Letters from Marcy #34: 27 February 1968
In this letter (the fifth-to-last of this series of letters), the doctor says that the baby (spoiler: me!) could come along at any minute; but in fact, it took me over a month longer to show up.
This letter was typed on another Transport A Child notecard, the same design as letter #32.
Tuesday, 27 February [handwritten: 1968] only 14 more days max. till your grandchild's birthday, I hope. Heoollo. We have just xxx had two days of summer, glorious sun and warm and delightful, don't even mind too much that today was drizzly again. We had such a beautiful day at school--the kids were kind of glad to stay in after two days of pure sunshine. In the morning, we all wrote a story about flying saucers---surprising amount of agreement as to what they look like and how they function. Then everybody actually willingly worked on academics for a while, and then we did a play. Generally plays generate into chaos, as the kids get so involved in the costumes and motions that they forget to say anything, but we solved that by telling a story and practicing what we'd say before we actually did it. This one was the story of an old beggar walking along the road and finding a caged tiger who pleads to be let out, promising good behavior. So the beggar lets him out, and the tiger proceeds to pounce and be about to eat him. Various animals come along the road to act as judge, all agreeing with tiger . Then along comes a sage, wo professes not to understand what has transpired, suggests they demonstrate original positions, so tiger gets back into cage, sage slams door, and everyone lives ever after....The play was a vast success, repeat performance demanded by the actors, and even the audience liked it. Then monthly check-up with dr., who, altho he doesn't approve of our wanting to have the baby at home, will not stand in the way, and xxxx does at least want to be sure all is well beforehand. We have still not firmly decided which we will so, but going to the city for excellent hospital care is out of the question; I refuse to spend two weeks sitting around [handwritten: in S.F.] waiting for contractions to start, but he says it'll probably be a short labor, as I'm in good shape and dilated already, so we won't have any 12 hours to get down there once the contractions start. We re-calculated and came up with March 12, but he says it really could be any minute. Which is how it feels, too. We'll let you know as soon as he's out. Walnuts dipped in honey are a most excellent thing. We got 60 pounds (5 gallons) of honey for $8 last week, good rich dark honey, retailing it to our friends and eating it just about plain, it's so delicious. Spent last weekend cleaning and cutting up what is lovinging referrred to locally as "one of them government goats"--most delicious [handwritten: mammal] flesh I've ever eaten. i.e., a deer. Someone gave us a whole bunch of venison (Peter had helped skin it) which we cut up and froze, and ate quite a bit of all at once. It was very strange--we have been having fish (crab, that most heavenly crustacean, too, or mostly) as our source of animal protein, and had eaten little or no meat for several months. The venison made my teeth hurt, as I'm not used to that carnivourous chewing, and made us both feel heavy and ferocious and animalistic. And yet venison is better to eat that the meat in stores, full of preservatives and antibiotics and hormones and tranquilizers, and generally water as well. And so exquisitely delicious. Chopped deer liver, and braised and broiled and fried and stewed venison, oh my, a benison. Hope eye operation goes well. Let me know; also, I don't understand how you will do without x the lenses now, and just wear glasses--or did I miss something somewhere? As an experiment, I've been doing without my lenses for nearly a week, and my eyes sure are stronger and better. (even if my typing isn't) Don't take the chance of driving without them, though--but then, I can't fit behind the steering wheel and still reach the pedals any more, so I just don't drive. Falling asleep, so goodnight, take care, best to all, love from [handwritten: Peter & Marcia & Little one (very little - I’ve only gained 13 lbs.)]
Postmark: Feb 28, 1968, Mendocino, CA. Handwritten: “Rec’d this 3/1/68.”