Boxers Read online

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  January 1, 1995

  Resolutions

  1. Save more.

  2. Meditate.

  3. Hang in there.

  January 2, 1995

  Scrapple,

  Thanks for your one dollar contribution to the “Buy The Bookstore” fund. “Your gift will help build us a better tomorrow!”

  June 30, 1995

  Semi-Annual Bookstore Fund Report:

  Contributions This Year: $601

  Balance: $1,801

  August 8, 1995

  Dear Scrap,

  My aching back and breaking budget say, “No more dawgs!”

  Paw

  October 3, 1995

  Ms. Charlotte Mancini

  President

  Lincoln Square PTA

  Madame President:

  Though I’ve got no dough for your pie sales–haw (pun intended), maybe I could be a crossing guard? I’m hard-wired into that “Catcher In The Rye” thing, sometimes I literally dream about saving young’uns from harm. Sound good?

  Sincerely,

  H. Hirsch, Kindergarten Dad

  November 23, 1995

  Dear Rexer,

  This is your Toy Oat, talking to you from the auto graveyard. We all had some great times together, didn’t we, boy? The beach, the bookstore, that time when my brakes failed and we rolled into the park? Don’t worry about me, I’m gonna be re-in-CAR-nated when they melt me down, and I’ll see you again–possibly when you get your first car! Meanwhile, your dad and you are sure gonna get strong legs from walking everywhere!

  Love always,

  Toy Oat, A Car Ola

  December 27, 2005

  Dear Bookstore Fund:

  I.O.U. $100 (for household repairs The Dark Lord won’t make).

  January 15, 1996

  Ms. Charlotte Mancini

  President

  Lincoln Square PTA

  Madame President:

  I must regretfully submit my resignation as crossing guard at the north crosswalk of Lincoln Square Elem due to the difficulty of making the trek on foot every day, not to mention a pressing need to find more remunerative work (and fast). May I say in parting, all those SUV’s are more dangerous than most cars because of their size and blind spots, and by “blind spots” I am definitely in–cluding the lack of common sense and courtesy on the part of the stuck-up parents driving them.

  Sincerely,

  H. Hirsch

  February 15, 1996

  Dear Rex,

  Lemme splain somethin’ to ya: kids don’t marry their ants!!! Although, believe me, I know as well as you how soft and un-hairy and nice smelling Ant Bon Bon is–and yes, her Valentine’s cookies are the best. Anyways, that’s life, mon ami.

  Dad

  March 2, 1996

  Dear Ms. Nichols:

  Sure, the kid knows a straight left from a right cross–but that’s about as far as it goes! Serially, I’ll talk to the tyke.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Hirsch

  March 13, 1996: A Note Under The Pillow

  Dear Rexer,

  Naw, this ain’t a gold coin, it’s your dad’s Golden Gloves medal. I swiped it from his dresser, cuz I knew he wouldn’t mind. Just remember his credo: you only fight in self-defense. That’s what we do here in Toothland when tooth decay strikes!

  Yours sincerely,

  T. Fairy

  June 2, 1996

  Dear Ms. Nichols:

  Thanks for all you’ve done for The Silent One these nine looong months of k-garten, and don’t feel bad: some folks never speak unless they got something to say (Mister Ed!). Besides, it all comes out in his painting, which reminds me–I’ve got some great, non-toxic paint remover for those trippy pics he drew on your desk.

  With kindest regards,

  H. Hirsch

  June 8, 1996: A Note On The Pillow

  Beautiful Boy,

  As you go through life, it may serve you well to remember that a man’s 50th birthday ain’t the best of times for your same old, “man, you’re old!” chortle–but I’m really sorry I yelled at you.

  Pop

  June 15, 1996

  You’re wrong, son, I ain’t nearly the greatest dad in the galixy (or even the world)–but I love you always.

  September 6, 1996: Lunchbox Note

  Hello, Rex, you ol’ pup! If you’re reading this note, I guess the first morning of FIRST GRADE didn’t kill you! I hope this lunch won’t, either! Haw!

  Love ya,

  Pop.

  September 7, 1996: Lunchbox Note

  You win, Scrap, surprise: Twinkie! Don’t get used to it, tho’, it’s a special occasion, and if you think I’m buying Lunchables for you, then you don’t know Mr. Hammerhead Hirsch.

  September 8, 1996: Lunchbox Note

  Scrapple! Ha! It’s me, Lenny B.! Slurp! Your dad said he’s too busy to give you lunchbox notes every day, but that’s alright, cuz I can write, too! And don’t forget to save any leftover veggie dog for me! Sluuuuurrpp!

  September 15, 1996: Note Under The Pillow

  Dear Scrap: some kids get moldy old bills for their teeth, but you, lucky one, get this bright shiny quarter! Lookit, your dad thinks I’m cheap, but he knows I love you, mucho! Which is why he don’t whack me with a flyswatter, cha!

  Da Toot Fairy.

  October 3, 1996

  Dear Ms. Meyerson,

  I want to assure you, Mighty Mouse ain’t learned nothing about starting fights in our place–but you see, he thought those kids were dissin’ our religion when they made fun of his “holy pants.”

  Peace out,

  Hirsch

  The North Pole

  December 18, 1996

  Dear Scrapple,

  I wish I could, but I can’t get you a brother for Christmas. Or a sister either, before you ask.

  Love,

  Santa

  The North Pole

  December 20, 1996

  Dear Scrapple:

  I can’t get you a mom.

  Santa

  January 3, 1997

  Dear Bookstore Fund,

  I.O.U. seven hundred bucks.

  February 7, 1997

  Dear Saffron,

  Forgive me for referring to you as “Saffron” in the salutation, but I was afraid you’d think I was being snide if I called you “Eileen.” Also forgive me for “tracking you down,” that was not my intention; and please forgive me for bringing you that artwork from our son, it wasn’t meant as a “dirty trick” to get you back in my life. Please forgive me as well for enclosing these additional pictures of him, for I know you’ll want them in years to come. Forgive me everything.

  H

  April 29, 1997

  Dig it, Scrap, our “father-son rap” at The Fuse went so well, Uncle Morrie D. typed it up for us:

  Head: In and out of weeks

  Scrap: Wild thing, wild thing

  H: With an eagle beak

  S: We’re the wild thing

  H: Little slow to speak

  S: Wild thing! Wild thing!

  H: But he finds and seeks

  S: Uh huh, uh huh

  H: Got a wild soul

  S: Wild thing! Wild thing!

  H: Eats a jelly roll

  S: Jam it up! Ham it up!

  H: Loves to fingerpaint, he can rhyme with ease, finds the time to please his old man–

  S: Garbage can!

  H: Len–ny–

  S: Loves me!

  H: How-ie–

  S: Gotta pee!

  Cool, huh? Of course, he couldn’t type your “ah-oooo!” howling to the Wild Thing music, that would’ve taken at least three pages!

  June 6, 1997: Lunchbox Note

  Save this scrap o’ paper, Scrap, I’m gonna make a scrapbook out of the 175 lunch box notes of your first year of “big kids’ class” and put `em in a sc
rapbook–a Scrap-ple book, haw! See ya later for that walk to the beach!

  Paw.

  June 23, 1997

  Dear Toys R Us,

  I enclose a prototype of LunchBox Notes, the perfect solution for busy parents too rushed to write notes for their kids’ lunchboxes. Kids love getting notes from their folks, and I’m sure you will find this an ideal impulse item to place near your registers. I look forward to your response and a cordial discussion of financial terms.

  Yours sincerely,

  Hillel Hirsch

  July 8, 1997

  Rexer,

  If Robert, that new guy renting the garage, gives you a check for his share of the rent, call me at the bookstore, pronto. And if The Lord comes by for his check and sees Robert, remember: he doesn’t live here.

  Dad

  P.S. Pick your damn stuff off the floor for once.

  August 18, 1997: A Note On The Pillow

  Scrap, when you overheard me tell Robert you’re my “ol’ ball and chain,” I just meant you’re fun–like balls and bats! And why you listenin’ in on people?

  Love,

  Your Ball N Chain

  October 5, 1997: Lunchbox Note

  Hey second-grader, it’s the long-awaited sequel, “Return Of The Lunchbox Notes”! Waaassup?

  October 30, 1997: Lunchbox Note

  Hello, kiddo. Just a note to say, “Hello, kiddo.” Hey, remember to bring your leftovers home! My dad would’ve killed me for throwing food away, but a’course, he grew up in the Depression, when kids knew the value of money.

  Dad

  November 18, 1997: Lunchbox Note

  Howdy, pupster, how ya doin’? Hey, remember when you used to get lunchbox notes every day, and you used to make fun of me, like, “Hey, pop, ain’t you got nothing better to do?” That was lame, huh?

  November 27, 1997: Note on Scrapple’s Desk

  Scrapple, when I told Ant Erica, or just “Erica” if you’re