A newfie mother's letter to her son
I am writing this slow because I know you can't read too fast. We don't live where we did when you left. Your Dad read in the paper that most car accidents happened within twenty mile of home, so we moved. I can't send you the address as the last Newfie family that lived here took the numbers with them for their next house so they wouldn't have to change their address.
This place has a washing machine, but the first day I put four shirts in it, pulled the chain and haven't seen them since.
It rained only twice last week - three days the first time and four days the second.
About the coat you wanted me to send you. Aunt Sue said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with them heavy buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.
We got a bill from the funeral home and it said that if we didn't make the last payment on Grandma's funeral, up she comes.
About your sister - she had a baby this morning. I haven't found out whether it's a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you are an aunt or an uncle.
Your Uncle John fell in the whiskey vat. Some men tried to pull him out, but he bravely fought them off and drowned. We cremated him and he burned for three days.
Three of your friends went off the bridge in their pick-up. One was driving and the other two were in the back. The driver got out - he rolled down the window and swam to safety. The other two drowned - they couldn't get the tailgate open.
Aunt Mabel is knitting you some socks. She would have sent them by now, but I told her that you had grown another foot since she last saw you, so she has to knit another one.
Not much more news this time. Nothing much has happened.