 |
This is an
early letter just before Charlotte’s first visit to
Minneapolis, and I must admit I lost track of how any times
she did come here- but many of her letters have scrawled
on the back flight numbers and arrival times... she writes
about my cat and her cats and about a local gregarious dog
she would meet that I claimed capable of taking Tokyo...
Jeff Hatfield (I wrote he was so excited by her advent that
his toenails curled... Jeff is actually very low-keyed...
but it sounded good in the letter) who runs Uncle Edgar’s
Mystery Bookstore where no doubt a book signing was arranged
as usual... and finally commentary about my sculpture that
I had kept under my hat in fear it might find disapproval
in this gentle lady’s eyes... which, as it turned out,
was an erroneous assumption...
|
Saturday, 5:26 P.M. with cat on
lap
(Makkah Shaina, more commonly known as Molly, to be precise)
Dear Mr. G.,
I have just indited an epistle to him of the curling toenails (this is the
first time, to my knowledge, a letter of mine has ever had that effect on
anybody) in response to his about two hours ago. I had meant to write you
first, but (cat now climbing up back and situation getting out of hand, or
rather paw) somehow tings got confused, as things tend to do around here.
The it is, I have received word that the balloon goes up in
Denver on the weekend of October 15-17 and therefore I should
like to visit you in Minneapolis sometime before the 15th or
after the 17th... have explained all this to Mr. Hatfield and
perhaps you can get your curly heads together and think up some
real fun stuff to do.
Your brochures imbued me with a yearning
to explore Minneapolis in depth, even unto... especially unto...
the Swedish Museum, where
I shall leave a donation in the name of Sieglinde Sevenson. So
great a metropolis must surly have a few hotels, guesthouses,
kraals where I can find lodging for a night or two and perhaps
you will
be good enough to select a place after we’ve got dates arranged.
I shall be staying in Denver (or somewhere in them thar hills)
for a couple of days either before or after... will let you know
exactly when and which when they let me know what is most suitable
for them, because they asked first.
Your gray tabby will not disconcert me by sitting on my lap
and sticking her nose in my mouth... Max does the same thing.
He also
stows away in people’s cars... even tried it once on a motorcycle...
and gets taken home by them. So far, alas, they have always brought
him back. Max is not a gray tabby but a fat sealpoint Siamese.
I shall enjoy meeting the dog (sounds like a good mate for Ethel,
in case you’ve by now read THE GRUB-AND-STAKERS) and refrain
from whistling the theme song from Lassie because I don’t
know it and have been told that I have a singularly tuneless whistle
anyway. But I bet Max could lick him. I’ll bet Max could
destroy Tokyo, if it comes to that. Alfred (commonly known as Hope’s
Alfred Hesperus of Yung Sun) would not destroy Tokyo because
he would have more serious matters on his mind. Alfred is or
Resident
Intellectual... also sealpoint by birth. I would show you his
baby pictures, but Alfred was born middle-aged so none were ever
taken.
I have brought Mr. Hatfield up-to-date on literary matters but
did not tell him there is a Peter Shandy story in the works
because right now it’s such a tangle that it may never
get OUT of the works. YOU did not tell ME that you are, I quote,
a talented
and accomplished sculptor as well as a delightful correspondent.
I look forward to meeting you and all your friends, two-and
four-footed, without regard to the shapes of their toenails.
Most cordially,
X (her mark)
|
