Issue #12, Winter 1997
Voice Over by John Lehman
Rod Clark is in Alaska judging a poetry competition for Salmon Run Press, so I volunteered, as publisher, to step in and write the Voice Over (don't worry, he'll be back to do the next one). Actually the reason for Rod's absence seems appropriate to a subject I've been pondering for some time.
I write poetry and occasionally send it to different publications. I'm struck by how odd the submission process is. What if other endeavors were conducted this way? What if, for example, lovers were treated like writers? Would love still make the world go round? Or would the human race come to an abrupt end? I happened to come across an unusual exchange of letters given to me by a friend that seems to test this thesis. If I had to put a title to them, it would be "Address Unknown."
July 20, 1996
Dear Rachel,
I love you. I love everything about you. I've told my friends how wonderful you are. They have told their friends. We're all crazy nuts over you.
On the enclosed five pages I have endeavored as best I can to tell you about myself. These are my most intimate thoughts and, to tell you the truth, I've never shared these feelings with anyone else. But I know I can trust you. You more than anyone can appreciate how I feel.
I long to hear what you think. Some word, any word of encouragement is all I ask. I wait by my mailbox, heart thumping for your reply.
Hopelessly in your awe,
Harry Lime
Sept 1, 1996
Thank you for submitting your heartfelt words to us.
Unfortunately we are not considering any sentiments during June, July or August. We appreciate your interest and perhaps you will consider resubmitting your feelings at a later time.
Very sincerely,
Rachel and her friends
Sept 2, 1996
Dearest Rachel,
Yes, of course you are so wise, as well as so beautiful. Summer is exactly the worst of times to bare one's soul. How could I be so thoughtless, impose upon your time when there are so many, many pressing demands during this vacation period.
However, all that is behind us now. Time to begin anew. More reasonably this time. I can't live without you-you are everything, I am nothing. Give me some a sign. Anything! An exclamation point in the margin, a page returned dog-eared.
I've enclosed seventy-five pages telling you exactly how I feel. Surely there is something in there, somewhere, that will, at least momentarily, catch your eye.
I've moved my bed and dresser out on the porch to be closer to the mail box when your reply comes. Every second counts, my love. Let the days pass like minutes until we can be together.
Your biggest fan ever,
Harry
Unfortunately, the next piece of correspondence is missing. However one can conclude something of its contents from the references in Mr. Lime's ensuing reply.
December 25, 1996
Dearest, Dearest Rachel,
There has been some horrible mistake! Please don't, in the height of your passion, misunderstand me...this is not a complaint. I am very grateful to receive your guidelines to courtship. But, ha, ha, I was half expecting, as I tore into my self-addressed, stamped envelope, something a little more, how can I put this delicately,...more personal.
Now the guidelines are quite good. I really learned something there about double spacing and margins that I think will make me a better person in the long run. I know it will. But I had hoped we were a bit further along in our relationship, my offering to die for you and everything. But, no matter. The fault is mine. I see that now, as I sit here crying alone on Christmas Eve.
Rachel, I enjoy a quiet holiday as well as the next guy, butoh well, all I hope is that you're happy. What am I, after all, compared to your bright and shining star? And, what I'm doing is boxing up two thousand pages (double spaced) that clarify how I feel.
I've sold all my furniture, there's no heat and I'm living on crackers and peanut butter, but this is little enough sacrifice if it will bring me closer to you. I need to finish now as I'm losing consciousness.
Swooningly,
Harrrrrryyyyy
April 15, 1997
We have reviewed your submission and unfortunately are unable to make use of it at this time. Thank you for your support. This in no way reflects negatively on the value of your effort. Please consider Rachel again at some time in the future.
Good Luck,
A bunch of people speaking for Rachel
May 30, 1997
Rachel,
I've just been released from the hospital for malnutrition and over-exposure. And do you know to what I attribute my miraculous recovery? To your generous letter thanking me and asking me not to give up hope. Oh, you use words sparingly, but I can read between those lines. I can feel those emotions -- not so completely masked as you might imagine -- calling out to me.
And, Rachel, Rachel, I am hereI'll always be here for you. The UPS man is rolling his dolly up the sidewalk. Yes, you're right! He's coming for my final, complete, uninhibited written testament of love for you.
Accept it, oh glorious muse and inspiration! We are one!
For all eternity,
Harry
P.S. I'm smuggling myself and a week's worth of food into the last of these crates to you.
The last letter, a card actually, is rather curious. It's dated some months later, and it appears to be similar to an earlier reply. But it has a rather ominous ring to it this time. It concludes:
Thank you for submitting your heartfelt words to us.
Unfortunately we are not considering any submissions during June, July or August...
Hmmmmmm. Then again, perhaps things did turn out well. After all isn't persistence important? Doesn't love conquer all?