That’ll Be The Day

August 16th, 1958

Dear Mr. Buddy Holly,

       I hope you like my penmanship. I’m not like all the other girls.

       I’m sorry if there is juice on this paper and the ink has smeared; it’s because I’m eating an orange. Rather carelessly, I suppose- though oranges can be messy, which is no fault of mine. It is very late at night- early in the morning- and everyone else has gone to bed. I have no perfume to scent this letter by but I am sending along a lock of my hair. I’ve dimmed the lights, and I am listening to your records quietly. I’m not sure how big one “lock” is supposed to be, so I’m estimating. I’ve tied it with a red ribbon, which is easily my favourite colour. I listen to your records every day. I know how to play guitar.

       I love you so much... Are you pleased to hear this? I often wonder of you, and how very difficult it must be, to cope with such magnanimous celebrity and reverence at such a young age. I would be blithened, exultant and enchanted if you would write me of some of your sorrows; because, I will understand. My Mother died tragically two years ago... so I know.

       Many young people here in England- such as myself, my brother, and many of our friends, are learning to play rock and roll music and are doing so for the most part thanks to YOU and your songs, which I personally find absolutely scintillating. My brother, in fact, has formed a rock group, which are called “The Scavengers.” This very crazy summer, which is still happening today (it’s August), they’ve made a record, and the A-Side is your song- “That’ll Be The Day”! I must say I prefer your version to theirs...

       Billy here is my BEST FRIEND. He is in the band. He is a very silly lad but draws hilarious comics and I’m quite certain he and I must have known each other in one or more past lives; our affiliation has been marvellous and highly intellectually stimulating since the first moment we met, which, incidentally was in our favourite park, and I wasn’t wearing my glasses (I wear them too)- so I thought he was you! Just for a moment. What a dream that would have been... He wears glasses too. HOWEVER: I would not like for Billy to be my Boyfriend, as he has freckles on his shoulders and his breath smells like bedsheets. When I met him he had mud on his trousers, and he thought I was an elf!

       Sadly this summer his Mother has also died, unexpectedly, in a highly tragic car accident. Her name was Angela, and she played the ukelele.

       Please write me back. I will from now on be living highly in anticipation for the day I receive a response. My heart! I can’t imagine... Although please do not be afraid to take longer than one month for me to hear back from you...I understand you are a very busy man, with many obligations. Most notably- tell me all about America! I would be very pleased to visit any one of your magnificent and lucrative American cities such as New York, or Nashville, Tenn. Hopefully you would like to write me about such topics as books, music, art, politics, etc. I am interested in all of these subjects, particularly literature. What is your favourite novel? Presently, mine is Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. Very racy.

       I am sending you my school picture though it is very old (one yr.) and my hair has grown much longer since, now far past my shoulders- everyone agrees it is nicer this way. I am Irish/Scottish in descent, though I have been told I am very Exotic-looking and am often mistaken for Italian. I am not wearing my glasses in this photo. They look neat on you but not very cute on me!

       My town is called Leeds, England, and it is in the North. It is UNBEARABLY far away from EVERYTHING, except Scotland. I have very few girlfriends at school on account of I find them impossible- Truly, I am cosmopolitan to the likes of which this town has never known. Can you tell, from this letter, that I am a writer? I hope you can see how I am clever- not to be too egocentric, self-aggrandizing, or boastful. I pray that you will think highly of me, and keep me in your thoughts, for you are always in mine. Please remember me, Buddy. I can tell from the lyrics to your songs such as “Not Fade Away” and “Well...All Right” and many more that we have very similar opinions as to the subject of Love. I am quite sure that if you met me, I may mean something to you. My absolute favourite, of course, is “Peggy Sue.”

       I found a book about Magic. The different Magics, and Myths, and all the different strange and uncanny mystical concepts and theological ideologies that other cultures abide by, such as Voodoo and Astrology. I discovered that in Jamaica, to fall in love, you must take a piece of your beloved’s hair quietly. Then bind it with a lock of your own, and place it in a paper bag. On the night of the New Moon, you put the packet in the river, and send it off, and this is how you make love. Unfortunately I do not have a lock of your hair, so I must send you a lock of mine, and I believe in my heart of hearts that you will perform this spell next new moon, and bewitch me.

       Because: I LOVE YOU. So if you believe in love, please believe in me. I will wait for you forever. I will sit here on the wooden floors of this boring bedroom, and I will wait. I will live and cry and write and die. My heart BLEEDS for you.

       So, please come and rescue me. Please get me out of here. I am wasting away and dying in this Godforsaken town, where nothing will ever change. The neighbours are GAUCHE. I need to see Italy and France and I wish I could go to the MOON if I could!!! I want to taste an avocado and drink Champagne and touch a ruby. Please, PLEASE rescue me from this terrible, horrific pain I feel at the moment. I will be your best friend, lover and MUSE. I am very beautiful and witty, and can promise you with one hundred percent certainty that loving me you would be the lark of my life.

Goodnight, Buddy Holly.

Laura Jane Faulds is a Toronto-based writer of French-Moroccan descent. She has written for Glamour, N.E.E.T and Maximum Rockandroll magazines, and blogs regularly for nogoodforme.com. Laura Jane is inspired by John Lennon, Brian Eno, sangria, and the sky.