February 26, 1956

Dear Mom and Pop,

At last, the breaking of the silence! I really feel ashamed at being such a poor correspondent, but it doesn't seem to help--I don't write more often.

First I want to thank you very very much for the absolutely magnificently chosen Christmas present. It took me right back to childhood and adolescence to sat those delicious and so specifically Mom jams as quince honey and Satsuma plum! And it reminded me that nothing since compares, either. I get into fights with the children because I want to save it all for me, but they like it too and demand some.

It makes me glad, too, to know that you are still making these things. It is a parental attachment string which no matter how independent one pretends to be still feels good to have.

All of this reminds me that in a couple of weeks I'll be thirty-one. A great deal has occurred in that period of time, a great deal of water under the bridge, to use a mossy cliche, and looking back on it now I wonder if the joys of offspring are worth the trouble they inevitably cause from time to time. I examine the escapades, heartaches, stupidities, and experiments that I and my siblings have (and are!) perpetrating at the expense of the paternal peace of mind (and maternal, even more) and I almost regret fathering so many myself. It is impossible to expend so much energy bringing up a bunch of whelps and not have expectations, but it is a mistake because disappointment is so inevitable. I'm looking forward with trepidation to my own reactions, and I'm hoping my equanimity holds up and the optimistic outlook keeps the title.

To prove that optimism is champion at present, our new house is planned for five children's rooms! I hope that is enough--I can't look any farther into the future. As the psychiatrists say, one cannot really rest until he has had more children than his father. If that were universal, old Malthus would have long ago been vindicated!

Our new house is occupying our attention these days. We bought a lot of an acre on Tantalus, that mountain behind Honolulu, that fascinating and beautiful mountain with the combination of temperate and tropical climate and vegetation. Our lot is at the end of a steep and narrow ridge, one side of which drops off very sharply into Manoa Vally, and the other less sharply toward Nuuanu. We have a striking view therefore, on one side Diamond Head and the limitless Pacific, on the other the airport, Pearl Harbor, the cane fields of Waipahu, and the Waianae range of mountains. In back of us is the wet rampart of the Koolau mountains that form the backbone of the island, and directly in front is a rounded and forested mountain that fortuitously hides most of the city! A remarkable place; there are not too many with such a combination of advantages. There is only one close neighbor, and he is on a lower level, and therefore invisible, although his children are occasionally audible.

And the house is tremendously exciting. We have known for some time Vladimir Ossipoff, a local architect, and he is producing a brilliantly executed idea, a scheme reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright in that it is based on the hexagon as a fundamental modular shape, but better than Wright in that the house is tremendously livable and comfortable (at least in my fantasy--it's not built yet). The general shape is vaguely like yours, an open three-wing house, with 120⁰ angles and six-sided rooms where practicable.

[Hand drawn sketch of the architecture of the house]

This house contains all of our ideas, such as a kitchen-living room where all will congregate before dinner so the hostess can cook and converse at the same time, and containing the table close at hand for ease of setting and serving, and also fireplace, hi-fi, and the other amenities. Then next to it is the living room-library, a more conventional place for after-dinner escape into relaxation, and containing, I hope, my 2000 books. Other little inclusions are a covered space about equivalent to a two-car garage for the children to play outside when it rains (which it does rather often). It is good that it rains often, because there is no water supply up there, and all of it must be collected off the roof and stored in tanks. It is as soft as can be.

Also in the scheme is a tremendous amount of storage space, children's rooms in pairs with a movable partition between sets, a workshop, and our bathroom with a tub, stall shower, and two washbowls.

Last of all is a guestroom which is above the entrance and has windows into the front hall (what a room!).

Speaking of guestrooms, Anita and I have a proposal to make, and it is that you and any other family members within reach visit us next Christmas. It would make a nice vacation for all, and would get us all together, in addition to being a very pleasant house-warming for us. I think we could hold everyone, although some of our children would have to double up.

I ask you now because I know how beset by invitations, travels, lectures, and all other commitments you always are these days, and I want to get our bid in before it's too late.

Our little Ramona is a wonderful baby, goodnatured and easy to care for. She is healthy and growing fast, and is in a delightful stage of responsiveness now at four months. The boys are hellions overflowing with unbelievable energy, the very thought of which exhausts me.

I think you should see them all again. I know they would be overjoyed to see you.

Anita is going on a month's journey to Europe, and will spend some time with Pete if he's still there, as she will not be leaving here until about the 8th of April. She will return about the first or second week of May, and would like to see you if you're in town as she goes through.

Well, so ends this epistolary (or something) catharsis. I feel much better, relieved of a weight, as it were, and yet left with the definite feeling of satisfaction that goes along with having produced something.

By the way, apropos of nothing, I am just finishing up a six-month's full-time tour of duty in Hawaii's equivalent to the state mental hospital; an illuminating experience. I now go back to Queen's for six months, then, I hope, private practice.

It's late.

Much love,

Linus