H. G. Wells said: "You are just beginning to understand a little about
life when Death the nurse comes and says Put away your toys, child,
for it's time to go to bed." Maybe a man dies when he wants to die,
when he feels he can't do more. But in your case this phase will happen
when you are 90 plus, and even then I can picture you on your 92nd
birthday hopping about on one rheumatic leg in great excitement at
discovering something new about the moon. All of which means that old
Reich is to defy hearts and bodies and go on and on. Mind you I think
you neglect yourself a lot. As an old man I can lecture you about this,
you being a mere youngster. Note that I am hitting a man when he is
down. Yet who knows the secret of life anyway? I knew two Scots
farmers who ate all the wrong food, drank a bottle of whiskey daily, and
smoked strong tobacco all day long. They died within a week of each
other at the age of 93.
Oh, Reich, good old friend, I feel like coming out now to boss you
around and bully you into slacking off, and I'd do it if they gave me a
visa, and damn the expense. You've GOT TO GO ON LIVING. Living
until you can die knowing that the world has acknowledged how greatly
you have added to its knowledge.
Sit up in bed and paint, Reich. I rejoiced recently when you told me
you were painting and composing music. Two excellent antidotes to
eternal thinking.
Let us know soon how you both are. As a layman again I don't get
pessimistic about hearts. Twenty years ago a S'hill parent was forbidden
to play golf because of his very bad heart. He is still winning medals at
his golf course.
Ena joins in sending you both our love, but Zoe really doesn't
remember you. She can talk about daddy catching frogs for her at the
lake and about Hamilton's calfies, but I am sure they are memories of
things we have said only.
Orgonon
Rangeley, Maine
My dear Neill:- I •
November 27, 1951I have been up again for the past 10 days, and I am slowly
regaining my oid self. This heart trouble was a clear-cut Oranur effect.