A LETTER FROM A BACK-WOODS MOTHER TO HER BACK-WOODS SON
Dear Son,
I'm writing this real slow 'cause I know you can't read fast.
First, we want ya ta know we don't live where we did when you left. Your
Daddy read in the paper that most accidents happen within twenty miles of
home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the address because the last
Arkansas family that lived here took the numbers off the house with them for
their next house so they wouldn't have to change their address. What's
exciting is this place is got a washin' machine. The first day I put four
shirts in, though - pulled the chain, and ain't seen'em since.
The weather's 'bout the same. It only rained twice this week. Three
days the first time and four days the second time.
Ya know the coat ya wanted me to send ya? Well, Aunt Sue said it would
be too heavy to send in the mail with them heavy buttons on it so we cut 'em
off and put 'em in the pocket.
Well, here's 'bout the family. We got a letter from the funeral home.
They said if we don't make the last payment on Grandma's funeral bill "up she
comes!" Your sister had a baby this morning. But I ain't heard whether it
is a boy or girl so I don't know if you're an uncle or an aunt. Sadly, last
week Uncle John fell in the whiskey vat. Some tried to pull him out but he
fought 'em off. After he drowned we cremated him. He burned for three days.
And more bad news. Three of your friends went off the bridge in a pick-up.
One was driving, the other two was in the back. The driver got out. He
rolled the window down and swam to safety. The other two drowned. They
couldn't get the tailgate down.
Well, sorry there's not much excitin' ta tell ya this time. Nothing much
new has happened.
Love,
Mama