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Monday, May 25, 1953--BOSTON, MASS.-- The glow of Washington was still with me and in the afternoon I looked at my watch and thought, "Now Eero is safely in the air." Just then the phone rang and it was you--and you'd been in the accident. That was a horrible first--the first time I was aware something dreadful might have happened to you. My knees literally shook when I hung up. There was hectic ticket-changing and then the bus to Newark and there you were--and suddenly the Newark airport became a consecrated place while we sat there having drinks and looking at eachother full of love and wonder. By now we both knew we were going to get married if we could. The plane trip up was our first plabe trip together. There was Harmon's nice letter, and Kook's letter, and the eye-operation explanation and my deep, deep unhappiness about you going through that experience alone. And then Boston and the biggest god-damned packages ever carried on American Airlines and the hearse-like car to convey them, and then your nephew on the street...

And then up to your room and the MIT chapel bell-tower models. The fun of your putting them on the model, one after the other, while  I sipped a martini and contemplated them and you so patiently letting me look. And then the renderings-- and your generosity in stripping them of their neat tape so I could see them all. And then you took all the things off the bed and we made love and it was wonderful love. Then downstairs to my room and dinner there--and the Hvittrask album and you as a little boy with a backside as enchanting then as now and your mother very pretty in her black and white furs and the romantic sculptor and your father very jaunty even without a bow-tie and Hvittrask itself, with a special quality that probably shoud be re-looked at and re-evaluated as something important and almost lost and the giant, wonderful trees (and oh, want I want so much to go there) and the sense of what that life must have been like. And then dinner and my dissertation on the Jewish hierarchy and what it is like to be an "assimilated Jew". And then a little more conversation and then to bed and to love-making and you, my darling, a heavenly-earthly/lover.

Tuesday, May 26, 1953--BOSTON, MASS. AND TRAIN--Breakfast in your room and packing up the model-crowns with the Ritz cocktail napkins and Kleenex and seeing you off with all your burdens. And then returning to my room and working and reading and then, you were back. And the MIT chapel was accepted, and I was so happy for you and you were so kind to me, because you described all the people and what they said and how the room looked and what effect the model and the renderings had. Then we had a brief time in bed, a "married moment" time, and then set off to the airport. But we got stuck outside the tunnel in furious rain. And then there were plane delays and complications and finally we decided to take the train. Dinner at Loch Lomond and then on the train --our first train trip together. We made love--and it is the only time it wasn't good between us, because we were both exhausted, and finally to tired sleep and the door swinging and neither of us with energy to close it and you already undoubtedly stricken with mono.

Wednesday, May 27, 1953--NEW YORK, N.Y.--But you came up for breakfast and had a shower and felt a little better. And it was solemn, somehow, with the long separation ahead and the certainty of our love established. And you went off to see the Hammonds--and again I felt how generous and good you were in the way you were handling the whole divorce thing and how great my gratitude was for your steadfastness and honesty and kindness to all of us.