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Harvey L. Slatin
78 Main Street
Stamford, New York 12167
August 8, 1991
Dear son Thomas,
The correspondence from you is overwhelming. You must be busier than a one-armed paperhanger affected with St. Vitus Dance. We assume that you are having an uproarious time and at night fall away from exhaustion. Well, the camp holiday is coming to a close. All our plans as to what we were doing to do while you were away, have not been fulfilled. There are weekend guests and parties, and other forms of entertainment to take up our precious time. So much will have to be done on your return. This knowledge must put you in an exalted frame of mind. Aunt Mep is here and misses you. Perhaps next Spring we will visit her in Arizona during your Spring break.
You will be pleased to know that your computer is working fire, with the extended memory intact. We are cleaning up your old computer room, slowly, and hoping to move mother’s wheel into it shortly.
There was a duel fought on the Village Green. Two drunks from John’s Tavern were at each other. The source of the quarrel was not known for certain, but had to do with either the description of one’s wife or the appearance of his pet dog. Anyway, the duel was fought using stale potato pancakes as weapons at ten paces. At that distance, they could not hit each other, much less see each other. Also their constant weaving did not make a suitable target. So they moved in five paces, and had at each other. But that too was not working out. They were urged to move in closer yet. Finally, they were standing toe to toe and whacking at each other tooth and nail, and still missing. There was profound expressions of disgust from the witnesses, who left to return to the bar. The two antagonists stopped their inept feud and tried to ascertain the nature of their disagreement. When this proved fruitless, they stuffed the remaining potato pancakes in their ears. The ensuing silence caused them to pause and they left arm in arm, to everyone’s disgust, if not revulsion.
John’s Tavern is still operating in its revolting fashion despite the number of violations cited against it. Anne wants to burn it down (but won’t) or have it bought by somebody who will use it as a cottage cheese mine.
See you Wednesday. Take care and love, hugs, and kisses.