In The Mail

Last month I visited an old boyhood friend at his cabin an hour outside Denver. We had been Boy Scouts together, and the wilderness suited him better than me. He didn't have a phone, and I was following directions he had scribbled at the bottom of his last letter. The next step read, "left on dirt road / kind of trail just past tall pine. approx 3mi. if arrive at New Mexico gone too far. turn around."

I brought along a postcard I had written to my mom from Scout camp years ago when he and I were tentmates. It lay in the sun on the passenger seat next to six-pack I was sure he wouldn't drink. The front was a photo of a black bear cub climbing a tree, at the bottom in bold yellow letters was printed, "Camp Is Bear-y Fun!" On the back, I had written in neat print that looks remarkably like my handwriting today:

Hi Mom!

Camp is bear-y great! I am earning my astronomy

merit badge so we get to stay up late and learn about

the stars.

The lake is cold at night and you can't fish because

it's dark and they said once a kid got a hook caught

in his eye. Can you send me more socks?

Miss you. Love you.

John Alexander

My friend remembered the story of the boy who got the hook in his eye. We laughed about it and scared a bird off of his deck railing. It was a crow, I think.