5 February, 1966

Dear Peter,

The other day I came across a letter that I had started to write to you last May! I realize that I haven't written for quite some time. We did send off a package for Thomas and Sarah about a year ago, but got it back a couple of months later. We sent it off again a couple of months ago, along with one for you and Julia, addressed to University College. You might let us know if they ever showed up, so we can file a claim with the post office. If they didn't.

Life goes on, in a rather bumbling fashion. Somewhat over a year ago I managed to escape the bonds of Seattle, the University of Washington, and graduate school, and strike out to enter life. As it were. We have been living here in Palo Alto now for about 1 ½ years, and really appreciate sunshine, warmth, and so on. It is really nice not to be raining all winter, but to have the rain come in discrete storms, with good weather in between. This is really a delightful part of California, one that I have never spent any appreciable time in before. The climate is mild, but it rains enough so that it avoids the terrible dry aspects of the Los Angeles area. It is also only 3 ½ - 4 hours to the ranch, which is also nice.

The children continue to thrive. Cheryl is now a third grader, and I think reading essentially fifth grade books, by the school system standards. Kirstin is in second grade, and I think equally advanced. They both bring home tediously uniform report cards, reflecting I think the mediocrity of the school systems standards. But I must say that it is pretty satisfying for me to have the kids doing reasonably well. Crellie is still in nursery school, but he too is grasping the elements of reading and writing, and can even write his name in script. He has nice long hair, and fancies himself a junior Ringo, except that he is armed with a (plastic) ukulele.

My typing is pretty rusty.

Some time ago I acquired an aged Porsche speedster, and now get wet when it rains. Fortunately I can get along in this climate. I had some ambition to latch onto the old ‘55 but finally realized that Mom was dead set against my ever getting it. I decided that even though I knew the history of that car the familial situation was such that I ought to forget about it, and look around for another. I don't know what ever happened to it; I suspect that guilt feelings inhibit both Linda and the parents discussing it with me. It kind of pisses me off; I would kind of like those nice leather seats. But I managed to find a rather nice '58 speedster, and I think am probably much better off for it.

I took the liberty of giving your address to a rather nice Stanford undergraduate who is spending a few months at Stanford in England. He worked in our lab during the summer, and was pretty capable.

Have you seen the Beatle flicks? They are just great! The Beatles deserve to be millionaires.

Are you ever going to come over? I applied pressure to Mom to have a Christmas reunion, but she successfully resisted my pressure. I guess the next opportunity would be the Easter holidays. Don't know.

The International Congress of Biophysics (I am in Biophysics now, whatever that is ) is going to be in Vienna at the end of the summer, and I am toying with the idea of trying to attend. My boss seems to feel that I ought to go if I have material to present a paper, and I am reasonably sure that I can manage that. Things seem to be going pretty well now research-wise, for a change.

Lucy connived with Linus to acquire a neat tape recorder for me for Christmas. I must say she managed to surprise me; I had no idea what was in this neat box, and could hardly believe it when I got the wrapper off and saw the printing on the carton.

If I do make it to the Biophysics congress I will certainly visit London. Maybe via Stuttgart.

Well, write sometime. Sooner than its taken me to write. And let me know if you are going to come over. We can put you all up, in one way or another. You could take the BGAC VC-10 to SFO.

Much love -

Crellin

P.S. I realize that your 35th (!!) is but a few days off -- Happy Birthday.

Crellin