My last letter I mentioned a regular, with the done-up hair and pretty accent? She's got industry connections and we're going out of NYC for a while. I'm closing out my lease and everything! I'm so excited! All this time marching and chanting and strategizing in the end feels like we're all just yelling at mannequins in a shop window or something. Nobody really listens, even when we've got those loudspeakers up at the front with folks telling stories about goes on over there. But they listen to music. If yelling and screaming doesn't convince anyone maybe a song will.
Anyways, you know how I get about it.
For now, just send return letters to the bar. Either I'll go pick them up or I'll call and have them forwarded over to me wherever I end up. Enclosed in this letter is a little gift for you since I don't have to pay rent this month.
I love you. Pass my love to Josh and Craig when you see them.
Your daughter, Birdie
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October 23rd, 1967
Mom,
Sorry I went so long without writing. Glad to hear all the news from home now that I've got the letters. I'll try to call sometime soon. Maybe even before you get this letter!
I'm being careful. Promise.
We went to Cleveland right after my last letter and now we're going to head to Nashville. After that we might go all the way to San Francisco! And I get to sing all the time, Mom. It's just what I wanted.
Enclosed is another gift.
Sending my love, Birdie
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December 12th, 1967
[ A Christmas card -- fairly generic, a cartoon Santa on the front and basic 'Merry Christmas!' on the inside in red. There is no other writing beyond a quickly scribbled, "Mom, Josh, and Craig," above it and, "Love, Birdie," below. ]
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letters
Mom,
I'm gonna be going away for a bit. Don't worry!
My last letter I mentioned a regular, with the done-up hair and pretty accent? She's got industry connections and we're going out of NYC for a while. I'm closing out my lease and everything! I'm so excited! All this time marching and chanting and strategizing in the end feels like we're all just yelling at mannequins in a shop window or something. Nobody really listens, even when we've got those loudspeakers up at the front with folks telling stories about goes on over there. But they listen to music. If yelling and screaming doesn't convince anyone maybe a song will.
Anyways, you know how I get about it.
For now, just send return letters to the bar. Either I'll go pick them up or I'll call and have them forwarded over to me wherever I end up. Enclosed in this letter is a little gift for you since I don't have to pay rent this month.
I love you. Pass my love to Josh and Craig when you see them.
Your daughter,
Birdie
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October 23rd, 1967
Mom,
Sorry I went so long without writing. Glad to hear all the news from home now that I've got the letters. I'll try to call sometime soon. Maybe even before you get this letter!
I'm being careful. Promise.
We went to Cleveland right after my last letter and now we're going to head to Nashville. After that we might go all the way to San Francisco! And I get to sing all the time, Mom. It's just what I wanted.
Enclosed is another gift.
Sending my love,
Birdie
-----
December 12th, 1967
[ A Christmas card -- fairly generic, a cartoon Santa on the front and basic 'Merry Christmas!' on the inside in red. There is no other writing beyond a quickly scribbled, "Mom, Josh, and Craig," above it and, "Love, Birdie," below. ]
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