As you may recall, the previous letter ended with this request from my mother:
Send me Your Zip Code!
That must have worked because today's letter did include my grandmother's zip code in the destination address.
Dear Mother and Mike,
Congratulations on your new car! It sounds dreamy. Maybe you ought to "test-drive" it out to California. Seriously, what are your plans about coming to visit us? Does the new car shoot your finances and stop the trip? If so, I hate the car! I may not even want to drive it.
[For those of you who are unaware, as far as I know my grandmother never drove a car or had a driver's license. So my Uncle Mike would have been the sole driver of the family car, since the family at this point was him and my grandmother. Per my uncle, the dreamy car referred to here was a maroon Chevy Impala with white interior and 3 on the column. Maroon was definitely not his first choice of color since he knew he'd be taking that car to college at The University of Texas in Austin, and maroon and white are the colors of their longstanding rival, Texas A & M. But, it was a good car and it lasted through most of his time at UT until it got wrecked.]
I hope you all had fun in Houston. It sure sounded funny - my mother talking about her "roommates." With my mother getting younger and my son getting older I am very perplexed as to where that leaves me.
[My grandmother graduated from Texas Women's University in Denton (after returning to school in her late forties) and then worked in the journalism department there. The trip to Houston was for some sort of convention she was attending related to that, and she roomed with one or more TWU students. Hence the comment about her getting younger.]
I have started running that fever again. Every morning this time, not every evening like it was before. It certainly couldn't be nerves this time, because I'm not pressured with one thing. I guess they have doctors in L. A. but not _my_ doctor. Besides they cost money and Dave hasn't gotten over the last $23 bill.
[Although most of us would be happy to pay only $23 to visit the doctor, $23 in 1967 purchased about as much as $168 today.]
[Sadly I have a special understanding of Mom's comment about not having her doctor in L. A. I still remember the day (early 1970s) when she found out her doctor (who saw her through two pregnancies) had been killed while piloting a small experimental airplane that crashed. To say she was devastated when that happened would be an understatement.]
Poor Dave! He did take us out to eat last night. Why? I just didn't cook him anything! A lot of good it did me though. Of all the exciting, exotic, elegant places to eat in Los Angeles, he took me to the nearest Sizzler. They have one of those in Farmers Branch!
[Dad was a steak and potatoes kind of guy, so Sizzler had everything he needed. And I'm sure the price was right.]
How did Mike like his birthday present? Or has he had time to even open it? I have one for you, Mother, and have had it a couple of weeks. I can't seem to get it to the post office. David Wayne hasn't cared to walk much lately.
[I probably saw Mom's blisters from all the walking we had been doing and didn't want that to happen to me.]
Do Wayne and Linda need anything for their house? I would like to send them a housewarming gift, but I don't have any idea what they would like. Linda says Wayne is very industrious about the yard, but I don't think grass seeds would be appropriate.
[The comment about my Uncle Wayne is interesting, since it wasn't too many years later when he began living full time up at "the farm" as we have always called it, near Valley View, TX.]
I have really been reading this week - 3 books in 4 days. I read "Divorce, American Style" (very funny), "Drum" (too dirty, you can't have it) and "Brave New World" (interesting). Dave wanted to read "Drum," but I hid it. These pocket books are expensive though, so I don't know how long it will last. You should see the pained expression on Dave's face when I finish one.
[I can definitely understand my dad's pain here.]
In the absence of playmates, David Wayne's imagination has taken over. There are mother, daddy, and a baby rabbit in the closet. Skunks in the bathroom (smells logical), beavers in another closet, and sloth in the kitchen. His little friend upstairs is even moving in a few days, so no telling what we'll have then. He still carries his gun to shoot hippies and plain-clothes hippies.
[That's quite an assortment of animals. What kind of weird kid has an imaginary sloth?]
[Since Jeffrey (friend upstairs) moved within a month of our arrival, that explains why I don't remember having a playmate in the apartments.]
[Regarding the gun, well, one must be prepared for hippie encounters at all times, mustn't one?]
Patsy, my neighbor, wrote and said that the owners came over and cleaned up our yard. She said they worked _all_ one day - five of them. I bet they were furious when they saw the neglected flower beds and fallen trellis. Oh well, maybe they saw the well-fertilized area around dog house. I told Patsy to let me know if they put our furniture in the street. You might check, too, around October 1. (That's when our lease is up.) If they do throw us out, just have a street sale. We'll probably have to go on a burial run as soon as we get back - so what do we need a house, furniture, and dishes for?
Love, Linda
[When we moved to Los Angeles we continued to rent the home where we were living in Carrollton, with the intention of moving back there upon our return from L. A. The family on one side of us was Patsy, her husband, and their two sons. The comment about the "burial run," for those of you who have not seen that previously, refers to my father's job as an Insurance Examiner with the Texas State Board of Insurance. In addition to examining large insurance companies located in major cities like Dallas, Houston and Austin, examiners would sometimes have to examine smaller insurance companies headquartered in small towns throughout the state. These small insurance companies were often located in the same buildings as funeral homes (and likely operated by the same people), so the examiners making these trips to examine several small insurance companies over the course of a week or two got to spend a lot of time hanging out in funeral homes. Hence the phrase "burial run."]
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