Sunday Evening
October 3, 1964
Dear Patricia:
I’ve been wanting to write to you all day but haven’t had the time till now.
What do you suppose I saw our here at the Williams ranch in the Cupertino Foothills at midday? A perky little chipmunk – just as chipper, as active and as inquisitive as any in Lassen Park. It ran across the concrete terrace in the garden behind the house, fluffed tail a flying and trashing up and down in typical chipmunk fashion. But it wasn’t tame and friendly as the “wild” ones are in Lassen & the other parks where they get protection. This place has too long a history of numerous cats and dogs and not always sympathetic people. Dale Williams (“Lord of the Manor”) said it was the first one he’d seen in months – probably because a month ago he’d carried out a campaign of cat reduction.
“My room” (actually Lindy’s) looks out a spacious north window at a hillside with about a 35 degree slope. The immediate slope is bare except for grasses & weeds that have grown up to replace the prune trees that used to be here. A hundred yards away (really beginning closer) the far side of the little gulley is covered with live oaks (mostly – some deciduous ones) and chaparral (or chapparal) (I repeatedly get confused on the spelling.) The ranch horses (a pinto belonging to Claudia and 3 other adults & a half grown colt) – also, most of the time, up to a half dozen white face Hereford cattle. However, what really appeals to me are the birds – present in considerable variety.
Every morning I’m awakened by bird song – Just now it is the golden crowned sparrow, with its plaintive “See-See-See” in descending series. They’re recent arrivals from farther north – come to spend the winter. An occasional mockingbird with its highly varied repertory (or, as a singer yourself, do you prefer repertoire?) takes over. Argumentative California Jays are always in evidence. I refuse to call them “scrub jays” in spite of the dictum of the American Ornithological Union which abruptly, a few years back, decreed that we should stop calling them California jays, though the name has been used for 3/6 of a century, and should call them scrub jays because the areas to which they are native (Upper Sonoran gone) is covered with scrubbier vegetation than that inhabited by Steller’s jay – The California thrasher, [page 2] or brown thrasher is common – I’ve seen a half dozen. If you don’t know it, it is a bird a large as a jay – mostly brown – with a down curved somewhat sickle like beak. It sings a little like a mocking bird, but is perhaps a bit more conversational (not a “professional elocutionist”) and it hasn’t nearly as much to say. The wren-tit (“Voice of the Chaparral” I hear but haven’t yet seen. The others are California quail, brown towhees, a spotted towhee (Now “officially” called the rufous-sided (I think) towhee) – another name change after a long long period of common usage. A flicker spoke out this morning & before long I’ll hear others. There’s no highway close by to complicate things with traffic noises and though the terrain and the air lack the simultaneously stimulating and relaxing qualities of Lassen, it’s all much more delightful than a city or subdivision.
I’ve so much enjoyed the informal visits with you (especially) and Sylvia at your apartment. And to have been allowed to see & read your accumulated poems was a truly precious experience. More than anything else it gave me an accepted and trusted feeling. This I deeply appreciate for you let me read them even when they were ten years old or more with no concern or embarrassment because of high school misspellings! This makes me feel very close to you in understanding and community of spirit. You have a true poetic insight of delicate appealing nature and I am quite sincere (I see no reason ever to be anything else with you) in my wish that I could work with you in “sprucing them up” into finished form. I’m sure all the spellings could be corrected and an occasional change in number of syllables per line or phrasing made – without losing any of the delicacy and beauty of the thoughts expressed. Then, in my belief, they’d have a chance at publication! I would feel greatly rewarded if working with you on your poems could be among the mementos I could leave behind me – especially for you – especially for you!
After reading my last poetic effort, you asked me – How did you ever learn to write like this – or so beautifully? I don’t remember your exact words, but when I answered that it took the inspiration that I find in you, I was being completely honest and truthful. You have called forth in me more poetic response than all the other persons I have known together. This is a primary reason why I treasure so highly the association that has grown up between us. One of your first comments to me (at Asilomar) was to the effect that , like you, I had discovered that for fullest personal development one (not everyone, but anyone with a feeling soul) needs several loves. For me, you opened the flood gates! At first, [page 3] due to my outspokenness and because I was releasing a world of feelings pent up for many years, my offerings & reactions disturbed you, for you had no way, as yet, to separate me in your mind and heart from more “ardent” “competitors” of younger vintage. I sincerely hope – as I now feel, as a result of such things as your showing me some of your picture collection and your verses, that you have me in proper perspective. I believe you now know that I wish earnestly to do all that I can to further your own wishes and your development along the lines that will be most enriching and rewarding to you. I can do this and yet be completely sincere when I say that, truly, I love you very deeply. But it is a special love in which I hope that I occupy a special place.
Remember, I have as much to learn form you as you have from me, and I feel quite humble in your presence I am so deeply and truly grateful to you that I am not far from tears every time I leave you. Just suppose I should never see you again! I dare not contemplate the thought. The situation I’d never be able to survive. Perhaps if I can help you attain the 500 years you say you’ll need to read to do & be all that you want to read and do and be – then I may be able to intercede with the God of the Universe to lengthen your 200 to match the 1000 I’ve bid for – or at least they might be averaged to a neat 600! Anyway I’m losing my tensely tender feeling toward you and developing a spirit of warm relaxation – primarily because of your sharing some of the important “little things of life” with me. Two things also help. Sylvia’s presence helps. She such a fine & genuine person! Then it help to have the feeling that the boys (most of them – not the “Toms”) that you and Sylvia attract to your apartment or build friendships with otherwise seem to accept me as a genuine person, an equal, in whose presence they recognized no need for continuing formality or standoffishness or embarrassment because I am a “Professor.” I have always seemed to be able to establish sincere relationships with students of both sexes. I hope I never lose the ability. Certainly I want no special deference shown to me.
And here I once again covered three sheets of paper with my thoughts & reactions. Yet I feel as if I’ve just barely started on what I’d like to say. A rerun of “Magnificent Obsession” on T.V. (I missed seeing it years ago when it ran in the movie houses.) It (parts of it) merits comment because it applies in part to use. There’s a lot I need to say about your Mom, of whom I’ve grown quite fond, - she should have been in my poem of last week – but I have others brewing and she’ll be in one of them. Dear God, just let me last a little longer!
With all my love – Carl
Dr. Carl Duncan and Patricia Whiting Collection (SJSU)
