Sunday, May 7th, 1967
How are you? I told you I’d write to you; I miss you already. Things have never been the same since Marya died. In just a few years I lost a fellow doctor and a lovely assistant and now I have to work on my own. I’m being forced to accept a much greater workload than before. There are a lot of mixed feelings around here; there are some that believe the United States will beat us in this “Cold War” unless we find another strong leader like Stalin. I sure hope not; under Stalin I’d have too many patients to count. Political arguments aside, how are you adjusting to your new workplace? What’s the village like? We’ve got a bit of a drought going on here. I hope it doesn’t effect your area as much as it does ours. I’ve got a lot of unhappy farmers who overwork themselves in order to meet collectivization quotas. I’d really like you back here, but it sounded like the villagers by Lake Karachay really needed you. Let us hope that these troubles will soon pass.