Sue calls this her Polish immigrant look. For some reason we liked wearing cast off military shirts. I think it had something to do with Viet Nam
It was about this time in our lives before I'd starting working. I was about 18 I think. We always had books and magazines around and one day we saw where you could write and if you wanted to you could ask for pen pals but you didn't have to do that. We thought it would be fun to write to people in other countries.
Up to then Enid was the only one who'd done that with some kind of school exchange where the kids exchanged letters with Mexican students. I even remember the name of her victim er pen pal. His name was Rogelio Leon. They only exchange about two letters and she lost interest. I think she was irked that she had to write to a boy and not a girl.
I got out the typewriter and wrote a letter. I told about living in the US and what teenagers were doing. Not us, of course, because we weren't allowed to do those things. We had a record player and records and magazines but we didn't go anywhere of do much of anything.
Anna and Millie were both gone to their lives so I was the oldest at home.
It was a surprise when the first letters started coming. The magazine sent me a nice one and asked me to write more which I did. They didn't pay me but they sent me new copies of their magazine when it came out and it often had stuff I wrote in it. Sue and I loved it. Me more than her. I got letters from all over the world and wrote back and forth a lot. Sometimes I even got records in the mail from England and Spain. They were fun but I felt bad about kids who sent us stuff like that when it was almost impossible to send stuff back. This writing thing continued for years even after I was working at Clarks and then I sometimes could buy a magazine or record to send back to someone.
I remember a young girl in Japan, one in Scotland and a young man in England, make that two young men in England. One of them was a friend of Dusty Springfield and he sent me photos of the two of them together at least he told me it was him. He sent a photo once he said was him on a vacation in Spain.
The other guy from England I remember was a man with no hands. He was the adult or at least teenager version of a thalidomide baby. I don't know how he managed to write.
I got letters for a year or so from a nun in Ireland. She was nice but we had nothing in common.
I did get a weird one. Yeah, like some of these I've told you about aren't weird enough?
Ok, this was from an older guy who thought I was a young boy. He called me Eddie and wanted me to send him photos of me in my swimming trunks. Even I knew what he was. I dropped that letter to the floor quick then used a stick to pick it up. Mom saw and snatched it up and threw a hissy fit. It wasn't like I was going to write him back but she didn't know.
Another magazine we wrote to was a music one. I got a few letters from prisoners which also went in the burn pile. I did get two really nice ones from young guys in Australia. I remained friends with them for a long time until years later when I joined the Army and lost track. They both wrote and talked with mom for awhile and then just stopped.
Ian lived on a Station, what we know as a cow ranch.
I think Ian really liked me a lot but we'd never met and chances were we never would and we never did. We exchanges coins and paper money from our countries. We traded stamps and stories. I told him I'd read a book in the library about mining for opals and that got him started. I learned a lot from him.
He sent me beautiful opal jewelry that due to my ex-husband not having a brain got stolen in Colorado. I loved that pendant especially. It was so beautiful. He liked books and magazines so I sent him them often and I even somewhere have an air letter sheet he wrote me. I think I may have sent him a note after I got married but if he replied I never got to see it.
I found the photo that Ian sent me. I think it said it was taken in 1974.
Malcom was a musician in Melboune and he was married and just like to talk mostly about music and life here. We exchanged music cassettes. He sent me one of Slim Dusty who I'd never heard of before and I found I liked the sound of that old man.
He told me about the Aborigine artist Namatjira. I probably spelled that wrong, both words. He sent photos of him and his wife and their house and cat. He was just a nice fellow.
Mom liked them both and enjoyed talking music with them.
I can see their photos in my mind and I know most are lost but I think there is a tiny one of Ian somewhere. If I run into it I will put it here. I always wondered how his life turned out.