Dear Perry,

Dear Perry,  

From Cousin Roselle to Aunt Roselle.

August 4, 1981    

Dear Roselle,

     I heard on the radio news this morning that Perry Como died. I thought you would want to know. So, since we’re not talking, I wrote you, and brought the letter, this letter, into Staunton, walking along the railroad tracks. There’s a sign there on the station that it is 1,395 ft above sea level. I walked the letter to the post office, paid my 18 cents and put it in the mail slot. You should get it soon.    

     You are a bitch, pardon my French; but I knew you would want to know about Perry because you loved him almost as much as I did. They say he died with my name on his lips. It's true he was once in love with another Roselle, but I think it was me he was talking about because I am his biggest fan. It wasn’t your name at any rate.
     I guess that's it. I don't really have anything else to say to you. I hope my brother is okay, but that would be no thanks to you either.

                                                                Your loving sister-in-law, Roselle

* * * * *

Roz was looking over my shoulder, reading over my shoulder. “That’s not true, is it?” she said. “That wasn’t even your aunt’s name, Roselle. Wasn’t it Margaret?”

     “Martha,“ I said. “But it could have been Roselle.” Roz kept looking at the screen.

     “It’s true for some,” I said.

     Roz said, “I suppose.” Then: “We should go for a walk,” she said.

 

 08.05.21