Perhaps the world would be a better place if we thought of ourselves less as good people, and more as lousy people who manage to do good things. My friend Leopold was always a dreamer. The pandemic and our reactions to it left us broken and divided. Most of us just wanted to feel safe again, but others dreamt of something better. Leopold was one of these. Though I think he likely joined the People's Republic of 47th and Long purely out of geographic convenience, I know once part of it, he fully shared in its egalitarian vision. All I have are his letters. Sometimes I wish I had burned them, but I didn't, so now here they are. Maybe you can find a use for them. Perhaps they can help remind you who we truly are. The good, the bad, and most importantly, the indifferent.
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April 22, 2022
Dear Friends,
Happy Friday to you from the People’s Republic of 47th and Long. I hope that this bright day brings you warmth and comfort in your home across the Great River. We hear rumors of what is happening up there, but little reliable since the bridges came down last month. It is likely for the best. I never trusted those blue uniformed TSA goons to keep people from crossing the 205 as was promised, and well, you know my opinion on the refuse that remains on Hayden Island. No, though it takes longer for my letters to reach you now, I think we are all better off with a little bit more distance between us.
Today was a glorious day for our little experiment, for our dear Jon Seabreeze, accredited accountant, peacefully annexed the Johnson household on the corner of 52nd and Raymond, marking the first time our little experiment has managed to cross the four lanes of 52nd into the territory claimed without merit by the Foster-Powell Neighborhood Association. Oh, they may claim that such territory belongs to them, but if it were true then the Johnson’s would not be coming to us for protection from the rampant degradations of the Survivors who still plague the area. I doubt that the powers that be in the Foster-Powell Neighborhood Association will do much about it beyond creating a committee to discuss the possibility of debating whether or not they should do something. Thank god I live in a place of action here beneath the Japanese maple flag.
I received a letter the other day from Mom and Charlie. They’re of course still living out in the wilds. I have offered to vouch for their cleanliness if they wished to come to live with me, but of course they refused as always. They are like so many still living out there, still convinced that the magic Cheetoh will somehow come back to life, and everything will be the same as it once was. Silly I know. Still holding on for dear life to a world that is dead and gone. No magic Cheetoh can bring any of it back. Mom of course writes as though things are much the same there as they always have been, as long as one doesn’t venture far from home. I hear whole swaths east of the mountains are controlled by Survivors.
Anyways, that is all the news I know. I hope you managed to get whatever it was getting into your veggie patch. Give my best to Danny.
Your friend,
Leopold