I am worried about causing trouble—July 10, 1973

Tuesday, July 10, 1973

My love—

Vilnius is incredible. I really do love this city, although it is only 45% Lithuanian. They say it is becoming more so. I want it to be "mine," in a sense, to know and understand as well as love it. The University, the buildings, (many remaining from 14th 15th centuries) is right. It is as it should be. But much is not as it should be, and I am worried about causing trouble, internal or external.

I wrote that I would like to have free time . . . I won't. Seven days a week, 8 to 6, I will usually have an "activity" to go to. Many, many of them will be worthwhile, excursions and meetings with prominent people and "documentary films."

But that is not the important thing, although it's very, very important. The important thing is that I met my brother Valdas yesterday (I've already written you about Silvute, Evelina? I'm sorry if I haven't, I'm still really disoriented.) Valdas looks like my father might have, forty years ago. . .

I had dinner with Silvija and Alfonsas and their two sons, clearly a special dinner arranged for me. They had Jello, which is priceless here, a gift from my father in a package. It was a very fine evening, to be followed by many similar ones, I expect. The two sons are shy and won't talk to me. They (the children) have pictures of Julie (Eisenhower) on the walls. They think like me but more so, we listened to the radio together, they are good people.

Wednesday, 6:00 AM

I didn't write yesterday because too much happened, and now I don't remember it. I came home at seven and have slept til now. I don't "not remember," there is just too much conflicting stuff to write down or even keep in my head. Yesterday . . . I didn't see any relatives, there wasn't time. There were two lectures in the morning— 9-12:30, one of which was seriously upsetting, I remember. During the lunch break a friend (Audre) and I sat in a park, fed the pigeons, watched the people watching us as though we were crazy, to give bread to birds. And in the afternoon there was a tour of the old University (they're building a new one), which was truly fine because they showed us the University Church (15 - - ) [note, Vaiva's Vilnius funeral was held in that church —Jim] to be a museum and we had an enthusiastic guide. I'll tell you the details . . . And we came home and my friends went somewhere or other and I went to sleep. No clothes hangers in this city.

And now I write in the afternoon, and again it is useless because I can tell you how I feel now, but I can't tell you how I felt ten minutes ago or 10 hours ago and it is hopeless to try to explain, although I feel an amazing need to . . .

This is not the place for someone with easily expressed emotions, or shown, and mine are, as you well know. In the space of this day I've felt joy and nostalgia and gaiety and peace and sorrow and anger and bitterness and that feeling which I feel when I am beyond those last three. It's not one that you have ever seen. There were 3 lectures today and eight "documentary films"—the day lasted from 7 to 7, more or less, and now it is 10. They brought an old woman to sing for us, and that was very, very beautiful. The speaker that was respectable (by me) this morning gave me a gift—I went up to him and spoke to him after class and he wrote in his book on folklore essentially "Until another meeting very soon" and gave it to me, which means very much to me and generally more than it may seem.

The films are not writable aboutable in this letter. And after it all ended, Julius (my father's sister's husband's brother's son) took me home for dinner and a ride on his morocycle, which was really fantastic and the first time in my life. He's like a brother . . .

Write to me, love. Yours,

Vaiva