MY DEAREST SON IGNACE,

[Admin]

Warszawa, Poland
February 30, 1994

My dearest son Ignace,

Just a few lines to let you know that I am still alive. Excuse me for
typing this letter but you know that I cannot read or write. Also I am
typing slow because I know you can not read fast. I am using a very
old typewriter that does not have any lower case letters, you know,
the ones that look like these.

They say that no news is good news so here is no news. You won’t know
the house when you come home because we have moved. I can not send you
the new address because the last Polish family who lived here took the
numbers with them so they would not have to change their address.

Your father has a lovely new job. He has five hundred people under
him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery. The new house has a
washing machine but it is not working too good, last week, I put in 14
shirts, pulled the chain and I have not seen them since. This morning
your sister had a baby but they did not say if it is a boy or girl so
I do not know if you are an uncle or an aunt. I left an empty carton
of milk in the icebox because I know you like your coffee black when
you come home.

Your aunt Christine gave up birth control pills when your uncle John
bought a condominium. Your father did not have much to drink on
Christmas. I put a bottle of castor oil in his beer which kept him
going until New Year’s Day. I went to the doctor on Thursday and your
father went with me. The doctor put a small glass tube in my mouth and
said not to open my mouth for 12 minutes. Your father offered to buy
the glass tube from him.

Now for the bad no news. Your uncle Dick drowned last week in a vat of
whiskey at the whiskey factory. Some of his fellow workers dived in to
save him but he fought them off bravely. We had the body cremated and
it took three days to put out the fire.

It rained only twice last week, once for three days and once for four
days. Monday the wind was so bad that one chicken laid the same egg
four times. Also we don’t have any ice here anymore because the lady
with the recipe moved. We received a letter from the undertaker. He
said if the last installment was not paid on your grandmother up she
comes. Remember your friend Tom? Well, he is no longer in this
world. His father died and wanted to be buried at sea and poor Tom
drowned digging the grave.

Your loving mother,

P.S. I was going to send you some money but I already sealed the envelope.