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I am so glad to hear from you again. I know I don’t deserve it. But when one drops out of everything for nearly two years, one gets so behind that it seems impossible to catch up with life again.
Isn’t this an amazing and unsatisfactory world, to us, even though we are in the least
tormented corner of it? Nobody belongs anywhere any more, and nobody, either old or
young, is living the kind of life they intended to live and are prepared to live.
I
don’t wonder that you and Mr. Whicher4 fled
away from Amherst3 for your Christmas.
All the young people in my family are in the war in one way or another. Mary Virginia5 is with her husband, Dr. Mellen6, at the Station Hospital, Camp Carson,
Colorado7. They have been there for more
than a year now. Virginia was in New York2
for six weeks this winter, and it seemed lovely to have her back again. I parked her
at the Hotel New Weston, which isn’t far away, and we did a good many pleasant
things together. Her brother Tom8 and
his wife9 are in a hospital camp at
Goldfield, Arizona10. I love the
Southwest11, but Goldfield is certainly
one of the dreariest spots in it. My brother Roscoe12's oldest daughter13 (the
one who graduated from Smith when I had my last visits with you) is staying with my
brother in California14, as her husband15 is a commander of a plane carrier somewhere in the Pacific16. When all family relations are broken up,
and so many friends of mine don't even know where theirs husbands or sons are, the result seems to be that nothing in our life is
very real at any time. There is a scramble for food, and one reads the war news:
that’s about all.
Your lovely Christmas card of Beacon Street in winter, I am pasting in
⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩
Mrs. Fields17' book, “Memories of a Hostess”18. I used to love Boston19. But now that they
are trying to make the region around Trinity Church look like the ugliest part of
New York, Boston, to me, seems like a jig saw puzzle all broken up - it hasn’t any character any more
now.
Miss Lewis20 and I spent last summer at
Northeast Harbor, Maine21. We stayed at
the Asticou Inn22 and lived in great
comfort, though the food was poor, as it was everywhere: was and is.! Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could drop back and live as we did
fifteen years ago? This sort of suspense really isn’t life at all.
It is good to hear from one’s friends, and I do thank you for writing me a letter which I did not deserve. And I wish a Happy New Year to you and Mr. Whicher.
Affectionately Willa CatherI hate to send you a dictated letter, but in doing up so many packages at
Christmas time (for boys in the army and for friends no longer very young or
very youngwell) I sprained my right hand23—the one
Dr. Ober24 kept in a brace for six
months several years ago. So I am back in the brace brace again. Very difficult to guide a pen with a steel brace
attached to one!