A Letter From Mama

Dear Alvis:

Things are much the same here in Hootin Holler. The economy is so bad here, all your father and I have been able to save for a rainy day is dry socks. They say you can’t take it with you. We can’t even afford to go. Last week I asked your father what he would do if he had all of the money in the world, and he said he’d pay our bills for as far as it would go. He says when our outgo is more than our income, then our upkeep will be our downfall.

Lazlo Thomas dropped by again around dinnertime, hoping for a free meal, but we had already eaten. Another missed opportunity for a free meal. Your father says if opportunity knocked at Lazlo’s door, he’s complain about the noise. He also says the trouble with Lazlo is he’s trouble. Lazlo thinks he’d have it made if he had a cigarette lighter and a wife and both of them were working. He told your father that work is OK as long as it doesn’t take up too much of your spare time.

Harley Corn started going to see his psychiatrist again. Harley says he misses the good advice he gives him. Your father says, if you can tell the difference between good advice and bad advice, you don’t need advice.

Gertie Buzzard’s birthday was last week. She is as fit as a fiddle, but won’t tell anybody her age. She says that way she won’t have to lie about it. Gertie also says a woman stops telling her age as soon as it starts telling on her. She did tell me she is approaching middle age for the third time. I have known her since I was a little girl, and Gertie looks just like she did then…old. She says she owes her good health to smoking and drinking, as she never did either.

Well, must go now and help your father. He borrowed a nail gun from our neighbor to fix our leaky roof. After he got it all hooked up, he aimed it at his foot to see if it was loaded with nails. It was.

Love,
Mama