Pen pal

And it is, Belinda.

The pen pals.

Our pen pals.

Our pen pals.

Because of, you know, the pen.

The pen.

Cheers to our pen pals.

Cheers.

But as is so often the case here in the lonely corners of the Night Cafe, some correspondents are further away than one might think, and the ink they use has been dry for a very long time.

We call this one The Pen Pal.

For 20 years, Loretta Watts' world had been defined by the four walls of her ancestral home.

It was a fortress she had built against a memory, a fortress of dust motes dancing in sunbeams, of the familiar creak of floorboards, of silence.

This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

Pen Pal by Melton Lesser.

The best that could be said for Matilda Penshaw was that she was something of a paradox.

She was thirty-three years old, certainly not aged when you consider the fact that the female life expectancy is now up in the sixties, but the lines were beginning to etch their permanent paths across her face, and she now needed certain remedial undergarments at which she would have scoffed ten or even five years ago.

She also had a fetish.

Matilda had received her AB from exclusive Ursula Johns College, and Radcliffe had yielded her master's degree.

Yet Matilda was an avid follower of the pen pal columns.

She would read them carefully and then read them again, looking for the masculine names which, through a system known only to Matilda, had an affinity to her own.

This Lieberwachs recording is in the public domain.

Pen Pal, by Milton Lesser.

The best could be said for Matilda Penchaws was that she was something of a paradox.

She was 33 years old, certainly that aged when you consider the fact that the female life expectancy is now up in the 60s, but the lines were beginning to etch their permanent paths across her face, and she now needed certain remedial undergarments at which she would have scoffed 10 or even 5 years ago.

Matilda, you see, had patience.

She also had a fetish.

Matilda had received her AB from exclusive Ursula Johns College in Radcliffe, had yielded her master's degree, yet Matilda was an avid follower of the Pen Pal columns.

She would read them carefully, and then read them again, looking for the masculine names which, through a system known only to Matilda, had an affinity to her own.

This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

Pen Pal by Milton Lesser The best that could be said for Matilda Penchaws was that she was something of a paradox.

She was thirty-three years old, certainly that aged when you consider the fact that the female life expectancy is now up in the sixties, but the lines were beginning to etch their permanent paths across her face, and she now needed certain remedial undergarments at which she would have scoffed ten or even five years ago.

Matilda was also looking for a husband.

Matilda, you see, had patience.

She also had a fetish.

Matilda had received her A.B. from exclusive Ursula Johns College in Radcliffe, had yielded her master's degree, yet Matilda was an avid follower of the pen pal columns.

She would read them carefully, and then read them again, looking for the masculine names which, through a system known only to Matilda, had an affinity to her own.

That's a comfort.

So when you started writing letters, Liz, was it that old-fashioned idea of pen pals and stuff?

It was.

Yeah.

And they have a project through their Donate a Letter program where they have a number of resources about how to start a letter to a stranger.

And I found that was super helpful.

One, because I started writing for the Donate a Letter program around the same time that I was writing to pen pals that I knew would write me back.

But there are so many ways to start a letter.

It's lover's talk.

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth in about 1986, my wife now, Tiffany, and I, we were just friends, and we were what they called in those days pen pals.

Now, I know some of you are so young you don't even know what a pen is, but a pen pal was someone who wrote letters to to someone else and you would send a letter to each other each week Tiffany lived in North London I lived down in the West Country and we would send letters the internet wasn't invented mobile phones weren't invented then And we'd write a letter each week.

And in this letter, we would just talk about our week and what we pray for.

This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

Pen Pal by Melton Lesser.

The best that could be said for Matilda Penshaw was that she was something of a paradox.

She was thirty-three years old, certainly not aged when you consider the fact that the female life expectancy is now up in the sixties, but the lines were beginning to etch their permanent paths across her face, and she now needed certain remedial undergarments at which she would have scoffed ten or even five years ago.

She also had a fetish.

Matilda had received her AB from exclusive Ursula Johns College, and Radcliffe had yielded her master's degree.

Yet Matilda was an avid follower of the pen pal columns.

She would read them carefully and then read them again, looking for the masculine names which, through a system known only to Matilda, had an affinity to her own.

It's a big thing out there.

But did they be- have to become pen pals?

Pin.

Pin pals.

Kratz wasn't on for that yesterday.

He doesn't get it.

Kratz, are you pen pals with anybody?

No.