Letters From After, Day 6

Photo 23081181 / Camp © Canettistock | Dreamstime.com

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Dear Bunky,

How does this happen? Another remarkable meal from the camp chef. Remember the beef strogonoff we had at that diner in Northport? This was almost as good.

Every day here is pretty much the same. A few hours in class being taught the glories of the Party and its plans to take care of everything, a little exercise, and decent meals. For prisoners, we’re treated better than you might expect.

Let me give you an example – one guy just ups and starts screaming in the middle of our walk today, you know, can’t take it anymore, this is supposed to be America, that sort of thing. In the movies, he’d probably get manhandled and beaten, you know, the old “Silence! I keel you!” but one of the docs just walked over, put an arm around his shoulder, and walked him away.

Please don’t think I’m suddenly OK with being taken from home and dropped into a Soviet-style re-education camp. I’m just adjusting to the fact that this is what The Powers That Be see as necessary to maintain order for the common good. They’re not evil, we just disagree. Maybe we’d do the same if the roles were reversed.

Usually this is where you probably start worrying about me, I suppose. Or maybe you’ve been worrying all along. I appreciate that, but really, I’m OK. I’m your same old buddy, just ruminating a little.

So that’s the news from Lake Wherever-This-Is. Same old, same old, right down the line.

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