There are very few great love letters exchanged these days. Do I, or, we, blame Twitter, Texting, and Facebook? Rena wrote me a five page letter that contained a poem she wrote, and this one that David Campbell authored. She says she did this all in a afternoon, on Christmas Day. Then she tells me she must wrap presents and prepare dinner. Do you believe a word she has to say? Note her writing style. None of the letters connect. She is like a human typewriter. I wonder.
Transcribed by Rena Easton on Christmas Day