To John Dos Passos
29 March [1968] Conway
Dear Dos:
What have we come to—writing on wrapping paper! But at least we’re back from the Land of Aloha which is a good land to be back from, and in the mountains of old mail and Christmas cards was yours to remind us. How this life goes BY! Here I am going on for 76 and feeling not much different from the way I’ve always felt and yet the companions—where are they? Gerald and Ernest and Cummings and Scott and poor Sadie [Murphy] in a troubled dream and all the rest. You & we should somehow make our way to each other while there’s someone left to find. The way I know I’m really old is the world—it’s an old man’s world to me—far worse than the one I knew forty years ago. (But what bothers me is that the young think so too: NO one loves this world.) Uxmal was a comfort. Time is so old there I felt somehow like a child—falsely like a child. Every now & then I read in the 42nd Parallel and savor the words. Love to you all—& to you, old friend[.]
Archie
(from the Selected Letters of Archibald MacLeish)

To John Dos Passos

29 March [1968] Conway

Dear Dos:

What have we come to—writing on wrapping paper! But at least we’re back from the Land of Aloha which is a good land to be back from, and in the mountains of old mail and Christmas cards was yours to remind us. How this life goes BY! Here I am going on for 76 and feeling not much different from the way I’ve always felt and yet the companions—where are they? Gerald and Ernest and Cummings and Scott and poor Sadie [Murphy] in a troubled dream and all the rest. You & we should somehow make our way to each other while there’s someone left to find. The way I know I’m really old is the world—it’s an old man’s world to me—far worse than the one I knew forty years ago. (But what bothers me is that the young think so too: NO one loves this world.) Uxmal was a comfort. Time is so old there I felt somehow like a child—falsely like a child. Every now & then I read in the 42nd Parallel and savor the words. Love to you all—& to you, old friend[.]

Archie

(from the Selected Letters of Archibald MacLeish)

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    To John Dos Passos 29 March [1968] Conway Dear Dos: What have we come to—writing on wrapping paper! But at least we’re...
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