My dearest Carol,
So much to say, and so little patience to have you hear it! I’m telling you, you just won’t believe the luck we’ve come across–by the good graces of Phil’s girl no less. Carol, tell the kids we have a house! Kathy (that’s Phil’s girl), is going to rent it out to us while I work. I know we’ve always been the cynics, and sure, we’ve gotta be, but I can’t help but hope this time, love, I’ve gotta hope it’ll be better for the kids.
But it’s strange, too. Phil’s been working on a piece about our kinds of struggles. You know, our people’s struggles. But here’s the kicker: he actually pretended he’s Jewish, to try and get a real sense of what it’s like. When he first told me I didn’t know what to say. I guess I told him he was a fool. And he got the experience alright, even tried to confront the prejudice head on. You can imagine how it went. But his boy Tom ended up getting involved too–the other kids on the block threw all that anti-semitic junk at him playing kickball and he came home in tears. That was the hardest on Phil, and it was the hardest on me, even though we’ve become so insulated to things like that. But he’s fighting, in his life and with this piece, and I admire him for it.
I’ll see you soon, love,
Dave