D O C U M E N T S 2 6 6 , 2 6 7 J U N E 1 9 2 4 2 5 9
266. From Eduard Einstein
[Zurich, 8 June
1924][1]
Dear Papa,
So now we’re soon going to be homeowners! You can best see what the building
looks like from the photograph we’re enclosing. It’s located roughly between Glo-
ria St. and the Sternwarte
boardinghouse.[2]
It has its own little garden and beneath
it lies a large city park. The view is wonderful: one sees the whole city and the lake.
I don’t know what it looks like inside, because I have never been in it. But Mama
and
Albert[3]
say that it’s beautiful.
As Albert already wrote you, I probably have vacation starting July 12. I don’t
really know yet where we’ll be going, but we’ll be meeting up with you, in any
case. I’m already looking forward to that.
I’m already in the 2nd form
now.[4]
I still like it very much, especially mathe-
matics, where we now have algebra and geometry, but just very easy things.
But now I don’t know what else to write, so to speak, except perhaps for the fa-
miliar phrases: How are you? I’m fine; we’ve got beautiful weather; you, too? etc.
Yours,
Teddi.
267. From Mileva Einstein-Maric
[Zurich, 8 June
1924][1]
Dear Albert,
The reason why I haven’t answered your last letter until today is that I always
thought the business with the house should get settled so that I can report to you
about it as
well.[2]
Now we’ve finally come that far along, except for one last offi-
cial record entry; all of this is a little complicated. We enclose with this letter a
small picture and hope that you’ll like it. I intend to present to you all the details on
this as well as all the bills when you come here. When will that be? Tete’s vacation
starts in the middle of July, Albert’s at the end of
July.[3]
Couldn’t you enjoy your-
selves together here this time, either in or outside of Zurich? Traveling in Germany
now is so expensive that it’s a shame to spend money that the two boys need just
for the train. Then there are the two passports!!
I was very happy about your last letter. I don’t know whether everything that lies
behind us can be
forgotten,[4]
and you [can] probably imagine that I can’t be com-
pletely happy about anything, not even about the house, when I think of your letters