I will say you write
the most informative letters. How
anybody can get so much fascinating material into seventy-five words is a source
of wonder and delight to me. Why
not write your letters on the back of a postage stamp and just send that? It would be a relief to a sorely
overtaxed post office.
Linda, I wish you would add fifteen or twenty minutes to your writing
time. In truth I believe you owe
that to Dottie and, of course, it would please me. I am asking you to do this not as a penance, but because it
seems to me an equitable and fair thing for you to do. It is extremely easy to fall into
slovenly habits, in study, in cleanliness, in mental attitudes. We have no way of knowing what goes on
at school but through your letters.
If you will consider that when you start to write it may make it easier
for you. What is familiar to you:
the little things that occur daily, what you are thinking about, what you are
studying, what your teachers talk about…are not at all old stuff to us. We are eager to know what you are doing
and what kind of a person you are.
Writing is a duty in a way, just as study is, but like study it can be
pleasant and fun and if it brings happiness then it is certainly worth
doing. Here I go, sounding like a
father again, but if you would see the light in Dottie’s eyes when she gets a
nice bulky letter from you I know you would forgive me.
I’ve got to continue
this a little further because I don’t want to leave you with the idea that you
should write to her because she is your mother or is to be thereby pitied or
any such nonsense. She has, in
fact, after her initial homesickness for you, adjusted herself beautifully and
sensibly to our new life together.
She does not hang about the mailbox dolefully and fruitlessly awaiting
the mailman. She should receive
letters from you in the same sense that anyone who wants a drawing from me
should have one: because it brings her happiness and because it makes no
fantastic claim on you. It is a
matter of simple need and simple justice.
We are going to
dinner at Luby’s tonight with Gene [Poddany], of course, and the George Gordon’s and
Carl Ubano’s (what those apostrophes are doing there, I don’t know), old
friends in the cartoon business, now both directing at John Sutherland’s
commercial studio. Every other
person I’ve ever known in cartoons seems to own a commercial studio and are
producing TV commercials. Hope to
hell it never falls to my lot to get in that trap. What an ulcer producer it is. You have to please a client, an agency man, a contact man
and an art director every time you sneeze, so you have to become very adept at
diversified sneezing. Pew on that
I always say.
Well, I managed to
get over on page two today. Quite
a feat for me. I should lecture
you more often…sure covers the paper.
Ah, weel, it is that
I love you very much, sordid beast that you are.