Sing Judy Sing

{Ed. note: I was strolling yesterday afternoon when a little bird dropped the letter below at my feet. I can only guess that the bird was on its way from California to the East...and as a good faith gesture, hoping this message might find its intended recipient, I reprint it here in full.}


Dear Judith,

Autumn is upon us. The aspens here out west are quaking and turning in clusters. The hills along the Potomac, where you and I have both strolled, are alive with the sound of music. Songs are being sung that haven't been heard since...at least 1973.

Love, you've been through too much, don't laugh like a brook as it trips and falls. Come back to life, come back to reality. Embrace the freedom we both know you love.

Sing, baby, for god's sakes, Judy...sing!....it'll do your heart good, I guarantee it. (And make your book deal all the sweeter.)

hugs and kisses,
W. Mark Felt


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