Hi Joe,
Where the hell were you when I needed you the most? I'm 77 now, contemplating my time left while I suck up vodka and tonic. I was happy as a pig in shit until I read your book, Deer Hunting with Jesus. I went the way of all the schmucks you wrote about, but never really believed in the "system".
I was smart enough to marry a widow in 1983, who just happened to be a practicing medical doctor. It has been mostly peaches and cream since then. To add at least a little interest in my life, I spent three years on a chain gang in Virginia in the early 50's. Nothing serious. I think I forgot to salute the Confederate flag or something.
Anyway, best of luck with your lungs. Jesus, better you than me! Hope you write some more. Incidentally, I think I have to read your book again because the freeking big words had me spending sooooo much time with my dictionary.
God bless you! (just kidding)
Bob
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Dear Bob,
Anyone who has been on a chain gang certainty cannot say they "went the way of the other schmucks."
Did your chain gang happen to ever go by Route 522 in Virginia? In the early fifties as a kid I used to be fascinated by the chain gangs doing road work as they passed our house. As kids we used to lie under the front porch and drink KoolAid and guess which ones were murderers. We admired the murderers most.
As for the big words, well, I do my writing on a brown paper bag with crayons. Then them nice folks at Random House make it sound all high falutin.
Now I gotta go because you've made me want a vodka tonic and a cigarette.
In art and labor,
Joe
