Thinking of you...
Hey, Dad:
I know you’re dead. It doesn’t matter, because you never heard a word I was saying when you were alive. But this way I get to talk to you, and I can pretend you’re listening.
I got a place in Alaska. I own a home. Here’s the wrinkly part. It’s a school bus. So, I’m glad you’re dead, because this is the part you’d grab your chest and reach for your heart pills. At least now I know I can’t kill you with my thoughts.
The bus is in the middle of nowhere. Well, maybe some Russians up the road, but they are so busy with their kids, and they won’t really see me. I’m going to be setting up a wind turbine, you’d probably say it was a windmill, and the wind will give me electricity.
There’s a thing they do with the sun now. The sun gets stored in batteries (regular car batteries, although golf cart batteries are better suited to the purpose because they’re made to re-charge all the time), and then the charge from the sun also gives electricity. I’m going to do that in the summer. Alaska has pretty long days in the summer.
I have a wood stove for warmth. Oh, and I guess I’m glad you’re dead for this one, too. I sleep in a hammock. Nothing like it. I rock myself to sleep at night like a baby in a cradle.
I’m going to be in Alaska starting February 10th. I tell people that the worst thing about living in Alaska is having to fight Eskimos for whale blubber at the only grocery store in town, which I have to walk to in snow shoes through fifteen miles of waist deep snow. If that doesn’t put them off, I tell them there is no phone service, and no internet. About the internet… I’ll explain that to you after I’m sure you’ve stocked up on your heart pills. Remind me?
Look in on me from time to time will you? If you happen to catch me smiling to myself? Know I’m probably not too far away from thinking about you.
Love,
Your first son, from my mother.
P.S. Mom pretty much still thinks you’re an asshole, which I’m sure you are. No matter. We all still love you in the only way you know how to be loved…
