Episodes
June 18, 1971: Love, on Toasted Bread
Send us a text In this letter from June 18, 1971, my mom, Sarah, is having a quiet day in San Antonio. She’s pregnant, seepy, and missing my dad in all the little ways — especially his cooking. She tries to recreate one of his signature breakfast sandwiches — bacon, eggs, cheese, lettuce, tomato — …
June 17, 1971: Bureaucracy, Cookies, and a Wittle Chickadee
Send us a text In this letter from June 17, 1971, my mom — Sarah Allgood — writes from San Antonio during a whirlwind of paperwork, pregnancy fatigue, and a surprise that didn’t go quite as planned. She’s working full time as a military nurse at Lackland AFB, pregnant with me, and trying to sort ou…
June 17, 1971 (Part Two): “You Bet Your Sweet ‘Quiff’ You Do”
Send us a text This is the second letter my dad, Captain Dick Allgood, wrote on June 17, 1971 — a quiet but incredibly tender note sent from Vietnam to my mom, Sarah, who was back at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, pregnant with me. He opens with a simple apology: he missed the morning mail…
June 17, 1971: “I’ve Never Had a Questionable Day Since I Married You”
Send us a text In this letter from June 17, 1971, my dad — Captain Dick Allgood — writes to my mom, Sarah, from Vietnam. She’s at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, pregnant with me. He’s halfway around the world, but he’s still thinking about everything — whether her special delivery letter g…
June 16, 1971: 99 and 44/100% of My Thoughts
Send us a text In this deeply personal letter from June 16, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes to Sarah from Vietnam on a sweltering, emotionally heavy day. He’s just watched Patton again, he’s feeling the weight of distance, and the loneliness is creeping in — but even in that space, his devotion t…
June 15, 1971: Back Home, Back to the Letters
Send us a text After a few weeks in Florida, I’m back home in Montana — back to the letters, and back to the long road ahead. This is the June 15, 1971 letter from my mom, Sarah, to my dad, Dick, written during the height of their separation in the Vietnam War. It’s intimate, emotional, funny, raw,…
June 15, 1971: The Real Test of Love
Send us a text In this heartfelt letter from June 15, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his wife, Sarah, from Vietnam on a rare day off. After watching a movie about honesty in relationships, he finds himself feeling homesick and deeply reflective. He shares what it means to miss her — not just …
June 14, 1971: Most People Never Find This Kind of Love—Our Friendshi…
Send us a text It’s Father’s Day morning, 2025, and I’m sitting quietly in Miami at my best friend Kelly’s house while the rest of the house sleeps. I’m using this early moment to catch up on one of the two letters my parents wrote on June 14, 1971. I fell behind yesterday—life happens—but I’m back…
June 14, 1971: For My Baby, My Sheets, and No One Else
Send us a text In this Father’s Day episode, I read a letter my dad, Captain Dick Allgood, wrote to my mom, Captain Sarah Allgood, on June 14, 1971, while on alert in Vietnam. The day before, he was dreaming of sunshine. Today, he’s dreaming of her — her body, her scent, her softness — and the baby…
13 June 1971 — A Tape Full of Love (Recorded After Spreading My Mothe…
Send us a text Today’s letter comes to you from Miami, recorded after an especially emotional and meaningful morning. At sunrise, we took a boat across Biscayne Bay to Boca Chita Key, near Elliott Key, where I was able to spread my mother’s ashes in the waters and place she so dearly loved. This sp…
June 12, 1971 — We Make Love in So Many Ways
Send us a text In today’s letter, Dick writes to Sarah during a long, rainy day on alert in Vietnam. His words are full of longing, tenderness, and a deep sense of connection — reminding her, and all of us, that their love was about far more than physical closeness. From the sweet humor of their pr…
June 12, 1971 — When You Write Horny, I Get Horny
Send us a text In today’s letter, Sarah writes a late-night note to Dick after yet another lonely evening out with friends. Her longing for him grows stronger by the day — and tonight, she doesn’t hold back. This intimate letter captures the rawness of their separation: from her growing frustration…
Not the Vietnam You Know — June 11, 1971
Send us a text In this letter, Dick Allgood gives us a Vietnam story we rarely hear — one built on love, small human moments, and unwavering devotion. On his day off, he borrows a truck and takes a couple of sergeants to Long Binh Army Post — not to escape the war, but to scrounge some food to make…
A Mother’s Letter to Vietnam — June 11, 1971: Poolside, Cribbage, and…
Send us a text In this June 11, 1971 letter, Sarah writes to her husband, Dick — a rescue pilot flying missions in Vietnam — from San Antonio, where she is navigating life, work, and pregnancy while they are apart. She shares a slice of daily life: taking a much-needed day off, trying to beat the T…
June 10, 1971 — “So Tired… and Missing You”
Send us a text June 10, 1971. My father was flying with the HH-43 Pedro rescue team in Vietnam. My mother was an Air Force nurse stationed in Texas—eight weeks pregnant with me and counting the days until they could be together again. In this letter, she writes after an exhausting day in the O.R., …
June 10, 1971 — A Rescue Pilot’s Letter Home: Reading, R&R, and Our F…
Send us a text In this June 10, 1971 letter from Vietnam, my dad—then flying rescue missions with the U.S. Air Force Pedro team—writes to my mom about R&R plans, tracks her pregnancy dates, and talks about how he’s passing the long hours on alert by reading pocket novels. My dad loved to read a…
“How Will It Be for You to Make Love to a Very Pregnant Wife?” — June…
Send us a text In this playful, passionate letter from June 9, 1971, my mom writes to my dad with longing and complete honesty. She reassures him about her faithfulness, jokes about how things will be when they are finally together again — when she’ll be visibly pregnant with me — and reflects on h…
“I Couldn’t Call — My Eyes Clouded with Tears” — June 8, 1971
Send us a text “I Couldn’t Call — My Eyes Clouded with Tears” — June 8, 1971 Description: This letter from June 8, 1971, left me in tears. My dad, writing from Vietnam, finally tells my mom why he never called her from the airport before he deployed. He says it took him four tries just to address a…
“I Had to Pause for Tears So I Could Talk” — June 8, 1971
Send us a text In this short but deeply emotional letter from June 8, 1971, my mom writes to my dad after recording her very first tape to send him in Vietnam. She’d waited for her tape recorder to arrive — and now that it has, she spends more than an hour trying to get her first message just right…
“I Don’t Want to Be Apart Anymore” — June 9, 1971
Send us a text In this letter from June 9, 1971, my dad writes one of the most vulnerable and pivotal letters of his deployment. He’s just been selected for a Regular commission — a path that would keep him in the Air Force for several more years, requiring more flying, more moves, and more time ap…
tle: “You Are My Lover, Wife, and Mother of My Baby” — June 7, 1971
Send us a text n this letter from June 7, 1971, my dad — writing from Vietnam — pours out his heart to my mom. He talks about everyday things: bank accounts, sending money home, chatting with fellow airmen. But what really comes through is how much he loved her — and how excited he was about the ba…
June 7, 1971 — Marking Off the Days Until You’re Home
Send us a text It’s June 7, 1971. Today my mom, Sarah Allgood, writes with a light and playful tone, even while missing my dad deeply. She shares her day, a bit of gossip, her efforts to stay healthy for her pregnancy with me, and the simple ways she and her friends found comfort during these long …
“Together We Are One” — June 6, 1971
Send us a text In this heartfelt letter from June 6, 1971, Dick writes to Sarah after receiving a welcome surprise: three letters from her in one day. He shares the story behind the Smoky Topaz ring he sent from Bangkok, offers practical advice on navigating military red tape, and vents his frustra…
“June 5, 1971: The Dong Sock and the Bigger Picture”
Send us a text In today’s letter, Dick writes from Vietnam with a blend of laughter and perspective. He’s received a handmade “dong sock” from Sarah — a hilarious and intimate gift that sets the tone — but as he sits in the sun and reflects, he shares something deeper. He explains why, despite the …