Dear mother,

We have not spoken in many years, which seems to be très chic in our family to do in the last three generations. Through this time I have changed from that scared little lost pup into a well worked sled dog, but also maintaining that wild side, that wolffish side that comes out ever so often that it even has a trademark smirk along with a sense of anarchy which has given me much of a challenge to subdue when those around me find it absolutely mandatory to cram me into a mold. I suppose you are doing moderately well in the fact that I have not been contacted with a notice of passing. I, as I always have been found to be, am doing well and within moments of becoming that much more successful than my ancestors, as I am not in collusion with druggers and thieves. My close compatriots are very respectable and are upstanding citizens in their own rights. I am nearly living La Bohème, with artists and musicians, although in this instance we do not live squalor like or attend bars every free moments. We sit upon the very turning point of the future, carrying all that we have learned forward as a lesson only to be uttered and never reenacted by our progeny. Do keep in touch, as we have these last few years, because this silence speaks louder and with more vigor than you could ever muster.

Sincerely,

A son lost due to drug addiction via the matron.