Season 1
“May 31, 1971: Tears, Laughter, and the Sound of His Voice”
Send us a text In this May 31, 1971 letter, my mom Sarah takes us on an emotional ride: from laughter and sarcasm to loneliness and back again. She starts the letter lightheartedly—listing all the things she and Joy somehow convinced someone to buy during a furniture shopping spree. But then the de…
“May 31, 1971: Holding You in a Different Way”
Send us a text In this May 31, 1971 letter, my father Dick writes to my mother Sarah from Vietnam. He’s on alert but has a quiet day—one of those rare moments in a war zone where nothing happens, and the waiting becomes the hardest part. But he fills that space with devotion. He buys cassette tapes…
May 28, 1971: A Letter, a Nap, and a Baby on the Way
Send us a text It’s May 28, 1971, and my mother Sarah is “seepy,” early in her pregnancy, and missing my father with every fiber of her being. In this letter, she shares the small details of her day: breakfast with Joy, a quiet trip to the BX, and the joy of finding a surprise she plans to send him…
“Chapter 1: Through the Eyes of Love Begins”
Send us a text After 47 letters exchanged between April 27 and May 30, 1971, this recap looks back on the first month of separation between Captains Dick and Sarah Allgood—newlyweds, both serving in the U.S. Air Force, and already holding onto something much bigger than distance. In this special ep…
“Another ‘Being’ to Love” — May 30, 1971
Send us a text In this May 30, 1971 letter from Bien Hoa Air Base, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his pregnant wife Sarah, who’s serving as an Air Force nurse at Wilford Hall in San Antonio. He opens with flirtation, calling her “the best I ever had,” and confesses to reading a “sort of a sex book,…
“Fuck the Air Force & Wilford Hall” — May 29, 1971
Send us a text This isn’t your typical Vietnam War letter. On May 29, 1971, my father—Captain Dick Allgood—wrote to my mother from Bien Hoa Air Base. She was thousands of miles away, working long hours as a military nurse at Wilford Hall in San Antonio and newly pregnant with me. And he was scared.…
“For Once in My Life” — Friday, May 28, 1971
Send us a text It’s Friday, May 28, 1971, and Captain Dick Allgood, a U.S. Air Force rescue pilot on alert in Vietnam, writes to his wife Sarah with aching tenderness. He’s been reading The Seven Minutes—a racy novel that stirs memories of their intimacy—and he can’t help but tie its themes to the …
“27 May 1971: Letters from the Edge of Exhaustion and Love”
Send us a text On May 27, 1971, Sarah Allgood writes to her husband from San Antonio after a day that pushed her to the edge—physically and emotionally. Just a few months pregnant, she faints twice while scrubbing in for surgery, narrowly avoiding the floor thanks to a nearby sergeant. She’s frustr…
27 May 1971: Mail, Meatloaf, and Missing You
Send us a text On May 27, 1971, my dad, Capt. Richard Allgood, wrote two letters to my mom in one day—one in the afternoon, and one just before bed. Together, they offer a glimpse into the rhythm of his life in Vietnam: picking up mail at the post office, flying training hours over the base, eating…
“Even Near Memorial Day, I Choose Joy” — May 26, 1971 (7:30 AM)
Send us a text It’s the last week of May 1971, and Memorial Day is approaching. Sarah is writing from their apartment near Lackland Air Force Base — the one she and Dick once shared before he left for Vietnam. She writes with her usual mix of tenderness, humor, and deep emotional clarity. There’s l…
“Make the Decision to Be Happy — What We Have Is So Rare” May 26, 197…
Send us a text Sarah writes from Lackland Air Force Base at 4:45 in the morning, just off a night shift in the operating room. She’s been selected to assist with a cardiac surgery — one being scrubbed in on by the Surgeon General himself — and it’s clear: she’s not just a nurse, she’s exceptional. …
May 26, 1971: Letters Home and a Father’s Heart
Send us a text On May 26, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes from Bien Hoa Air Base in Vietnam to his pregnant wife, Captain Sarah Allgood, stationed at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. It’s a quiet day—he’s on alert, flying just two hours, watching the Emmys, and aching for a letter that did…
May 25, 1971 – “I Love You More Than Yesterday”
Send us a text Writing from San Antonio, Texas—just outside Lackland Air Force Base where she works as a military nurse—Sarah Allgood pours her heart out to her husband, Dick, who is deployed in Vietnam. Now newly pregnant, she writes with equal parts love, exhaustion, and fierce honesty. She share…
May 25, 1971 – “I Sure Love You Two”
Send us a text In this heartfelt letter from Vietnam, Dick Allgood writes to his pregnant wife, Sarah, from Biên Hòa Air Base. His words are warm and playful—reflecting his joy over the baby they’re expecting and his longing to be home. From gin and tonics to surprise gifts in the mail, Dick shares…
May 24, 1971: Night Shifts, Sunlight, and Sweet Dreams
Send us a text In this letter from May 24, 1971, Captain Sarah Allgood writes to her husband, Dick, after coming off another exhausting overnight shift as an Air Force nurse. She’s sharp, skilled, and deeply respected—a woman who worked hard to earn her rank in a male-dominated field. Even as she j…
May 24, 1971: Love in the Middle of a War Zone
Send us a text In this letter from May 24, 1971, Dick writes to Sarah from Vietnam with deep affection, quiet reflection, and a surprising vulnerability. He shares how he held back his excitement when she first thought she might be pregnant—not out of indifference, but out of fear that it might not…
May 23, 1971: “Pussy Punch” and Fatherhood Plans
Send us a text Welcome back to The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love. I’m reading the real letters my parents—Dick and Sarah Allgood—wrote to each other during the Vietnam War while they were expecting me. In this letter from May 23, 1971, my dad had just been to a wild detachment party wh…
May 22, 1971: My Little Wittle Chickadee
Send us a text In this short but striking letter from May 22, 1971, Dick writes to Sarah from Biên Hòa Air Base in Vietnam. He’s been unexpectedly called back to Saigon to pull alert and vents about the constant movement, lack of rest, and missing their intimate connection—complete with a signature…
May 22, 1971: The Mom of Your Child
Send us a text In this deeply personal letter from May 22, 1971, Sarah writes to Dick from their apartment in San Antonio with joyful, vulnerable news—her pregnancy test is positive. She shares her mother’s instant certainty that they’re having a girl and reassures Dick that he is, without question…
So Happy to Be a Daddy – May 22, 1971
Send us a text In this brief letter from May 22, 1971, Dick Allgood shares his happiness after hearing that Sarah’s pregnancy test is confirmed. He promises to be the best father he can be and imagines how deeply loved their child will be. There’s a quiet tenderness here — an acknowledgment of the …
One of the Hardest Days – May 21, 1971
Send us a text Dick Allgood begins this May 21, 1971 letter to his wife Sarah by confessing it was “one of the hardest” days he’s had — but he never says exactly why. Instead, the letter unfolds with devotion, longing, and his deep hope that he’ll soon be a father. He calls Sarah his “wittle chicki…
“I Talk to You All the Time – May 21, 1971”
Send us a text In this late-night letter dated May 21, 1971, Sarah Allgood writes to her husband, Capt. Richard “Dick” Allgood, from bed in San Antonio — too tired to get up, too in love to sleep. As she watches an old Robert Mitchum movie, she imagines Dick beside her, talks to his photo, and joke…
“Alisa Cecilia — The Name She Chose Before I Was Born” — May 21, 1971
Send us a text In this letter dated May 21, 1971, my mom, Sarah, writes to my dad, Dick, with life-changing news: she’s officially pregnant. Unlike today, a urine test in 1971 couldn’t confirm pregnancy until a certain amount of time had passed after a missed period. She had to wait. But she alread…
“Mainly Lover and Possible Daddy” — May 20, 1971
Send us a text In this second letter from May 20, 1971 — his 27th birthday — my dad, Dick, writes from Vietnam late at night, having just finished letters to everyone else. But this one? This one is for my mom. He writes to his “wittle chick-a-dee” and imagines he’s sitting beside her, just talking…