I love this "letter to the daughter." It captures so much of parenting and recognizes a child who has matured, but might not know it yet. He acknowledges his own faults as a parent, and shows his love by stating his intent to "undo any damage....", but doesn't apologize for being a parent or loving his daughter in the best way he knows how.
________________________________ From: Robin Carlsen <maskedze...@yahoo.com> To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Wednesday, October 24, 2012 4:07 PM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Wallace Stevens writes to his daughter, a nun, & a poet To His Daughter Hartford, Conn. Oct. 7, 1941 Dear Holly: I cannot well dictate this. Yr. mother has written to you and I do not now what she has said. For my own part, I think you already have the independence you desire. No parents could be less authoritarian than we have been. You have always been free. [. . .] That your parents--and one's parents--have their imperfections is nothing to brood on. They also have their perfections. Yr mother has them to an exquisite degree, tough as she is. The blow-ups that we have are nothing more than blow-ups of the nerves--when they are over they are over. And I think and hope that you will look back some day and be happy about the whole thing. My own stubbornness and taciturn eras are straight out of Holland and I cannot change them any more than I can take off my skin. But i never hesitate to seek to undo any damage I am have done. We both love you and desire only to help you and part of yr education is to get on with us and part of ours is to get on with you. Love, Dad To Sister M. Bernetta Quinn Hartford, Conn. Dec. 21, 1951 Dear Sister Bernetta: It gives me sincere pleasure to have your card. It is a flash apart from the endless common-place. Mr. [C. Roland] Wagner indulges in over-simplifications. I am not an atheist although I do not believe to-day in the same God in whom I believed when I was a boy. But to talk to you about God is like explaining French to a Frenchman. [. . .] We are covered with snow and ice here. But we have been having the most saintly moonlight nights with a bright day every now and then. In the midst of this Xmas comes roaring on. It makes me envy your enclave at Winona: envy the loneliness of a school at Xmas, in which at least one can collect one's self and no doubt, in your case, collect a great deal more. [. . .] Sincerely yours, Wallace Stevens To William Carlos Williams Hartford, Conn. January 22, 1942. Dear Bill, Thanks for your postcard. I am just getting under way. Twenty or thirty years from now I expect to be really well oiled. Don't worry about my gray hair. Whenever I ring for a stenographer she comes in with a pistol strapped around her belt. Best regards young feller and best wishes. Wallace Stevens
