Gary N. Skorheim


Mom wrote letters to her friends,
Three cents was the stamp.
Dipped metal pen point.
Just town and state. No zip code.

Most within our North Dakota;
A few to brother in St. Paul.
Now and then to Percy in the Navy.
Lots of letters to the farm.

Writing meant you cared.
There was time to write.

Sometimes Mom was scared.

Lots to me in pilot training.

Dad would type his letters;
Working at the depot, when away,

'Had to type for railroad things,

When not using the telegraph.

Getting letters from old school friends
Always was a comfort.
Writing back was easy.
Life was slower then.

Letters from Marylu away at college
Were the best mail of all.
We wrote cherished things to each other
It was a joy just writing back.

Not so many letters now.
Most friends using e-mail.
Remembering is often from a letter;
That's what made it harder to forget her.