Dear Son,
I'm writing this letter slowly because I know you can't read fast.
We don't live where we did when you left home.Your mum read in the
newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles from your home, so we
moved.
I won't be able to send you the address because the last Arkansas family
that lived here took the house numbers when they moved so that they
wouldn't have to change their address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I'm not sure it
works so well though: last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and
haven't seen them since.
The weather isn't bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time
for three days and the second time for four days.
About that coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle Stanley said it
would be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them
off and put them in the pockets.
John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because
it took him two hours to get me and your mother out.
Your sister had a baby this morning; but I haven't found out what it is
yet so I don't know if you're an aunt or an uncle. The baby looks just
like your brother....
Uncle Ted fell in a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out,
but he fought them off and drowned. We had him cremated and he burned for
three days.
Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pick-up truck. Ralph was
driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two
friends were in the back. They drowned cause they couldn't get the
tailgate down.
There isn't much more news at this time. Nothing much has happened.
Love
Dad
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