Back in 1970, my bedtime was 10 p.m. except for Monday nights, when I stayed up until 11 p.m. because of The Carol Burnett Show. My first fan letter (1974) was to Carol Burnett. Imagine my excitement at age 13 to receive a letter from Ms. Burnett a month later. Thank you for your cover story (PEOPLE, Nov. 24) on this special lady who has the rare talent to make people laugh and cry with equal intensity.
Jersey City, N.J.
Some years ago I worked with a girl named Chris. She had a sister who helped out, gladly, wherever and whenever. This sister, it seems, loved to help Chris. One day Chris told us her sister wanted to buy a house for Chris and her small family. “You pick out the location and the house and we’ll buy it for you,” the sister said. Jokingly I said to Chris, “You’ve got a great sister. What does she do that she can do all these things for you?” And Chris replied, “I thought you knew. Carol Burnett is my sister.” A class lady indeed.
Van Nuys, Calif.
The pictures excerpted from A Day in the Life of America are worth two thousand words, if not more. May the extraordinarily talented photographers who contributed to the best-seller continue to click—their cameras and with the book-buying public.
I am appalled that a book about America with 300 pictures could leave out Virginia, Arkansas, Delaware and Wisconsin. Are we not worthy of one picture? The book should be entitled “A Day in the Life of Part of America.”
Wisconsin Rapids, Wis.
Praise God for angels of mercy like Jim McCloskey. I hope your article inspires others to do what they can to help the unjustly imprisoned, no matter what country they live in.
Regina Spencer Sipple
Santa Ana, Calif.
I disagree with your readers’ views on the New Monkees. The three letters you printed were from people who were watching the Monkees 20 years ago, and they all hate the New Monkees. I am 12 years old and wasn’t around in 1966. I love the original Monkees and agree they can never be replaced, but I am pleased at the idea of having Monkees that are around my age. I don’t find their hairdos punk, I don’t find their clothes sloppy, and if they want to wear earrings, let them. We are not living in the ’60s anymore. This is the ’80s. So wake up and smell the coffee.
Kimberly Noel Bojanowski
I am appalled at the ignorance and callous scorn of the nonfarmers whose vicious comments are printed in spite of the fact they don’t know what they’re talking about. Farmers do not deserve your ridicule. They are decent, intelligent, kind-hearted people who believe honest labor is rewarded. It used to be. They have no union or medical benefits, retirement, sick pay, relocation, severance pay or tenure. American farming is going the tragic way of American steel, textile, automotive and oil industries. When we lose our farmers and are dependent on other countries for their cheaper grain and food, we can plan to be humiliated by standing in line for our food rations just like we did for our gasoline.
Sylvia Petersen Young
I grew up on a farm and, yes, there were some bad times. Maybe if all the farmers had the attitudes of readers William C. Birley and Pat Rohn and threw their hands up in disgust and quit, then Mr. Birley and Ms. Rohn would have to “eat” their words because that would be all they had!
West Palm Beach, Fla.