Dear Kids,
         Dad had a great time at the BYU game yesterday, and he enjoyed the sunshine and good weather. I hope the rest of you had fun, too.  Thanks, Nora, for arranging things.  23 tickets!  That’s almost like the opera nights we used to have!
         While Dad was at the game, I drove down to Lehi to visit Jana McGettigan.  We always have a lot to talk about.  I went shopping at Walmart and JoAnne’s fabrics, too.   Since I hardly ever go anyplace by myself, it was a real novelty for me.  Normally I let Dad be the chauffeur, but it was fun to break out.   
         I was supposed to start immunotherapy this week, and I was all geared up for it, but on Wednesday I got a call from my doctor’s office.  The lab hadn’t sent them any information yet about my lung tissue. What!  People’s lives are at stake, and the lab diddles around?  Their analysis was supposed to be finished last Monday.  It’s not that I’m eager to have the treatment, because I might have nasty side effects–some people do. I just want to know how it’s going to be.  And I want my cancer stopped dead in its tracks.  So, I hope the lab hustles and finishes their work on my lung tissue.  If they’ve lost it, and I have to get another biopsy, I’ll really freak.
         I got another text from Mario Gonzales on Friday.  He said that Christine had died that morning.  I totally believe the gospel, and the plan of salvation, but it seems like too many people have died recently!   James’s dad.  Mrs. Marriotti.  I’m not afraid to die, and I know these people have gone to a wonderful place, but it sure is hard on their families!
         Well, let’s talk about something more pleasant.  Politics.  You all know that Dad and I really support President Trump, but I’ve learned it’s not always wise to say so.  You can lose friends.  One of my piano ladies said she’d never dare to go to a Trump rally because she might get beaten up, or have her property vandalized.   Maybe she’s right, but we have a guy here on our street who’s not afraid of anybody:  Bronson Butler, the body builder. He lifted a dirt tamper into Dad’s truck for us once, and it weighed hundreds of pounds.  He looks like an action figure on steroids.  But he’s really, really nice.  Anyway, he has a flagpole in his front yard now, maybe 20 feet high, with an American flag at the top, and a Trump flag underneath it.  Go, Bronson.  If we were all body builders, maybe we’d all have more courage.
         Hopin’ you’re all doing great!  Love, Mom