3 1 2 D O C U M E N T 2 9 5 M A Y 1 9 2 6 people and leave them the freedom to act independently enough that they do not lose their enthusiasm for work. It seems to me that Weizmann is much too strict in his assessment, except what concerns Magnes. The situation will continue to im- prove as the workforce we have there increases. The main thing we must ensure is that money is there for people, not just for buildings. Fodor must be supported on this point.[4] I will be talking to Ehrmann[5] tomorrow. In my opinion, he doesn’t have to go to America if the doctors will indeed be represented at the Board of Gov- ernors meeting. I am enclosing a letter from Bobtelsky,[6] which you should show to Weizmann. In any case, it warrants looking at. Write to him in the meantime. I would like to return for a few days to the site of the Board of Governors meet- ing in order to be able to thoroughly discuss everything with Weizmann, if this is possible for him. Best regards, your A. Einstein 295. From Eduard Einstein [Zurich,] 29 May [1926] Dear Papa, I don’t know why—as I was playing a piece by Reger[1] a short time ago, I was suddenly compelled to think of you. I sometimes have the strangest thought asso- ciations. I thought: “Strange, how long it has been since he wrote me.[2] Very strange” (I thought). However, that was only in the first moment. One has, when one plays Reger, the opportunity to indulge in the most varied thoughts. Not with Chopin. With Chopin, I always become emotional. Likewise, with Handel and Stravinsky.[3] By the way… So, I decided to write you. Mind you, not out of boredom, in order to somehow occupy myself. On the contrary, I would have had significant things to do. For one, I ought to finally, once and for all, commit to memory the aorist tense of the verb πȓμπλημι[4] —a peaceful and tranquil occupation. Besides that, by next Monday I have to find out the geologic conditions of the Po Delta, which is closer to my most personal interest than many other things. Consequently, the decision to write to you cost me an effort. It cost me at most an effort. When I write letters, the entire bleak emptiness and poverty of my imagination appears before me. And that undermines my self-confidence formidably. I despise people who write letters for pleasure. It is arrogant of them. Generally, I only write letters to force the people involved to