Dear Tukufu Zuberi,
I need a little help and I'm thinking that only you will understand.
See, I'm getting close to calling my remodeling project good. It's been a really long and awful year and this place? This place is a different place than it was last December. This place has been reclaimed. This place has been renamed. This place has been turned upside down, shaken, stirred, fluffed, and straightened.
And even though it doesn't mean anything to anyone but me, once the paint is dry and the carpet is down on the stairs, I will be performing a smudging ceremony. This goes down a lot easier with my hippie bon vivant than getting a priest in here for an exorcism. (Then again, having a priest in here might add a little nom to the larder.)
But Tukufu? I want to add a little something for the next people that live here. Or perhaps the next, next, next people that live here. Something that might not be discovered for a long time but would be neat to find when you're remodeling a house.
That's where your expertise comes into play. Out of all of the History Detectives, I think you and I would come up with similar ideas. Elyse? I think Elyse would stand in our house and be quietly judgemental. She would be all smiling and charming and in the back of her mind, she would be thinking "I'll bet they got those drapes at a two for one sale at Wal-Mart." Wes? Wes and his lisp would try to find something from the Civil War in my attic, all the while I'd be offering up feeble protests that really Wes? This house isn't THAT old. And Gwen? I would have to offer Gwen some calcium supplements and a glass of milk before I could even begin to listen to her theories on how a gang of drunken monkeys managed to build this house. I could snap Gwen like a twig (and I will if I'm ever forced to).
But you Tukufu? You would come into my house in your fabulous hat, with your gentleman's swagger and you would look me in the eye as I told you my story. When I wrapped it up, you would shake your head and say softly, "Maaaaaaaaan. That is screwed up!"
And then you would come up with some beautiful quote or great story and you would scribble it down on a sheet of paper and we would slip it under the carpet runner on the stairs.
Just a little note for posterity. Just a little wave from the past.