December 13th, 2008

I’ve never been very good a writing letters. I can never really convey what’s on my heart and mind without it coming across rehearsed or disingenuous. I stare at the stationary, struggling to transform nothing into life. I only bring it up because I am about to write the most important letter of my life and I’m not sure how to begin and looking ahead, I’m not sure how it will be received. I suspect I won’t get an answer at all and if I do I don’t think it will be a positive. Still, I’m convinced I have to try. Life turned out to be so hard. I guess most people could say that. I was at an event not long ago and somebody was talking about the Good Old Days. At the time all I could think of was, “Which Good Old Days? During the McCarthy blacklist? Or when blacks couldn’t vote? When they burned women at the stake because they were herbalists? Those Good Old Days?” Maybe after I get the letter written I could send it off to my editor to look over. He did a great job on the posse book. I’m sure he’d appreciate his talents being used in such a way. If he were forced to do that as part of his job he’d be the one lamenting that life isn’t fair. And I’d have to agree. After all, if life were fair Elvis would be alive and the impersonators would be dead. I’ll do the best I can with the letter and pray for the best.