May 3, 2022

Dear Donald,

Thank you for your letter. I answer it, as I answer all letters which I receive, right away, when what I have received is still on my mind, because as I grow older and older - I'll be 92 in a month, - my memory gets shorter and shorter, and later, if I answered at all, I would have forgotten what I wanted to say.

Having practiced medicine all my life, I've had many occasions to observe how distressing it is to be sick, and how little it helps to be told, I hope you get better soon. I always look for practical, effective ways to be of help, and given the circumstances in which you and I find ourselves, there's not much more that I can do than to write, that I send you my best wishes.

As for myself, I have, as you know, been having arthritis in my hips for many years. In the past three months, it's gotten so much worse, that I can no longer climb stairs; as a matter of fact, I can't get up out of bed, or up from a chair, without clutching a walker on which to support my weight.  So I'm virtually trapped in my large sunny second floor bedroom with ten large windows distributed on three sides with views into many greening trees, and wild turkeys gamboling on the lawn below. It's the most pleasant imprisonment I can imagine. 

I usually go to bed between midnight and 1 a.m., sleep soundly until 9 or 10 a.m., then sit in front of my laptop computer at a small table which once belonged to my wife, who died 6 and 1/2 years ago, and type into the keyboard whatever I have been thinking about, or if I have no thoughts, then I read, in very large print, about topics that interest me. My grandson Nathaniel who has moved into the house with his girl friend, brings me some oatmeal and a small cup of coffee at about 11 a.m., and between 8 and 9 p.m. a small supper of pasta with meat sauce, and sometimes a bottle of beer. On the bookshelves behind me, I have jars of peanut butter, grape jelly, and sweet pickles, also a loaf or two of sliced white bread; so that I have more to eat if I get hungry.  

I've had no further word from Reinhold Busch, and my translation project remains on hold. I've reached page 139 of the novel on which I'm working, about half way through, but I write only when I have some new and pressing ideas, and recently I've been distracted, in part by ideas about theology which I've been exploring, and in part by reading physics texts on the Internet such as the lectures of Richard Feynman, which I find very interesting and stimulating while they're on the screen in front of me, but with which I can't do much more because as soon as I turn the page, I've forgotten what only a few minutes ago, I thought I understood. I've always wanted to study physics, and now that I'm finally getting around to it, it's obviously much too late.

You asked about my son. His name is Klemens, his e-mail address is klemensbmeyer@gmail.com He's 65 years old, over-worked and tired. He doesn't have much time to talk to me. I have no idea how he would respond to a letter from you. As for myself, I'm always pleased to have an e-mail from you, and I will answer every letter that I receive. Best wishes to yourself and Jan.  Jochen