Dearest old Sal,
I want to start right off by saying how absolutely ecstatic
I am that you’re coming out to Frisco. Really I am! Your aunt and that gone
girl of yours will surely be upset by it, but pay no mind to them: some folks
just don’t know time – they don’t see
the endless possibilities life has gifted us with, the thousand sunbeams that
burn down on us from heaven and PROVE that their MUST be a God – although that
goes without saying, we both know that – but some folks just skulk and simmer
in the soupy fog of idiocy and doldrums.
But enough of that – there’s another pressing topic that I must
– simply must – tell you about. This
most fantastic realization just about KNOCKED me over the other day. I was
milling about Market Street – it was Friday, I finished work at the yard and
wasn’t ready to face Camille, who maintains haughty pretenses toward me no
matter how much I attempt to reason with her – anyway, I was in no particularly
good mood, and just about to start searching for Marylou when I chanced upon
the oldest, funniest little man. He was staring and sitting on a bucket,
wearing nothing but a big pair of overalls and a pink silk hat. I asked him
where he got it – he said it was a present from the missus for his eightieth
birthday right after he turned blind. D’you see? She plain tricked him, Sal!
Can you imagine? Her husband went blind and she chose to see it not as a
tragedy but as an opportunity for a practical joke – a SPLENDID joke! Wowee!
What a woman. I started guffawing right there in the street, and the old man
started chuckling uncertainly with me, and I asked him where was his missus,
because at that moment I knew that we were kindred spirits, she and I, and as
her old man was about to kick the bucket anyhow, I knew, I just KNEW she was
aching for adventure. Wasn’t she? I mean, her inestimable sense of humor in the
face of such dark sadness surely shows this little ol’ gal was just plain set
for some grand undertaking. Anyhow, then the man told me something that just
about broke my heart: she had passed away the Sat’y’day previous. O, how his
words pierced me to my heart – to my SOUL, Sal, I couldn’t tell ya. We stood
there solemnly for a moment, and then I asked him all kinds of questions about
his late lady. She really was the grandest of ladies, Sal. Her name was Susie
Lou, and she had a face like a diamond. Like a diamond, he said! I just
realized I never asked the man his name. I say without hesitation that I will
remember this illuminating conversation for the rest of my life.
Well my friend I just can’t wait until your visit – we will have
such a goofbang, we will! – go to the bars with the best bop and the gonest
little girls and just – Yes! Yes! – just make like maniacs until the moon sets.
Oh man, man, man you have no idea how I’ve missed going with you to the bars.
Won’t it be swell? Yes, of course. Harken back to that night we saw George
Shearing play – where was it? – in Chicago, of course – but my, he played like
GOD that night, didn’t he? And when he left, it was like the whole world became
atheist – but just for a moment, because, as you and I both know, there IS a
God, and there’s no doubt about that.
Dean Moriarty
Wow, you really captured Dean’s voice in this letter. It read so much like how he spoke in the book. The story you told was really nice and creative as well. I can totally picture the entire scene—the old man on the bucket, the crowded street, and Dean just laughing. I thought it was clever how you even used the phrase “kick the bucket” to describe Dean’s thought that the man was about to die, as the old man was actually sitting on a bucket. Part of me wishes that the old lady had been alive so Dean could have spoken to her. I wonder what she would have said? Did you have any ideas about what their interaction would have been like? I sort of think that Dean would have charmed her but also would have offended her by the end of their conversation. The fact that a woman played a joke on a man adds to the fact that towards the end of the book women were presented in a more positive light, as Sal seems to think more highly of them.
ReplyDeleteThis letter to me seemed like it was authentically from Dean. The diction is similar, and it just felt like something he could have written. One of the most striking features about it for me was the way that the letter fixated on the small detail of the man who was wearing the silk hat just sitting out in the street. It seemed to me like precisely the sort of detail that would have been hilarious to Dean because of the total lack of consequence of it, but the way it still mattered immensely to that one man even though he couldn't appreciate it himself.
ReplyDeleteThis letter truly captures Dean’s exciting approach toward life and bustling personality. Like in the earlier letter to Dean, this letter once again discusses travel, the fun of drinking, and beautiful women. It is reassuring that though they are not traveling together at this point in the story, that Dean still feels a strong sense of camaraderie with his friend, Sal.
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