“I left here worrying about you cause I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in pain, trying to drink your way to happiness. You ain’t gon’ find it that way, baby, and you know it. Have it worked so far? Hell no. That’s why your ass always end up in jail. You got a disease and you act like you don’t know it which is why you do dumb shit when everybody know you smart. Don’t you remember what your IQ is, or was? They was genius numbers, boy. I raised you to know the difference between shit and shinola so grow up, be a man, and do whatever it take to get yourself together. Stop drinking altogether. Not even a beer every now and then cause beer is still booze. Go to AA on a regular basis. Going to church wouldn’t hurt either. I didn’t write this letter to preach. But. Do something with your son. I don’t care if you ain’t got a thousand dollars to send out there, just send something and do something before he grown and don’t give a flying fuck if you live or die. That’s how it happen, Lewis, believe me. You had a daddy but you don’t even know Cecil, do you? Try to get to know him before he join me? It ain’t too late, you know. And watch over your sisters. You they only brother. Be strong for them, like they been trying to be for you. And I want you to know that the only reason they be pissed off at you all the time is cause they love you and know how smart you are too. They always wanted more for you. Not the life you got. They want to see you live better. They want to see you happy, and the shit you been doing disappoints them, but probably not nobody more than it do you. Don’t kill yourself trying to do everything at once. Take your time. Take one step at a time. Do something with them inventions you been telling me about for years. Put your fucking money where your mouth is. And find yourself a good woman. Not them ones you meet in bars. Leave them whores right there on them bar stools. Or, learn how to be by your goddamn self till you got something good to offer a woman besides what’s between your legs. Men always think that’s enough, but believe me, baby, it ain’t. I’ma be watching you and I want you to know that I’ma be your biggest cheerleader. Know that. So Sis-boom-ba!

“Love,

“Mom

“(P.S. Please don’t drive until you get your license back and go to the doctor and get some real medicine for your arthritis or you gon’ be cripple by the time you forty. And a little exercise, like walking, wouldn’t kill you. Of course I tried it, but just cause it didn’t work for me don’t mean it won’t do you no good. Oh! Watch Oprah Winfrey sometime. She’ll make you feel good even when you depressed. Four o’clock on Channel 4. Tape it if you ain’t gon’ be home. You do have a VCR, don’t you?)”