Dear Michael, Love Pam

Just walked home for my 2-hour break
& I want to take a nap before I go back
at noon. Exhausted. Went to the Grain Bin
last night for a dance lesson in the Western Swing.
I learned to Barrel-turn and Dip, but I stayed out
too late. A chemical salesman disguised as my dance
partner asked me out to supper on Valentine’s Day.
I’m going but am not thrilled over the guy.
My guts say don’t trust a 44-year-old wearing
sneakers & sideburns. Hope you are doing better
than this old divorcée. Thank you for the letter,
pictures, and my goodness the poetry.
The one poem brought tears to my eyes–
the hammock one & he’s wasted his life.
That and Charlie Walhof’s death last Tuesday
had me thinking about making every day
count for something. Charlie was our local
entertainer who never found his star in Nashville
during his younger days but was giving music another
go now at 51. His Dodge van was halved by a train
in Maynard, MN, on a business trip that he’d hoped
might create an Opry near the lakes–in Alexandria, I think.
For the tourists. Charlie was a good man, Mike. Reminded
me of Dad. Same blue eyes, kind, & smile. He used to
hold my hand for a second after I passed his mail
to him. I wonder … I know this will sound odd …
could you write something for Charlie? I guess that must
seem silly. I don’t know how all that poetry stuff works.
Maybe if I sent a picture? That might not be the way
either. Somehow I just thought you might find the right
words? Anyway, I’m going to have to lie down now.
The kids and I miss you, Michael, and I want you to know
–I don’t believe that James Wright wasted his life.