The photoshopped Robert E. Lee.
Dearest Son,
I'm writing this slow because I know you can't read fast. We don't live where
we did when you left home.
Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles
of your home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the address because
the last West Virginia family that lived here took the house numbers when
they moved so they wouldn't have to change their address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I'm not sure
about it. I put a load of clothes in and pulled the chain. We haven't seen
them since.
The weather isn't bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time
for three days and the second time for four days.
About that coat you wanted me to send; your Uncle Billy Bob said it would
be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off
and put them in the pockets.
Bubba locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because
it took him two hours to get me and your father out.
Your sister had a baby this morning, but I haven't found out what it is
yet so I don't know if you are an aunt or uncle. The baby looks just like
your brother.
Uncle Bobby Ray fell into a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull
him out but he fought them off and drowned. We had him cremated, he burned
for three days.
Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pickup truck. Butch was
driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two
friends were in the back. They drowned because they couldn't get the
tailgate down.
There isn't much more news at this time. Nothing much out of the normal
has happened.
Your Favorite Aunt,
Mom