Tuesday, October 03, 1989

Letter From Popi

This is a letter I got from my dad while I was at college. I was going through some boxes today and came across it and it made me laugh out loud. He has a fantastic sense of humor. I dated this post to reflect when the letter was written.

Dear Mishka,

I sure have missed you lately, I miss our late night talks especially the ones where I pontificate like a big winded politician as if I knew what I was talking about, and you patiently put up with it.

I'm on my Saturday shift at "The X". From where I'm sitting, I am getting a perfect mix of Neil Diamond and Buck Owens.

I have a cold right now. I haven't had one for over a year, so I figure it was time to open up and let it in. Nobody ever thinks of those poor little cold germs out there looking for a home, their little flaggelum waving in the cold wind. Anyway, my nose is the size of a Texas grapefruit and bright red from honkin' goobers. Those little handkerchiefs get used up too fast, so I've got a bed sheet stuck in my back pocket. The trouble is, it drags on the ground behind me and people keep looking at me. I don't know why, it's just a twin.

I don't believe in feeling bad so Dr. O prescribed lots of drugs, any drugs - and I am complying. The trouble is, I haven't figured out how to smoke these aspirin. I tried to snort one, but it got stuck up around my brain. But don't worry; later on at a fancy company dinner with county and corporate executives, it blew right out into my mash potatoes. Then everybody went home without even finishing their chocolate pudding. So I finished it for them.

Work at the station is getting better. I was able to hire another person in production, so now, I'm pretty much off the board and out in the field shooting a lot. The art auction is in late October and pledge drive is in December, I could sure use you.

I finally got an amp for my guitar so, when nobody's around, I can play real loud. Sometimes, when I close my eyes and play, I think I'm Jimi Hendrix. I guess you could say I'm a legend in my own mind.

Your mom and I are looking at waveless waterbeds. We've been sleeping pretty badly lately, In the morning, I feel like I've been sleeping with turtles. When I first look in the mirror, I have those mattress patterns in my face and slobber in my mustache.

Your mom is still working hard and misses you. Your sister has dyed her hair red/burgundy again and misses you. Samantha still barks whenever someone farts in the next county and maybe misses you. I love and miss you.

Love, Dad