After many months of preliminary work at a variety of institutions, the efforts of J. Robert Oppenheimer to consolidate the Manhattan Project began to take shape in early 1943. Feynman, then only twenty-four, began making plans to relocate to Los Alamos, New Mexico, along with the first wave of physicists from Princeton. They would arrive at an unfinished compound on a high mesa, and for Feynman, who had not traveled much, the setting was spectacular.

In these letters from Los Alamos, he describes the surrounding scenery with a wonderful immediacy and clarity. His letters to Arline, sent on a near daily basis, form a de facto journal of his experience there, and while there are accounts of his various antics (safe-cracking, giving the great minds of Los Alamos a demonstration on “some interesting properties of numbers,” and showing the night watchman the fence full of holes), the impression is one of a sober young man hard at work. Writing from her bed in an Albuquerque sanatorium, Arline was also a faithful correspondent, though her correspondence dwindled as her illness progressed.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO J. H. STEVENSON, MARCH 5, 1943

Mr. J. H. Stevenson

University of California

Berkeley, California

In your “first memorandum” you ask that questions concerning moving and living conditions be held until we receive the second memorandum. However, time is short, and your letter is not expected for several days. I am fairly sure your letter will not contain the answer to my question so I am taking the liberty of writing you now.

My wife has active pulmonary tuberculosis, and on this account has been required to rest in bed. This fact caused Prof. Oppenheimer and myself some concern when we were deciding whether I could come to the site or not, but Prof. Oppenheimer felt, finally, that almost certainly some way of taking care of her could be arranged.

There are two apparent possibilities. (a) She might stay at the post hospital. She has been receiving no special treatment, except bed rest, and no special equipment is necessary, except that it should be possible for her to get x-rayed once in a while, I suppose. (b) She might be accommodated in some nearby sanatorium. I should then want to be able to leave the post at least once a week.

Naturally I would not like to start moving with her until I know just where she will go and that she is expected. On the other hand I want to move out as nearly at the same time as the rest of the Princeton group as possible.

My wife and I would very much prefer to have her on the post ((a) above), and we hope it can be arranged that way. There is however no financial problem either way.

Sincerely yours,

Richard P. Feynman

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO J. H. STEVENSON, MARCH 15, 1943

Mr. Stevenson wrote back suggesting three places Arline could stay: (1) a small hospital 30 miles from the site, (2) a sanatorium in Albuquerque 100 miles from the site, or (3) a dude ranch 20 miles from the site. Because construction was still underway, he encouraged Arline to stay away from the site until the latter part of the summer.

He concluded, “I am writing this at length to assure you of the certainty of making your wife comfortable and giving her good care at some point not too far from the site. There will be no question about your visiting her every week.”

Dr. J. H. Stevenson

University of California

Berkeley, California

Dear Dr. Stevenson:

Thank you very much for your nice letter of March 10, concerning the possible accommodations for my wife.We are both very pleased with the possibility you described and are very anxious to go out there.

Since Mrs. Feynman’s case is an active one, the dude ranch is impossible (as is, in fact, any other place where there is no doctor in attendance). Either of the other two possibilities sounds very fine.

It occurred to me that we might save a little time, trouble, and money in the following way.When I come down to the site I could bring my wife with me to stay at one of the places you mentioned. I could then look around to see if there is a nicer place. If we find one we like better, we could move my wife. It will not be hard for her to move for a short distance like 50 miles.

If you do not think this plan is wise, please let me know, and I will come out alone as you originally suggested.

Otherwise, do you think you could make arrangements for us? We would be leaving on “the Chief”, of the Santa-Fe line from Chicago at 12:01 (noon) on Tuesday, March 30. Could you tell us what station is best to get off at, and how we go from there to the hospital (we could go by car, taxi, train, ambulance, truck, etc., but preferably not by bus)? If it is necessary to make a deposit at the hospital, I can send it to you. If you cannot find a place which will accept her temporarily, you could, if necessary, guarantee that she will stay for as long as two months.

I think that Mrs. Olum would help you, if you wish.⁴ If, however, you cannot make the arrangements for any reason, I can come out alone as you have suggested.

I hope I am not causing too much trouble. My wife and I thank you very much for what you have already done.

Sincerely,

R. P. Feynman

ARLINE FEYNMAN TO RICHARD P. FEYNMAN, MARCH 26, 1943

Dearest Rich—darling if you only knew how happy you’ve made me with this train trip of ours—it’s all I’ve wanted and dreamed about since we’ve been married. It will mean so very much to both of us—I adore you darling—I want to be all a wife should be to the husband she loves—now I have a chance—but the future holds even more promise dear—when we have our own home and family—it’s worth waiting and fighting for—darling I’ll see you tomorrow and I know it will be hard to keep these pent up emotions in check—with only one day left—I’m so excited and happy and bursting with joy—I think, eat, and sleep “you”—our life, our love, our marriage—the great future we are building—every day we live counts—all we do and say and think—I always want to be close to you sweetheart—a part of all your thoughts and desires and ambitions—you’re that close to me—and more—I live for you and the day we can have “Donald”—and all the other little things we’ve planned to do together—hang curtains and camp out in a tent, have “teas” for your students, and a chess game before our open fireplace in winter, showers in the summer and Sunday morning in bed reading the funnies—dearest I could go on indefinitely—there is so much left in life for us to share and explore together—I want to be there every moment—and even then, with you, it will be too short—

Darling how can I show you how much you mean to me when we’re miles apart! If only tomorrow would hurry and come—I want to feel your warm cheek pressed close to mine and your tender embrace—your nearness fills me with such content! I love you sweetheart—body and soul—I long to be near you again—the way we’ve been in the past—but now our love and our life is richer—we really belong to each other—for all the world to know—I’m so proud of you and proud and happy to be your wife—you’re a wonderful husband and lover—I have a good memory—but soon we can live in the present, together, even tho’ it be brief.

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Darling I have a hunch we won’t have to live on memories long—I really believe (and I’ll make it happen) we’ll have our home soon now—we can do anything we really set our hearts and minds on—let’s make a new gigantic effort together—or just continue the one we just started—I can’t push alone dear—I need you behind me—encouraging me—because you’re the only reason I care to do anything for—I must be in love!

Come to me soon—I need you and want you

Your adorable adoring wife and sweetheart

Putzie, who loves you very much—and so forth and so on

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO LUCILLE FEYNMAN, JUNE 24, 1943

The following letter is the first one written from Los Alamos.

I’ve been sick in bed these last few days. I’m up and working now tho. I got a cold and I thought since a long drawn out cold lowers resistance and I have to keep in super condition, I’d stay in bed till I got rid of it, fast, which I did. While I was getting rid of the cold my ever-present gastronomical difficulties amplified themselves until I became conscious of the existence of my stomach—so I stayed in bed a little longer for that, and I haven’t gotten rid of it yet, but I go to work anyway. It makes me a little tired so I sit down while solving equations instead of prancing around. When I got up (I was in bed 3 1/2 days) I discovered that 50% of the people were knocked out with some sort of dysentery from the water supply, and I’d been drinking tons of water for my cold! So that accounts for my being sick with two things at once.

It was fun, just as I always wanted to, I was sick and people brought me my meals and came to visit me and I took it easy in bed and had a radio (Putzie’s—I had taken it here to fix it) and I read a book I once bought on Chemical Engineering from “Transportation of Fluids” to “Distillation.” It was very interesting and now I’m a confirmed Chemical Engineer. I had a lot of visitors who brought me things among which were 3 oranges, one apple, crackers, jelly for same, pitcher for water, chocolate, Reader’s Digest, book, news as to what was going on at the lab., etc. etc. It is funny, all the girls that came to visit brought stuff, but none of the fellows did.

I received your prune things during these times. Since I was not gastronomically on top of the world I have avoided eating them.When I get a little better inside and my intestines become more attuned to their responsibilities instead of taking their devil-may-care attitude, I’ll eat them (the prunes I mean).

I have had several trips and climbs into canyons but nothing extra special to report.

I was thinking a little about Pop and his being sick and traveling all over the country.You said you would like him to retire and you told me all about the problem, except the details of how much you have saved up, etc. and how much scraping it would take if he retired.

I had an idea tho, which is not a product simply of my love of this country. We have a department for purchasing here which has several faults (one being the guy in charge) and it would seem to me, although I don’t know much about it, that they would like very much to have a guy like Pop. He would like it too, I’m sure. There would be no, or very little, traveling around, all the business being done by telephone and teletype. He would be partly out of the rush etc. of the business world and would be among academic men to a great extent, which I’m sure he’d enjoy. On the other hand, it isn’t all gravy. Purchasing these days is quite difficult, and everyone here is in a hell of a hurry for their stuff. Some of the things will be unfamiliar to him, but that won’t cause much difficulty. It will have its aggravations, too, but it will be a damn important position in our project and scientific venture and he will be contributing more than I toward winning the war. What does he think? I’m not sure of the availability of the job, however.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO LUCILLE FEYNMAN, OCTOBER 27, 1943

The project managers hoped to keep the exact location of the project a secret, and so no mailing address was given to the Los Alamos compound. Arline promptly ordered stationary with the cryptic Santa Fe post office box address used by everyone at the site.

DR. RICHARD P. FEYNMAN

SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

I got a package from you of what, according to your letter, were brownies. I haven’t opened them yet, but since the box is small I have become stingy and will open them in my room, rather than in my office.Thank you but I don’t deserve them for I haven’t written in such a long time.

You, who are a dietician, might be interested in the following story. In “Science” (the publication of the American Association for the Advancement thereof ) was an article saying the Russians discovered that pine needles are a good source of ascorbic acid (Vitamin C—anti-scurvy). Well thereafter followed a whole series of articles to prove that the Russians weren’t first. One of them said that in 1563 some Frenchman had his army all dying of scurvy, and asked the Indians about it and they told him to make a tea of pine needles and the men did that, using up a whole tree for the army and they all got better. Some years later another army had trouble but the Indians had all moved away and another tribe had moved in and they couldn’t figure out which tree it was. Another article told about some guy back in 17 hundred and something who told sailors to take pine needles on ocean trips and there were stories about guys who more recently (18 something) were scientific about it, making the tea, describing and tasting it. All in all the Russians were late with their pine needle tea.

So, of course, I had to make pine needle tea. I did while visiting Putzie Sunday, not that either of us were short on Vitamin C (ascorbic acid) but my curiosity was aroused. Result—fair. Not too wonderful, not too bad. About as good as regular tea, but different. Crush the pine needles up—pour on boiling water and allow to steep a while. Serve hot, or with ice and lemon. Cheap. Remarkable fact is it tastes like pine needles.

ARLINE FEYNMAN TO RICHARD P. FEYNMAN, NOVEMBER 23, 1943

My darling husband it was so wonderful having you walk in today—it will always be that way dear—I’m glad you were a little lonesome for me and Snuggle ⁵—it makes being together seem sweeter somehow—I felt lonesome for you too—and then when you arrived, it was heaven—and I was floating on a cloud—but really it was just your arms around me and you talking to me. I love you so very much sweetheart—I guess we share the same feeling so I don’t have to try to describe it—I feel it most powerfully when we’re lying close, resting, with my head on your shoulder—it makes me cry (like it did today). It seems too good—too much happiness you’re such a good, kind husband—you’re patient and understanding and so very good to dopey me—I’m smiling now and two big tears escaped—so you know I’m happy—I could rave about you endlessly dear, everything about you seems extra-special and nice to me—your legs are strong and muscular and you’re tall and you can reach up and open that top window (above the door) without standing on a chair—you just reach up easily—then there is the baby talk you use sometimes when you love me—I like it all, the strong things and the silly ones—I like you to be a little lonesome for me and I like it too that my illness doesn’t depress you—you’re strong dear and you make me strong too—from all sides you’re wonderful, my dearest husband. I like you strong dear, but it does feel nice to have you lean on me just a little (you ask me to take care of you and see that you go to the Dr. etc.) I feel necessary and I like to be able to help you—don’t be too strong or too independent—miss me a little—once in a while—I love it. I adore you—

Your wife always

Putzie

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO LUCILLE FEYNMAN, DECEMBER 10, 1943

We have just had a rather heavy snow around here. Everything looks swell in the snow.There are white mountains all around—to the west they are small mountains 8 or 10 miles away—to the east there are big mountains (e.g.,Truchas, which we tried to climb) over 30 miles away. Last night in the moonlight things looked good. Clouds were kind of low and just skimmed the top of the west mountains, and you could see the east mountains sticking up thru them—you could see in places mountains both above and below the clouds. Everything was lit by diffuse moonlight coming thru the clouds. Here and there nearby there were spots lit up by houses or some hidden street light. It looked much better than a X-mas card. See I’m getting an aesthetic sense.

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Arline, Richard, and Snugglebun with their first Christmas tree, December 1943.

The town council elections are coming up soon again. I hope I will avoid—and will try to avoid—being reelected. It was a good experience, etc. while it lasted but it takes a lot of time and trouble and I think it ought to be somebody else’s turn to do the job.

Putzie is preparing for X-mas and has all kind of things—a great big carton full of stuff of all kinds. Tree decorations, presents, etc. I don’t know where she gets all the stuff—I don’t give her a lot of money—poor girl. According to plan, at least, we’ll have a X-mas tree all decked out with lights and stuff.We have a good time on X-mas.

I have to do shopping this weekend—according to orders from the boss.

Please don’t give my address to anybody.There are Captains in the Army who live up here who don’t know what we are doing (even Majors). I’m not supposed to see anyone. I’d like to see Stappler when he comes and I’ll try hard as hell to get permission to see him—and I might be successful;—but, don’t give people my address because I might have to disappoint them.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO LUCILLE FEYNMAN, FEBRUARY 7, 1944

I have instituted a new system. I was skidding in that Thursday routine so now I’ll make it Monday. On Monday between supper and the town council meeting I have almost an hour (which this week is half eaten into already by business) which I will use to write in.

You asked twice about Arline. I didn’t answer last time because I was waiting to see the Doc. I missed him Sunday and I won’t wait again. The situation is:

1. Her coughing has reduced markedly—about 3 times a day—so she is being taken off codeine.

2. She is gaining weight—not however, uniformly, but about 1# or 1 1/2 a week on the average—some weeks none—others 2, etc.

3. She is feeling generally well—eats fair to good—digests everything O.K. etc.

4. Her sedimentation rate (a high one indicates infection) which used to be 18 in N.J. is 23 now. (The scale runs to 28, 7 is normal).

5. The sputum test (a high one means lots of germs) which used to be X is now I (the scale runs I to X—less than I means no germs—so called negative).

6. No x-rays have been taken recently.

7. Temperature has been essentially normal for a month. I don’t know about pulse.

Except for 4. everything is better. Test 5 is unreliable however, it will have to be taken over, taking samples all during the day instead of just once. I will talk it over with Doc. to see what he says. Putzie quotes him as not understanding 4 but not taking it seriously, and generally thinking she has improved. I’ll see him Sunday.

010

Feynman, 1944.

Mrs. G.⁶ being here may have had something to do with it but is probably not the whole story because the improvement started somewhat before Mrs. G.’s arrival, and furthermore last time she was here Putzie was getting worse and was very bad when she left. Perhaps the gain in weight was due to her cooking good things to eat—I believe that the gain will continue.

T.B. has its ups and downs, however, and one needn’t get discouraged when it gets bad—nor should one necessarily be encouraged when it gets better. Patience. (You see you always envied me when I didn’t get all sorrowful and despondent about bad things—but on the other hand I don’t get the fun of leaping around for joy when things seem to be turning out good. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not sad, I’m just not wildly happy. I’ll get that way, however, if this keeps up and looks permanent.)

Oh say, I’m sorry but it is discouraged that people come to see other people here. I got special permission to go to Albuquerque while Mrs. G. was there. I’d have trouble to see you if you were to come because it couldn’t readily be argued that you came to see Arline primarily and it was none of their business.You can, of course, do that, but I don’t think I could get to see you. It’s kind of tough and I miss you all. We’ll have to wait for the end of “hostilities.”

So long,

RPF

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO LUCILLE FEYNMAN, FEBRUARY 29, 1944

Don’t feel so bad about your typing. It is OK and getting better all the time. Certain errors ought to be watched out for, like bixxard instead of buzzard.You almost shocked me for a while. It is pretty good now tho. In a little while you should start the practice of correcting each error where you make it, with an eraser, etc. after you get a little better. It slows one up a lot, but it is the only way to get a finished job.

I haven’t worked on Pop’s codes for the last week so there is no news on that at all.

Instead, I gave, last Thursday, a little talk. We have a math club up here which meets once in 2 weeks. I had to give the second talk in the series. My subject was,“Some interesting properties of numbers.” It was all arithmetic— nothing harder—just arithmetic. I had some nerve showing just arithmetic to all the mighty minds around here—but I swear that was all it was. Unfortunately I didn’t have any problems whose answer was 7 oranges so you might not have enjoyed it. But Moose and Pop would have had a swell time.

011

The Feynman family, 1940s. From left to right: Richard, Joan, Melville, and Lucille.

Well, all the mighty minds were mighty impressed with my little feats of arithmetic. The marvelous things, apparently without explanation which I demonstrated numbers would do before their very eyes. Then, zip,—I’d reveal the explanation and all would be clear—they should have known it all the time—of course. I went pretty fast and didn’t give them a hell of a lot of time to work out the reason for one fact before I was showing them another—still more amazing. I had a really wonderful time giving it. It was similar to a set of first lectures in algebra which I had conceived of once as the best way to teach that subject—start with arithmetic and work up. People told me later that they had a swell time.They’d come up to me in the halls with proofs of various things I had showed the night before, etc. Well sorry to bore you with all this but it still isn’t seven oranges. Try this one; if oranges in one store are 2 for 5¢, and in another store are 3¢ each, and I buy some oranges in each store, and come out to have spent just 19¢ for oranges, how many did I buy? Right you are! (I won’t ask you how many you bought in each store unless you ask Pop to help—then for Joan we ask, what is the largest number of ¢ that I could have said instead of 19 so that you could still be sure of how many were bought?) (No half-cents you know).

That ought to hold the family for 3 minutes while I tell them I love them all.

RICHARD FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, DATE UNKNOWN

While at Los Alamos, Feynman became an expert on the safety of the facilities where active materials were stored, handled, and transported. He traveled to the Oak Ridge National Labratory in April 1944 for the first airplane flight in his life, with hidden documents strapped to his back, to report on the plant’s safety standards.This letter is from a subsequent trip.

Dearest Putzie:

I have, naturally, been somewhat busy—but not as busy as I have been the other times I came out here.They didn’t have things planned out very well and I have to stay an extra day to do the work of 1 1/2 days so I am here 3 days.

I hope you haven’t been too miserable while I’m away. Maybe your visitors were able to cheer you up somewhat. I love you and thought of you a lot on the plane trip—when I had time to think. I used to sit in the airport waiting for a connection, smiling to myself and thinking—Putzie is good.

To begin with, the airport forgot to call me at the hotel the way they promised—and so I missed the plane—and got re-routed to another plane route. We got to St. Louis and then I had to stay there a while so I went into town. I had forgotten what a big city was like. Cars, buses, big buildings—and too much noise. Not too pleasant. I went to the movies (and saw Dagwood and Blondie). I also ate supper in a very swanky restaurant—but it was hot so I couldn’t take it and I took off my coat and vest and ate in my shirtsleeves. But nobody complained so it was O.K. I’m not used to all these “comforts of civilization.”

I have seen the Stevensons and was to their house night before last—I am also going tonight.

I have a meeting this morning soon and I had better prepare what I am going to say at it.

To you, darling, I am going to say I love you.

ARLINE FEYNMAN TO RICHARD P. FEYNMAN, AUGUST 22, 1944

RICHARD DARLING

Darling it would be better if you were twins—I think and I know, I need you too—I guess I’ve gone off the deep end again—in the morning I’ll have an intravenous, among other things—I feel phooey dear and only you can change that—can you come darling—if it doesn’t interfere with your work—I love you dear

It’s good to know that even if the medicine fails, there is always your smile, and your hand—it’s effective dearest.

DRAFT OF LETTER FROM RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO RICHARD GUBNER, M.D., DATE UNKNOWN

In late August 1944, a doctor at Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States wrote to Richard about his expressed interest in ongoing studies on the use of sulfabenamide in the treatment of tuberculosis. “The studies are in a very preliminary stage,” he concluded, “and we have no assurance that the drug is of definite value.” A subsequent letter expressed regret that he was unable to forward any of the drug to individuals, though he did assure them that it was non-toxic, and suggested Richard and Arline “wait for a period of two months.”

You wrote us recently to tell us that new information on sulfabenamide would be available in a few months—but that if our case seemed urgent enough there was a small possibility of the release of some of the drug.We were very encouraged by your interest and appreciate it very much.

Since we didn’t know exactly with what demands for the drug we would interfere, it was difficult to judge whether the urgency of the case was at all great enough to warrant asking for the drug at this time. After some discussion, we realized that you were the one in the best position to make this judgement if we sent you the details about this case. So the doctor (William H.Thearle) is sending you very shortly the results of recent tests and other facts about my wife’s case. Could you decide for us the reasonable thing to do? If you want additional information let us know.

We realize that we are asking you to do something that we should have done. Could we assume tho, that we are just asking you for advice, so that we would continue to assume the responsibility for having followed your advice? In that way you should feel as little uncomfortable as possible. If, for example, you suggest that we wait for a few months, that the drug shows promise at the end of that time, but that by waiting it has come too late to help us.

We do not want to interfere to any extent with your experiments, either by cutting into the drug supply, or by taking up your time now with these matters. The experiments are certainly more important than any individual case. We are grateful, therefore, for all the time you have been able to give us.

Richard P. Feynman

A supply of sulfabenamide was forwarded to the doctor supervising Arline’s case in December 1944.

ARLINE FEYNMAN TO RICHARD P. FEYNMAN, JANUARY 31, 1945

My dearest darling I love you—you became such a part of my life in the last few days, I feel lost without you. I’m happy tho’, thinking about you and knowing you’ll be here soon.We’ll be close together again, talking and reading and sharing lots of jokes about being married and its tribulations (like Nelson!). Snuggle is showing him the town—which gives me extra time. Darling we have such fun living together, being a man and his wife—it becomes more wonderful daily—and I mean wonder-full—it’s glorious and deep and lasting emotion—I’m very much in love with Richard, the man, the husband, the lover, the father, the scientist, the dope (if you’ll pardon the expression). I love you Richard—you reach into me, you fill every part of my mind and body. I didn’t mean dope dear, I meant the foolish, fun-loving you (it was a poor choice of words). I’m in love with your honesty, your clean-cut reasoning, your straightforwardness and your strength—your belief in us and our enduring love.

We’ll never have enough time to use up all the love we have.

Your wife and girlfriend

P.S. Hope you got back O.K. Monday—it was cold at night—how about those long shorts?

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, DATE UNKNOWN

I got your letter and I’ll see you this weekend. I’ll mail your letter to Lola too.

Last night I awoke at 3:45 AM for some screwy reason and couldn’t go to sleep again so I washed socks. There were a million of them. It took two hours. And then I took a shower and went back to bed (at 6) and awoke this morning at 8.

The rest of the laundry I’ll do some other time—they have washing machines here that cost 25¢ per hr. to use and maybe I will do that. Ironing shirts requires learning I guess.

How’s everything?

I love you, darling.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, FEBRUARY 1945

Hello Sweetheart:

I love you. It feels good to write to you. I have a problem which I can’t handle and I’d like to discuss it with you. Maybe you would know what to do.

My wife and I thought that it might be a good idea to move her from Albuquerque to the site. Everything was OK at Albuquerque but we thought it would be better because we could see each other every day instead of once a week and she could meet the people I work with, etc. and all in all we would have more of a life together.

It didn’t work out well however. She has been here 2 1/2 days and has cried almost all that time. She is unhappy because of a large number of things. For instance, when she coughs and needs an injection for it, it is some time after she rings the buzzer before the nurse comes—and even then there is an argument whether four hours are up since the last one and whether she really needs it. She is worried, and I think not too unjustly, that she will cough too much some time and ring for the nurse and she’ll choke before the 15 or 20 min. it sometimes takes the nurse to come. Again, she would like certain changes in diet (although she hasn’t talked this over with the dietician yet).The first day she was very unhappy about the visiting hours, because it appeared that I might not be able to see her all day Sunday. This has been fixed since. Other things that bother her are the noise from the nearby children’s ward, the fact that her door is closed always, the oxygen tank runs out too quick, etc. Her general complaint is that the nurses don’t know much about caring for TB and I have the general feeling although I may be all wet that she also doesn’t like the general harshness of sticking to the rules attitudes which the army nurses have and is used to a more gentle view as taken by the more elderly and less busy (I think) nurse at her old sanatorium. (For instance, the nurses at the other san would argue, but more gently, (I guess) as to whether she ought to get a hypo—and they in this way tried to help her cut down the amount she took. She took of course no offense to this.)

Now in view of all these things she is quite unhappy, and wants to return immediately to Albuquerque. She thinks of all kinds of ways to speed up the process (she can’t go immediately because room is not available presumably), as for example taking a room with less than optimum nursing care and having her mother come from New York to take care of her. She is very upset and equally insistent that something be done to move her right away. She wants immediate action.

In my eyes, however, most of the major difficulties might easily be overcome—just as the visiting hours was—and many of the others are so minor that they only require getting accustomed to.The reason I hesitate to move back to Albuquerque as soon as we possibly can is that I think there is a great deal to be gained in our mutual happiness by having us together if she could become acclimated to the changes, and I think that in fact in time she would be able to take an easier going less fault finding attitude—and a much more cooperative attitude toward the people which are trying to take care of her.

This last point is where she entirely disagrees with me and takes the attitude that things here are hopelessly awry and incurably bad from the point of view of her being well taken care of.

Now the obvious (to my mind) solution to all this is to take it easy have patience and just wait and see whether things can be made to get better, and to wait and see if she really could get used to new things and be really happy here, or whether indeed, they are hopelessly awry.

But she thinks it a forgone conclusion that she can never possibly be happy here and that’s that. But she is almost hysterically upset and picks on any difference no matter how slight to show the failings of this place. She is actually unreasonable, I think, in her criticisms and wild in her plans of what to do. (E.g., leave to go home to her mom—etc., etc.—things (I hope) she would never really do).

Should I give up trying to do what I think is the reasonable thing (i.e., take a calmer attitude of wait and see—2 1/2 days is a short time to make adjustments) and go hog-wild into trying to move her back to Albuquerque immediately as she wants now?

Put it one more way; she says she is weak and can’t take the changes. She says she is weak and can’t argue the point with me. She says she is weak and can’t tell, for example, the dietician what she wants—it is too much effort. So weak, therefore, that there is no hope of solving the problems and she wants to go back.

But she has been weak before—and gradually became stronger as we talked things over.This time she says she is so weak physically and mentally that she won’t get strong enough to deal with the problems sensibly.

All I want to wait for is for her to get and feel strong enough to explain her needs patiently as many times as necessary to those who take care of her—and to feel strong enough to explain the problem in a reasonable way to me so that I’ll see that it is reasonable to return to Albuquerque.

I think I can in time get her strong enough mentally to face the problems in a reasonable way, and weigh the pros and cons and explain to me how it lives up.

On the other hand, if I fail, this time is all time during which she is unhappy—miserable would be more accurate—and why stall around with her unhappy just because I overestimate her potential strength and powers of adjustment?

Should I be the strong one in the family and try to pull her up to me and then do what looks best to both of us when we are both strong (which may of course be to go to Albuquerque) or should I give in to tears and weakness and do what appears as hysterically necessary to us if we are both weak? The question I want to answer first is not whether we go back to Albuquerque or not, but rather in what frame of mind we should be when we decide to go back or not.

I honestly don’t know—but I hope you could give me some advice.You see the problem from the other side. The real trouble is the urgency, because if I hesitate to think about it she remains, perhaps, unhappy that much longer.Yet all I’m asking for is time.

What do you think? I love you and respect your opinions. I love you.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, FEBRUARY 28, 1945

After an unsuccessful attempt to relocate to the base at Los Alamos, Arline returned to the Albuquerque sanatorium.

MRS. RICHARD P. FEYNMAN

SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

Do you mind if I use my wife’s stationary? It came today—and I think you said I should use it.

Today, I didn’t get any mail so I have nothing to send to you but my love.

I went to the dentist today for a check up. I got my teeth cleaned—but my gums hurt a little now. I have a couple of cavities. My next appointment is for May 26! They are, apparently, quite busy. Should I maybe go to a dentist in Albuquerque? Don’t go and make me an appointment now.

How is everything down there? I’m anxious to know whether you got over the excitement of the trips and stay here in a reasonable time. I hope you are feeling better, certainly safer.

Tonight we had the usual meeting, which I went to. But now I want to go to bed early in accordance with our plan.

It is only 10 o’clock so I can get 9 1/2 hours sleep.

I have several books and pictures and stuff of yours which I ought to bring down. I’m not sure but I think the six crates and ten cartons went off today. Pleasant dreams to you when you get it and each box has to be lifted over your bed to get them on the porch. Wow, what a mess. It might be easier to move your bed out to one side on the porch and then move it back when all the boxes are put in place. Poor Putzie.

I love you, sweetheart—even with the six crates and ten cartons.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 2, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I got two nice letters from you yesterday. One was a poem. Pretty good. Don’t try to write if you feel so bad. I’ll be down to see you Saturday. It is good you can always rely on your mom to take care of you if all else fails. Then you’ll have someone day and night. Pretty good.

Whatever you worry about these days, don’t worry about the expense. It really doesn’t amount to much and we have saved lots of dough just for needs like this.

I was up till 5 AM last night (or this morning) working out a way to simplify operations and make them faster on the machines. I think I’ve worked out a real improvement. It was a lot of fun too. I expected to sleep real late this morning to compensate but instead I woke up at 9:30 and couldn’t go back to sleep. Now it is 10 AM (and I love you).

I thought you’d feel too exhausted to write so I called Mrs. Masterson last night and told her that you were all set and thanked her very much, etc.

I have a few ideas I just got this morning that I’d like to try out, so I guess I’ll be going to work.

So long, sweetheart. Everything will probably come out O.K. I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 5, 1945

Monday, 3:30 PM

Dearest Putzie:

You aren’t going to like this too well—but I was up all night last night working on stuff. I got to bed at 8AM. I slept until now.

I think I will take it easy till suppertime and take a walk into the mountains for two or three hours. It will be fun. I haven’t gone walking in the daytime for a long time. It is a little cold and there was snow on the ground when I went to bed, but it might be fun anyhow. I’ll put on some extra warm socks and another sweater. Gee it is a good idea.

I met Thoma on the bus going back from Albuquerque. Thoma is the one who went with me and two girls that time two years ago—for a walk. Before his wife was up here.

His wife took their kid Teaberry and herself home around Christmas time for a vacation.While she was away he got a court order saying she was getting a divorce. He was completely surprised and bewildered, and still is. He still (although he spoke to her) doesn’t understand why she left him. He knows it has absolutely nothing to do with other women. It has something to do with his being so busy and working so hard that she thought he wasn’t a good enough father toward the kid—he thinks maybe.

I think that if a woman wants to leave a man after he has taken care of her for so long she should at least have the courtesy to tell him about it herself and talk it over as the trouble arises (instead of shocking him with a court order out of a blue sky etc.), but even more particularly it is her duty to see to it that the man understands clearly the reasons for her separating.

Never fear my love. I’m still trusting you to love me forever—and I know I will love you forever too.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 7, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I had a nice walk yesterday into the mountains.There are lots of places there to go and I think I will try to go more often.

Because I woke up so late yesterday I didn’t want to go to bed too early last night—so I went to sleep at 3 AM and woke up at 11 AM today. So I lazed around until 12 and ate lunch and now I am writing to you.

I walked up to the base of the hills and said, “I’ll climb this one,” but when I got close I found I was separated from it by a big deep canyon so I kept going uphill along one side of the canyon until I got to the top of a ridge neighboring the hill I had wanted to climb.There the canyon disappeared and I could have made the intended hill—except my alarm clock—which I had taken with me to tell time said I was up 1 1/4 hours and so I’d better go back if I wanted to get in in time for supper. So I went back down.

I had a piece of iron pipe about 5 feet long for a walking stick—so now my hand is stiff and it is hard to hold the pencil.

There was snow on the hills and I used the stick to prod it so I didn’t go over any that was too deep. Actually none of it was too deep.

I worked after supper.

And how are you, darling?

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 8, 1945

I’m glad you are feeling better. I got two letters from you yesterday. If you want to move into a bigger room, go ahead—it might be nicer for you. Only it better have a porch if I know you.

I took a shower this morning (I went to bed 11:30 and woke up 9 or 10 and lazed around).The shower has tin walls so I had a wonderful time making noise.

Now it is nearly 12 o’clock and I’m going to eat lunch soon. I sure am taking it easy, taking the morning off.

Last night I went for a walk—and discouraged the guard that guards the gate at night. I showed him an open gate in the fence not 50 yards from where he was checking passes.The gate was wide open with a road leading to and away from it and a car could easily have been driven through. So they closed it.Then I walked further and found (1) another big gate across a road wide open so a car could go thru, (2) a doorway cut in the fence so people could walk thru. I went thru the second (and passed a man going thru the other way) and came around to the guard again from the inside and he was very surprised. I explained it to him and the officer in charge—but I bet they don’t do anything.

It is crazy anyway.They only guard that gate in the nighttime—so only nocturnal spies are kept out. If the army needs manpower they might as well take that guard off his post.

So long, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon. I love you.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 10, 1945

I suddenly realize that I have to figure out my income tax by next week. I better start soon. I think I’ll bring what I can Saturday and fill out our monthly expense charts, and then I can go back and work on it Monday Night. It isn’t as hard as everyone says, and it is fun because you can figure that every idea you get has just saved you so and so much money.

A girl, named Jane, from the hospital here called me to find out how you were, etc. She said she is coming this weekend, to Albuquerque. She is going to visit you either Saturday night or Sunday.

I didn’t get to bed until 3 last night again, but I didn’t wake up until 10:30 so I guess that is O.K., or isn’t it.

Today is Friday so I will see you tomorrow.

I am going over to the boss’ house (Hans).⁷ I said I would watch their kid Henry, in exchange for reading the Encyclopædia Britannica. Only tonight they have also invited me to supper so really I get double pay for minding the kid.

That’s all the news, darling, so I will say so long, and I love you.

R.P.F.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 13, 1945

The mathematical symbols that Richard used for his epithet are his, not mine.

Dearest Putzie:

Lots of things happened today. First, I found out about the boxes. The x±<= people up here didn’t send them out from there yet. Anyway, it has its compensations because I was able to get income tax dope out of the boxes. (1) It was not in the big wooden crate. (2) It was, luckily, in the second crate I tried. (3) Not all of the stuff on finances was in the red and white striped box, as I find now—but only stuff for the last half year. However, I worked on the stuff tonight and found I had nearly all the dope and could figure everything sufficiently close with what I had.You will have to file a return again this year. I will mail it to you. All you have to do is sign it and mail it right out.Your return will be late therefore and so we are subject to some penalty, in principle, but I think since it will be a day or two late at most I don’t think it will make any difference and the collector won’t say anything. I’ll send you all that tomorrow.

Right now I’m working and in between waiting for one machine or another to finish its job—I’m writing to you. Also in between, I am loving you.

The boxes should start out tomorrow.

I am not going home next week. I spoke to the boss and he said almost surely there would be some business in New York that I would be a good guy to send out on. And that means I can kill two birds with one stone and also get my carfare paid. So I’ll wait.

I was surprised to hear about your Mom being so sick. She should try to go home as soon as possible. Tell her to take the train. (If she needs dough I’ll pay her way.) It is too hard for a sick person to take the bus—and she’d feel better as soon as she went to lower altitude I bet.

So long sweetheart. It is 4 AM Wed. Morn.

I didn’t write yesterday.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 14, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

Enclosed you will find an envelope. Pull it out, and remove what is in it—your income tax returns). As you remove it in front of you will appear two dotted lines—each marked with a penciled X (bottom of page 1 of return). One is marked (signature of taxpayer)—sign your name there—the other is (date)—put the date you do the signing there. Don’t cheat on the date because the return is late or some more obscure reason. Sign it and date it when you sign. That is all you do. Put it back in the envelope—seal it and mail it.Then sometime this next year you will receive a check for $203.06—just give it to me.

If you want to read the report before you sign, that is more honest. But don’t forget to enclose the slip marked WITHHOLDING RECEIPT.

Want the story on our taxes? I had to pay $30.08 and you get a credit of $203.06 so we get a net credit of $173. Last year we had a $263 credit (we got paid $282 because it was 10 months late so they give us interest). However, the total tax last year was only $314 (they withhold dough from your pay—that is where you get the credit).This year it is (mine and yours) $489.43. They held back $662.40 from the salary tho so we make $173 credit.

The boxes went out today. I labeled them and helped pack them on the truck so I know, at least, they were sent on their way to Santa Fe for Santa Fe Trailways to be sent to you collect.

Have you got a nurse yet?

How is your mom?

Should I come to Albuquerque before Sat.?

I love you little darling. I love you.

P.S. Don’t worry about the tax return being late. It cannot possibly amount to more than $6 (for 30 day late) and I doubt they will make any penalty for a few days. NO STRIPES FOR ME—I MEAN YOU. YOUR RETURN IS THE LATE ONE—MINE IS ON TIME!! Ha Ha.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 18, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I think I’ve been working a little too hard again this week. I got enough sleep usually but I went to bed at 3 and got up at 11 most of the time.The trouble is that it busts up my schedule so that I am always too tired to write to you and I put it off till morning or something and then after a while a day’s gone and you have missed a letter.

I went to the house of a couple that you don’t know last night.The guy used to be an instructor at Cornell. The girl used to work in a zoo for a while or something—anyway she likes animals.They have two dogs—one of which is due to have pups soon. She took the latter to the veterinarian and he inspected the dog and said,“Nice nipple development” at which she looked down modestly and said, “Oh, thank you.”—much to the doctor’s embarrassment.

There was another fellow there too—so this guy played the UKE while the husband played the clarinet and I banged on the furniture, etc. with various objects. After that we saw pictures (Kodachrome) of Ithaca, N.Y., of New Mexico and of his wife in revealing poses (pictures I said).

Today I got up early for a meeting but something was haywire with the clock and I am 1/2 hour early.

Also today I am going to see you. I love you very much. So long, sweetheart.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 22, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I got a very good letter from you yesterday. I’m glad I can straighten you out and make you happy so easily. Only I rather wish it would take and last longer—not because I mind talking to you, but because you wouldn’t have those periods of unhappiness before I can get to talk to you.

In the letter was a little note—“Things to Remember”—one item of which was emphasized with green ink. Namely “Rest and Relaxation.” Altho it was only 3 in the afternoon (Wed.), after reading that I went to bed immediately—and slept for 17 hrs. until 8 this morning (Except for a 1 hour intermission because some louse named Julius was practicing playing the recorder—an infernally popular wooden tube for making noises bearing a one-one correspondence to black dots on a piece of paper—in imitation to music—producing a weird cat-call like effect).

In order to explain this unusual behavior of mine might I say (1) The group leader of the group I am taking care of broke his leg skiing. (2) We had to prepare things to start a new problem. (3) We run 24 hours shifts. (4) Nobody knows what’s going on except me and the guy with the busted leg—and I don’t know it so good. Hence I was up from 8 AM Tues. morn to 3 PM Wed. night, 31 hrs. and by that time the new problem was running smoothly.

And where were we when I woke up? Exactly where we were when I went to sleep! Somebody made an error 15 min. after I left and we had to go back, correct it, and start over from there.That is why I have to work so hard. I’ll have to think of another way of administering things so that I personally don’t have to be there to keep things going right.

And I love you, thru it all.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MARCH 27, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

My upper lid is kind of swollen today so I can’t open it fully. I am going to the doc to see what it is at ten this morning. If this writing is cockeyed it is because I see it only thru one eye. I suppose it is just a big sty, but it is so damn big that I want to check up.

Sunday night I went to bed at 11:30 to 7:30 and last night 12 to 8 so I am back at normal hours. I get three meals a day and 8 hours sleep and I’m going to try to keep it up. Last night after supper I went for a short ride in Claus’ new car—he just got it.⁸ We went to where some Indian caves were and crawled around in those a while—then it was dark so we came back to work.

Things have calmed down here now for a while, and, except for minor disturbances the fellows seem to be able to take care of all the problems almost by themselves.

I am writing this Tuesday Morning. I love you Tuesday Morning. But that is just a symptom of a far more extensive ailment. I love you always. You are a nice wife. I like to come to visit you—and I wish it were Sat. already—which it nearly is.

How did you make out this week?

I love you, little Putzie.

So long,

RPF

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 3, 1945

Tuesday Morning, 10 AM

You will be interested in two things. First, yesterday I got everything going smoothly and so now I won’t be working late hours anymore (I worked till 12 last night), and second, I took a shower. I slept late this morning just for fun and I’m beginning to take a more relaxed view of life (I even read a book for a 1/2 hour before I went to sleep). I think the worst is over and now I can take it easy.

There is a third thing you will be interested in. I love you.You are a strong and beautiful woman.You are not always as strong as other times but it rises and falls like the flow of a mountain stream. I feel I am a reservoir for your strength—without you I would be empty and weak like I was before I knew you—but your moments of strength make me strong and thus I am able to comfort you with your own strength when your stream is low.

I find it much harder these days to write these things to you—there isn’t quite the personal intimate contact that I used to get out of letters. I will come Sunday and tell them to you—I will love you Sunday.

No news from here. Oh yes, we have a regular gestapo up here. They took a guy for over an hour in a smoke filled room with men sitting around in the dark—just like in the movies—firing questions at him to prove he was a Communist.They didn’t succeed—because he wasn’t.The poor guy couldn’t work good the next day because they got him out of bed the night before.They claim they are trying to keep spies out of this place. It is dopey, because they leave the gates open at night often by mistake. Don’t get scared tho they haven’t found out that I am a relativist yet!

I love you sweetheart,

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 4, 1945

I did work a little late last night (1 AM) but I slept until 10 this morning.

It was cold as negative hell around here yesterday because it was snowing and windy and etc.

Yesterday afternoon just after lunch a man I hardly knew, living at Fuller Lodge, asked me to pick a lock to a storeroom. It seems the keepers of Fuller Lodge mislaid the key to the gate lock to a storeroom that he had to put his stuff in. So I collected 2 paperclips, one screwdriver, a nail and a few other miscellaneous objects to impress him, and opened the lock in about 2 minutes with one of the paper clips and the screwdriver. He was quite impressed, and happy—as was I because I’m not too good at it and often fail. I used to be much better, but I lost the touch a little I think.The other night I picked a Yale lock to the place where I sleep in the tech area. Altho I had the key I wanted to win a bet. Did I tell you how I broke into a file cabinet to get the contract for the ski-tow association when they were going to have a big meeting and needed it? I was sitting in Julius’ room and these two guys come running up the stairs panting and saying, “Oh there he is, thank god!” After that I couldn’t help but get the thing out of the locked file for them. I still haven’t figured out a way to get into my own steel safe without knowing the combination.That will surely be a triumph if I ever do that.

The key to my interest in all this is probably because I like puzzles so much. Each lock is just like a puzzle you have to open without forcing it. But combination locks have me buffaloed.

You do too, sometimes, but eventually I figure out you. I love you, too.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 12, 1945

Thursday Morning

I’ve got to write to you more often. Give me a little bawling out Sunday. I’ve been busy these last few days, as usual—but I’ve gotten enough sleep.The worst was Tues. night when I went to bed at 2:30—but I didn’t get up till 12. Last night I went to bed at a reasonable time (11:30). By a great exertion of will-power, I left work at 11:15 just after the graveyard shift came on.Yesterday we found an error which I made and which made us start one of the problems all over again—putting us back to Saturday or so—but, by putting all hands on deck in 3 hours we had the problem started over and ready for the machines—and all in all we lost only about 1 day. Except for that debacle I had expected things to be relatively calm the latter half of this week—and I still think they will be. The first thing I’ll do when things calm down is go for a walk or something for an hour. I haven’t taken over an hour off (Except the hour I drove around with Claus in his new car) for three weeks except the weekends when I visit you. Those are good. They set me up for another week.

I love you, little Putzie. I’m sorry I’m working so hard I don’t have time to think about us and write to you like I used to.

I love you, darling. Feeling better?

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 19, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

Julius borrowed my clock so I don’t know exactly what time it is, but is before 12 I think.

I almost got home at 11:30 but just as I got to the door the fire siren went off so I went off to help with the fire. By the time I got there—which was in just a minute or two—the fire was out. Just a flare up of chemicals that was gotten under control right away. Some guy driving in his pajamas gave me a hitch over there. When I got there my group of fellows who were on shift were milling around wanting to know if they could help—so I took them along too—but there was nothing to do.

I haven’t heard from you—but don’t write if you don’t feel like it. I’ll be down Saturday at the usual time of 8:30 or so, unless I miss a bus again. If I can get a good hitch I might even make it sooner—maybe.

Two of the guys on one of the shifts got sick at the same time—damn it. And I want to start a new job tomorrow! The fellow that broke his leg isn’t back yet.

Pretty soon I’ll be the only one left to work on the job.

Keep working darling—the stakes are high. I’ll see you Sat. How’s it going? Drink a glass of milk.

I love you, sweetheart.

012

At the sanatorium, 1945.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 21, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I got your postcard. I’ll come and give you strength this afternoon.

I went to bed at 12 last night—but didn’t write you a letter because I was too tired. I didn’t shave either. I just shaved this morning.The last time I shaved was when I was in Albuquerque—Sunday night. Five days. I’d just as soon quit shaving altogether, but you look so damn dopey and it isn’t too comfortable (I mean, I look so damn dopey—you look dopey whether I shave or not—I love you).

I’ve been working everyday so there is no news. I go to bed OK now—but still I work from 8:30 AM to 11:30 PM with 2 hours off for lunch and supper, or 13 hours a day. I remember my $20/week (or was it a month?) job at the Arnold Hotel which was 11 hrs. one day, 13 the next, alternately. That was harder than this because it wasn’t as interesting and the hours weren’t voluntary. In 3 days I nearly do a 40 hr. week—in four days over 48, so if I took off all of Saturday and Monday (and Sunday) each week, I’d still be doing enough to earn my paycheck (in the opinion of those who pay me, I mean—between us, I don’t know).

Maybe I’ll get a chance today to find out how to go about getting a sensible doc. to look at you.

I love you, little Putzie.

Drink a glass of milk.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 24, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

There was no excitement on the trip back up here.

Say maybe you got a notice from the income tax collector. Forget it, it’s OK—it just means they are transferring records from Camden, N.J. to Albuquerque, New Mexico.

About finances. Per month: in round figures

Dr.Therale	10-
Nurses	300-
Room and Oxygen	200-
Cash To Me	50-
My Rent	40-
My Rent	600-
Income	300
Loss/Month	300-

We lose $300 per month, and have over $3300 so we can last 10 months (assuming no extra costs for operations, etc.). Do you think it necessary to sell the ring and piano now? It is up to you. Should I go back to eating at the mess hall—in ten months, it will save $150.

Say, looking at the list of expenses I see something that looks like lack of balance. The doctor is only $10 and all the rest is $500. I think we do not have sufficient medical supervision and are being overcharged for things at the San. I don’t know quite what to do about it tho’.What do you think?

I slept OK last night. I’m going to bed regular hours—getting enough sleep, etc.Things have calmed down a lot.

I’ll see you soon again.

Drink a glass of milk. Is your temp too high—well, remember and drink it for me later.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, APRIL 25, 1945

I got to bed a little later than usual—2 PM and slept till 10. I won’t do that anymore. I love you—and I see how bad everything would get if on top of all else I were to get sick. I will work hard to stay well from here on in.

I got a postcard from you with the good news that you are trying hard. Keep it up. How about a bottle of milk now? The card also implied that a watch was being sent by you—I haven’t gotten it yet.Why didn’t you leave it there and I’d work on it Sunday. I don’t have much time up here—and fewer tools, no oil.

I just read over the chapter on repair of watches in the book on “Time and Timekeepers.” There are more and more elaborate ways of cleaning a watch as the watch gets more expensive. I’d just as soon work only on cheap watches—but I suppose I’ll get an expensive one someday. Perhaps I better practice on my good watch which is in a hell of a state because I fooled around with it so much.

I just got it out to look at it. It seems to be OK except that the minute hand is missing. It works OK otherwise tho. I found another dollar watch too which has a bent hairspring. Should I fix that up and give the watch to you? Do you want it?

In the old days watches were so inaccurate that they only had hour hands—the minute hand, if one, would be off so far that it would be useless. I see that with just the hour hand on my watch I can easily tell time to five minutes or less without the minute hand. I think I’ll carry it around and try it.

I love you, little one.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 2, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

The prof. under whom I worked at Princeton, John, is coming out here today and I have to meet him at the train. Isn’t that nice. I’ll get all the news of Jeanette and Tita and Jamey or whatever their names are.

I haven’t seen him in a long time—it will be real good to see him again. It is nice that they send me out as the welcoming committee. That is because I was his student, and also because some of the things he wants to know, I know. This is all a result of stuff I told that Colonel the time I had to leave you all of a sudden.

Drink some milk!

You are a nice girl. Every time I think about you, I feel good. It must be love. It sounds like a definition of love. It is love. I love you.

I’ll see you in two days.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 3, 1945

For a short time Richard and Arline believed she was pregnant.The “Friedman test” refers to a pregnancy test that involves injecting some of the woman’s urine into an unmated female rabbit. The ovaries of the rabbit are then examined to determine whether the woman is pregnant.

Dearest Putzie:

I got your letter about the negative test. I saw the Doc. up here. He says that they can make the test at the Van Atta Laboratories in Albuquerque because (he thinks) they have rabbits there. He says he doesn’t take too much stock in the Friedman test (this was the obstetrician here) and has seen it come out wrong either way. He says feeling the growth in the uterus is the best way. Maybe we can get that doc to poke around again in a month.

I’ll get the x-ray plates for you. I’ll be down Saturday early—around 12:30 if all goes well.

The doc came around special to tell me of a mold growth, streptomycin, which really seems to cure TB in guinea pigs—it has been tried on humans—fair results except it is very dangerous as it plugs up the kidneys or something—and some have nearly been killed by it. He says he thinks they may soon lick that—and if it works it will become available rapidly. I wonder if Therale could watch the progress of these experiments so if they look good we can know it as soon as possible.

Keep hanging on tho—as I say there is always a chance something will turn up. Nothing is certain.We lead a charmed life.

I love you, sweetheart.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 3, 1945

SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

Here’s a note from Richard.

The trouble is I’m in the office and didn’t have any stationary so I borrowed this from Julius. It is lucky you sent it to him in the first place. He wrote that at the top so you wouldn’t get a nervous breakdown and figure he was in love with you, when I write: I love you. Because I do love you and my name is not Julius (or Nick) (which reminds me the baby better not be born with a mustache, or I’ll know who!) but Richard, your loving husband.

I only worked till 11 last night so I got to bed early for a change.

Fred’s wife is going to have a baby real soon, she’s at the hospital now and he just left to go over there—I just wished him luck saying, “I hope everything comes out all right.” He has the cigars, and candy (a custom up here, for frail men who don’t smoke cigars, they have candy—I smoke cigars). I get about one free cigar a week up here.

They drained the water out of our pond and have bulldozers and diggers pushing the clay around on the bottom. I don’t know what they are doing, but I’ll bet anyone (I just bet T.A.) even money it doesn’t hold water.

That’s all the news, sweetheart.

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Richard and Arline, 1945.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 9, 1945

Hello Sweetheart:

I don’t think I’ll get drunk anymore. I didn’t do anything to regret—it just wasn’t as much fun as being sober. Last night around 9:30 I was working when the husband of the woman who talks so loud asked me over to their house to celebrate VE day. So I went, and drank more wine than I ever did before. And I got drunker than I ever did before too. I didn’t even think I could act sober if I wanted to—I was making a lot of noise (they got me my drum), etc. I don’t like it because I know I didn’t drum good or make good jokes and I wasn’t all there to appreciate other people’s jokes—I sort of got “individual” and found it hard to pay attention to other people. We went all over the town singing and beating drums, pots and pans, etc. It sounds like a lot of fun but I know I would have enjoyed it better were I more sober.

Late in the evening I went to sleep and then they woke me up and I went home with Claus.

I don’t feel bad this morning, not much hangover or anything. I took a shower and am all fixed up.

I guess every guy has to get pretty drunk once in his life in order to be sure he doesn’t like drink.

Same with smoking, after cigarettes, pipe and cigars I gave the whole thing up. I’m getting moraller and moraller as I get older—that’s bad.

I think of you a lot—even when I was drunk. I love you very much. I love you. I’ll see you soon, darling.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 10, 1945

For Richard’s birthday on May 11, Arline sent away for fake newspapers announcing his birthday. They were delivered to the base at Los Alamos and widely distributed.

Dearest Putzie:

Last night I ate over at T.A.’s house. We had spaghetti and meat balls. Three big meat balls each.We all got too full and had lots of trouble eating the strawberry shortcake for dessert.

This place is flooded with newspapers—the Herald I believe! “Entire nation celebrates birth of R.P. Feynman!” Gee whiz, from all the newspapers it is almost true.They have copies tacked to the wall where I work and people borrowed copies to take home to their wives. Big news. Maybe I’ll get some presents out of it—or maybe they’ll just give me 27 socks on the back.Anyway, I would have forgotten that my birthday is so close if I hadn’t been so forcibly reminded.

I love you, thru it all tho.You are a nice wife.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 11, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

Lots of people are wanting copies of that newspaper to show to other people, etc. News sure gets around. I suppose this is my birthday today.

How are you feeling on my birthday?

Hans got a newspaper too and made some comment about you being wonderful. I took it to be sarcasm of course, even if he didn’t sound like he meant it that way (I think, not for publication, that you are wonderful—but how your trying to embarrass your husband proves that, I don’t know).

I think maybe I’ll take a few hours off and try to dream up a scheme for embarrassing you.

Moose wrote me a letter which I haven’t answered yet, wondering whether “Mom” knows about the baby—she didn’t know whether to mention it in a letter to her “Mom.”

Paul said when he was in NY he spoke to a doc. about us—the doc says he thinks there is no trouble at all to an abortion. If Therale is worried about anesthetic, because you need oxygen, make it a spinal anesthetic which won’t interfere with breathing at all.

I haven’t heard any news yet. Is the Friedman + or -? If + and the doc can feel something next time he comes, do you think we should do it?

Don’t worry darling.

I love you, darling.

The sudden discussion of abortion must be related to the two letters Arline received from a concerned doctor at the Deborah Sanatorium, where she lived after she and Feynman were first married. The doctor strongly urged her to “interrupt” any pregnancy immediately: “Do not wait one day longer.” It turned out she was not expecting. Her periods had ceased, probably due to reasons alluded to in the following letter.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 15, 1945

Hello Sweetheart,

I didn’t write you last night because I was busy—but I’ll write you this morning. If I mail it by noon it will get out in the same mail—I think. I’ll have to find out about that.

I worked till 12:30 last night—because when the new shift came on at 11 only one man came—the other couldn’t get thru the gate because his pass expired Sunday. So I did a lot of telephoning here and there, etc. The result of it all being that I got him in an hour later.We usually have 3 men on a shift, but the third one was sick.

I was just thinking last night, about you as usual.You are getting very thin and show all the symptoms of what looks like starvation.Yet I’m sure, that tho you don’t eat a great deal, you certainly eat enough that you shouldn’t be starving.Why isn’t the food being assimilated? Is your intestinal system on the blink, or is it some other difficulty such as lack of air (although I don’t see how shortage of air could act that way)? If it is the former, would not a direct infusion of food into the blood be a good idea? How about intravenous feeding of sugars and possibly other substances. It might be worth a try. Ask Therale about this and see what he says. Ask him why you keep losing weight so fast on what you eat. If he says you don’t eat enough, then intravenous should help that much more—if you eat as much as you can and take sugar in intravenously too, it’s just that much more. Does a test of your blood show that there is sufficient food being carried around by the blood, but the cells don’t pick it up—in which case intravenous wouldn’t help—or does it show that the blood isn’t getting any food from the digestive system—in which case intravenous would do the trick? Where is the difficulty, at the “digestive system to blood transfer” or at the “blood to cells” transfer? Ask Therale.

I love you, darling.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 17, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I didn’t write you yesterday.

I got a package from home like I said, containing six shirts from Wender and Goldstein.This is a good thing.

I didn’t find out how to darn my socks. Some woman in the hospital, who has to stay there quietly a while asked me if I had any buttons to sew on or socks to darn—when she found out I had, however, she seemed very disturbed so I won’t bother her. Don’t get worried, she’s the wife of a friend of mine and is in there because of complications connected with pregnancy. You should stop worrying about me and other women. Everything is under control—and I love you only.

Last night I read the encyclopædia: Tuberculosis, Tuff, Tuleremia, Tunicata,Tumor,Turkey and others between which I couldn’t remember. I’d read the TB article before, but there wasn’t much in it.Tuff is the kind of volcanic ash we have around here.The next is a disease of rats and rabbits, a man got the first case in Utah in 1913 and it was on the increase after that. Tunicata is a group of very strange microscopic animals that contain a cellulose (like plants), and have the rare element Vanadium in their blood (where we have Iron, insects have Cu, plants have a similar substance with magnesium (chlorophyll)).Tumors you already know about, and Turkey, the country, also—I didn’t finish the last article.

I was taking care of Henry, the son of Hans. He has grown a lot, and now he can walk. He is a good guy. Didn’t cry the whole time, although he fell on his bottom several times while walking around the house.

That is all the news.

Feynman would babysit Henry Bethe in exchange for access to the Encyclopaedia Brittanica, his favorite book. Decades later, he could recite the subject divisions on the volume covers rapid-fire.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 22, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I didn’t tell you about my trip back here Sunday night. Everything was OK until we got to Española—and there I saw a Ferris wheel and lights and stuff of a carnival so I got out of the bus right there and gave no further thought to how I was going to get back up the hill.

I took a ride on the Ferris wheel and then went on a thing that whirled “chairs” hung by chains around in a circle.They had various things like hoops to throw on nails—baseball tosses etc. to win prizes—which were statues of Christ, etc. I didn’t play those because I didn’t see much in the prizes.

I gave three little kids rides on a little airplane gadget that they were looking at.

It was a very small carnival, but it was fun.

I then started to hitchhike back—the first car by (after about 1/2 min.) stopped and gave me a ride. In fact, I drove it, because the driver was tired. The car had three girls in it. But they were kind of ugly so I remained faithful without even having the fun of exerting will power to do it.

I love you little darling. I thought of you a lot at the carnival.We used to have fun at carnivals. Get better and we’ll do it again.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 23, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I went to a town council meeting last night, there were lots and lots of people there—and lots of excitement.

What had happened was that they had put restrictions on some of the girls’ and men’s dorms—they put MP’s to guard the girls’ dorms and to see that no men were in the girls’ rooms at night, and only men with visitors could be taken into the “dayroom” (a sort of common living room in each dorm) and the lights are to be on in this room all during the night, etc. All dopey restrictions. In all dorms (including mine, for instance) a matron was to be around 24 hrs a day—purpose not clear, obviously to see that there wasn’t too much noise and etc.

Since these restrictions had to do with the homes of the dorm residents and since they were put on without notification or discussion—the MP’s just appeared—people were rightly sore.They said they could take care of such problems themselves—and some of the dorms organized committees to make rules for quiet etc. for their dorm—a committee to which members who didn’t like something could complain.

I got sore along with the other people and finally made a suggestion that the Town Council be the one to review evidence that people in a dorm can’t get along together and that they suggest remedies, etc.

So they are going to ask for authority to do this.And they are asking that the matrons be there only during cleaning hours in the daytime.We’ll see what comes of it.

They also made up a new one about people on busses needing statements from their foreman to leave here (to check absenteeism) on a weekday. Some freedom.

One guy got up and said if we were prisoners he demanded to know at least which branch of the army captured us.

Quite exciting.

I love you darling. Also I haven’t been in a girls’ dorm for over a year as far as I can remember.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 24, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

I miss your letters. Maybe you could get Pop or a nurse to write a postal for you once in a while—telling how you are and that you love me, etc.

We had another meeting of Town Council with dormitory representatives, one representative from each dorm. I had been chosen (last night) (at a meeting I didn’t attend) as representative of my dorm.We hemmed and hawed a while but finally I got an idea and suggested that we all sign a piece of paper saying we wanted to run our own lives, etc.That is what we finally did and two dozen or so names were signed each by a representative of a different dorm (each dorm had chosen a rep.) saying we could run our own problems and lives, if we got into trouble we wanted the Town Council to be authorized to handle it, and that we thought the guys in the housing administration etc. were a bunch of lunkheads! Or words to that effect. It was good. Maybe we’ll get what we are after.

014

Last night I went to eat supper at somebody’s house who you don’t know too well. A metallurgist also there was the Italian man I admire so much—who I think is so smart.We just talked about junk after supper.The food was good and so was the company. As usual I was the only one without a coat or tie. I’m getting good at that. Now I can’t go to anybody’s house with a coat because everybody will be insulted to whose house I go without a coat.

I love you, little darling. How are you? I’ll see you soon again—just 2 days to Saturday.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, MAY 31, 1945

Dearest Putzie:

There is a big forest fire quite a way (about 10 miles) north of here. It has been going for 2 days now. I can see the smoke out of the window now, and the flames at night.

They asked for volunteers yesterday. So I went out to fight the fire. Unfortunately, it was not very well organized so our work was for naught. We made (170 men) a ditch 18 inches wide thru the forest two miles long about. We had to go by brush and fallen trees and stuff. Quite a job. Only they didn’t leave patrols to patrol it—but told everyone to come down from the mountains just when the fire was coming up toward the ditch. On the way down I saw 4 places where sparks had started smoldering on the other side of the ditch. If patrols were left they could shovel the sparks back or put them out, etc.

Now they have just asked for volunteers again. But I don’t think I’ll go again. All yesterday’s effort was wasted. Anyway I’m busy because I didn’t work yesterday.We were out from 3 PM to 3 AM yesterday.

News: I got a raise. Quite a sizeable one. I used to get $380, minus a lot of taxes and stuff ~ $300. Now I am going to get $450! Minus a lot of taxes and stuff. I don’t know what it will amount to exactly after they subtract taxes but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. It looks like I did a good job on the new job. Well, now that I got the raise I’ll start changing jobs again.

A charmed life as you always say—as our expenses go—so goes our income.

I love you, little sweetheart.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, JUNE 6, 1945

I am always too slow. I always make you miserable by not understanding soon enough. I understand now. I’ll make you happy now.

I understand at last how sick you are. I understand that this is not the time to ask you to make any effort to be less of a bother to others. It is not the time to ask any effort at all from you. It is a time to comfort you as you wish to be comforted, not as I think you should wish to be comforted. It is a time to love you in any way that you wish.Whether it be by not seeing you, or by holding your hand, or whatever.

This time will pass—you will get better.You don’t believe it, but I do. So I will bide my time and yell at you later—now I am your lover, devoted to serving you in your hardest moments. I am your husband, call on me for help—or tell me to go—as you prefer. I will understand everything. I want to comfort you.

I will come this week and if you don’t want to bother to see me just tell the nurse. I will understand darling, I will. I will understand everything because I know now that you are too sick to explain anything. I need no explanations. I love you, I adore you, I shall serve you without question, but with understanding.

I am sorry to have failed you, not to have provided the pillar you need to lean upon. Now, I am a man upon whom you can rely, have trust, faith, that I will not make you unhappy any longer when you are so sick. Use me as you will. I am your husband.

I adore a great and patient woman. Forgive me for my slowness to understand. I am your husband. I love you.

Arline Feynman died on June 16, 1945.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO LUCILLE FEYNMAN, AUGUST 9, 1945

The world’s first atomic bomb was detonated in the New Mexico desert on July 16, 1945.

Now I am in Cincinnati, waiting for a plane out. Am I dumb.You must have all gotten a good laugh at the absent-minded guy that thinks his sister goes to school in the summer time. I realized my error about a half hour after I sent Joan the telegram.

There is lots in the newspaper about the atomic bomb now, so I know some things I can tell you about. Remember, I left Saturday night on the plane. I got in Sunday near noon (Albuquerque) and was met by an army car and taken to the site, arriving three o’clock. I went right to the boss’s house. His wife had made sandwiches, etc. We were all scheduled to leave on busses at 5 P.M. (so I made it by two hours) to go south, about 100 miles south of Albuquerque because we were to witness an experimental trial of our bomb. It was scheduled for 4 A.M. Monday morning—weather permitting. There were (now I’m flying) three busloads of anxious scientists. Interesting events en route were, first three busloads of anxious scientists stopped, waited at the side of the road while one especially anxious scientist (not me) got off and went into the bushes for a while. Second—Albuquerque, the largest town in New Mexico was swamped—all drug stores, cafes, etc. were full of the same guys when we stopped for refreshments on the way down, showing how small Alb. really is. We eventually arrived at our vantage point on a ridge overlooking a great bowl of desert at the center of which, 20 miles away, was our gadget. It was mounted on a hundred-foot steel tower but we couldn’t see that.We knew where to look because of searchlights, which were shining on it and alternately on the clouds—the weather looked bad.

Dark glasses were distributed (welder’s glasses). I looked at my flashlight through them and could hardly see it.Then everyone sat down to eat and wait for 4 A.M. There I appreciated the efforts of the boss’s wife. Roast chicken and lemonade and chocolate.

We had two radios—one like a police radio to listen to and talk into a ground station—and one to listen to reports from a plane in the air, which was to fly over, take pictures, drop measuring instruments and see how it felt from the air. I ran the radio to the plane. One of the two radios didn’t work—mine. I sweated blood on it. I got reports from some of the men who knew as to what frequency the plane was to transmit. I tuned all around there, changed the position of the antennae, switched every switch on the thing, but no success. Meantime, we had learned that because of the weather, it was to be postponed. All I could get near the right frequency was a San Francisco short wave station playing music. But this enabled me to tune everything as well as possible (there were literally ten dials and no one knew what they were all for—but I found out by experimenting with San Francisco what they all did). Finally I tuned to as accurately as possible where I thought the thing would be as everyone was anxious as hell to find out what was what and they weren’t getting much dope from the other set because the guys at the other end were too busy to answer our questions. I went over to the other radio, hoping to ask them to contact the other station to check what frequency the plane was transmitting on.They were too busy, but when I got back, one of the radio electronics experts among the scientists we had there was happily jumping up and down in front of the set and it was saying as clear as you please, O.K. we see your searchlights over. I felt dumb, I suppose those electronics boys know how to tune radios. I asked him how he did it. He said he didn’t—he just walked past and the voice came out.They had just started to transmit.The reason I didn’t get them before was that they weren’t saying anything.

In a few minutes of listening (around 5 A.M.) to them I heard them say “the shot will be at 5:30, it is now minus thirty minutes.” Everyone set their watches and crowded around the radio.“Minus 10 minutes”—then “Minus 3 minutes.” People scattered over the hill so they wouldn’t be in each other’s way. They took out their dark glasses. Some even put on suntan oil. A bunch of crazy optimists, I thought. I had helped to figure out how powerful the bomb should be. I knew how many things had to go just right to get a really big blast and I wanted a full solid experience if it did go—so I was going to look at it directly—no dark glasses for me. I did get behind the windshield of the weapons carrier which had the radio on it, just so the ultraviolet light, if any, wouldn’t hurt my eyes. I heard a voice of the man at my right—“it ought to be in 15 seconds.” I got behind my glass, stared at the spot.Would it go—would everything go right?

I was blinded by a terrific silver white flash—I had to look away. Wherever I looked an enormous purple splotch appeared—it was just as bright when I closed my eyes. “That,” said my scientific brain to my befuddled one, “is an after-image caused by looking at a bright light—it is not the bomb you are looking at.” So I turned back to look at the bomb. The sky was lit up with a bright yellow light—the earth appeared white.The yellow gradually became darker, turning gradually to orange. In the sky I saw white clouds from above the gadget caused by the sudden expansion following the blast wave—the expansion cools the air and fog-clouds form—we had expected this. Some thing—creates clouds. The orange got deeper, but where the gadget was it was still bright, a bright orange flaming ball-like mass.This started to rise, leaving a column of smoke behind, below looking much like the stem of a mushroom.The orange mass continued to rise, the orange to fade and flicker. A great ball of smoke and flame three miles across it was, like a great oil fire billowing and churning, now black smoke, now orange flame. Soon the orange died out and only churning smoke, but this was enveloped in a wonderful purple glow. Another after—image I thought, but on closing my eyes it did disappear and appeared on opening them again. Others said they saw it too, probably caused by ionized air produced in the great heat. Gradually this disappeared, the ball of smoke rising majestically slowly upward, leaving a trail of dust and smoke behind it.

Then suddenly there was a sharp loud crack followed by resounding thunder. “What was that?” cried the man at my left, a war department representative. “That is the thing,” I yelled back. He had forgotten that sound takes much longer than light to travel, and what we had seen so far was a silent picture—the sound track for which was one minute and forty seconds late. I knew then that the bomb was a success—big as it appeared at twenty miles, I was still more impressed with the solid sound of the thunder echoing in the hills.

We jumped up and down, we screamed, we ran around slapping each other on the back, shaking hands, congratulating each other, guessing at the energy released—it had worked as well as anyone could have dared to expect. Everything was perfect but the aim—the next one would be aimed for Japan, not New Mexico. (continued on way back in Knoxville airport waiting for plane to Cinn.) We finally got into the buses and started home. We asked one of the bus drivers on the way what his impression of the explosion was.“Well, I don’t know—you see I never had an opportunity to see one of these things go off before.”

Later pictures and observations showed that an area almost one mile in diameter was covered by a green glasslike glaze formed by melting the sand at the surface.The sand is brown, the glaze is bright green. It is a wonderful sight from the air to see the green area with the crater at the center, in the brown desert.

Well, when we got back I had the fun of telling lots of people about it. The fellows working for me all gathered in the hall with open mouths, while I told them. They were all proud as hell of what they had done. Maybe we can end the war soon. It was too much to hope. We went back to work.

Some expeditions went out to the mountains around Alb. and saw the sky light up so brightly and worried for a moment that we had miscalculated and all the experimenters six miles away were cooked. It was seen in three states—over two hundred miles in all directions. The head of the Alamogordo Air Base had to put out a statement that they accidentally blew up an ammunition dump.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN TO ARLINE FEYNMAN, OCTOBER 17, 1946

This letter is well worn—much more so than others—and it appears as though he reread it often.

Thursday, Oct. 17, ’46

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that—but I don’t only write it because you like it—I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you—almost two years but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and what I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you—I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead—but I still want to comfort and take care of you—and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you—I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that together.What should we do.We started to learn to make clothes together—or learn Chinese—or getting a movie projector. Can’t I do something now. No. I am alone without you and you were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed.You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true—you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else—but I want to stand there.You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don’t want to be in my way. I’ll bet that you are surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can’t help it, darling, nor can I—I don’t understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don’t want to remain alone—but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes.You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

P.S. Please excuse my not mailing this—but I don’t know your new address.