Dear Louanne Ellie Mae,

I'm writing you this leter slow because I know you can't read fast. We don't live
where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most
accidents happen within 20 miles of your home, so we moved. I won't be able to
send you the address because the last West Virginia 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
well though; last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and haven't seen the
clothes since. The weather here isn't bad here. It only rained twice last week; the
first time for three days and the second time for four days. About the 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 father 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
playfully 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 because they couldn't get the tailgate down. There isn't
much more news at this time. Nothin much has happened.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I was going to send you some money but the envelope was already sealed