I found an old box in my attic full of letters I had received during my first year at Bungalow Ranger Station in the Clearwater National Forest, Idaho, which would have been June-September, 1969. I turned 18 that summer, and I got a lot of cards from people. I also got many, many letters from various girl friends, particularly Peggy Fry.
I can’t help but wonder how often I wrote back, and whether the content in my letters to her was suitably ardor-filled. She sure did express how much she missed me over and over and over with letters, cards, cute little books and the like. I honestly can’t remember how I felt about her at the time. I didn’t re-read all of them, (there are a LOT!) but I read a few where she heard that I was growing my hair out, and she was repelled by the idea of me with long hair, so our relationship was clearly doomed, as I was letting my freak flag fly at the time. As I recall she was very attractive and very nice. I heard she died in child birth a few years later. She sure said nice things about me! Thanks, Peggy.
I also got letters from a Linda. She apparently missed me a lot, and wrote me twice. I have no memory of a Linda I had a relationship with. Dan thought Linda Rosenthal maybe? As I vaguely recall, she was Dan’s girlfriend, not mine! I suspect it was a different Linda. Thanks for writing me, Linda.
Most surprising were the letters from Michelle Follen. She declared she loved me and wanted to have my babies in one of them. I hope I was appropriately flattered at the time. I am now. Whatever happened to Michele Follen? She was between Freshman and Sophmore year, so she must have been quite young at the time – 14? 15?
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My brother Dan sent me a letter that I thoughtfully scanned and sent it to him. It was the best of all the letters, clearly, because he included two WHLO top 40 lists and a WINW top 20 list, and a crazy cool Sony tape recorder catalog. Rob Skelley sent me two letters. One had at least a joint worth of marijuana shake still in the bottom of the letter! I showed the weed to Marcia and threw it away. I should have smoked it for old times sake! How in hell it survived all this time, through my many dry periods, (or made it past postal inspectors) is a question for the ages.
I should have looked at this box years ago! Then maybe I would have remembered some of these people. And maybe that weed would have been more palatable.