Historical satirical column, written as a fictional letter to Uncle Zeke and signed Hawkeye; proposed development, clinic and traffic stories in this column must not be mistaken for factual news. Original byline: Tom Hoerr.
Dear Uncle Zeke,
Thanks for your recent letter.
It is always nice to hear from you, even though the letter came with postage due. I had been meaning to write you for some time now, but things have been busy here.
I have a very close friend who collects shoes and she’s trying to place them in alphabetical order, by color. I never imagined that there could be so many colors… or shoes! You wouldn’t believe what a chore this is; it would be easier to keep track of the number of fund-raising pleas that arrive in the mail each week! I’m sorry to hear that you still aren’t getting along with your cell-mate.
He does sound a little strange, but then all of your cell-mates sound a little strange (what do they say about you?). I must admit, I’ve heard of someone playing music all day and all night, but never only one song. Listening to LaBamba over and over and over would get to me too. Does he really think that it’s the national anthem of Panama? Don’t do anything hasty or rash, Zeke. If, as you say, he was arrested for drawing smiley faces on the bottoms of people’s feet, he clearly is an arch fiend. You asked about the upcoming football season, what I thought of the Big Dead.
To make a long story short, they really are the Big Dead. Like, they’re gone.
The St. Louis Cardinals are now the Phoenix Cardinals. Is that a hoot?
We keep reading about the Sun Belt cities and how they’re the wave of the future and how the old industrial cities—that’s us—are dinosaurs whose best days are behind them.
Well, that may be, but we get the last laugh: the Big Dead football draft is just around the corner and now they get to be surprised!
The only bigger trick than sending them George Boone would be to send them the U.S.S. Admiral. (I wonder how we could do that? Maybe it could be docked by the London Bridge?) So, you are due for a parole hearing next month? I wish you lots of luck.
This time, you might not want to black out your front teeth and wear the plastic nose and glasses when you go before the board. I agree with you, I think that a sense of humor will help you in the outside world, but they may not. Also, uncle, I don’t mean to give you advice, but remember how the last time you showed them how you could use your breathing exercises to make the tattooed lady on your belly do a dance? Why not keep her under wraps this time? I can loan you a spiffy tie if you’d like. You also asked about the DeBaliviere shopping mall and how much money I’ve spent there.
So far, not a lot. They’re making nice progress and I’m hopeful it will be open in a summer, maybe even this summer!
It will be nice to have an ice cream place, a video shop, two or three shoe stores, a cleaners, a bookstore, and a drugstore so close. Of course, then we’ll have all kinds of vacant storefronts on Pershing, but that’s not my problem. I hear that a combination Church’s Chicken and methadone clinic is planning to go in on Pershing. Heck, having eaten their chicken, the methadone can only help! Nina Place is something else. Remember a year or so ago when there was the very clever and well-written story in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere about Nina Place becoming an amusement park? I thought it was a joke, but the joke’s on me!
It is an amusement park, but the theme has changed and it’s a giant haunted-house complex.
They have all of these old brick buildings that they restored and then fixed up to look vacant and dilapidated. I never cease to marvel at technology.
The local political scene has been pretty quiet.
There were all kinds of people who had houses for sale and airplane reservations to Washington, but then Gephardt lost.
It would have been nice to have a local boy in the White House, and I guess everyone is a local boy somewhere. Heck, Gary Hart is probably local in lots of places.
The Mayor and the County Supervisor haven’t been squabbling much since the Big Dead football team left, although I did hear a rumor that McNary was trying to get the Bowling Hall of Fame relocated somewhere near Earth City.
He wanted to tie it into a restaurant complex and use the slogan, “Buddy, can you spare a dine?” The Supervisor never was a very funny man. (For my money, I’d have the restaurant and the Bowling Hall of Fame right next to the anatomy exhibit in the Dog Museum; you could then feature “barbecued spare & ribs:’) We still have our local traffic problems.
At the last Skinker-DeBaliviere meeting there was a proposal to have all of the neighborhood streets be one-way out. Westminster, for example, would go both east and west from Rosedale; you could drive out, but not in.
It makes a lot of sense to me and I’m sure it will be approved at the next meeting. This, you’ll remember, is the same august body that several years ago voted to close Skinker and reroute all the traffic across Rosedale. Today wasn’t a good day for me. I knew there would be a problem when I started out before breakfast by going to my CWES&L automatic teller machine (A.T.M.). Things have really changed, Zeke. Today if you need a little cash, you don’t have to rob a bank or swindle some unsuspecting suburbanite; you can simply go to your ATM, insert your magic card, and “tows;’ money appears. Or so they say.
My problem is that I can never remember my P.I.N. (personal identification number). I solved the problem, though, by writing it on the back of my driver’s licence (D.L.).
The problem is that the back of my driver’s licence also contains the number for my Schnuck’s check cashing card, my Telex check cashing card, my locker combination at Wash U., and three other four-digit numbers whose derivation escapes me. I inserted the card and pressed what I thought was the right number (R.N.).
After a long pause the A.T.M. asked me to try again. I did, and we danced this song twice more before I heard a “woosh” sound and the A.T.M. ate my card.
There I was, ready to go to a breakfast without any cash. You would’ve been proud of me though, Zeke.
After some wonderful blueberry waffles, I was conveniently in the rest room when the check arrived. Unfortunately, the waitress was slow and I had to stay in there for a very long time. Did you know that a roll of toilet paper contains 1,268 panels? I now know that, but I still don’t know my P.I.N. number. I’ll close now, I know that you have to study for your parole hearing.
When you come out we’ll go to dinner at Doughboy’s and take in a Steamers game. Remember, it isn’t easy being charming.
Yours forever ephemerally,
Hawkeye
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, May 1988.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1988_05.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
