Bridgeport, December 13th.
Dearest Rob,
How are you? Are your jailors still treating you fairly? I hope you are doing fine, and get enough to eat. Please tell me some more about how you are actually doing - you know your Mother has a neck of worrying about you!
Back here in Bridgeport, things are getting on as normal. The winter has finally set in with some frost, but we still haven't gotten any snow. I do hope we will get some for Christmas at least. But that is still nearly two weeks away. I am looking forward to it, although another Christmas without you is not what I had hoped for. But as long as you are relatively safe, I can acquiesce in that.
Do you remember Mrs Simmons, your fifth grade teacher? I met her the other day, and we got talking. Of course I told her about your current situation, and how it's your job to keep several hundred men from going insane with boredom. Ever the teacher, she came up with an interesting idea: she is going to start a story writing contest in her school (your old school), with the children making up stories about your life in a prison camp behind enemy lines. And she would like you and your men to be the judges and everything - to help you keep them occupied!
So what she proposes is, that you assign some men to help tabulate the nominations and votes, and that others could make nice awards for the winners. And some others could write a letter to every student who wins something. And I will try to gather a little committee to help Mrs Simmons organize everything.
What do you think? She seems really excited about the project, so I hope you won't let me down! Let me know as soon as you can.
My love as always,
Your Mum.
Author's note: Yes, it's that time of year again. The Papa Bear Awards are approaching, and help is needed! See Forum XIII for further details!
Link: www. fanfiction dot net / topic/20365/144296965/
(take out the spaces and translate to internet speak)
