A Letter to Ms. Largin

All of my letters are what I would call intellectually honest, that is to say, a decent part of me is entirely serious when writing them. Sometimes the balance shifts between what may just be a joke and what is actually serious, and perhaps the comedy shifts as well. This is decidedly serious, so I apologize if it is decidedly not that funny. This preface was decidedly confusing and stupid.

Ms. Vernita Largin
1512 Hass Drive
South Bend, IN 46635

Dear Ms. Largin,

Hello, ma'am. I hope you are having a fair evening so far, however, I must first warn you that I am not writing you a letter. I may be writing you a letter, but only as a latent effect of my intended action, which is to write a letter to the owner of 1512 Hass Drive in the Fall of 1989. Since I cannot be sure if that is you or not, I can only take the chance of writing to you in the hopes that you are her, that is, the woman who lived in your house nearly twenty years ago.

You see, Ms. Largin, in the Fall of 1989 I was six years old and living in your neighborhood with my two older brothers and older sister. My parents were also there. One day, as we were apt to do in the Fall, we went to Boehm Park behind your home to play in the giant piles of oak leaves the groundskeeper had gathered about. I naturally dug one pile out and created a castle where I could rule over all men, specifically my older brothers, who prowled about the park on their Huffy bicycles like a couple of Gaul barbarians. Unfortunately, as both barbarians and older brothers are wont to do, they accosted my castle. Picking up a giant log (not a branch!) they dive-bombed my fort, throwing the heavy limb inside where it landed directly on my unsuspecting head. I then screamed.

Now, since I was fairly certain I was going to die, I screamed very loudly. So loudly, in fact, that you (or the previous owner of your home) took it upon yourself to follow us back home and tell my parents what a racket I had caused, and that you "thought somebody was dying!" As I said before, I shared your opinion of the situation. Nevertheless, my father forced me to walk back to your home and apologize for upsetting you. Let me repeat, I had to apologize for having a half-tree dropped on my head.

Well, I'm a little older, and a little wiser, and there isn't a damn thing my father can do to me anymore, so I am recanting my apology. I am not sorry for screaming so loudly and I am not sorry for upsetting you. I also do not promise to be more careful next time, and I will not stay out of the leaves. I understand that they are in a pile for a reason, but I could not care less if I ruin the pile. I hope I ruin the pile, Ms. Largin.

If you wish to recant your acceptance of my apology, I will understand and you can reach me at the above address. Otherwise, let us consider this long, national nightmare put to rest once and for all.

Entirely of my own volition,

The Correspondent