Page 240 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text
P. 240

Letters

                                                                    Los Angeles 2/3/62
        My dear Rose,

           Your letter came, with the wrong address that I had written on the
        parcel.  It  was  just  the  confusion  of  an  old  man  whose  memory
        becomes  dimmer  with  the  years,  and  also  to  some  extent  absent-
        mindedness from reading too much philosophy—whose authors, it is
        well-known, are  usually not  at  home.  My  browsing  field  is  reading
        both  old  and  contemporary  philosophy,  political  economy,  and
        cultural literature, including the arts. Hilda subscribes to the Saturday
        Review,  which  gives  educational  matter  and  good  reviews  on
        literature, and I subscribe to The Nation,  the  Hebrew Hadoar, the
        Hebrew monthly Bitzaron, a monthly California magazine, Frontier,
        and the weekly B’nai B’rith Messenger—which, together with a few
        books for bed reading, is enough to make one’s brain a kaleidoscope,
        causing sometimes horrible night dreams and loss of good sleep.
           Sculpturing is a great relaxation for the mind and body. Handling
        sharp instruments and hammering, one has to watch the formation of
        the piece and also not hurt his hand and be crippled. My managing
        job is very easy, just a plumbing or electrical job now and then, and
        the rest of the time I work on wood or stone or marble, and I am at
        it until it is dark and late. Then I warm up my  supper,  sometimes
        forgetting when to turn off the  fire while I am reading something,
        and behold: I smell smoke and have a bum supper.
           Today we had a good rain, the first in two years. I was stuck in my
        kennel and did not know what to do; therefore I am chopping on the
        old typewriter. Of course, it gives me pleasure to write to you, as it
        always does. You asked why the little female head has only one ear.
        The age of abstraction and mysticism, could be the answer; but it is
        the medium itself. The piece of wood was small and tended to incline
        to one side, so I made the hair spread over the left shoulder. As I
        have  to  be  occupied,  and  did  not  have  any  materials,  I  picked  up
        some  good  wood,  dark  walnut,  which  cost  six  dollars  a  foot,  and
        made a nice bearded Jew like a Chassidic rabbi, to please Carmel.
           I presume that you two will be going traveling again this coming
        summer.  I lost the appetite, and use my car only once a week when
        going  to  visit  the  children.    One  can  hardly  enjoy  company  at  a

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