Dear John

 My brother Tim and friend Mowry and I grew up at a time when people got to see many World War II movies. Many had a minor but important Dear John theme. Some wholesome nice guy would show his charming fiance's photograph around and talk about how they were planning to buy a farm in Wisconsin. Then, midway through the movie, just before a crucial battle, he'd get a Dear John letter. Once the battle started, the poor guy, driven mad by grief, would suddenly jump up and charge the enemy, shouting racist slogans, and a machine gun would cut him in half, ending his suffering.

This week my wife and I are selling our house and downsizing, packing stuff, and I came across a parody that Tim, Mowry and I wrote (or borrowed?) in the 1950s. We'd get three guitars going and sing:

Dear John, oh how I hate to write.
Dear John, I must let you know tonight
That my love for you has died away,
And now I love another.
Tonight I marry your father.
Signed: Mother.