His latest correspondence, dated Sun 3/10/2013 6:20 PM:

Dear Friends,
For some reason, I have been reflecting on the ways in which I have been particularly fortunate in my life (compared with the vast majority of humankind), and also on a few things I still regret. And now, for some reason, I want to share them with you.

MY GOOD LUCK:

That I have remained relatively healthy throughout my life.

That all my physical measurements are relatively average.

That my native language is English.

That I was born male, Caucasian, and heterosexual, at a time and in a society in which these were all advantageous.

That my family name, Brilliant, is unusual, meaningful and memorable.

That I had parents who cared for me and tried to do their best for me.

That I have had little personal experience of poverty, war, or violence.

That I lived through World War II as a child, which has made all subsequent world events seem by comparison less terrible.

That I was gifted with intelligence and a talent for verbal expression.

That I had the extraordinary experience of teaching on a “floating university,” sailing twice around the world.

That I was able to make a career out of marketing my own thoughts.

That at different times in my life the right people have been there for me. Particularly:

My uncle Marsh Adler, who sponsored my emigration to California;

Netter Worthington of Chapman College who hired me for the shipboard teaching position.

John Henderson, a newspaper man, who financed the first printing of my postcards;

Howard Weeks, whose firm of Woodbridge Press published all my books;

My wife Dorothy, who encouraged my creative work, and facilitated it by managing all my business affairs for many years.

Jack Rodenhi and Geoff Canyon, whose generously shared computer expertise made possible the availability of my work in digital database form.

And, just to balance the books, here are some of my

BIGGEST REGRETS.

That I hardly ever had a teacher whom I considered really good.

That I have never (thus far) learned to play even one musical instrument or speak even one foreign language.

That I failed to get into Oxford or Cambridge.

That I spoiled my own chances of becoming one of the local Santa Barbara beach art exhibitors (by refusing to conform to their standards of “art,” which didn’t include printed postcards.)

That I failed in my effort to become Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara.

That, especially in my later years, I have never been part of a group of close friends.

That Dorothy and I never did anything with the land we have owned in Australia since 1973 (such as my idea of building a tower on it.)

That I was never able to help my sister Myrna have a better life.

That all the people I’ve been closest to have been those I’ve been least able to influence.

That my creative achievement has never yet been formally recognized at any high academic or cultural level (let alone receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature!)

All the best,
Ashleigh Brilliant