Kathy to Hilary, July 22, 1972, Tehran, Iran July 22, 1972
Dear Hilary
I can’t write you an Ann Landers type letter a) because I am so amoral and if I preached then I would be obligated to practice, b) it’s been such a long time since I saw an Ann Landers or even a Dear Abby column that I’ve forgotten what they look like. However, one day not long ago my mother left on a conspicuous place (my bed) a book called “Ann Landers Answers Teenagers’ Questions about Sex.” Needless to day its advice has gone completely unheeded. You might want to look at “The Art of Loving” by Erich Fromm--it is NOT the Kama Sutra but that might not be a bad idea either. I think I remember that your parents have a copy of the Kama Sutra (illustrated) around.
Bucket manhandles a priceless Elamite lion at the Iranian National Museum. 
My dearly beloved Afghani is around somewhere doing his homework while I write you from the Iranzamin library. He very bravely came along with my family on a visit to the Iran Bastaan Tehran archaeology museum with my family last weekend. We had lunch at an Indian restaurant south of Takhte-Jamshid.
Johnny plans to go to the American College in Beirut when he graduates next year and wants me to join him there when I graduate. But I aim a little HIGHER than that. I hear it’s a sort of glorified high school. Anyway, I don’t resent people making plans for me since I’ll disregard them anyway. I still cherish hopes of being an obscure don at Oxford--and I’ve lately developed a great love and aptitude for philosophy because of my Theory of Knowledge class in summer school, unfortunately I don’t know any Greek or Latin, which is a problem. I knew I should have insisted on Latin over Home Ec at Stratford! Lot of good Home Ec did. The only thing I can cook is an omelet. I’m hopeless.
Maybe I should start sounding Ann Landersy (hear hear) because despite my flippant introduction I do have some feelings about the rights and wrongs of the matter. Passionate affairs are fine and beautiful. You shouldn’t be too casual. Just give it everything and don’t expect anything. Oh, don’t listen to me. What do I know?
Lunch at the Maharajah restaurant. 
4:23:59 PM 
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