Earlier today Rachelle and I received this postcard, addressed to a “Julia,” delivered to our address:
I know what you’re saying.
One night while in high school my friends and I were driving around in somebody’s father’s Mercedes. We had music blaring out the open windows. All virgins, we were a genial pack of average boys, but we thought we were pretty cool—real catches.
A girl I thought was pretty was walking along the street and I yelled out, “nice calves!” She kind of smiled at this remark, saying something deflective and neutral, and we mistook this for encouragement. We thought that this was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her– a car full of cool guys paying her attention. We drove slowly alongside of her, offering her a ride and attempting a flirtatious posture. She was smiling, but she began to walk faster as this attempted seduction proceeded, and then she began to trot. And when she looked back at us there was terror on her face, and she yelled, “Please, please, please, just leave me alone!”
And then the car was still and quiet except for the music.
It is a moment I have never forgotten.
You were right to say what you did to him.
Always your uncle,