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    • Dating in early 1972
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Catarina Mac: American Sojourner
Love & Cats

Catarina Mac: American Sojourner Love & CatsCatarina Mac: American Sojourner Love & CatsCatarina Mac: American Sojourner Love & Cats

KC's 1st letter to me was postmarked 11 April 1972

    KC sent this about two and a half weeks after we'd met at that dance.  She'd been on Spring Break from college. 

    Meanwhile, I'd been traveling down to Florida thanks to my friend, Harry's, willingness to drive us down there in his car.  Whenever we stopped, I'd check out postcards to send to Kathleen Mary Chisholm, aka K. M. Chisholm, K.M.C., or simply  "Kathy", who I couldn't stop thinking about all during that trip!

    When her break ended and she was back in classes, she found the postcards I'd sent to her at school's address, not having her home address (nor phone number either, for that matter).

A glossy postcard with Albrecht Dürer's Large Grass Plot Watercolor painted in 1503.

Envelope of my 1st Letter to Miss Kathleen Mary "Chishom" [sic] at her college address...

My very first letter to KC (she'd always called herself Kathy) and only changed it to KC later on...

                                                                                                                                                                                                    April 8, 1972 

Dear Kathy,

               I should never have said I wrote good letters  —  It's like sitting down with a group of people and saying "Now let's all have a real good talk"  —  Instantly silence descends.  Also, I'm listening to Handel's "Water Music Suite"  (my favorite piece of classical music)  which makes for poor letters  (Though not for That Reason!). 

               But, enough of excuses  —  Happy Easter – of –a – week – ago  — I hope you had a good time and that all is well. 

               As you know from my [post] card I spent most of that week in Florida.   We had originally decided on Cape Hatteras, but it was too cold there.   So, we made Georiga (which you probably remember as being spelled "Georgia" the next night, and Talbot Island the following mid-day. 

               When the rains came, we headed for home  —  arriving back in time for "Secret Agent". 

               That night (Saturday), sister #2 – Nancy – and I colored Easter Eggs.   Imagine Kate's look of astonishment when, next morning, as she was counting up her eggs with Dad; she found one the Easter Bunny had written "Kate is a dope" on! 

               Anyway, I came up here Sunday night; and, after having to ride my bike to work only once in the past week, consider everything "Peachy". 

               Well, almost ...

               I'd like to see you again, which is hardly surprising  —  but this will probably be difficult unless I know where you live (!). 

               And so, unable to think up my usual brilliant, witty, and urbane closing line, I remain thinking of you,                                                                                                                                                                                       with Love,

                                                                                                                                                                                                        Peter

KC's note on the backside of her postcard read...

K.M.C. 44 Stanbro St., Readville, Mass., U.S.A.   { You wanted to know where I live and this is it, in a little cottage by the banks of the Neponset River.  Are you sorry you asked? 

    My grandparents live [down in Marshfield], and riding up here in the daytime.  

    This Fri. night they are having another one of their orgies at the school and you could see me there.  But also, you are very welcome to come out here and listen to my father's new Django Reinhardt record any weekend that you like, except probably the weekend after this weekend. 

This is terribly confused as you can see but I will leave it to your brilliant, 4.0 [i.e. my straight A GPA] mind to figure something out. 

    If you want more information dial 361-2723.  If you want a map of Readville I will send you one.  But if you are going to get in touch with me, next week I will not be home at night, O.K.?  Arrgggh!  I feel like the telephone lady, and I am not very good at figuring out strategy.  Oh Well, 

Love, K.C.

She had also written this on the back of the envelope...



Dear Peter,

    I love you,

    Kathy

KC's 2nd letter, postmarked 18 April 1972

KC's 2nd letter included two letters, the first on April 17th:

Dear Peter,

    This is sort of in answer to your last letter, but also to say thank you for coming all the way from Woburn to see me, which I forgot to say, and for the clams, and helping at Lechmere's, and sticking out the marathon we me.  But no thanks for making me go down that hill.  I suspect you have a stubborn streak in you, somehow, 

    Oh, my sister Eileen (yes, just like the book) is such a comedienne.  She wears a Bruins shirt, a Greek sailor's hat, yellow and navy shoes, and purple pants as part of her get-up.  She is the extrovert, I am considered the introspective one.  I speak of her because she just walked by and it is impossible to ignore her. 

    I am doing a paper on Emily Bronte for English and one of the things I came across in my research was her poetry, some of which is quite beautiful, if I may quote:  

           "The sun has set, and the long grass now 

            Waves drearily in the evening wind; 

            And the wild bird has flown from that 

                          Old grey stone,

And continued with the rest of Bronte's poem on the backside of that page:

            In some warm nook a couch to find. 


            In all the lonely landscape round 

            I see no sight and hear no sound, 

            Except the wind that far away 

            Comes sighing o'er the heathy sea." 

    After that, what can I say?     

    Have you ever read any of Michelangelo's poems?  They are very beautiful, very masculine, yet incredibly gentle at the same time. 

    I looked up that picture of Dürer's to see if I was right.  The similarity is there, probably enhanced by the beard.  Which reminds me of something funny that I said in Art History the other day to my girl friend which I will tell you some other time. 

    Would you like to hear the joke about Pavlov?  No, probably not. 

    I have a friend who sings country-western stuff, do you like that?  I rather doubt you do, somehow.  I mean Glen Campbell and Dave Brubeck don't move in the same circles, oui? 

                    Love, Kathy

P.S. If I dare to say, your moustache tickles.  Kathy

And the second on the morning of the April 18th:



Peter,

    I have to add this because I know that whenever one lends 

another person books one always wonders if they will appreciate 

them or even better to read them at all: 

    You see, I had a most beastly morning you can imagine and 

I came home to an empty house absolutely disgusted with 

everything.  I couldn't find anything to read and then I 

remembered C.S.L. and now I have read the 1st 5 chptrs. 

of the 1st book and I feel much better.  If only we were studying 

him in school, I would find it quite a bit more enjoyable, 

with quite a bit more literary value.  (Quite a bit more than 

Henry James.) 


    Did you ever read any of 

And continuing on the backside of that page:

Edith Nesbitt?  She is very good, very similar to Lewis, has 

titles like The Five Children and It. 


    Which for some reason reminds me of the Story Tale 

Rooms in The Wax Museum in town which is another thing 

for you to see in Boston.  It is one of my favorite places and 

I think you would like it.  It's on Tremont St., across from the 

Common, near the theater district. 


    Pardon my handwriting which deteriorates rapidly when 

I'm in a mental funk. 

                    Love, 

                    Kathy

My 2nd letter, postmarked April 20, 1972

                                                                                                                                                                                                    April 19, 1972 

Dear Kathy, 

               I'm  impressed  —  stationary with the Chisholm Coat - of - Arms!  

               First, in answer to your letter; no, I didn't even realize Michelangelo wrote any poetry.   No, jokes about Russian psychologists are apt to be "Нею морисt игéск ий"  [more likely, I meant to write: Неюморисtичéский, meaning  "not humorous"].  (which is easily pronounced if you remember:  "H's" are our "N's",  "Ю's" are our "Y's", "P's" are our "R's",  "C's" our "S's", and "Ч's" our "Ch's")  (Also, "и's" are usually our "e's"). 

               You're right, I don't like Country-western music.  No, I remember seeing Edith Nesbitt's name before, but I've never read her.  Also, while I remember it  —  I'm convinced I've seen your Coat of Arms before (as much as is on your ring), but can't pin it down yet. 

               Your suspicion that I might in some small way prove to be stubborn on occasion is, of course, ridiculous, and I might add that the fact that "Peter" means "Rock" in Latin is the merest coincidence and has no bearing upon the question at hand. 

               I liked the Brontë's poetry you quoted.  It reminded me a little of when we sat on that hill  —  except the sun hadn't quite set, and the wind wasn't exactly "sighing"! 

               I'm glad you like the C. S. Lewis so far.  They weren't really a loan though  —  I've got copies of them all at home, plus copies of two in hard cover, and; since I'm thinking of giving them to my class for graduation and also since I doubt very much if the whole class will show  —  I will probably end up with more "extras".   So, this is all to say  —  Please feel free to keep them, if you like. 

               Monday, when I'd got home, I'd no sooner heard the first side of Water Music, when I fell asleep.  I woke up around twelve, got myself a soda, and while not-reading the newspaper, I ran across the enclosed article. 

               Well no, actually I started reading the newspaper, and after I'd read the article, I enclosed it, hoping you might find it interesting  —  or, at least coincidental.  

               I got my report card from Northeastern  —  would have done O.K. if i hadn't spoiled it with a "B" in mechanics.   As it is, it drops my cum. [GPA] to 3.85  —  what a disgrace! 

               Of course, if I'd stayed in UCONN [University of Connecticut] and not goofed off, I would have graduated last year   —  but let's not go into that ...

                          What does "Feros" and "Ferio" mean?  

                                       I played my Alto Recorder yesterday evening and my Tenor Sax this evening.  Enjoyable. 

                                                                                     Strangely enough, I've also enclosed a postcard in this letter,

                                                                                                                                                                                                   with Love,

                                                                                                                                                                                                        Peter

KC's 3rd letter, mailed to me on April 21st:

Dear Peter,

    Tsk, tsk!  Falling asleep during the water music (WM?), eh?  I'm Glad to hear you got back safely enough, though I am a little disturbed that you were so exhausted; how long did it take you to hitch home? 

    "Feros Ferio" means, logically, "I slay the beast", not literally, of course, but that is the gist of it, as it is quite a difficult little piece of Latin to translate.  Speaking of mottos the Cranstouns of the Highlands have a nice little one which my sister and I discovered last night, "Thou shalt not want 'ere I want", which I like very much.  The stationary is my father's idea. 

    Dear heart, you know I can't read Russian, now would you mind translating? 

    Have you pinned down my coat of arms yet?  Please don't tell me you saw it on the back of a Batman ring, or something like that. 

    Au contraire, you are very stubborn; about the fact that you are not stubborn. 

    I would really like to know how you know that Edward Hopper is just about my favorite artist?  In fact, one of my Christmas presents from   (and continued on the backside of this page, below) ...

my father this year was the big edition on Hopper that was printed recently.  Hopper was a man of no nonsense, a singular artist who detested modern art as much as I do.  I will put your card up on my cork board where I keep some of my prints. 

    Thank you C. S. Lewis very much.  I think I will read the books to my little brother because I find them eminently suitable for reading out loud. 

    My eyes ache.  I was doing my embroidery when I got your letter today and it is from my sewing that I am resting now. I am making a smock that looks like this: The embroidery goes ⤑ here.  Undoubtedly the dress will make me look like a seven year old, but then, I am seven years old at heart, forever young, like Peter Pan.  Maybe I will have it done by the next time I see you and you can see a very old-fashioned bit of work. 

    I am all alone now.  It has been a cool day and now it is colder still since the sun is beginning to set.  I hear the sounds of children playing in the streets.  I like children, despite my protests to the contrary, and since it seems I will not be able to get much of a paying job this summer I will see if I can do some sort of volunteer work with kids, instead.  What do you think, do you have any suggestions? 

   So, we have caught you reading a newspaper, Peter Wesley!  Yes, I read your clipping with interest.  Yes, it was a bit of a coincidence, but then life is so full of coincidences that I believe coincidence is  (and continued on the next - second - page, below) ...

KC's 3rd letter, April 21st, the 2nd Page:

another word for fate.  So as not to be outdone by you, I am sending you some clippings from the New Yorker which may interest you if you have not read them already.  Strangely enough I read them before I had ever had talked to you and found them quite fascinating, so maybe you stumbled on a budding jazz student. 

    Must you be funny about your marks, dear boy?  I cannot deny you praise, however, and I am convinced you are a genius.  You do manage to make us scatterbrained people more scatterbrained-feeling than ever.  My average was somewhere in the B's, 3.4, something like that, for my first semester, and I was feeling rather good until I met you, Einstein.  And the trouble with you is, the fact that I got 740's in my English whatsit last year, has no meaning whatsoever, since you are so far beyond that stage of life, old man.  Anyway, I can't imagine you goofing off, but I'm rather glad you did. 

    The notice has gone down from the board about the orphan thing.  Did you tell your sister about me, because if you haven’t I rather wish you would because now I can’t [get] in touch with any of the organizers, although really they should get in touch with me since I left my name and number on their list.  And even though  (and continued on the backside of this page, below) ...

you may say I should tell her I would feel embarrassed (I don’t know why, it’s very stupid of me) and I don’t know any of the others.  There, that’s done with. 

    Because I believe you are a genuine MacGoohan fan I will part with one of my precious few pictures of him as I feel you should have one.  Please excuse it’s tattered condition, the pin-holes are not voodoo, they are from thumb-tacks on my board. 

    Well, Homer is nodding, or something.  Time for me to finish this letter.  Do let me know about the orphan thing.  Which reminds me, I hope I’m not an orphan, because I haven’t heard from my parents since their call last Monday night.  Daddy bought me a Mary, Queen of Scots doll, and some books, and some Viennese pastries he’s going to bring back. 

    Oh, I am so tired,

                         Love, 

                          Kathy 

    P.S.  Did you ever see the movie with MacGoohan where he played a jazz musician in a story which was an updated version of Othello complete with some very good music?  You know, it was an excellent movie, one of his best, and I was thinking it combined two elements you would love, jazz and MacGoohan.  I hope you will see it someday if you haven’t.  

                                                                                                                                      Love, 

                                                                                                                                       Kathy 

New Yorker Musical Events - Rags and Riches

 

Patrick McGoohan

New Yorker Musical Events - Jazz (Sonny Rollins)

New Yorker Musical Events - Jazz (Sonny Rollins)

Stay tuned for more letters to each other in 1972 coming soon... !

Copyright © 2026 Catarina Mac: American Sojourner - All Rights Reserved.

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