The 19th of November 2011 – Port Leon, Florida

(found between the sand of the shore and the splintered post of the pier)

Dear Mama,

I’ll try to be there if I can make it. You can count on me for that much. Trying to make it, I mean.

It’ll be close. The bosses up here aren’t nearly as used to people asking for time off as they are back home, and the way the wind is blowing, well, we’ll have plenty of work to do over the next few months picking up leaves and branches from the side of the road.

It’s a whole big organism, my boss keeps telling me. And they always say that we got to work together and keep together as a group all the time. People always asking for time off goes against the organism mentality, I guess. That’s what they keep saying.

Nah, nah, nah. That’s what I say back to them. Nah, and I shake my head like that. You know, the way I shake my head when I get all kerfuffled. Nah. See, we’re all just a bunch a guys. We’re all just doing the job we got told to do. But there’s no organism to it. Sure, we’re working together, but that doesn’t make a difference to it. Having a bunch of people in the same room doesn’t make them all family.

Remember when Gerry and Todd were over for the game that time a while ago, sitting on the couch together, even sharing the same knife to spread mustard on their sandwiches. But that didn’t make them any closer friends to each other. They still ended up fighting and Todd still ended up with his head through our back fence anyhow.

So I don’t know. About this whole deal with the organism, I mean. And about whether I can make it to the birthday party. Like I said, the bosses up here don’t seem to want to give us time off.

Let me know if you got my other letter. There should be a check from when we got paid last Tuesday. Buy Maureen a present.




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