An Open Letter to John Prine
Dear Mr. Prine (If I may be so bold),
Though I consider myself fortunate to be conspicuously lacking in heroes, as such, I do regret having missed countless opportunities for acknowledging the influence of certain individuals that I admire, or with whom I may share an interest.
For years it was my fondest wish to meet Red Skelton, however, unless my condition worsens his untimely demise has left little chance for introductions. Rumors persist that Dick Van Dyke, another favorite, has also deceased yet remains sufficiently animated to perform at least 1 more year of series television.
So, pen in hand, I take aim at you before it's too late. (Don't worry. I haven't heard anything.) Not only have I enjoyed your work immensely for over 30 years, we also seem to share an affinity for the manipulation of words and phrases that in various parts of the United States still pass for language. The difference being, of course, your possession of considerable talents, which provide an application for these musings. (This was originally intended as a compliment. I guess I need a little work on my backhand.)
Accompanying this correspondence you will find a link to a metered query occasioned by the deaths of my father and 3 uncles. If printed and folded in accordance with the detailed diagram on the back it makes a really neat tabletop football. If you can think of an alternative method for giving life to this meager verse through the twisting and rearranging of vowels and consonants, please feel free to use my name and pay me handsomely. If not, well...to hell with it. I enjoyed writing the letter, anyway.
Additionally, it would be my humble pleasure to someday make your acquaintance, but given my thoroughly abysmal social skills, and possessing absolutely no aptitude for small talk, if we ever actually do meet we must hope to have experienced a particularly nasty stretch of weather that week so as not to be starved for conversation.
Gards again,
Pinhole
Verse link: "This Is My Quest"










My own personal hero was Ernie Kovacs, and Red Skelton was next in line. Of course, one can't gainsay Dick Van Dyke or Mary Tyler Moore. Count Sneaky
Reply to this
Kovacs was a classic. His widow just died a few months ago.
Reply to this
Heroes? We're supposed to have heroes? I thought we were supposed to love ourselves or something like that. I'm so confused.
Reply to this
Yes. Perhaps heroes is the wrong word, since it usually means "Super-heroes."
Maybe, I meant role models or maybe
icons. The Count is now confused.
Reply to this
Confusion seems rampant on this blog. So you're not alone.
Reply to this
I believe I said I was happy not to have heroes, as such. And yes, you are supposed to love yourself. Just not in the theatre.
Reply to this
You've reminded me that perhaps I should write a similar letter to some of my heroes, Peter, Paul and (especially) Mary, whom I am certain would love to read your marvelous verse.
Reply to this
Thanks, Montucky. And Peter, Paul and Mary were indeed worth admiration.
Reply to this