Nickell’s Bag

I arrived at work this morning to find a handwritten note in my mail slot, along with a copy of the story I wrote about the Oldtimers Skate Night at Fiftytwo Skatepark. It’s the kind of letter that gives me great hope…(click through to see the letter)

Here’s the letter:

I’ve obscured the author’s last name because…well, I liked that mustache thing. It’s very spy!

In case you can’t read the script, it says:

Dear Joe,

You went to college, right? You studied journalism, right? Unfortunately you seem not to know about predicate nouns. It would be a plus if you would improve your English usage because your articles are interesting.

This is a great letter for two reasons:

1. It’s nice to know that people are reading my stories closely enough to notice when I use the phrase “older than me” when I should have written “older than I.” (That was her complaint, as pointed out in pen markings on the clipping of the story she included with the letter)

2. This letter gives me great hope for my own future. I cannot wait until I’m retired and have enough time on my hands to (a) notice minor grammatical errors in other people’s work; (b) write a letter and neatly clip out the offending article; and (c) mail it to the author, by hand.

That may sound like a snide comment, but I mean it sincerely. Between a mentally exhausting (though certainly rewarding) job, a 21-month old kid with a cold, an opera company to help build, and other random commitments, I find myself often pining for a day of nothing but sitting around, looking at stuff, thinking, listening to music. It’s been a long time since I gave myself that kind of day.

Then I get a letter like this and think: Someday, Joe, this will be your life.

Sometimes it feels like it can’t come soon enough!

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