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Friday, August 6, 2010

Conversations With The Dead: Austin, TX - March, 1975


Dear Teresa,

Sorry I haven't been able to call you honey, but I just haven't even had the money. I'm in Austin, Texas & I really don't think I have to worry about Sonny anymore. Since I haven't been able to call you and want you to at least be able to write me (so I'll know how you are) at the end of the letter I'll give you my address. Please write, o.k.?

Well, today is David's birthday. I wonder how he's getting along with Charlotte. Why did he decide to go with them, I wonder? I hope he's doing alright.

How have you been (and your cat, ha)? It won't be long now until you'll have a new sister or brother! Now you'll know how Charlotte was when you were born (she was about 8 years old when you were born). It'll be a little different, but not much.

Well honey, I guess this is all. I just got back from an AA meeting, and it's getting kind of late, so guess I'd better get to bed. Be sweet, and please remember I love you, very much.

Love Mother

*Since you're writing from Austin, you must be in Austin State Hospital again. Your handwriting is a bit shaky. Your sentences are awkward. I guess your waitress girlfriend was a bit too much fun and that first drink became many. Yes, Patty is pregnant and Jennifer will soon be born. She's a half-sister, which must be what you mean by "different". I'll last see her in 1989 when she gives me a pink and gold bird pen for Christmas -- two doves fused together -- and then we'll drift apart because she'll always be more Patty than Dad and that marriage is getting rocky now. Patty dreams bad things about Dad, that he chases and hits her. She dreams something terrible almost every night then tells him about the dreams. And David? He's being examined by psychiatrists. Charlotte and Necho took him to the hospital when he started talking to pictures and taking his pants off in public. He went to live with them because Patty wouldn't let him live with us. She thinks he's how I got my lice and says she's afraid of him. I dreamed the other night that he fell off the back of a truck and cracked open his head. Doctors were trying to save him by stuffing the large hole in his skull with dry straw. He's 18 and broken. I think I'm afraid of him, too.


  1. Have to say I agree with Rob - what he says here and what he said about society earlier - heartbreaking indeed.

    But you - you're a survivor, Teresa, and all praise to you for such.