■ One of the side effects of being a published writer is fan mail. And the side effects of the letters vary with the contents therein, ranging from severe euphoria (Dear…Wayne, I think you are the funniest writer since Edgar Allen Poe. Love, Mom) to galloping depression (Dear…Wayne, My client laughed so hard at one of your stories he became sterile, so we are suing you for loss of progeny. Nothing personal, as I am a fan of yours, too. Affectionately, I. R. Leech, Attorney-at-Law). For the most part, however, my reactions are middle-of-the-road Valium.
One class of letters, though, continues to amaze and deliriate me. These are from the advice seekers: the lost, the confused, the bereft of brains. These I save, and over the years I must have…