Note: The following came from my father’s Post Scripts column on August 15, 1963, and concerned one of my classmates for a time, Joycelyn Hook.

Not long after I come to Gallatin, perhaps two or three years later, a little girl walked into the office and asked to see the editor. I went to the counter, leaned over and peered down at a winsome little girl, neatly dressed, who held a piece of paper in her hand.

“This is for you, if you are the editor,” she said, and thrust an envelope into my hand. I could see at a glance this letter was different from most. It had been constructed of Big Chief tablet paper and the stamp had been drawn on with a blue crayon. The cancellation marks applied with a black marker.

The return address was written legibly but not in the hand of anyone who had mastered the art of penmanship. I immediately guessed who had prepared this special letter. I said to the little girl, “You made this nice letter just for me?”

“Yes, I did,” she replied, “because it is very important.”

So I immediately opened the letter as carefully as I could and she stood by as I read its contents:

The Letter

“Dear Mr. Snyder:

“My daddy is pastor of the Assembly of God church. Yo have been putting our name in the paper wrong. You have been putting Bray, and it is T.W. Hook. Thanks a lot.”  Joycelyn Hook

The little girl spoke again. “Do you think you can straighten this out?” I quickly told her, with a pat on her head, the correction would be made in the next issue. I believe that was the only time I ever saw Joycelyn. But I noted her name in the school news from time to time. Eventually the family left Gallatin for another pastorate.

But I didn’t forget her. The letter she had so carefully prepared went into my scrapbook, along with treasured letters and clippings from other friends and events.

A Very Sad News Story

So it was with genuine sadness this newspaper reported Joycelyn’s death a few days ago. The little girl, now a young lady of 17, was killed in an auto accident near Kansas City while returning from a church camp. It was with remorse that I pasted that clipping from The  Kansas City Star into my scrapbook alongside her little letter to the editor that had been so sincerely and thoughtfully prepared.

I don’t believe I will forget Joycelyn.