August 25, 1991 Dear friend

part of Thanksgiving weekend because he is behind on school because of
football. My mom was so upset that she took me shopping for new clothes.

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I know you think what I’m about to write is an exaggeration, but I
promise you that it isn’t. From the time we got into the car to the time we
came home, my mom literally did not stop talking. Not once. Not even
when I was in the dressing room trying on “slacks.”
She just stood outside the dressing room and worried out loud. The things
she said went all over the place. First, it was that my dad should’ve insisted
that my brother come home if only for an afternoon. Then, it was that my
sister had better start thinking more about her future and start applying to
“safety” schools in case the good ones don’t work out. And then she started
saying that gray was a good color for me.
I understand how my mom thinks. I really do.
It’s like when we were little, and we would go to the grocery store. My
sister and brother would fight about things that my sister and brother would
fight about, and I would sit at the bottom of the shopping cart. And my
mom would be so upset by the end of shopping that she would push the cart
fast, and I would feel like I was in a submarine.
Yesterday was like that except now I got to sit in the front seat.
When I saw Sam and Patrick at school today, they both agreed that my
mom has very good taste in clothing. I told my mom this when I got home
from school, and she smiled. She asked me if I wanted to invite Sam and
Patrick over for dinner sometime after the holidays are over because my
mom gets nervous enough as it is during the holidays. I called Sam and
Patrick, and they said they would.
I’m really excited!
The last time I had a friend over to dinner was Michael last year. We had
tacos. The really great part was that Michael stayed over to sleep. We ended
up sleeping very little. We mostly just talked about things like girls and
movies and music. The one part I remember distinctly was walking around
the neighborhood at night. My parents were asleep along with the rest of the
houses. Michael looked into all the windows. It was dark and quiet.
He said, “Do you think those people are nice?”
I said, “The Andersons? Yeah. They’re old.”
“What about those people?”
“Well, Mrs. Lambert doesn’t like baseballs going into her yard.”
“What about those people?”
“Mrs. Tanner has been visiting her mother for three months. Mr. Tanner
spends his weekends sitting on the back porch and listening to baseball

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games. I don’t really know if they’re nice or not because they don’t have
children.”
“Is she sick?”
“Is who sick?”
“Mrs. Tanner’s mother.”
“I don’t think so. My mom would know, and she didn’t say anything.”
Michael nodded. “They’re getting a divorce.”
“You think so?”
“Uh-huh.”
We just kept walking. Michael had a way of walking quiet sometimes. I
guess I should mention that my mom heard that Michael’s parents are
divorced now. She said that only seventy percent of marriages stay together
when they lose a child. I think she read it in a magazine somewhere.
Love always,
Charlie
November 23, 1991
Dear friend,
Do you enjoy holidays with your family? I don’t mean your mom and
dad family, but your uncle and aunt and cousin family? Personally, I do.
There are several reasons for this.
First, I am very interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each
other, but no one really likes each other. Second, the fights are always the
same.
They usually start when my mom’s dad (my grandfather) finishes his
third drink. It is around this time that he starts to talk a lot. My grandfather
usually just complains about black people moving into the old
neighborhood, and then my sister gets upset at him, and then my
grandfather tells her that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about because
she lives in the suburbs. And then he says how no one visits him in his
retirement home. And finally he starts talking about all of the family’s
secrets, like how cousin so-and-so “knocked up” that waitress from the Big
Boy. I should probably mention that my grandfather can’t hear very well, so
he says all of these things really loud.

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My sister tries to fight him, but she never wins. My grandfather is
definitely more stubborn than she is. My mom usually helps her aunt
prepare the food, which my grandfather always says is “too dry” even if it’s
soup. And her aunt will then cry and lock herself in the bathroom.
There is only one bathroom in my great aunt’s house, so this turns to
trouble when all the beer starts to hit my cousins. They stand twisted in
bladder positions and bang on the door for a few minutes and almost coax
my great aunt out, but then my grandfather curses something at my great
aunt, and the cycle starts over again. With the exception of the one holiday
when my grandfather passed out just after dinner, my cousins always have
to go to the bathroom outside in the bushes. If you look out the windows
like I do, you can see them, and it looks like they’re on one of their hunting
trips. I feel terribly sorry for my girl cousins and my other great aunts
because they don’t really have the bushes option, especially when it’s cold.
I should mention that my dad usually just sits real quiet and drinks. My
dad is not a big drinker at all, but when he has to spend time with my
mom’s family, he gets “loaded,” as my cousin Tommy says. Deep down, I
think my dad would rather spend the holiday with his family in Ohio. That
way, he wouldn’t have to be around my grandfather. He doesn’t like my
grandfather very much, but he keeps quiet about it. Even on the ride home.
He just doesn’t think it’s his place.
As the evening comes to an end, my grandfather is usually too drunk to
do much of anything. My dad and my brother and my cousins carry him out
to the car of the person who is least angry at him. It has always been my job
to open doors for them along the way. My grandfather is very fat.
I remember there was one time that my brother drove my grandfather
back to the retirement home, and I rode along. My brother always
understood my grandfather. He rarely got angry at him unless my
grandfather said something mean about my mom or sister or made a scene
in public. I remember it was snowing really hard, and it was very quiet.
Almost peaceful. And my grandfather calmed down and started talking a
different kind of talk.
He told us that when he was sixteen, he had to leave school because his
dad died, and someone had to support the family. He talked about the time
when he had to go to the mill three times a day to see if there was any work
for him. And he talked about how cold it was. And how hungry he was
because he made sure his family always ate before him. Things he said we

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just wouldn’t understand because we were lucky. Then, he talked about his
daughters, my mom and Aunt Helen.
“I know how your mom feels about me. I know Helen, too. There was
one time… I went to the mill… no work… none.… I came home at two in
the morning… pissed and pissed… your grandmother showed me their
report cards… C-plus average… and these were smart girls. So, I went into
their room and I beat some sense into them… and when it was done and
they were crying, I just held up their report cards and said… ‘This will
never happen again.’ She still talks about it… your mother… but you know
something… it never did happen again… they went to college… both of
them. I just wish I could have sent them… I always wanted to send them…
. I wish Helen could have understood that. I think your mother did… deep
down… she’s a good woman… you should be proud of her.”
When I told my mom about this, she just looked very sad because he
could never say those things to her. Not ever. Not even when he walked her
down the aisle.
But this Thanksgiving was different. It was my brother’s football game,
which we brought a VCR tape of for my relatives to watch. The whole
family was gathered around the TV, even my great aunts, who never watch
football. I’ll never forget the looks on their faces when my brother took the
field. It was a mixture of all things. My one cousin works in a gas station.
And my other cousin has been out of work for two years since he injured
his hand. And my other cousin has been wanting to go back to college for
around seven years. And my dad said once that they were very jealous of
my brother because he had a shot in life and was actually doing something
about it.
But in that moment when my brother took the field, all that washed away,
and everyone was proud. At one point, my brother made a very big play on
third down, and everyone cheered even though some of us had already seen
the game before. I looked up at my dad, and he was smiling. I looked at my
mom, and she was smiling even though she was nervous about my brother
getting hurt, which was strange because it was a VCR tape of an old game,
and she knew he didn’t get hurt. My great aunts and my cousins and their
children and everyone were also smiling. Even my sister. There were only
two people who weren’t smiling. My grandfather and I.
My grandfather was crying.

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The kind of crying that is quiet and a secret. The kind of crying that only
I noticed. I thought about him going into my mom’s room when she was
little and hitting my mom and holding up her report card and saying that her
bad grades would never happen again. And I think now that maybe he
meant my older brother. Or my sister. Or me. That he would make sure that
he was the last one to work in a mill.
I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I don’t know if it’s better to have your
kids be happy and not go to college. I don’t know if it’s better to be close
with your daughter or make sure that she has a better life than you do. I just
don’t know. I was just quiet, and I watched him.
When the game was over and dinner was finished, everyone said what
they were thankful for. A lot of it had to do with my brother or family or
children or God. And everyone meant it when they said it regardless of
what would happen tomorrow. When it came to my turn I thought about it a
lot because this was my first time sitting at the big table with all the grown-
ups since my brother wasn’t here to take his seat.
“I’m thankful that my brother played football on television so nobody
fought.”
Most of the people around the table looked uncomfortable. Some looked
angry. My dad looked like he knew I was right, but he didn’t want to say
anything because it wasn’t his family. My mom was nervous about what her
dad would do. Only one person at the table said anything. It was my great
aunt, the one who usually locks herself in the bathroom.
“Amen.”
And somehow that made it all right.
When we were all getting ready to leave, I walked up to my grandfather
and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He wiped my lip print off with
his palm and gave me a look. He doesn’t like the boys in the family to touch
him. But I’m very glad that I did it anyway in case he dies. I never got to do
that with my Aunt Helen.
Love always,
Charlie
December 7, 1991
Dear friend,

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Have you ever heard of a thing called “Secret Santa?” It’s this activity
where a group of friends draw names out of a hat, and they are supposed to
buy a lot of Christmas presents for whatever person they choose. The
presents are “secretly” placed in their lockers when they’re not there. Then,
at the end, you have a party, and all the people reveal who they really are as
they give their last presents.
Sam started doing this with her group of friends three years ago. Now,
it’s some tradition. And supposedly the party at the end is always the best of
the year. It happens the night after our last day of school before the break.
I don’t know who got me. I got Patrick.
I’m really glad I got Patrick even though I wished for Sam. I haven’t seen
Patrick in a few weeks except in shop class because he has been spending
most of his time with Brad, so thinking about presents is a good way to
think about him.
The first present is going to be a mix tape. I just know that it should. I
already have the songs picked and a theme. It’s called “One Winter.” But
I’ve decided not to hand-color the cover. The first side has a lot of songs by
the Village People and Blondie because Patrick likes that type of music a
lot. It also has Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana, which Sam and Patrick
love. But the second side is the one I like the most. It has winter kind of
songs.
Here they are: