Joe's column goes international

It is fair to say that every day is filled with pleasant -- and occasionally not-so-pleasant -- surprises for Major-Domo Jay, the high-muckety-muck of our fair River City of Roses.

Being the chief elected official of a city with two -- count 'em, two! -- bridges across the Mighty Mississippi means there is seldom a dull moment -- not even those humdrum debates over kitty-cat quotas and how high your fireworks can go.

But I'll bet Major-Domo Jay never thought he would become a marriage merchant.

I'm not making a bit of this up.

Here's what happened, based on what little I know and having to piece some of the facts together out of thin air.

It starts with a letter postmarked in La Rochelle, France, on Jan. 17 and addressed to "Sir Major of Cape Girardeau city Missouri U.S.A." which arrived, as well you might expect, on the desk of Major-Domo Jay officially stamped "Received Jan. 21, 2004."

There's your first clue that this isn't going to be an ordinary day.

This letter from France, which is on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, arrived in Missouri just four days after being deposited in le boite aux lettres. Now any rational American knows that the only letter you mail anywhere in the United States of America that will arrive in just four days is the check you send a pushy creditor hoping you'll get your tax refund in time to make a deposit before the Federal Reserve System finds out you're flat-out broke. Envelopes with kited checks in them fairly sail through the U.S. Postal Service.

Now look at the way the letter is addressed. If I leave part of an address off letters I send, the Postal Service diligently returns them to me as undeliverable and informs me I should pay more attention to details if I ever want to see my mail go through. (Disclaimer: Poorly addressed envelopes containing kited checks, however ... see above.)

In this case no name, no street address and no ZIP Code are not only OK, they appear to expedite the mail. Go figure.

The letter, it turns out, is from Ruy Alves, who says, "Bon jour. Mon nom est Ruy et mon adresse est al La Rochelle, une ville qui se trouve sur la cote Atlantique au nord de Bordeaux."

I'll admit that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, especially if, like me, you're from the Ozark hills over yonder where we can barely understand each other, much less someone from France, where they speak French but seem to carry on conversations with each other with no problems whatsoever.

Ruy carefully explains in his letter that he has visited the United States nine times and has had a dream that he would spend his last days in Missouri in the arms of a "lady of my age," which happens to be 48.

"Who knows the future?" the lovelorn Ruy implores.

Major-Domo Jay swears he got this letter because of my decision to refer to him as "Major-Domo Jay" in my column. I'd be more inclined to think Ruy scoured a map until he found Missouri towns with French names. I'll bet the major-domos of other Missouri towns -- Ste. Genevieve, Versailles, Vichy, Portage Des Sioux, Des Arc, Bonne Terre, Desloge, Paris, French Village -- got similar letters.

So, if you would like to help Major-Domo Jay in his matchmaking duties, please send a letter, in English or French or whatever, to "Ruy Alves in La Rochelle, France."

I'm sure it will get there in four days. Or less.

And good luck, Ruy. Every decent man deserves to end up in the arms of a Missouri woman.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.