So, last weekend I was supposed to go to a concert with John and Matt, but I stayed home sick. *wah* At the show, there was an emcee called Chicken John. Chicken John got up on stage and told a little story about how he’d found, discarded in a dumpster, many possessions that had once belonged to a woman named Margaret Rucker.
She died, and it seems that someone cleaned out her house and threw many things away. One of those things was a scrapbook, which Chicken John rescued. It was filled with all sorts of letters and telegrams, photographs and souvenirs.
Chicken John told the story because he was so saddened that someone had just thrown this woman’s memories away. After telling the story, he passed the book to the audience, inviting everyone to keep a page from the book.
John (my John, not Chicken John) came home with a page that had a telegram from one of her friends and a three-page letter about her earliest memories. John transcribed the letter here, and this is what the telegram says:
MISS MARGARET RUCKER:
2601 HOYT AVE EVERETT WASH=
TAKE SATURDAY BOAT WILL MEET YOU AT ELEVEN TUESDAY AT BOAT OR PALACE HOTEL IF WE MISS EACH OTHER BRING FUR COAT AND FORMAL WILL WRITE ALL THE DOPE BE SURE AND COME LOVE=
I’m certain there is a book in that telegram just waiting for you to release it.
stuff like that makes my heart hurt.
Oh I love that–the story AND the telegram
I want someone to send me a telegram that insists I bring my fur and a formal. Not that I have either, but still! How romantic.
That is beautiful. It always makes me sad to see old photographs and albums and scrapbooks and things at flea-markets, and I want to buy them all, just so that SOMEONE will carry these “lost” peoples’ memories.
Thank you for sharing, and bless your John. What a sweetheart.