Dear Son,
I'm writing this slow 'cause I know you can't read fast. We don't live where we
did when you left. Your dad read in the paper where most accidents happen within
20 miles of home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the address as the
last Mississippi family that lived here took the numbers with them for their
next house so they wouldn't have to change their address.
This place has a washing machine. The first day I put four shirts in it, pulled
the chain, and haven't seen 'em since. It only rained twice this week, three
days the first time, and four the second time.
The coat you wanted me to send you, your Aunt Sue said it would be a little too
heavy to mail with them heavy buttons. So we cut them off and put them in the
pockets.
We got a bill from the funeral home, said if we didn't make the last payment on
Grandma's funeral bill, up she comes.
About your father...he has a lovely job. He has over 500 men under him. He is
cutting grass at the cemetery.
About your sister...she had a baby this morning. I haven't found out whether it
is a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you are an aunt or an uncle.
Your Uncle John fell in the whiskey vat. Some men tried to pull him out, but he
fought them off playfully, and drowned. We cremated him. He burned for three
days.
Three of your friends went off the bridge in a pickup. One was driving, the
other two were in the back. The driver got out. He rolled down the window and
swam to safety. The other two drowned. They couldn't get the tailgate down.
Not much more news this time, nothing much has happened.
Love, Mom
P.S. I was going to send money, but the envelope was already sealed.
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