Dear Hank Williams Read Online Free PDF Page A

come in the house. He follows me to the door, then takes off. Some little kids are afraid of old people. I guess he’s one of them. Every time I gobble down those cookies, I think, Frog doesn’t know what he’s missing.
    You can bet Verbia Calhoon will enter the talent contest too, which means I’ve got to practice a lot. It’s hard to beat a girl with perfect golden curls and big blue eyes. When she sings, people fall under a spell and get the false impression that she sings good. They are getting curls mixed up with singing on pitch. If Verbia sang on the radio, people would be turning the dial even if it meant they had to listen to static. And she would never, ever—not in a zillion years—be asked to sing on the Louisiana Hayride .
    I’ll be listening to your voice Saturday night. Maybe one day I’ll sing good enough to be on the show with you. Won’t that beat all?
    Until then, I’ll be singing for Frog at the magnolia tree.
    Practicing to perfection,
    Tate P.

    PS—When Aunt Patty Cake saw me writing you, she asked, “Do you know how much stamps cost these days?” I don’t think three cents is that much when it comes to friendship.

 
    September 23, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    Y OU HAVE A NEW FAN ! When you sang “Lovesick Blues” the other night, Uncle Jolly dug out his handkerchief and blew his nose real hard before announcing, “That’s the best dern song I ever did hear.”
    You might have gathered Uncle Jolly’s girlfriend, Dolores, broke up with him last week. I didn’t particularly care for her anyway. I don’t know what Uncle Jolly saw in her. She was always telling him that he should do a hundred sit-ups every morning to get rid of his belly. Uncle Jolly can find someone better than her.
    Back to that song—whoo-eee! That was something how you yodeled and sounded like you had a big ole sob in your throat waiting to come out. I wanted to learn that song, but there was so much whooping and hollering and clapping, I couldn’t hear all the words.
    I’ve got to run because Aunt Patty Cake and I need to make some Delightfully Devine calls. She wants to win the contest they’re having for the person who sells the most containers, by May 1, of their new face powder, Dream Dust. The winner of the Delightfully Devine Dream Dust Derby gets a weeklong trip to New York City!
    Truth be told, Aunt Patty Cake doesn’t seem like the type of person who’d want to go to New York City, but she is wearing out the tires on her car making her rounds. When the sample product came in last week, she took the soft pink pouf that comes with it and patted my face. Some of the dust flew up my nose, and I had a sneezing fit. “You need to hold your breath,” Aunt Patty Cake said. Swear to sweet Sally, the things I do for this job!
    Afterward I walked outside for some fresh air. Frog was sitting on the front porch swing. He was wearing those awful boots again. He took a glimpse of me, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Then he dashed off running. “You look like a ghost!” he yelled. I waited until he ducked behind the magnolia tree. Then I tiptoed over and hid, squatting on the other side of the trunk. After a while, he carefully peered around.
    â€œBoo!” I shouted.
    Boy, Frog sure can run!
    Waiting by the radio,
    Tate P.

    PS—Please sing “Lovesick Blues” again. And again and again.

 
    September 27, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    C ONSTANCE W ASHINGTON came over today to place a Delightfully Devine order for the Pine Bend folk. She drives to our house every few weeks so Aunt Patty Cake can write up the orders Constance has gathered. I asked Aunt Patty Cake if she wanted me to model the new products for Constance, but she only said, “No.” I don’t understand why, when she makes like my cosmetic modeling is such an important part of her business.
    Constance has pretty