Sugar Fox

Little sweetheart, as I work as diligently and as best I can every day on the book, my desk is filled with open note books, scraps of paper, post-it’s, and scribbled notes reminding me of something I need to make sure to get down.

Aside from having the most unintelligible scrawl, impossible to decipher (excepting for you, so proudly an expert and discerning and reading my handwriting, the chief translator of my words to anyone listening), I don’t anyone could piece this thing together the way I have its contents laying abut everywhere. Part of my prayer every day for you, for us, is that, if possible, let me finish all I’m meant to do before I go (and gratefully join you) because no one else could make head or tail of this, I’m afraid.

One little note here, meant for inclusion in the chart about our time in Boston when you were doing the production of Rock n Roll up there, is Jack Willis overhearing you talking on the phone and explaining to someone how to spell Serafin.

I’d heard it many times but it was his inaugural one.

“Serafin”, you would say. “S’ as in ‘sugar’; ‘F’ as in fox”.

Shaking his head after you hung up, he smiled and said, “Sugar Fox. Of course. Of course…”

Damn straight, my gorgeous girl. Sugar fox, indeed. Love you forever.