Dear Lyle Lovett,

Please be my pen pal.

I attended your concert in Grand Rapids, Michigan last Sunday evening and I must tell you that I believe the sun, moon, and stars are at your beck and call. After the musical magic you performed to the crowd that heavily humid evening, I would be hard-pressed to believe anything less.

Before you decide yes or no to my proposal there are a few things about which I need to come clean.

I am not a musician.  I learned piano at a young age but dropped it at only a slightly older young age. I played saxophone for seven years and dabbled in first chair a few times, but my aspirations did not lend me towards the consistent practice hours necessary to maintain the lofty honor. There were always musicians in my class more attuned to the harmonious ear and I, though perfect in embouchure, was content to step aside and allow their race to be run without me.

I have not been your number one fan. I knew none of your songs when I attended your concert. The tickets had been a gift from my boss and though I knew of you, I cannot truthfully say I was acquainted with your particular sound. Did all of that change as soon as you opened your mouth and spoke a word? Absolutely. Yet, I feel the need to display all my truths on the proverbial table so that you can judge me fairly.

I have no personal fame with which to balance your own. I am a teacher. While I am well known in the classroom, the halls, and the teacher lounge, I am anonymous beyond the walls of my school. I have no advanced skill in any area of life that lends me to glory or even mild recognition. You would be writing to a very ordinary woman of meager talent.

All that being stated, I am a decent sailor, a better equestrian rider, and an efficient packer for trans-Atlantic flights. I have some aptitude for a good read-aloud voice and my cooking has never made anyone sick. I scuba, ski, and hike with moderate skill.

If you agree to my proposal our letters will cover a wide range of topics. While I excel in no area, I have attempted to in many and have a multitude of stories to tell about my personal experience of the old adage, jack of all trades but master of none.

Lyle, in summation, all I can offer you is the friendship of a twenty-five year old Midwestern woman who is mediocre in all ways.

Do you accept?

Check yes or no.


Yours Sincerely,

Rebekah Wiliamson

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