## Help Keep This Story Alive
Your support helps digitize 50-year-old letters, preserve rare photos, and honor a one-of-a-kind love story from the Vietnam War.
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In 1971, two young Air Force veterans — Richard and Sarah Allgood — found themselves separated by the Vietnam War, yet connected through hundreds of heartfelt letters.Decades later, after their passing, their daughter discovered a preserved box of their correspondence: a story of love, family, coura...
## Help Keep This Story Alive
Your support helps digitize 50-year-old letters, preserve rare photos, and honor a one-of-a-kind love story from the Vietnam War.
[**Support the Podcast**](https://www.
[**Leave a Review**](https://www.
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, anticipation, and the kind of romantic planning only distance can inspire. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based on real letters exchang…
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 morning note to “pregnant virgin” promises, the emotional range is pure Sarah. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based on real letters ex…
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 Miami Dolphins game against the San Francisco 49ers, and party plans. My dad, writing from Vietnam, jokes about “unmarried men and their lovers,” counts the “quarters” of love between them, an…
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 drinking with friends. My mom’s letter is a window into her social life in Miami — lunches, pool time, nights out with friends, and even a trip to Foxy’s for a midnight breakfast. Both letters circle…
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 the ache, the humor, the love — and the kind of connection that makes the distance almost unbearable. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project...<…
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 August 10 exchange — and the contrast to my dad’s world in Vietnam couldn’t be sharper. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based on r…