Over the weekend, I called my dad. During the conversation, he said, “Hey, I found a letter of yours.” Something distracted him, and he didn’t get a chance to complete his thought.
I panicked slightly, because I thought maybe it was a letter intended for a girlfriend, and he was going to bust my chops over it. It could have been anything really. I’ve been actively writing since I was 11. Who knows where I hid writings in my parents’ house for them to find 20 years later?
It turned out to be a letter I wrote to the family while studying in the south of France in 1996.
I’m not sure exactly what was said in our conversation, but he commented on some of the funnier parts of the letter, like talking about walking through dog shit on the streets. He laughed that I wrote, “By the time you get this Billy slick Willy will be sucking victory wine through a straw and Bob D will be naval [sic] gazing.”
Dad thought it was neat that it proved that at one time I was a good believer and a conservative. In the letter, which I’ll post below, I talked about praying. And I insinuated that I was opposed to Bill Clinton, which shows I would have voted republican if I had the chance. I wanted to vote absentee but I was too late for that, too.
Click the images to enlarge. NOTE: The image on the right is the start of the letter. I wasn’t able to alter this with WordPress.
In the letter, I referenced Wendy, who was my girlfriend at the time. We dated from my junior year of high school to about the end of my junior year of college. Wendy was my first love and my first big breakup. Continue reading “A letter from my 21-year-old self”
This morning I got a voicemail from my dad saying he and my brother were having breakfast, and they were wondering if I was feeling better after my both-end fireworks display Sunday night.
“Shit vomits,” I said to myself listening to the message; I need to update the blog.
Yes, I’m feeling better. Thanks for your concern.
Isn’t it great how the body naturally wants to heal itself? Should you have prayed for me … hey, look! Your prayers worked! Isn’t that something.
The offensive hostility bug went away pretty quickly. Based on what he knows, my dad thought it was food born. I think it was flu. The brunt of the explosions lasted about 4 or 5 hours, and I had been feeling different flu symptoms for the previous week. I was achy, stuffy, pouty. You know, the usual. I was able to care for Tina the next day and make her dinner.
Thank putang is my new catchphrase of the hour. It sounds so funny, and it has such a great message. If you’re offended easily, I’m using the #2 version of the definition from here.
Otherwise, Honk Putang and have a great day!