[MOL] Questions [02244] Medicine On Line

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[MOL] Questions

Dear Molers,

Hi.  I wanted to ask you guys something.  I wrote a letter today to an old
friend.  I guess not a friend anymore.  We grew up in the same town on Long
Island.  His sister and my sister were best friends until my sister died in
a car accident in 1974.  She was 21.
I knew his parents; they knew my parents.  Anyway, for a time I hung out
with him and his brother.  They had a wonderful big old house, full of odd
shaped rooms at closets; it was like a victorian novel, only written in
The father's sister had married a famous painter--they lived out on Long
Island, in East Hampton.  He had, and has, pictures in the Modern Museum in
NYC, etc.  My friend wanted to be a painter.  His aunt, of course, tried to
bring him out to the Hamptons to hang out.  My impression was that this
painter was neither talkative nor
My husband and I have lived in this area for about 10 years.  I guess about
5 years ago, my dad got a call from someone in the family that my friend
Clay's dad had a heart attack, but was OK and home.  So I drove out to my
old home town to see him, talk over old times give him a hug and wish him
well.  Of course, he told me about the boys and how Clay was living about 30
miles north of where I had been living.  I called; he never called back and
I never pursued it.
Now since we moved, Clay and his wife are living, maybe 5 miles down the
road.  I called up and said hi.  I haven't heard from him for about a month.
So I wrote this letter.
In the letter I told him, how he sounded so swollen up with himself over the
phone that I couldn't believe it.  I said how my family all regarded his
family as a nice family, but we always felt there was something missing in
the kids, which was hearts.  Finally, for my big finish--Clay had a show at
a local library.  I wrote that from the pictures in the local paper about
his show, from which, admittedly, one might not be able to tell too much, he
really stunk it up.
My question is why do I do these things?  My husband always tells me I talk
too much, but since I have cancer; it seems I'm worse than ever.  I never
want to shut up.  I always want to tell everyone just what I think, good or
bad, if they've hurt me or made me feel good, but always what I truly feel,
honestly in my heart.

What do you think?



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