Pen Pals by Ardweden Carol Springs, Colorado June 21, 1996 Rachel, Hello. This is David, your pen pal. I've never had a pen pal before, so I don't know what kinds of things I should talk about to you. I suppose I should tell you something about me. I'm fifteen years old; I have red hair and freckles, lots of freckles. Mom keeps telling me that I'm not a Sansbury at all, and I belong somewhere in Ireland. I'm rather short, and tend to wear baggy clothes. Carol Springs, where I live, is a skiing town, and we own our own resort. Isn't that cool? Since we're in the mountains, it's cold all year round. I like basketball, even though the Denver Nuggets probably aren't going to win the championship this year. Also, I like to read and play video games. What do you like to do? I'm out of ideas now; I'll stop writing. Write back soon. Your new pen-pal (and hopefully friend), David Sansbury San Francisco, California July 1, 1996 David, Wow, when my teacher told me that a pen pal will be writing to each of us, she wasn't kidding. Hello, and pleased to meet you. I never had a pen pal either, so I suppose we'll have to slosh through together. I guess I should tell you about myself. I'm medium height, with short black hair and wire rim glasses. I guess you could say that I'm on the chubby side, but I'll go on a diet sometime soon and loose all that fat. You owning your own skiing resort is very, very cool (no pun intended). I wish I could ski. We have no such thing, being a middle class family in downtown San Francisco. It isn't nearly as cold in California, and there's no snow. Just a rainy season near the end of summer. There aren't many trolley cars, and the Golden Gate Bridge isn't much to look at. It's not even gold; it's red. And the view all those tourists look for? It's just fog. Every morning there's a cold, misty fog around the bridge, and the same thing happens every afternoon. Of course, that's when all the tourists go to look at it. Basketball is one of my favorite sports to watch, but I don't think that the Golden State Warriors will go very far. I'll root for them anyway. I also like to write. In the last letter you said you like to read, correct? I'll send some of my stories your way, if they interest you. Most of them are pretty short. Your friend, Rachel Yuen Carol Springs, Colorado August 15, 1996 Rachel, Your stories sound wonderful! I'd love to read them; I'm running out of books to read out here. Ski resorts tend to cut people off from the rest of civilization. I mean, there isn't a decent library for miles! The only bookstore in Carol Springs has half the shelves stocked with skiing manuals. I'm sorry you can't ski. Maybe we can get together sometime and I'll teach you. It isn't that difficult; the hardest part is stopping. Did you ever read or see the play Julius Caesar by Shakespeare? Isn't it wonderful? My friends all think I'm nuts for liking such a thing, but they don't know what they're missing. Am I nuts? I need an outside opinion. Yours truly, David Sansbury San Francisco, California August 30, 1996 David, School started a couple days ago, and they picked up right where they left off. It's like I never left. At least I'm an upper-classmen now. I promised to myself that I won't even think about being mean to the freshmen, and I intend to keep that promise. No, you are not nuts. Julius Caesar is an absolutely terrific play, and your friends are nuts for not enjoying it. We studied it last year, and I had to memorize a part. "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I have come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. For the evil men do live after them, and the good is often interred with their bones." Okay, I'll stop now. You probably don't want me to spend my entire letter quoting Shakespeare. No, I don't think I'd be able to learn how to ski. It's not really the stopping; it's keeping my balance. I have enough trouble standing straight! I'd probably never get a chance to try anyway. I have enclosed my two shortest stories. I have written some that are much longer, but I thought that it would be easier to start on the short ones, and work your way to the longer ones. Please send any comments my way, and don't be nice about it on account of my feelings. If I'm going to be an author I'll need an honest opinion. Your friend and mine, Rachel Yuen Carol Springs, Colorado November 4, 1997 Dear Rache, Christmas is coming. I know that sounds strange to you, since we haven't had Thanksgiving yet, but I wanted to tell you about your Christmas present early. Mom said that she'd buy tickets for you and a friend to come over! God, I sound like a commercial. Can you come? Please say yes, you'll love it here during Christmas vacation. It's so incredibly peaceful, the air is so crisp and clean, and there's always plenty of hot chocolate. It almost always snows on Christmas Eve, and velvet snow covers the entire area. You have to see it. Remember when you told me that you'd like to ski? Here's your chance! Just get your parents to say yes; they're not overly strict, so they'll probably do it. Mom insists that if you come over you bring a friend over because she doesn't want you to be too homesick. You know how moms are. I sent my comments on your latest story, the one about the crippled boy, in a separate envelope. I thought it would be nice if you got this letter earlier, instead of waiting for that heavy manila folder, like an early Christmas present. Your friend, David Sansbury San Francisco, California November 20, 1997 Dear Dave, I'd love to come over, and I've gotten permission. I have a question to ask you, though. The friend I'd like to bring over is disabled, paralyzed actually. Can she come? Be honest, and tell me what you think. Yours truly, Rachel Yuen Carol Springs, Colorado December 2, 1997 Dear Rache, Since you can always tell when and if I lie, I'll have to tell you the truth. Disabled people give me the creeps. Usually when I see them, they get treated like pets, and they act like them. I don't have anything against them; it's just that I am kind of scared of them. Besides, if she's paralyzed, how will she ski? That's all there is to do here. Still, she can come if you want her to. Your friend who hopes you're not mad at him, David Sansbury San Francisco, California December 16, 1997 Dear Dave, I'm not mad at you, though I suppose I should be. You see, I haven't been completely honest with you. I know it isn't fair, especially since you were brutally honest in your story reviews. I've enclosed a picture of my family. I am the girl in the wheelchair. I've been paralyzed waist down for as long as I can remember. You're probably upset at me at this point, but try to understand. If I told you I was paralyzed, I would have never known how you feel about disabled people. You would have lied to me, just so I would feel better. I know you probably have nothing but good intentions, so I have no hard feelings. I don't think I'll go to your resort over Christmas vacation, as much as I'd like to see you. You're right; I can't ski in my condition. I suppose I should also give you a chance to get used to the idea of your pen pal being a disabled person. Maybe you can come over to San Francisco during the summer. Please don't take this as an invitation to stop our friendship. You mean too much to me. Besides, you're the only person I know who's completely honest in reviewing my writing! I'm sending a short story to you via manila envelope. Hope it gets there safely. Your disabled friend, Rachel Yuen