day, we had a corn roast and Mrs. Fleisher sent me to bed as soon as I came out. The last few days are pretty busy, packing, Grand Councils, etc. I hope you were not worried when Mr. Fleisher wrote to you that I was sick. We won the base ball game from Senior and also won the war canoe race from Senior. I’ll be seeing you very soon and so till we see each again
Love
Tony Hecht
1936
July 2, 1936
Dear Dad,
I had a swell trip up here. I didn’t sleep all night but I had a swell time. Cohen woke up Deutch with a cold glass of water about 2 hours before we got to camp and said he had 10 minutes to get dressed. When we got up to camp we had breakfast, made our beds and unpacked our trunks. I am very glad I changed cabins. I like this one much better. I have a Big Brother. He is one of the older boys who helps me. He explains things to me and helps me. I make his bed for him every morning at 20¢ per week. One Big Brother has two Little Brothers who he helps. The Little Brothers are always freshmen. Dicky Cohen and I have a swell Big Brother and also a swell uncle. I think I will like Senior just as much as Junior if not more. I got your letter and Mom’s too. I hope she has a pleasant time and a good trip. I hope your business is coming along okay. I also think your typewriting is TERRIBLE. I like living in a tent. It’s fun.
Love to you and Mom,
Tony
July 5, 1936
Dear Dad:
Freshman night went over swell. I did Mike and Meyer again with Shwabacher. It rained on the Fourth but we had a swell time. I am getting along this year so much better than last it isn’t funny. My baseball has improved a lot. The older boys are swell to me and Cohen and Klingenstein never bother me. I can’t exaggerate on what a good time I am having. On the Fourth it cleared for a few hours and we had races. It was lots of fun. I miss you so much it hurts. Ouch!! I hope you had a good trip. Let me know when you’re coming up.
Dear Dad
At first I thought you didn’t get my letters but when you asked me about my Big Brother in your last letter I knew you did. He is Robert Graham. I am getting along in swimming so nicely you would be very glad. By the end of the summer I expect to be able to go out in a row-boat by myself.
A Big Surprise! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Hecht Recovers From Habit [drawing of finger and mouth]
I have been so excited I never think about this [arrow pointing to the drawing.] Nobody teased me but I am so busy doing things I forget all about it. There is nothing but good news for me to tell you. I rate very high in our baseball team. More good news. I had a fight with Klingenstein and I didn’t win but was far from lost. I can beat up Cohen and both of them are beginning to respect me.
All the love I have to you, Mom and Roger,
Tony
Sunday, July 11, 1936
Dear Dad:
I just got my first air mail letter across the country from Mom. How about the canteen? It’s not necessary but very useful. […] I need pencils though to write my letters. I learned how to dive the other day and I am starting tennis. Every Tuesday we have talking movies. There’s not much to say except that I’m having the time of my life and you’re crazier than I am.
Love
Tony
Sunday, July 26, 1936
Dear Dad:
Every year there is a big fight between the camps and the first section. On Friday we had this fight and it was swell fun. All the campers wore white jerseys and the first section was supposed to rip them off. I borrowed one and lost it in the fight. The winning team in Dream Baseball game got a treat and I was official Duster of the catcher’s mask so I got the treat too. It was lobster and I liked it very much. That night we had boxing and I fought Cohen and beat him even though I had a bad finger. I am having as good a time as ever and love you more than you love me.
Love
Tony
1937
Dear Mom and Dad:
I just received the letter you wrote on the 5th saying you hadn’t received my first letter yet. This is my third and I can’t explain the disappearance of the others. Swimming and tennis are coming along fine. The tennis teacher told me I would make a very good player. Last night there was a memorial service for Mr. Foxx. I don’t think they should have done that because Charlie Foxx, his son, was in camp. The water is nice and warm up here and the fishing is pretty good. We will probably have movies tonight. […] I am having a swell time. Tell Paula she’s a nut.
Love
Tony
July 11, 1937
Dear Mom and Dad:
This year, a little later on, when visitors are allowed to come, the camp will present “H.M.S Pinafore,” in which I will play the role of “Buttercup.” I would probably have played Sir Joseph Porter except I am one of the few boys in camp that can still sing soprano. I’ll let you know when it is to be given so you will know when to come up. This afternoon while Tishman was visiting the doctor the rest of the section hid his trunk in the bushes with his shoes and all his clothes. Then we took his bed out of the tent into a rowboat and left it on a raft in the middle of the lake and “pied” it. Dad ought to know what a “pie bed” is. Tishman quickly followed in another boat. Then came a fight between Tishman and us. We took his oars away. Then Tishman jumped in our boat and we rowed back then. Mr. Friedman and Mr. Fleisher walked past the dock and saw the result of our noble deed. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me so if you don’t get another letter from me, you’ll know I’m dead. […]
Lots of Love,
Tony
[n.d., 1937?]
Dear Mom and Dad,
Being that I can’t go on my trip Mr. Friedman is trying to make it as pleasant for me as he possibly can. We went out to shore once for a shore dinner. I had clam chowder, stewed clams, clam fritters, and boiled lobster, and pie a la mode for lunch. For supper that day I had fried chicken and ice cream. We have had the best food that anybody has had all season. I have had a pretty good time lately though I have had to stay in bed the last few days and read a Sherlock Holmes book. I got the cake long ago but forgot to write about it. It was swell, thanks a lot. I don’t think Mr. Friedman wants me to have another though so you had better not send it.
The weather has been pretty good so far. Usually cool but sunny. Today it looks like rain. After being in bed for so long it is necessary for me to use a cane when I walk about. Mrs. Wiener and Mrs. Rothchild, Tommy Wiener’s and Eddie Rothchild’s mothers respectively, came up to camp to take Tommy home because he was sick. They brought him a basket of fruit and when he said he didn’t want it, they gave it to me. Mrs. Friedman came over to visit me twice and brought me some ice cream. Dicky will be back from his long canoe trip on Sunday. I feel pretty good. I have a sore throat and a cold. Hope to be with you all soon.
Love
Tony
Sat. July 3, 1938
Dear Gang:
I had more fun than ever going up on the train this year. Had a real bath. Had another one when we got here ’cause it started raining. Things have been happening so fast I can’t keep track of them. I was elected to the camp council and appointed dramatic commissioner. I’ve made out my program and will send it to you as soon as possible. I’m taking swimming, shooting, tennis, mechanics, wrestling, photography, etc. Our uncle isn’t here yet so we have another. […] In case Mom is interested we had steak for lunch today, but don’t you write me what you had.
Freshman night was a success. There was a general slaughter and all the freshmen have to wear their pants inside out and backwards for three days.
I’ve been doing so much these past few days and am going to do so much more I don’t know when I’ll have time to write to you. I’ve been practicing for the play, which is to be given tonight and I think I’ll be in another Gilbert and Sullivan, although I don’t know which. They have a swell victrola up in the lodge with both popular and classical recordings and they have a set of about 12 records with music and songs from the “Mikado,” besides having the “Nutcracker Suite,” “Sheherazade,” “Lohengrin,” “Tannhauser,” and millions of others.
Will you please send up a pair of rubbers, a good mystery book and some gum. Tell Paula she’s a nut.
Love and kisses,
Tony
July 7, 1938
Dear Mob,
Got all your letters. Thanks! It has rained a little almost every day but today it was swell and I went in swimming for the first time. Last night we had a pretty rotten movie, but either next week or the week after, we get “Showboat.”
By the way, the play was swell and I’m going to be in another one soon.
I had so much to tell you in my first letter I couldn’t tell you what happened on the train. I got to my car with malice aforethought, put away my bags and filled my water pistol. Deutch, Bacharach and Cohen (the Irishman) had a compartment all to themselves. So we attacked and were repulsed and then were attacked again. During the course of the evening, Tishman’s pants and bed were mysteriously drenched with water. How this came about I have no idea. While this attacking and repulsing was going on, a couple of uncles came along trying to get the addresses of the “old folks at home” so they could send a telegram, which you should have received, reporting my safe arrival. They knocked on the door of the compartment and when it was opened, they were immediately greeted by a glass of cold water. I remained reasonably dry that night although after we arrived in camp it rained quite a bit and I got soaked right through. The Fourth was quite a success with everything being run off except a baseball game with Junior and that was postponed because someone had a case of mumps. I haven’t taken any pictures yet because I haven’t any film. Please send up six or seven films. Get “Panchromatic” no. 127. How is Peppy? Has he caught any more birds? Tell Paula she’s a nut.
Love,
Tony
Sunday, July 17, 1938
Dear People,
Am I having fun? We won an Indoor game yesterday and I masterfully filled the position of second base and also bringing my batting average up to above 500.
I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to go fishing but once and I didn’t catch anything then. I am going to try out for a play this evening or tomorrow which will be given next Saturday.
One of our uncles had a pair of red silk pajamas. And when I say red, I mean it. It occurred to me the other day how nice those pajamas would look at the top of the flagpole. So a bunch of us hoisted them up in the evening after the flag was down. However, a couple of waiters who found out whose pajamas they were, took them down and threw them in the lake. Well, we managed to get out of it.
I have been taking plenty of pictures and will need some more film soon.
Mom, motors is a period in which we learn how outboard motors work and run and are allowed to take out a motorboat.
How is Ted’s book coming? Can Mom ride a bike or drive yet? How are Mary, Paula, and Bully?
Come up soon.
Love,
Tony
Private: To Dad
Dear Dad –
Story –
Two men were going to a masquerade ball as a cow, one to be the front, the other back. They were walking across a field when suddenly a real bull started chasing them. The back man said “Can you run?”
Front man: “I’ll be fucked if I can”
Back man: “Well, you’ll be fucked if you can’t”
End –
Tony
Only eleven letters survive from Hecht’s time as an undergraduate at Bard College. The relative dearth can be attributed to several factors. Hecht’s time at Bard was foreshortened because of the war. Faced with being drafted, Hecht enlisted in the Reserve Corps of the Army on November 21, 1942, and began basic training by late spring 1943. He would receive his B.A. from Bard in absentia as a consequence of having qualified for the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP), which involved twenty-six weeks of study at Carleton College, in Northfield, Minnesota, beginning in the fall of 1943. Hecht also found life at Bard challenging and full of intellectual and artistic discovery. Most letters come bearing an apology of one kind or another, the prose more often dutiful than spontaneous, mannered in its casual address, especially when compared to the camp letters, with their lively reports of daily activities. At this point in Hecht’s life, home was clearly less interesting than college. And, of course, it was a simple thing to communicate by telephone.
Still, a picture of Hecht emerges as a serious student eager to participate in the school’s extracurricular activities, including writing for the Bardian, the school’s literary magazine, where he began publishing poems. Thought enters into these letters, along with self-analysis, admissions of insecurity, and a corresponding affirmation of self-worth—attitudes hardly unusual for a seventeen-year-old entering college but in Hecht’s case more pointed for his having been, with the exception of geometry, an indifferent student in high school. In his first week at Bard, he was required to read the first volume of Oswald Spengler’s Decline and Fall of the West for his “Problems in Philosophy” course. He would also take courses in contemporary poetry as well as in Shakespeare in this first semester, and, as his induction into the army approached, he took classes in math and physics in light of the qualifying exams for ASTP. But as the letters reveal, it was the variety of courses in the liberal and performing arts, as well as the school’s emphasis on individual instruction, that distinguished the curriculum at Bard from that of its parent institution Columbia University and that left an important mark on his future thinking and writing, often moving, as it does, among the various arts and even occasionally the sciences. Indeed, evidence of the latter can be glimpsed in one of his last poems, “Aubade,” with its rich pun on “Galilean laws.”
Hecht clearly responded to the stimulation and encouragement he found on this small campus of around two hundred students, and he would later characterize his years at Bard as among his happiest. His attachment would grow to include as well two stints on the faculty, from 1952 to 1954 and again from 1961 to 1967, during which he would forge a number of valuable literary and academic friendships. Many of his classmates, however, were killed in the war. There were a few notable exceptions. Danny Ranso-hoff (1922–1993), mentioned in the first letter from Bard (and occasionally later), would become a significant contributor to the Cincinnati community and the University of Cincinnati. (A letter from Allen Tate to Hecht, dated July 8, 1960, speaks of Ransohoff recommending Hecht to give the Elliston Lectures at the University of Cincinnati.) Another classmate, Al Sapinsley, became a screenplay writer in Hollywood, and the two struck up a correspondence in the late 1990s. (See Hecht’s letter of December 11, 1998.)
1940
Tuesday, September 10,
1940 Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
[To his parents]
Dear Folks—
I guess it’s about time I took my pen in hand and wrote you a long delayed description of the life at Bard. Perhaps it is just as well that I didn’t write any sooner because the first week was all rather confusing and puzzling to me. That first week was also quite an overwhelming emotional experience. I was extremely happy and very depressed within the same hour.
At first I felt quite self-conscious; I thought everyone was laughing at me behind my back. However, I found consolation in the splendid impressions I made on several of my teachers.
Right now I am very happy I have overcome all the fears of my first week. I have picked the courses I enjoy the most and which I can do best. I think that it is best for me to do this in my freshman year so as to establish myself in my own eyes and also in the eyes of my teachers.
As I told you before on the telephone, I am taking Art, Music, English and Drama.
Mr. Grossi was very much impressed by the drawing I showed him and consequently I am majoring in Art.
I wanted to take a course called the Art of Writing, with Mr. Harris, as my English course, but it isn’t open to Freshmen. I was told by Mr. Harris to take the regular Freshman course, English 1–2 with Dr. Genzmer. So I went to Dr. Genzmer and told him what Mr. Harris had said and I showed him some of the stuff I had written. He liked the “Cardinal’s False Teeth” very much, and said that if I didn’t like the regular 1–2 course, after about 2 weeks, I could take a tutorial course with him, in writing.
The class I had today was Music. I think I will enjoy it very much. Besides the regular class in music I will be taking piano, voice, and Glee Club (I am practically Librarian of the Glee Club already).
The class was very enjoyable and very informal. There were eight of us including the teacher. It lasted for two hours with an intermission for walking around, stretching and general relaxation. I was asked to play the piano, so I gave out with a Bach Double Piano Concerto in C Major (last movement) which was very well received.
There seem to be very few really intelligent boys that I have met so far. Danny Ransohoff is the nicest and smartest although he and I differ greatly on several things. I have asked him to come to the city with me when I come in, since he lives way out in Cincinnati.
I told you on the phone that I bought one fifth of a car. I’m not sure you could exactly call it a car. It does, I admit, have the earmarks of a car (four wheels, motor, [I hope] etc.) but it must have been made in a time of deep despondency in the Ford family; at a time when Henry just didn’t give a damn. Perhaps I’m exaggerating slightly! The car will take us where we want to go and back again which is all you can ask for seventeen dollars.
An amazing number of boys up here own cars. (Please don’t consider this a hint because I don’t want a car.) There is even one boy up here who owns a Rolls Royce. I have heard some weird tales about driving around Redhook [New York] at two o’clock in the morning, about inebriated professors and married students. You may be sure that I saturate each one of these stories thoroughly in a salt solution before digesting them.
You may want to know that I have not afforded myself of the opportunity of going to town every night. As a matter of fact, with the exception of last night when I had a bull session with Danny, I have gone to bed early every night.
It seems that the nervous tension of the trip up to college was too much for my victrola which is not in working order. I am afraid to fool with it for fear of causing further complications. What do you think I should do?
The dean’s speech welcoming us to college was simply wonderful. I wish you could have heard it. When he was discussing the various aspects of life at Bard, he said that he hoped the library would come to mean more to us than merely “an unfortunate episode in American architectural culture.”
I would like you to send me my copy of “Men of Music.” It will help me very much in my music classes.
Everyone is extremely friendly. People simply flock to your room and introduce themselves and sit around and bull for hours on end. None of the conversations is particularly lofty, but it’s lots of fun.
That’s about all the news I can think of, except that the night before last “Pride and Prejudice” was given in the theatre.
Having a swell time!
All my Love,
Tony
1941
[March 15, 1941] Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
[To his parents]
Dear Folks—
Well, I guess I have no excuse. It’s just that I don’t like writing letters. I’ve had plenty of material for them, I must say. We started on our string of four performances of “Thunder Rock” last night [no doubt the play of that name by Robert Ardrey, later made into a movie]. I am sound man and am responsible for the effective and important wind, surf, airplane, radio jazz music, news commentator, etc. I also have a very small part in the end of the play.
However, I shall have the lead in “Aria da Capo,” a one act play by Edna St. V[incent Millay]. Things are going along well enough. I wrote a couple of sonnets which I like very much. I haven’t had a chance to do much work on my book of light verse called “Pigs Have Wings.” Right now I am working on one about the king of Tibet who has a pet Yak named “John” and John is very conceited because he had a part in “Lost Horizon.” John falls in love with an Ibex who was in “Marco Polo” and she got better reviews than he did so she snubs him. He goes away to live in a monastery and that’s as far as I [have] gotten with the plot.
I have been drawing several portraits of students which have come out very nicely. I am also writing a musical composition about Bard, so you can see I’m busy as hell.
I am in need of money and a haircut. If you send the money, I think I can take care of the haircut.
I am writing regularly for the Bardian, now, bylines and everything. Sort of light verse commentaries on campus and current events. I have had two poems in each of the past two issues.
Your friend Mrs. Whitehill is certainly not a very observant person for the passage which “For Whom the Bell Tolls” is printed in front of each copy [sic]. However I will enclose it here. […]
All my love,
Tony
[November 10, 1941] Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
[To Dorothea and Roger Hecht]
Dear Mom and Rog—
The reason I haven’t written to you for such a long time is that I’ve been very busy preparing my talk for Philosophy—by the way, it went off very well—and trying to catch up on my Shakespeare.
Now that I have a little time, there isn’t very much to say. I got my poem back from the New Yorker with the usual little printed slip. But this time somebody added in pencil—“Sorry, a nice sentiment.” I immediately framed the slip and put the poem in the Bardian. […]
All my love,
Tony
1942
[July 7, 1942] Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
[To his parents]
Dear Folks—
There’s not very much I can say by way of apology. I’ve exhausted all the old ones. It may console you slightly to know that I have been working hard. My roommate—Bob Sazalyn—has been drafted, and now I have another one, a freshman from Cincinnati, a wonderful fellow named Mat Lawson, whom I hope you will meet shortly. He’s only been to New York once so it will be very interesting for him … No information about the Army Reserve yet … but I have been taking the regular physical training course that all the regular Reserves are taking for the Navy etc. Every afternoon for two hours, we run and drill and exercise like crazy, and believe it or not, I like it and feel better for it.…
I’ll come down to New York as soon as possible and I’ll bring Mat, my roommate, along.
All my love,
Tony
1943
March 10, 1943 Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
[To his parents]
Dear Folks—
One might suppose that this sudden burst of epistolary prose on my part shows an inner dissatisfaction with things where I am, and a consequent desire to associate myself with another locale and a different situation. (You must excuse the analyses which have prefaced these last two letters to you. It is, generally speaking, the fault of my roommate, who is studying Freud just now. We argue over psychology almost every night.) This impression (mentioned before) would be entirely wrong, although I have no other suitable explanation for the phenomenon.
The fact is everything is going very well. Calculus has its fascinating facets, and Physics is rather a pleasure. What strange transformation has come over me! My poetry is coming slowly. Producing it, even in small quantities has always been for me a painful and laborious process. (I mean painful here not in the sense of unpleasant to do, but only difficult in the extreme.) I have picked a particularly hard job for myself in deciding to write a sestina—which is a very strict and old verse form dating back to the 12th century.
I have received all your messages and gifts in order, and thank you for them. I have already made use of the tobacco, the shaving-brush and the letter-paper. Quod Est Demonstrandum.
I have not yet partaken of the cake, though I have admired it from a distance of about two and a half inches. My thanks to Paula for the cake, cookies, and her splendid little note. It is indeed comforting to know that her culinary thoughts will be with me when I’m in the Army. […]
Love,
Tony
