Letter from Russell. Dec. 30, 1985.

(Russell was a great friend of mine. He was smart and kind, a sports fan and loved books and movies. He died way too soon. I feel like life cheated him. Even now, reading these treasured letters, he makes me smile - and laugh aloud. I miss him.)

Dear James,
Hey you great big knuckle-head (pronounced with an emphasised K, you know like K-nife)! Damn, what a truly strange experience, writing - with pen in hand - expressing thought via written language. Do you realize that this is probably the last letter I'll write in the grand old year of '85? Sadly, I'm afraid it's also the first. What you see is what you get. I think that's probably ok with you, I think you like these unedited first editions, in their full glory of misspellings, grammar (gone wrong?).
James, son, it was truly wonderful seeing you Christmas. Thank you for the gift (I did go to sleep first and I saved it for last. Again thank you). I've read your letter several times, truly a treasure.
(Pardon, I had to blow my nose again - damn Russell, why in the world would James or anybody else want you to tell them about blowing your nose? Good lord, you don't particularly like knowing yourself.) Excuse that - whatever the hell it was.
I'm listening to the man - Jim Croce - "one less set of footsteps." I like the part, "If that's the way you want it, that's the way I want it, more." Damn, what a man, man.
Ever notice how all the talented people are named James, Jim or something like that? What's a Russell? I don't know, probably some doctor or damn shed builder.
Damn, I use damn a lot. Maybe it's ok, damn's a good word. Kind of adds a little emphasis. I mean Jesus, God chose it for a last name.
James, what do you think will become of me? I sometimes feel it's just a matter of time before I strike it big. Others, I'm just one of the struggling.
Let's get together again soon. Damn, it's nice talking with you. Come see me. I'm telling you like I told my other family members. I ask them, if I were to fall off a ladder or in some other way get hurt, and were in the hospital, wouldn't you come see me? They generally say they would. But, the thing is, don't make me go through all that pain. And it would also be a lot more fun for us to be able to go places - where hospital beds aren't allowed. In other words, drag your damn ass up here and do it soon.

Your loving brother,
Russell