Episodes

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. Meanwhile, my mom is still in Miami, about four and a half months pregnant, giving herself the space to rest and reset. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a pers...

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 Bay. A shared spark. And the early days of what would one day become Allgood’s Bar & Grill. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based ...

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 dad is horny, honest, and totally in love — which somehow makes this wild, sexy letter feel like one of the sweetest. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal p...

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 Bill Cobbs, and how that connection started through an old friend named Jerry Dorminy. Also? There’s a 10½ inch joke and a T-shirt-worthy one-liner. Welcome to The Allgoods. Support the show The Al...

Send us a text My mom writes from Miami — recounting Brandy Alexanders, receipts, outfits, poolside conversations, and dinner with old friends. But beneath the swirl of it all, she’s aching for my dad. This letter reminds me how much she could love being around people… and still feel completely alone without him. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based on real letters exchanged between Capt. Richard Allgood and Capt. Sarah Allgo...

Send us a text My dad writes from Vietnam on a slow alert day, just counting down the days until he can hold my mom again — 36 to go. He talks about getting some sun, watching baseball, grooving to her letter, and imagining their hotel room in Hawaii. He also checks in on “the wittle one,” jokes about Nancy Murray’s endless string of disasters, and reflects on how strong their love is — even from opposite sides of the world. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love i...

Send us a text Sarah writes from Miami with news that changes everything: for the first time, she feels the baby move. It’s a quiet, private milestone — but she captures it with joy, humor, and wonder. She’s feeling good, proud of her pregnant body, and more connected than ever to the life growing inside her. This letter is more than just an update for Dick — it’s a snapshot of a woman becoming a mother, in real time. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a p...

Send us a text My dad writes from Vietnam after getting one of my mom’s letters in Miami. He jokes about her sleeping on a waterbed, talks through his slow day at the hooch, and shares a tender moment imagining the baby she’s carrying — me. What we’re really seeing in these letters is a pregnancy journal written across continents. A record of everything my mom did while she was pregnant, and what my dad was thinking and feeling every day during that same time. Support the show The Allgoo...

Send us a text In this letter from August 2, 1971, Sarah writes to Dick from Miami — not just soaking up the sun but dreaming of the life they’ll build together in this very place. She passes along a touching letter from her grandmother Pearl and gently asks Dick to write her — just one page. It’s a quiet, beautiful moment of care and connection. The rest of the letter is full of warmth and rhythm: wine coolers, card games, tan lines, and love. Sarah is imagining their future — and it starts ...

Send us a text Dick writes not one but two letters to Sarah on August 2, 1971 — one full of music, excitement, and planning for their R&R in Hawaii, and the other a quiet love note before bed. He books them a room at the Hilton in Waikiki by mail, tapes Jackson 5, Tina Turner, and Diana Ross onto a cassette, and dreams of holding Sarah in his arms. The music plays in the background — and so does the love. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal pod...

Send us a text Sarah’s in Miami, and this Sunday letter to Dick is full of rhythm and joy. She’s playing cards, reconnecting with old friends, eating steak, and slowly feeling more like herself again. The mood is lighter, the pace is easy, and there’s even a little teasing at the end — a promise of what’s coming when they’re finally together. It’s August 1, 1971, and the countdown to Hawaii is well underway. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal po...

Send us a text It’s Sunday in Vietnam, and Dick is recovering from last night’s party — and the punch he made that got the better of him. He’s back on alert duty, writing to Sarah about her decision to go to Miami, how his smoking’s going, and how much he’s looking forward to seeing her in Hawaii. This letter is full of tenderness, warmth, and a promise: a gift he’ll buy for her once they’re together again. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podca...