Open Letters Love Amy

Because the Internet is easier than buying stamps and I will just lose your zip code anyway.

Tag: childhood

An Open Letter To Amy

Dear Amy,


How, how, how, how, how?

You know that you were really into dolphins for all of elementary school. You loved them so much. It started when you were assigned your very first major project in first grade: the mammals poster. Since you were always very good at art as a child, you already had a good handle on complementary colors and went with blue block letters that you painstakingly cut out of construction paper and glue-sticked on to an orange background.

Of course you remember buying the paperback book version of the classic dolphin film. You read that thing constantly. It featured tons of photos from the movie and you always kept in handy in case you needed a dolphin fix.

So how is it that your high school self didn’t put it together that the weird looking guy playing Frodo was in Flipper. What else have you missed? I’m now starting to question all your memories – I mean, it took you a solid ten seconds to remember who Rider Strong was when a lunch companion brought him up in conversation.

Get it together.

Love, Amy


An Open Letter To My “The Sims Families”

Dear Old Sim Families,

What happened to you guys? I played with you so much between 7th and 10th grades. Did any of you ever make it to the top of your career track without using one of the cheats? Did any of you ever achieve all your aspirations (including the “be saved from death” one I was always too scared to use?

I hope you’ve all been okay since I abandoned you in 2004. I always tried to take good care of you. Most of you were single gals focused on your career and growing prize winning vegetables, happy to find love if there was a not too unfortunate looking guy in the park or at the library.

If that game says anything about the player’s secret hopes and dreams, I guess mine are pretty clear. Now all I need is a new apartment with a patio where I can put a tomato plant. You all know what a great one I’d have if I could build one for myself like I did for you.

Good luck to you all. I hope all your children are “overachievers” and your pets live long, playful lives.

Love, Amy

An Open Letter To The White House

Dear White House,

There was a time in my life when my favorite book was Meg Cabot’s All-American Girl was my favorite book and my favorite movie was My Date With the President’s Daughter, a Disney Channel movie starring Will Friedle of Boy Meets World. Basically, I was obsessed with the idea of living in you or dating someone who lived in you. I already had the movie version of All-American Girl planned out in my head: I would star opposite the cute guy with the shiny hair from Even Stevens (I am definitely NOT talking about Shia LeBeouf here, I mean the other guy) and if we happened to fall in love for reals while shooting, oh well. Hopefully you have gathered from the Disney Channel references that this was all going down between the ages of eleven and thirteen.

Despite this brief fantasy diversion, I was mostly interested in you. I thought it would be so fun to be the daughter of a president. Of course I now realize that my imagination had led me to believe that I would essentially be Lady Mary from Downton Abbey (a fabulous and clever woman who would constantly be set up with handsome men as marriage prospects and never have to go to school) which I am guessing is not actually how the presidents’ daughters live.

I love all those movies about the president (especially The American President what a great film) and was very excited to learn that there is now a book called The Obamas, which talks about their life in you so far. I cannot wait to read it, not because I care about whether Mrs. Obama and Rahm Emanuel really hated each other or not, but because I am fascinated by how things work inside you.

My initial two obsessions with you, stated above, were probably more about one of the decisions most eleven year old girls face: would it be more fun to be Princess Jasmine and shock everyone by dating Alladin, or to be Cinderella, and be whisked away from a common life into the arms of Prince Charming. I went back and forth, but in every dream, it wasn’t really a prince or a castle I was dealing with, it was you. I wanted to be able to live in the White House, but not do any of the political work. THAT stuff sounds like a nightmare.

Love, Amy

An Open Letter To The Piano Lessons I Didn’t Take As A Child

Dear Piano Lessons I Didn’t Take As A Child,

Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

If only I had begged my parents to let me take you I could have spent last weekend playing the keytar behind Kelly Clarkson on Saturday Night Live. Then I would have also been able to advise her against those bangs she had going on. Maybe in another life.

Love, Amy

An Open Letter To My Old Barbie Roller Skates

Dear Barbie Roller Skates,

Hey, guys.

These are the same ones, but not my pair.

Haven’t thought about you for a while, but I hope you are still comfortably resting somewhere in my mother’s garage. I still feel bad that I only used you a few times, but we both know that I was not the most coordinated child, so it’s probably for the best. If it makes you feel any better, I thought about you a lot growing up and imagined a world in which I rode you all the time and the whole neighborhood was ridiculously impressed with my skating skills. It’s just that in real life, I spent more time playing with actual Barbies and dressing up for Halloween as “Super Hero Barbie.” If I had been smart, I would have gone for the trifecta and been “Roller Skating Super Hero Barbie.” Now THAT would be a Halloween costume.

Love, Amy

P.S. I hope that your matching elbow and knee pads are still keeping you company.