Dear Louanne Ellie Mae,
I'm writing you this leter slow because I know you can't
read fast. We don't live where we did when you left home. Your
dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20
miles of your home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the
address because the last West Virginia family that lived here
took the house numbers when they moved so that they wouldn't
have to change their address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine.
I'm not sure it works well though; last week I put a load in and
pulled the chain and haven't seen the clothes since. The weather
here isn't bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first
time for three days and the second time for four days. About the
coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle Stanley said it would
be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut
them off and put them in the pockets. John locked his keys in
the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him
two hours to get me and your father out. Your sister had a baby
this morning; but I haven't found out what it is yet so I don't
know if you're an aunt or an uncle. The baby looks just like
your brother . . . Uncle Ted fell in a whiskey vat last week.
Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off playfully
and drowned. We had him cremated and he burned for three days.
Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pick-up truck.
Ralph was driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety.
Your other two friends were in the back. They drowned because
they couldn't get the tailgate down. There isn't much more news
at this time. Nothin much has happened.
Love,
Mom
P.S. I was going to send you some money but the envelope was
already sealed.
