8/17/2007

 

A Letter From Mrs. Lisa Gispell

(A mystery lady came into my work yesterday and dropped off this letter for me. I had the day off, so I didn't actually have the pleasure of encountering her. I have a hunch that might be for the best. I actually have no recollection of her at all. At first it just seemed crazy, but the more I read it, the more I find it sort of cool. It's way better than the usual notes people leave me complaining about the nasty state of the rest area toilets.)
Dear Patrick, May I introduce myself as Mrs. Lisa Gispell? Surely you do not remember me. It was nearly two years ago that I was last here. I remember you very vividly. Together we shared a conversation about having red hair; the luxuries and disasters that come with having the scarlet mat of heat upon our heads. You did not only treat me with respect and courtesy, unlike many men in this world, but the information that was provided to me saved my life. Brisk dew of the early morning soaked through my thin running shoes nearly instantly. parading through front lawn, the last of the minivan was filled with drinks and the three-week-old Doritos that my son requested. A blinding sun was peaking over the housetops telling me that our trip was off to a great start. I had no idea that it was the pinnacle of the toppling cake I now refer to as my "Trip to Idaho." To compare Southern Utah and Northern Idaho is, in a nutshell, like comparing a dry arid desert to a green valley of tenderness. The transition from the rocky desert to the sagebrush filled vsalley brought little hope from the belittled divorce behind me in Utah. Eventually the winding highway brought me into vast green forests and rolling green hills. Idaho was becoming better and better. Soon enough I was entering a town with a name I could not pronounce. What the hell was Coeur d'Alene? After a refreshing lunch on the lake with my son, we decided to continue north. Clearly I90 West does not take you north. An immediate turn around and a stop to your information post immediately set me straight. you said two things that I will never forget; red heads are the best kind (of course my ex-husband thought the opposite) and that Sandpoint is a quaint little pristine town. I made my way to Sandpoint with the directions you gave me. A few days later my ex-husband Jim called me. He wanted to get back together. The way the man echoed for my company by his side was nearly enough to make me drive back down that second. But then I remembered the abuse. The way he spoke to me, belittled me with no concern. The lamps and plates that always needed replacing after they crashed into the walls. I could not go on with that. not again. I had to protect my son and our well-being. Soon enough I was able to figure out that it is not Pen-d-or-ii-ell or Cor-de-lane-ee. I have an apartment that is quiet. No yelling or fighting. God has taken me into his hands and I am happy; thank you Patrick. Your kind words that day kept me driving. Driving towards this quaint little town called called Sandpoint, keeping my head high with gratitude I have never known from a stranger. I have no idea how to repay you. There is not much for me to offer but advice. Here are a couple of things I have learned over the years that I hope will help you on your way through this journey called life.
  • Sheep will always be better pillows than goats.
  • If you must dine-and-dash, at least stack your plates nicely for the bus boy.
  • Water-stills will enable you to filter the toxic elements of your urine so you can drink it in dire emergencies.
  • Gatorade is great for hangovers.
  • Never take cardboard for advantage. it can be used as a bed, a tent or even as food.
  • Always use a lawnmower.
  • If you throw a piece of meat at a dog barking at you, most of the time said dog will stop attacking or barking at you.
  • The biggest truck in Idaho weighs forty-eight thousand pounds.
  • Popcorn will make you sick.
  • Sand eats rock.
  • Desks can double for tables in the right situation.
There is so much knowledge I would like to share with you. I must cut this letter short in fear that I will reveal too much about myself. This is the least I could do to repay such a noble gentleman. Thank you and good luck with your travels as well. - LDG

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Comments:
Always use a lawnmower. Always!
 
What a great letter!

I like the lawnmower one too. Wonder what the alternative is?
 
Hey, that is a neat letter, Patrick! How cool.... this brief encounter, you pointed the way and she went and now look...
sheesh...

It helps, you know... to glimpse actual people amid the herds of tourists sometimes.

- Angela
 
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