Category: Letter

Pleeeease!!! It’s St. PADDY’S Day, (as in Padraig) not St. PATTY’S Day
(as in Patricia). Or else, just call it St. Patrick’s Day.

I really enjoy reading Todd Smith’s article. His self-depricating humor is always fun.

I read Tom Bartel’s article “Discounting the Value of Work” (February). I would like to comment on it:
I have worked for over forty years in the baking trade, with a lot of six-day weeks and Sundays. I also worked twenty years as a part-time janitor for a church.

In the coming election, I hope we can elect some people who can work for the average guy and not for corporate white-collar people.

I agree with his article one-hundred percent. He tells it right!

I enjoyed my niece’s observations on “evangelicals” (“Do You Really Believe?” February) and attended the church she speaks of in Phillipsburg, Missouri. when I was her age. I don’t recall a fervor for a literal interpretation of the Bible particularly espoused, but I know many of the church members there did have those views. I did not hear anyone say that the farmers and wives attending the Presbyterian church across the unpaved road were definitely bound for the Lake of Eternal Fire—although again, it’s no doubt that some in the church felt that way. The belief in God, the proper view of His plan, and the correct way to worship Him, were of high importance to most of the community—so much so that a local church was divided over the picture of the church founder hanging in the auditorium. Half the church split away and built their own church, without any portraits of founders. One town had no less than four different kinds of Baptists. Despite the fractious appearance, however, the members of all these small rural Missouri churches were united in their certainty about one thing: Atheists like Alyssa (and me) were definitely going to Hell. Even a Catholic, a Mormon, or a Muslim had a better shot at the Pearly Gates than a godless heathen.

Me, I liked going to that church growing up, because of the friends and family that went there. The people there are warm, generous, and giving to a fault, and love me even though I don’t profess to love their God.
Keith Ford, Fort Mohave, AZ

Lowell Pickett might want to downplay the Dakota’s beginnings at Bandana Square (“Planet Pickett,” February), but for many of us the club’s move was the lamented end of a lovely era

And not just due to the loss of that family feeling, either.

The Bandana site was cozy and intimate, with nary a bad seat in the house. Such cannot be said of the new location. Sit in the balcony and you have to look over/through/around the annoying railing, and if you don’t choose your seat extremely carefully on the floor you’ll end up looking at the drummer’s back all night … by all means never sit by the brick wall!

While the A-train membership used to be a great deal, ever since the move it has become far more restrictive, with a disturbingly increasing number of less-than-A-list national artists excluded from the ticket advantages contained as a member perk.

I’m glad the move has solidified the club’s financial stability, but for my money more was lost than gained.

Last fall Erik Bergling made a pilgrimage to the jungles of Vietnam to visit the army base where his father served during the war. Needless to say, his devotion is admirable. But so, too, is his curiosity. This photo he sent us shows him across former enemy lines, where he took a moment to peruse The Rake while touring the Chu Chi Tunnels, the network of tiny subterranean arteries that played such an important (and frequently devastating) role in the Viet Cong’s strategy against U.S. troops.

I had to write and let you know how much I enjoyed Dylan Hicks’s short story in your December issue ["1984 Dodge Ram Roadtrek II – $4500"]. It was like reading a combination of S.J. Perelman and Steve Rushin. Thanks for making the holiday brighter!