Regarding bizarre coincidences

Several weeks ago Allison and I decided we should write a letter of encouragement to Christopher Hitchens, who, you probably know, is currently dealing with Stage Four esophageal cancer. Being the schlub that I am, I would have typed it up on my laptop and just signed it at the bottom. Allison being Allison, she insisted that our letter should be handwritten on quality paper. (The letter was nothing special–just the usual stuff about being big fans, we’ve spoken to you on several occasions although you likely don’t remember us, we’re pulling for you, hope you beat this thing, etc.)

Also, back when the Hitch published his memoir Hitch-22, both Allison and I ordered a copy, and so we unintentionally ended up with two.  We had intended to see Hitch when he came to Atlanta for his book tour, but he had to cancel when he became ill. Anyway, since we had an “extra” copy of the book we decided, what the heck, let’s just package it up with the letter we’re sending, ask nicely if he’d mind signing it for us, and include a SASE with return postage. Worst case, Hitch has no time for us and we’re minus one book.

Lo and behold! A couple of weeks later, our book arrives in the mail, with a very sweet inscription from the Hitch.

Now, we haven’t really talked about this “publicly” because a) it might seem too much like celebrity-chasing, or fan-bragging and b) we did want to send the Hitch a heartfelt note.


We heard that Hitchens was being interviewed on 60 Minutes last night, so we tuned in.  During a segment where they mentioned he received a lot of fan mail, they showed him sitting on a window sill tearing open a letter.  When the camera zoomed in, we were stunned to see some very familiar handwriting.  Hitch was reading our letter on national TV!  Allison being Allison, she had saved a scan of the letter for our records, so we were able to pull it up on the computer and compare it to the screen cap above.

Anyway, it was too good a coincidence to pass on telling you about it.  And as they say down South, we’re tickled to death.

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