We were sitting in my parents' living room chatting about country music — Merle, Willie, Waylon, pretty much all the boys — when my dad asked his sister if she had found Merle's address.
Yes, I sure did, she assured him.
Did you send Merle a card, my dad asked.
I did, she told him. A get well card.
"Merle?" I asked. "Merle... Haggard? You sent him a card?"
I was confused. Did we suddenly switch topics to a sick family member? Or were we still talking about country music singers?
"Yes," my aunt said. "Merle Haggard. He's very sick. He has cancer. He's truly in a fight for his life."
"What did the card say, Wanda?" my dad wanted to know.
"It said: 'Get well soon. A friend in Indiana.'"
I started to laugh at how casually they were referring to "Merle." As though it make all the sense in the world that my aunt would send him a get well card, like he was an ill relative.
"If you had Merle's address you'd want to send him a get well soon card too, wouldn't you Gina?" my aunt asked me. "I'll send you his address, hon — let him know he has a friend in Ohio too."
I reckon I'll be sending out a card soon.
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