“Christmas Letter from Mississippi”

Over the years I've kinda lost touch with my family back in Mississippi, so I'm always happy to receive my Aunt Faye's Christmas letter each year. It never fails to be a pleasant, heart-warming reminder of why I lost touch to begin with.

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Dear Y'all,

I tell you what, I just do not know where the time goes! Seems like only yesterday I was nursing the paper cuts on my tongue from sealing up last year's envelopes, and now here I am, sittin' down at the Smith Corona once again and tryin' to keep everybody up to date.

Sweet Gussie...where to begin?

Uncle Hubert is doing real good with his new hip. This summer him and Huey had them a little "incident" during the annual bass tournament. Seems that Wee-Eye Simmons and his crew had raced out early and set themselves up in Uncle Hubert's favorite bassin' spot (EVERYBODY in the county knows that that's Hubert's spot, especially Wee-Eye), and, well, they all had 'em some words, which ended in Uncle Hubert getting hit in the pelvis with an Evinrude trollin' motor. Wee-Eye was already on probation, so he'll get his justice during the trial, but Hubert needed a total hip replacement.

They make artificial hips in all sorts of fancy metals these days, but our insurance would only cover the cheapest one, which is made out of wrought iron. The doctor says there's a slight chance that it might rust some day, so he has Hubert on WD-40 tablets. But y'all know Uncle Hubert - he makes the best out of every situation, and even as I set here typin' this he's amusing the young-uns by lettin' 'em stick fridge magnets on his booty.

Huey's been threatenin' to sign up for the "Giddy Up G.E.D." program at the local college. He says he feels that is lack of education is what has held him back from a management position at the Weenie Hut in the Greenville Mall food court all these years.

I guess I don't have to tell y'all too much about Skeeter, as y'all have probably seen him all over the TV these last few weeks. I have to admit that there was a time when I was real worried about Skeeter, as he just never was the same after he drank all that malathion as a boy, but I tell you what - he's the toast of the town now.

There are some people in Hollywood who want to make a movie about him, and he's already been paid a lot of money for being in magazines. He was real excited to meet David Letterman, but he didn't seem to care much for New York.

He's remained his down-home self through this whole ordeal, telling Mr. Letterman that he didn't know what all the fuss was about, that what he did was nothing special, and that anyone in his predicament would have gnawed their own leg off, too, even if it wasn't really necessary.

As for me, I have finally found a friend who shares my love of macramé. Have y'all heard of the Internet? Well, it's this really neat thing where you can type back and forth with all kinds of nice people.

I've met this one fella who calls himself "Bondg-Lvr," and he is just as fascinated with decorative knots as I am. We write for hours every night, and he can just listen to me prattle on and on about the double half hitch, the square knot, the lark's head, the spiral knot, you name it. "Tell me more. Please, tell me more about the knots," he writes, and I am just tickled pink.

I said to Hubert, I said, "See, there ARE men out there who like macramé," and he just grunted and went back to watchin' "When Animals Explode."

Anyway, I've yet to meet this nice macramé man in person, but I'm always expecting him to show up at the door any day now, 'cause he tells me every night that he's coming.

Welp, that's all the news I got. I hope the Lord's birthday finds y'all healthy and happy.

Love,

Aunt Faye

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