Monday, October 8, 2018

281/365/Scary Stuff

I have this author who doesn’t have a computer and so our correspondence is not via e-mail but via the U.S. postal service, and he makes his own stationery by photocopying cartoons at the top of an 8.5 x 11-inch sheet, and he gets me politically/musically and sometimes sends articles, like that one about John Prine, and I find him utterly charming and appropriately curmudgeonly, and a few weeks ago I replied to his most recent letter and last week went to the office and there it was back, marked undeliverable, and the museum confirmed the address I used, and searching obituaries reveals nothing, and now all I have is a phone number and I’m scared to dial it.

7 comments:

  1. Oh no. You have to dial it, right? But so very scary, all the same.

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    1. Thing is, I think he lives alone and he's notorious for never answering his phone anyway. Still haven't done it.

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  2. Oh no is right. How old is he? I'm sure you checked to see if you could possibly have written the address wrong. When I was a teenager my family had an elderly friend who made his stationery the same way. He was charming too. I hope you discover a reassuring explanation.

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    Replies
    1. Checked the address with our records. It's right. He's in his seventies.

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  3. Echoing the "oh no"s. This month's theme is starting to depress me.

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  4. I hope you've dialed it in the days since posting this. Half dreading reading on and finding out.

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