Episodes

Send us a text On August 22, 1971—my parents’ first wedding anniversary—they were almost four months apart: he in Vietnam, she in Miami. They still made it theirs with roses, a phone call, and three love letters. In this episode, you’ll hear both of my dad’s playful notes and my mom’s tender reply—…

Send us a text On August 21, 1971 — the night before their first wedding anniversary — both of my parents wrote letters. My dad, in Vietnam, received a bundle of seven letters at once and counted down the days until R&R. My mom, pregnant in Miami, spent the day at the pool, celebrated with frie…

Send us a text On August 20, 1971, both of my parents wrote letters — nineteen days from their reunion during R&R. My dad, in Vietnam, writes about an afternoon movie and thirty cents dropped into their private “love pot.” My mom, pregnant with me in Miami, writes about her growing belly, Brand…

Send us a text On August 19, 1971, my dad wrote his last letter to my mom in Miami before redirecting his words to San Antonio, carefully timing the mail so she wouldn’t miss a day of his love. My mom, writing the same day, urged him to always be honest about his homesickness because she could feel…

Send us a text On this day, Sarah in Miami and Dick in Vietnam each wrote about “grooving” — holding on to the love they’d already shared and dreaming of the love to come. Sarah hears a news report that makes her think, just for a moment, that her husband could be coming home early. When she realiz…

Send us a text On August 17, 1971, Dick sends not one but two love notes from Vietnam — one written with their anniversary in mind, and another just for the joy of telling Sarah how much he loves her. That same day, Sarah writes from Miami, glowing with excitement after receiving her R&R orders…

Send us a text On August 16, 1971, my parents both sat down to write letters — my dad in Vietnam, my mom in Miami. In them, they reflect on the love they’ve built in their first year of marriage and the joy of anticipating their reunion in Hawaii. My dad writes that he is ending the first year of t…

Send us a text It’s August 15, 1971 — just one week before my parents’ first wedding anniversary. My mom is still in Miami, moving between friends’ houses, going to parties, and enjoying summer nights. She’s singing “Rain, rain, go away” like she used to when I was a kid — and casually noting that …

Send us a text From Vietnam, my dad counts down the days until his R&R in Hawaii with my mom — just 15 to 18 left. He gives her careful instructions for meeting him at the airport, worries about her overexerting herself, and calls her “beautifully preggy.” This letter overflows with love, antic…

Send us a text On this day in 1971, my mom wrote my dad twice from San Antonio — once in the morning with her travel details for their Hawaii R&R, and again later with an intimate, deeply personal letter about longing, love, and what this long separation has meant for her. From a warm good morn…

Send us a text On Friday the 13th, with just 26 days until their R&R in Hawaii, my parents exchanged two letters filled with humor, longing, and the small details that made their love story so vivid. My mom, writing from Miami, shares her days with Teri, Judy, and Bill Cobbs — shopping trips, a…

Send us a text It’s August 12, 1971, and my parents are writing from opposite sides of the world — my dad in Vietnam, my mom in Miami. In his letter, my dad tells her about rearranging his room, hanging her poster at the foot of his bed, and feeling the deep ache of homesickness after a night of dr…

Send us a text It’s August 11, 1971. My parents are 8,000 miles apart — my dad in Vietnam, my mom in Miami — but they’re both writing to each other on the same day. These letters capture the same heartbeat from two different worlds: his longing to talk to her, hers to feel him near. You can hear th…

Send us a text In Miami, my mom is surrounded by friends, sun, and letters from my dad — the kind of letters she says are the real turn-on. She’s counting the days until their R&R in September and reflecting on how life feels quieter now that she’s happily married. This is the other half of the…

Send us a text My dad writes from Vietnam with two of my mom’s letters in hand, a little teasing about R&R, and the first real picture of where he’s been living for months — a small Air Force compound surrounded by barbed wire, electric lights, and minefields. Meanwhile, my mom’s in Miami, surr…

Send us a text In Miami, my mom writes to my dad in Vietnam about their baby — already kicking, already loved — as she reaches 18 weeks of pregnancy. She reflects on their growing family, the joy of feeling life inside her, and the deep love she has for both her husband and the child they’re waitin…

Send us a text From Vietnam, my dad writes to my mom in Miami about their upcoming R&R in Hawaii, their plans for saving money, and the happiness he feels looking back on their first year of marriage. In a short follow-up note, he sends her the orders she’ll need for their trip — with a promise…

Send us a text They’re only one month away from seeing each other again — for the first time since April. And for the first time, my dad will see my mom pregnant. Today’s letter is pure tenderness. He says it outright: “I never knew that love could be so beautiful.” It’s one of many moments where y…

Send us a text Sarah writes from Biscayne Bay, sun-kissed and missing her man. She’s four months pregnant, floating through the Miami breeze, and dreaming of Dick. In this letter, she says it all — with passion, laughter, and...

Send us a text My mom writes from Miami on a warm August Saturday, resting, laughing, and soaking up the sun. She’s staying right on Biscayne Bay — a place I know well — and in this letter, we see how alive and supported she was during her pregnancy. She spends the day poolside with friends, goes t…

Send us a text My dad writes from Vietnam after a long 24-hour alert shift. Nothing major happens, but he still manages to turn the day into something sweet. He eats fried fish and onion rings, works on music tapes for my mom, and mentions a call he’s hoping to make on August 22 — their anniversary…

Send us a text Sarah writes from Miami in the middle of what feels like a real vacation — sun, friends, card games, and even tickets to see the Dolphins play. But tucked inside this seemingly lighthearted letter is something big: a glimpse of where it all began with Bill Cobbs. A view of Biscayne B…

Send us a text It’s Dick’s day off in Vietnam, and Sarah’s living it up in Miami. What starts as a tender note turns hilarious — fast. There’s a little weather talk, some thoughts on marijuana, and then… Pie’s now-legendary line about drinking champagne in places champagne doesn’t usually go. My da…

Send us a text My mom writes from Miami on August 5, 1971. She’s craving a hotdog, dodging a sailing invite while 4½ months pregnant, and accidentally capturing the origin story of my dad’s future career — and our family’s bar. This letter is where I first learn that Dick would go on to work for Bi…