Dear Hank Williams Read Online Free Page B

let those crazy folks get up while it’s pitch-dark and stand near the railroad crossing. I don’t care if Verbia’s mother is serving creamy hot chocolate to everyone like it’s a big party. I’ll be home sleeping sound in my bed, and when Aunt Patty Cake tells me to get up for school tomorrow morning I’m going to jump out of bed and say, “Ready for duty, ma’am!”
    Sweet dreams,
    Tate P.

 
    September 18, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    T HE C LYDE B EATTY C IRCUS was amazing! Just as I predicted, Frog wouldn’t go. Yesterday afternoon when Uncle Jolly and me headed toward his truck, Frog took off and hid behind the magnolia tree. He had to stay and watch Aunt Patty Cake sack up her Delightfully Devine orders. At least I got out of that chore. Although I really don’t mind helping her sort the products. It’s fun to match up the lipsticks and rouges with the people who ordered them. Some of them select entirely the wrong color, but folks can be stubborn. And like Aunt Patty Cake says, “It’s all a fairy tale anyway.”
    Back to the circus—it would have been perfect if Uncle Jolly’s girlfriend, Dolores, hadn’t come along. She is clearly not the circus type. She acted all uppity, making Uncle Jolly place napkins on the seat before she plopped down her big rear end. She kept fanning herself with her program and saying how the circus smelled like a chicken house. But after Uncle Jolly bought me some pink cotton candy and the music started playing, I forgot she was there.
    When the elephants marched in, I couldn’t help but think of my daddy and wonder if he ever took pictures of any in Africa. (Remember, he’s a world-renowned photographer.) The elephants lined up straight as a row of dominos. The trainer raised his stick, and they stood on their hind legs. Dolores’s face turned paper white when an elephant pooped ten feet away from us. Now, that was better than watching a blur of elephant butts racing by in train cars.
    The tightrope was my very favorite part. This morning I gave it a try myself on the thick oak branch that stretches high above the ground. I held on to the branch above so I didn’t fall, but someday I won’t have to. Practice makes perfect. And in case you’re curious, I’m still practicing my singing. I’ve decided I’ll sing “Wildwood Flower” in the talent contest. When the Carter Family sings that on the radio, I can’t get the song out of my mind. I find myself humming it all day long. Which reminds me—it’s time to listen to you. The Louisiana Hayride will be on in fifteen minutes.
    So long for now.
    Your loyal fan and oak-branch walker,
    Tate P.

 
    September 20, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    I ’VE DECIDED TO BE my own voice coach until Momma comes home. Seeing those tightrope walkers and other brave circus performers reminded me that anything is possible. I almost forgot that. Don’t you ever forget.
    I’ve been practicing in front of the magnolia tree. Frog is my audience. He’s always following me anyway. Figured I might as well give him something handy to do. Now I’ll have to put up with him asking, “Whatcha gonna sing next?” At least Frog is an appreciative audience member.
    No one knows I’m singing in the talent contest yet. Not even Momma, who I know would be proud. I want it to be a big surprise. I still have to practice my piano every day. We don’t have a piano yet, but Momma has promised to buy us a baby grand first thing when she’s finished with the movie. For now I go next door to Mrs. Applebud’s house. Mrs. Applebud is old enough to have a mess of grandchildren, but she doesn’t have any, only a son who is serving in the military over in Japan. I reckon that’s why she likes it when I come over to practice. She makes me peanut butter cookies. Frog doesn’t eat any, though. In fact, he won’t