Alfred Jarry, The Boy on the Green Bicycle, and My Father's Castles

REF: RALPH'S Top Pop Hits and Alfred Jarry

My Dear Lolita:

I was surprised to see that 3 of my pieces (from way back in the days when I used to write) made it on to Ralph's greatest hits list. I didn't even mind that for one of them you changed my name to Alfred Jarry. In fact I was honored, as I'm sure he would have been.

Yours in fun,

Douglas Cruickshank
People/salon.com

REF: My Father's Castles

Dear Sir/Madam:

Do these articles get proof read before being shown? It the above article was supposed to be in English I had problems understanding it and I am from England.

I do like reading your articles. They are interesting and informative, but that one would have definitely been more interesting if it had been proofread before posting.

Just thought you would like to know.

Diana Ashley
http://www.hcareers.com

REF: The Boy on the Green Bicycle

Dear Ralph:

I read your review of Ms. Diehl's book, The Boy on the Green Bicycle. I felt it important to give you a different view --- different than hers, and certainly different than the view of your sarcastic reviewer (have you no respect?)

I didn't have a wonderful brother who died when he was fourteen. Rather, I had a wonderful sister who lived.

When she was fourteen, I was nine. She was the only one in the family who talked to me. She made life worth living.

All my other brothers and sisters --- the ones who made my life so miserable --- somehow turned loving when they were with her. She was the center of the family. We all came to her with our problems. She was the only one who could talk to my father who --- in the custom of the time --- worked seven days a week, twelve hours a day. He never talked to the rest of us.

As I say, she didn't die in a tragic accident. Rather, she lived --- first going to college in the northeast, then moving to New York, to Greenwich Village, and getting involved with some of the famous artists of the time --- people like Rothko and Reinhart.

Later, she started to drink heavily, and even later --- after being seduced by her psychiatrist --- became addicted to Valium. Her psychiatrist's final gift was a fairly strong case of tardive dyskinesia, which made her move her head and smack her lips involuntarily.

She still drinks --- the best French wine --- so we don't call her any time after noon because she is so belligerent on the telephone (and brilliant with her cruel remarks).

The reason I go into this is that it seems to me that Ms. Diehl is still grieving over the wonderful brother who was killed by a terrible accident when he was so young and full of potentiality. It is a possibility that his tragic death might have caught him at his best --- and that he, like my sister, instead of growing into a wonderful man, might have had his spirit killed, killed tragically, by the life and circumstances that awaited him.

Cynthia Grant
cgg1989@aol.com