Dear Redneck Son,
I am writing this letter slow because I know you cannot read
that fast. We don't live where we did when you left home,
your father read in the newspaper that most accidents occur
within 20 miles of your 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 when they
moved so that they wouldn't have to change their new
address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine.
I'm not sure it works so well, last week I put a load in and
pulled the chain and haven't seen them since.
The weather here isn't bad. It only rained twice last week,
once for three days and the second time for four days.
About that coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle
Stanley said that it would be too heavy to send in the
mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them
into the pockets.
John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really
worried because it took him an hour to get me and your
father out.
Your sister had a baby this morning, but I haven' found
out if your an aunt or an uncle. The baby looks just like
your brother....
Uncle Ted fell into a whiskey vat last week. Some men
tried to pull him out, but he fought them off and playfully
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 back. They drowned
because they couldn't get the tailgate down.
There isn't much more news at this time. Nothing much has
happened.
Love, mom
P.S. I was going to send you some money but the envelope
was already sealed
