LETTERS FROM HOME: WORD FROM DENMARK, BAKERSFIELD, VENICE BEACH

Jan. 18, 1996

Dear Carol,

The best thing about the end of the year is hearing unexpectedly from friends you thought might have disappeared into a mountain cult or might be terminally ill or extremely mad at you or who might have married someone whose jealousy rivals their better qualities.

Besides you, who I thought might be dancing with European gypsies, cards arrived from Helga, the New Age inventor who hung out with Albert Schweitzer in Africa, and Jill, the writer who went on "The Love Connection" so she could do a story for Cosmo (at least that's her story).

Helga I hadn't heard from since 1992. She's living in Denmark now, no doubt for family reasons, but feels freer in the U.S. Freedom is important to Helga, who lived next door to me for two years without ever saying more than hello.

Two weeks before I moved back to Missouri, she knocked on my door because her purse had been stolen and she couldn't get in her apartment. That began a two-week whirlwind friendship in which I learned that she'd invented the suitcase with wheels but had been bilked out of most of the money.

Helga just turned 60 and she's feeling as if she needs to take her life back.

Jill is suing Bakersfield to prevent a shopping mall from moving in next door. So far she's winning, but you wouldn't want to count Bakersfield out when it comes to developing shopping malls.

And now you pop back up with your dance degree and your Venice Beach address and your Bay Area friends and an addition to your list of 1 1/2-year relationships. You're the one I thought was mad at me because I'd told you you'd lost your giddy giggle, by which I'd meant you were becoming comfortable with your true self. But since you didn't respond I'd guessed that giggle still meant something to you.

One of the things I learned from living in Southern California was how to tell who your friends are. They're the people who tell you the truth. No matter what. As opposed to the many who tell you what they think you want to hear.

It sounds as if you have a life that engages you. Is there anything else?

This is our life: I spent Sunday at work while DC went to church, where she learned how to dry wall.

Explanation: The church is doing some do-it-yourself renovations. Always eager to learn, she convinced one of the workers to show her how to dry wall. I married the daughter of "Home Improvement."

So while the church ladies are having a tea in one room, she's slapping around some mud in the next.

Yeah, we have a house with mice and a fence with holes in it. I'd owe my soul to Home Depot if we had one.

We also have a couple of pooches. Hank is too timid to walk down the stairs so we carry him. And he's so afraid of being dropped he bloodies us with scratches. An animal psychologist may be necessary any day now.

The other one is Lucy, a hellcat whose name we often pronounce just the way Ricky Ricardo did when aggravated.

No big news. Just engaged.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.