Money for nothing

The handwriting on the front of the envelope looks like that of an older woman, similar to the penmanship of the Jehovah’s Witness in Atlanta who sends me letters, which never go unread, about saving my soul. I don’t know her personally; she must have found me in some database of infidels to which the JWs have access, because she uses my true first name, which is not Randy and only appears on official forms of identification.

But this mail comes from an Ohio town I don’t recognize. To the envelope’s upper left corner is affixed one of those personalized return-address stickers, the kind often sent to people by charitable organizations in hopes of a donation. The sticker names as senders a man and wife couple. I don’t recognize either of their names.

Inside the envelope is a check for $5.

Nothing else.

The check is signed by apparently the woman half of the couple, and in the notation area of the check – on the “for” line – she writes: “Holla.”

I search my emails for their names, and for “Holla” (Is it some minor product I ordered and have been refunded for? Or does she mean “give me a holla”? Or maybe “hola,” as in “hello”?). No results.

Googling turns up a feature story about the couple in the city newspaper nearest to their town. The story dates from 2014 and mainly describes their lavish garden. Elderly, retired – former grade-school educators, both.

Five dollars. Holla. The internet belches forth a quote from the 1987 movie “Full Metal Jacket” in which a Vietnamese sex worker tells a pair of soldiers, “Five dollah make you hollah.”

Probably not the reference.

A mystery! Well, any excuse to compose a handwritten letter is enough for me. Here it comes, Ohio.