On Your Shoulders
By Virginia Bryant, VOICE vendor
Dear Von Miller,
This is probably one of your many fan letters. I do so admire your work with children and your acclaim to excellence. Your glasses give off such an intellectual air. I love the fact that you have a chicken farm in Texas — that really puts you in a category of non-conformists in my eyes. Have you read “Originals; How Non-Conformists Move the World” by Adam Grant? It’s an excellent book.
You certainly move my world because I am using your broad shoulders to lean on. You see, I’ve lost my big brother. I think he’s still alive, but he seems to have developed a shyness due to the extravaganza of my life. I think I make him nervous or something. I can only imagine because he uses very few words when I do hear from him and they are not encouraging to our relationship. He seems to live on the fringe of reality, in some kind of ivory tower. Maybe he thinks he’s getting old — he’s only 71 right now. A spring chicken like me.
Do you have another farm for spring chickens? I’m not looking for a rooster myself; however, I’m now entertaining the thought of a rooster farm. Aw, geez, maybe I’ll get a little sentimental and name them after some poor boys in my checkered past.
I do get scared sometimes. It’d just be nice to have someone say to me during those times, “You’ll be okay. You’re going to make it through this. Look how far you’ve come already.” Doesn’t everyone need reassurance? Do you need reassurance? I know life can be hard for everyone.
I am a homeless female veteran getting so much rejection in my search for housing. You know, being homeless is being invisible. So many people don’t much care. It’s like being thrown under the bus. It’s been really confusing being here. Maybe I’m a ghost and I don’t know it yet? Maybe all us homeless congregate in our finest ghostly garments and hover over this city at a great feeding station in Denver’s Sky.
I’m not asking for money. Just your broad shoulders for emotional support. Homelessness is a big thing to tackle and you inspire me by the way you tackle those quarterbacks.
So I’m cheering you on from this little corner of shelter I live in. I’m pretty shameless, aren’t I?
I must go now. My tombstone is calling.
Alley Oop There, Von!
P.S. Well, if you insist, sure I’ll take your dough and anybody else’s. They know where to find me at the Denver Voice.
A Letter To Cyrano de Bergerac
By Brian Augustine, VOICE vendor
his is a letter to a character in the first play that I read, “Cyrano de Bergerac,” written in 1897 by Edmond Rostand.
Dear Cyrano de Bergerac,
I’m writing to tell you how much things have changed in the 150 years since your time. First, men have finally realized that women are equal to men. Women work the same jobs as men, even though we are still working on giving them the same wages.
We live longer now, but our lives move faster. Fewer young men die in wars now, but more die in senseless acts of violence and car crashes. It seems the faster we move, the faster we find ways to die and kill.
Everyone wants to be famous so they can leave their mark on the world. One problem with that: the more famous people we have, the more temporary that mark becomes.
Though you had many problems in your lifetime that we have solved, we have new problems that replace them. The good and bad news is that men and women have not changed all that much when it comes to love. We all still want true love.
There are still men and women afraid to commit to true love. Some because of their parents and some because of their relationships. Others because they think there might be someone better out there.
I was once like that. I don’t know how many women I’ve hurt. I now realize how utterly dumb I was. Now that I’ve smartened up, now that I like myself, I can’t seem to find love. Most women around my age have been hurt so much that they are afraid to be intimate with a guy.
I write to you because we are both wordsmiths. But, more than that, we are both wordsmiths of love. What we can’t say to the women we love we can write in the most beautiful way.
Even though our times many be different, men and women haven’t changed so much. I doubt we ever will. But thank you for helping me work things out. You give me hope.
Your kindred soul,