Pleasantville. Jan. 17, 1937.

Dear Benson,

A few days ago Joe wrote me a letter and in it he said he had recently heard from you. I am very sorry to learn that your wife is not well and trust the next news will be that she is better.

The situation here is nothing to brag about, yet even at that we are somewhat better off than we were a year ago. All our family are well. For myself, although I passed my seventy-fifth birthday last summer, I still have a few teeth and some of my mental faculties. Joe says his business is putrid -- as for mine, there is not enough of it to give it any description, although one small (very small) architectural job has come in since New Year's -- enlarging a residence alteration I made about two years ago. Most of my income -- if it can be dignified by that name -- comes from keeping hens and making water-colors. I have reached the disgraceful stage of being supported by my wife who is a secretary to a White Plains doctor. She has to work too hard, but keeps us happy.

To modify your old familiar questions to Joe, I will ask how many years have you been married and how many grandchildren have you? I have two -- boys -- and am happy to say they live next door and are a constant source of delight.

I rather envy you your home near the ocean. I have not seen it for several years, but would like to, in fact would like to cross it again under certain conditions. On the other hand do you think we would find travelling in Italy quite the same as we did nearly fifty years ago? I fear that it would not be so agreeable. The political situation there is so offensive to me that I think it would spoil my pleasure. The medieval and rennaissance atmosphere, traces of which still lingered when we were there, is probably overshadowed by feverish activity. At least that is the impression I get from reading the papers.

It would give me great pleasure if you found time to drop me a line. Just "Pleasantville NY" is a sufficient address.

Yours sincerely,
Edgar

P.S. Received a New Year's card from Imbert, my French friend of the atelier Pascal.