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Berg Carmel, Haifa
15. 2.36
Dear Father Freud,
That you have had to and been able to endure another operation fills me with regret and with joy. May this go on for a further ten years! May it now be granted us to offer you some further fruits of your life's work! My eldest son, Michi, is now in analysis with Dr. S. and is very satisfied. He was so terrified of his driving teacher, a Herr Schneider from Vienna who is harmless enough but who sometimes gets very angry, that Michi realised his fear was abnormal and decided of his own free will to have treatment. He is already considerably better. Not so, alas, his father. I am going through a bad crisis. I struggle against taking up my analysis with S. again, but also struggle against my whole existence here in Palestine. I feel I am in the wrong place. Restricted circumstances, restricted still further by the Hebraic nationalism of the Hebrews, who refuse to permit any other language to be used for publications. So I have to lead a life in translation. And if I am going to be translated into English, then why here? You have doubtless read poor Tucholsky's letter1 and my reply. More about him some other time, perhaps in print. He died of his Jewish exile, literally. But what am I to do? Where could I settle with any prospect of permanence? My reason says ‘In America’. But my heart does not want to go so far. It comforts me,