Dear John, today I’ve left Carlson, traveling north. With that, I have some news that might not impact you as much as it did me; Aunt Jamey died two weeks ago, you might not remember her as you’ve met only once years ago during our reunion. Last months cold-snap was tough on everyone, more so on Aunt Jamey, she developed phenomena and never recovered.
On that note, Ryan (you know him well) has crashed his ’59 Cadillac Deville. The circumstances are quite obvious as his boozing is well known. Cinthia was with him, he walk away as she suffered a dislocated shoulder and bruised face (possibly broken nose). Ryan made the first payment on the Caddy few weeks ago, Cinthia noted the car is now a wreck and so are their finances. The tree on Creek Drive fared much better.
I’m currently on the bus, the empty white fields pass by quickly and uneventfully, like my time in Carlson. I particularly don’t enjoy the dullness of that town. Unlike our family (that seem to be ingrained in that community) I find nothing of value there. The people and their cult, the Cadillacs and despair, where church and bars are separated only by a lonely tree on a narrow drive.
A few days ago, as promised, I visited Old Jack. He remembers you and speaks fondly of the time you spent together last summer. His rusty pickup finally gave way, now parked in the back with all the other junk. Ed is a different story though, after losing his job he also lost his mind. He become gray, bonny-looking individual that stumbles across main street now and then with no apparent purpose. Mostly inebriated and broke; mumbling something about how great it was before the war.
I remember days when all four of us gathered in his living room (way back in Yorkville) when Ed spoke of how he dragged himself across Europe and Africa for nothing but the experience. His friends in Paris, his bar brawls in Istanbul, and his affairs in Italy. All that, as the truth might be misplaced and intentions questionable, seems to be forgotten.
It seems like I’m closing in, just a few minutes to my destination. I feel we all need to jump that fence that keeps us in; the rut and hopelessness. That town has it all. Until next time, hopefully, less bleak.