HOW MUCH MONEY something is worth depends largely on how much money you have.
At four hundred and ninety-five dollars and ninety-five cents plus insurance and shipping for a ghost camera, Uncle Milton might as well have been offering to sell an authentic orbiting space satellite. There was no way I could ever buy it. But since I already had a camera that seemed to possess some of the same characteristics as his camera, I wondered if a letter to Uncle Milton asking about his experience with such matters might be in order.
I skipped my next round of pain pills in order to compose a letter that struck just the right tone.
Perhaps, I thought, if I also enclose an unusual item as a gift, he'll be more inclined to cooperate.
But what?
A board from a tumbledown building in Paisley?
Who'd want it?
A baby pumpkin?
Not very hard to find.
My talisman! Definitely one of a kind, and just the sort of half-art, half-magic item that Uncle Milton seemed to delight in.
Surely Chief Leopard Frog would understand.
According to the fine print at the bottom of the inside front cover, Uncle Milton's Thousand Things You Thought You'd Never Find is not an American publication but is, in fact, the product of an enterprise headquartered in the Cayman Islands.
Off the top of my head I was unable to picture just where the Cayman Islands might be, but I sensed that it was a far cry from Paisley, Kansas—or Davenport, Iowa, for that matter.
Perhaps if I weren't being homeschooled, I would know. But maybe not, for as I recall, geography is a delicate subject for public school Kansans, who if they learn too many facts about the world might be tempted to leave.
Uncle Milton's Thousand Things You Thought You'd Never Find was edited by Milton A. Swartzman, Jr., who gave as his address P.O. Box 1991 GT, Grand Cayman, the Cayman Islands. There was no Zip Code or even a hint of what country might be involved in overseeing Mr. Swartzman's activities.
Apparently in his search for things you'd never expect to find, he was as free as a bird.
Dear Mr. Swartzman, I began.
I am a great admirer of your catalog of useful and unusual objects. It must have taken you a long time to assemble such a magnificent collection. As a token of my esteem, I enclose a hand-carved talisman from an authentic though admittedly imaginary Kansas Indian chief. It is reputed to bring luck to the bearer, and as I lie here in my nest of quilts with my broken collarbone and swollen leg and the back of my head lumped out like a Colorado boulder, I can certainly attest to its powers. It was my own medical doctor, a man named Dr. Appletree, who told me how lucky I was. Imagine how things might have turned out if I hadn't possessed the talisman!
And yet, I offer it to you in exchange for information.
Specifically, I refer to the ghost camera that you advertise on page thirty-two of your most recent catalog, just opposite the grandstand whoopee cushion. I think I may possess a camera with similar features. I was hoping that you could explain how yours works and if you have sold many of them over the years and what your customers report about them.
Any information you can provide would be appreciated. Please note that I am a homeschooled, housebound Kansas teenager, many miles from the nearest living soul except my mother and becoming increasingly desperate about my plight. Thus, I must depend upon the kindness of people of achievement such as yourself in order to learn anything at all.
Thank you for your kind consideration.
Sincerely,
Spencer Adams Honesty
General Delivery
Paisley, Kansas 66085
P.S. If you don't want the talisman, feel free to send it back.
SAH
That night, instead of lying around my room, I hobbled into the kitchen and had dinner with my mother. While waiting for the entrée to be served, I took a close-up photo of a black-eyed pea.
A fortnight passed without incident. The pumpkins grew in size, variety, and number, as did the spiders that had appointed themselves to guard them.
One day, a letter arrived, not typically a noteworthy event at a post office, but this letter bore a stamp with a painting of a menacing-looking bearded pirate dressed in boots, pirate hat, leather breeches, and a gold-buttoned coat. In his right hand he was holding aloft a scimitar, raised toward a symbol of a crown and the official mark of the queen of England. In his left hand he pointed a blunderbuss toward the words CAYMAN ISLANDS.
In the background of this scene, a complex and colorful painting no bigger than a single exposure on a roll of film, two tough-looking brigands appeared to be burying (or digging up) a pirate chest, while near the horizon a pirate ship lay at anchor, above which was the designation 10c. Most surprising of all, the stamp was affixed to a letter addressed to me.
It's from Uncle Milton! I thought immediately.