We don’t live where we did when you left. Your dad read in the paper where most accidents
happened within twenty miles of home, so we moved. I won’t be able to send you the address as the last Alabama 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 hadn’t seen ‘em since. It only rained twice this week, three days the first time and four days the second time.

The coat you wanted me to send you, your Aunt Sue said would be a little heavy to send in the 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 new job. He has over 500 men under him. He’s cutting grass at the local cemetery.

About your sister — she had a baby this morning. I haven’t found out whether it is a boy or 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, so he drowned. We cremated him and he burned for four days.

Three of your friends went off the bridge in a pick-up truck. One was driving, the other two boys was 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. Write more often.

Love, Mom

P. S. I was going to send you some money, but the envelope was already sealed.

A husband and wife were golfing when suddenly the woman asked, “Honey, if I died would you get married again?”

The man said, “No dear.”

The woman said, “I’m sure you would.”

So the man said, “Okay, I would”

Then the woman asked, “Would you let her sleep in our bed?”

And the man replied, “Ya, I guess so.”

Then the woman asked, “Would you let her use my golf clubs?”

And the man replied, “No, she’s left handed.”

At a paternity trial, the blonde’s lawyer asked, “On the night of August 12th last, at approximately midnight, in the locale known generally as Lover’s Lane, did the defendant have sexual relations with you?”
“Yes,” whispered the girl, her head bowed.

“And on that occasion, to the best of your knowledge, did the defendant have a climax?” the lawyer continued.

“Oh no,” she replied, “I’m pretty sure he had one of them real fancy Jaguars.”