Dear Mister Ed

The four of us was at the table chewin’ on the fat the other day the way folks do after a good feed and a touch of the grape.

We was’nt discoursin’ on anythink that wud set anyones blood to boil, like polliticks or the matin’ habits of sea otters, jest an easy chat on this and that, about places we been and things we seen.

Normly its Eva that comes up with the best storys when we get to talkin’ like this, on accounta her and her first husband spent haff there time and a goodly fortchun trippin’ all over the place.

She can drop names like Borra Borra and Matchu Peachu as easy as I and you mite say Dawsin City. On top of that, the old gal has a memry like a steal trap and dont spare one tiny detail once she hits’er stride, if you catch my drift.

Maisy and Unkle Walt dont say much when the talk turns to travel, seein’ as how they aint done all that much of it.

Bein’ bread and raised in Brutish Columbya, Maisy aint ever been east of the Rockie Mountins. And of coarse Walt never set foot off PEI till he found Eva on the innerweb and come out here to marry’er up.

Fer one reason or a nother this particular nite, once I started in to reminiss about my time in the Youcon they was all ears.

They cud’nt get there fill of talk about Five Finger Rappids and Tomb Stone Mountin and gristly bears and what its like to live where it dont get dark excksept fer the haff a year when it dont get lite.

They ast if I ever learnt how to moil and did I know Jack London and is it true the streets of Dawsin are paved with wood?

So I told ’em about short-face bears and giant beevers and Elvis hisself bein’ seen on Main Street near evry day, and how the dessert in Carcross aint haff as big as the parkin’ lot at Wall Mart.

I told ’em how the Sweedish miners in the old-timey days made downhill skis outta mammoth tusks, and how the Northern Lites come down and carry off yer husky dog if you whissle at ’em on even-numbered nites.

I recalled the time Three Finger Willy got his name, and told all about the lady in Haines Junkshun who’s hair was so long she used it to hitch up a team of moose to pull logs outta the woods.

Even when I said that folks like these was considered so normal they cud’nt make the Cullerfull Five Perscent, they lapped it up like it was gospell.

But try as I mite, there was no way they wud beleave that Youconners dont get round to sellabratin’ the August holliday till the third week of the month, leave alone callin’ it Discovry Day.

I reckon thats jest gonna stay our seckrit, Darroll. Have a good one.

Yer pal,

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