Bubbles

Bubbles got drunk on sweet red currant wine They float in the air Bumping into clouds Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup It's not fair Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/15/14

Letters

Letters We learned a skill how to write letters in 3rd grade, I think: a date, dear Annie, introduction, a body, and closing greetings . We were also told to write something entertaining if we like to expect an answer. To ask her about her interests and hobbies. Then little bit about ourselves. Nothing boring. In introduction was the basics about a family, how my brother made a blue kite a how the kite flies. About our trips. Skip disasters, because the letter would be to long. When we absorbed how to write letters our teacher brought to us a list of prospective pen pals. Mine was Marienka from Slovakia. She taught me a blueberry in Slovak is cucoriedka and I envied her her needlework. Mine was sloppy. I just didn't have a patience and my hands were clumsy. Excuses, because I didn't like to do it. Second pen pal was from Georgia. Somebody gave me her address and I was told what a fantastic and great girl she is. The answer came from completely different girl. She was just ordinary. She wrote in Russian and I also answered in Russian. For a while I had a pen pal from Germany. There were short letters, because my German wasn't strong. Her name was Giselle. Liebe Giselle … We mostly exchanged little cute presents. One time I sent her a Christmas ball. I think I didn't wrap it up properly. After that she didn't write back. Years later, when I was much older, I had a pen pal from Spain. We were exchanging post cards with three big words on the other side (to fill an empty space). I love you. My mother was fond of those post cards. She should learn English instead of me. They wouldn't cease so soon. I wrote letters to my mother. Writing was interrupted. When I wanted to write her a letter … Where? To a cemetery? Actually I still could write to her if my brother would put a mail box next to her grave – and read to her my letters. She would be pleased, but he would think I lost my marbles. After I moved to the States people stopped to write and I knew my letters were not welcome. Only a few kept answering. I asked questions. The answer came one month later, when I completely have forgotten, what I have asked. The letters were wonderful greetings from the old country. The art of writing letters is almost forgotten today. It is replaced by e-mail, twitter and a facebook. Quick, telegraphic communication which requires quick thinking. What we receive in the mail box are catalogs, invitations – and bills. I still like post stamps, though. Copyright (c) 12/2013 Marie Neumann