Dear Irving,

Welcome to the 80s.  I knew that, a few years back, I'd saved newspaper versions of your work, and I searched and found one, yellowed, but still whole.  "Our Father" it was, and I read it again with the same admiration and awe as I had all those years ago

......"clambering down stairways into our street, he stood at the door, the dusk-loaf under his arm, and unpacked the lamplight of the parlor corner, where he called us to him, and told us we were his, and lost in thought, led away our little army of mimics to parade the deep lanes of silence."....

And thanks for writing "The Pripet Marshes" and "Beautiful False Things" and "Teach Me, Dear Sister" and so much else.  

Fondly,  

Norma Kassirer