The White House

Yesterday, I received a letter from the White House.  President Bush sent me a letter of condolence signed in real black ink.  I loved the return address on the envelope; The White House.  I wish my address could be so distinct:  Jennifer Silvera – The Gray Brick House.   

Actually, I remember the week before my father-in-law died, he told me the story of when he and my mother-in-law lived in Nassau, Bahamas during their first year of marriage.  He described the details with much shimmer in his eyes and great laughter in his strong, Jamaican voice.  He was a good story teller.  He told me about their home and explained that their address was simply “the little white house under the coconut tree”.  I loved that.  Who wouldn’t want to boast about living in a place so easily identifiable, that everyone in town knew exactly who you were not by street address or zip code, but simply by which house you occupied? 

The White House.  Today my husband received a letter of honor from The White House.  I think I will frame it and boast a little bit like my father-in-law who once lived underneath a coconut tree.

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