Dearest little Love:

It is just noon on Wednesday, and we are passing the Arizona - New Mexico border, where there are the beautiful red cliffs shaped like docks. I wish you were here to see how the snow sets them off. There is only a few inches of snow, and the sun is shining brightly.

Tell Peter we are still using a steam engine instead of a Diesel, and we are now about 2 ½ hours late - we should have been in Gallup, which we are approaching, two hours ago. I am a little worried about missing my train in Chicago - it leaves at 3 ¹⁵ and we are due in at 1 ⁴⁵ ; but perhaps we'll make up enough time for me to catch it.

I went to bed early last night, and lay for a while in the dark looking out at the desert. I was too warm, and had to take off my longies & sleep in my pj's alone. I slept pretty well, and had breakfast at about 10. The man at my table recognized me - he is Homer Crotty, a trustee of Pomona and perhaps a CalTech Associate - a friend of Joe's, and ET Bell, Tolman, etc. We talked about Opler, a Gug. Fellow at Pomona, and about vitamins and other matters.

I haven't anything to read, and there is nothing in the club car except one magazine - the Red Book - I could only get up courage to tackle one story, which was punk. I thought that James might give me a detective story, but he didn't. I've spent most of the time making calculations about my new weapon.

If I has come on the Chief (which left Pasadena at noon) I would have had an extra half hour leeway between trains. But still I really needed Tuesday afternoon to get the important work done that was done.

I love you, darling. Give my love to all the children.

Your own

Paddy