Kathy to Hilary, March 21, 1973 cont., Tehran, Iran March 23
Remember me? No, this is not a dunning letter demanding mail or anything, it’s just that I’m incredibly lonely (forget spelling, it’s all phonetic, ok?) and happened to read some old 9th grade letters, and couldn’t get further down (in my letter bag) without writing. Now that I’ve started writing, I don’t know what to say, but it’s only because, heavens, I’m overawed by your prodigious achievements scholastically-wise. I am no longer on the same level as you (if I ever was) but now you’re a Senior. Or do they give you a pretty name of your own? Like Jusenior or Super-Senior? I hope I’m not sounding catty (or Katty)?
Myself I trudge along turtle-slow and complacent and proud of my miniscule adventures like getting to miss school because of a dentist’s appointment and telling fortunes at the school fair. We are currently enjoying our Now Ruz vacation, and I really wonder if I’ll survive it, with Johnny back in Kabul. Christmas was almost impossible and I don’t know what I’ll do come summertime.
Did I tell you we’re not going back? Dad’ll retire here and we’ll found a line of Talleys in Iran with, who knows, an offshoot in Afghanistan. I haven’t been there yet and am dying to go and not for the reasons everyone else is as I have sworn off all intoxicating beverages (not that I ever drank that much) and smokables, gulpables, and inhalables long long ago. What I creature I must have been two years past when 1° I got here. I must have been born under an inauspicious star, but I have never met, heard of or seen anyone as screwed up as I am. I KNOW you don’t want to hear about it, but it’s there for a’ that.
Inspirational leaflet sent by kind missionaries to Tehran. 
6:11:07 AM 
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