This is the second in the series of secret letters I'm writing from dead people to my friends. Noah lives with Patrick, so hopefully these will show up on the same day. Yes, this is the same Noah famous for shitting in the sink at JoyBlue.

I tried to keep the Jamaican accent flourishes to minimum, but there are some. Sorry. It was necessary. Hopefully this is still readable. I managed to restrain myself from taking the H out of hospital.

Return Address:
Bob Marley
Jah's Divine Garden

Addressee:
Noah *******
**** * ******* *** **
Chicago, IL *****

Noah my friend,

Time has come and I write to share wit you some mystical connections we be sharin. Now I know you listen to my music. Lotta people been helped, healed, and guided by the sounds of Rastafari. You no different. But wit you, there's more. I tell ya in a pinch. First, I gotta tell you why.

I'm dead. You know dat. My assassins couldn't kill me wit a gun in 1976. My oppressors couldn't kill me wit hate through my whole life. But I got that mean old cancer, and he done me in come May 1981. Right around when you was born. I left the dirty Babylon and made me exodus to Jah's heaven, where I rest today.

The day Jah welcomed me, I was laid out in a Miami hospital. I tried to go home to Jamaica, but I never made it. So from there in Flordia I passed through the still waters to my spirit home. When the light shone and Jah took me in his arms, he whispered a few words.

"One day you must send a message. Another comes after you. Your soul twin. You must guide him. Later. Now, ascend with me. Welcome, my son. Enter my kingdom."

So I did.

Now I be jammin every day on clouds of ganja smoke, happy as a dreadlock in sunshine. I sing, dance, and rejoice. Some of them Tosh boys come up here to play backup. The kingdom is a great holy place, and the rewards of a Rasta life lived well are wit me forever. I be clean and smilin.

This morning Jah come visit me for a mighty big spliff, like he do every mornin. And he say the time be now.

He say, "Robert Nesta Marley, the time is now for you to send the message of hope, peace, and guidance. The time is now for you to send the message to your holy soul twin, the man I told you about on the day you came to Jah. Let me tell you about Noah *******."

So he did.

I learned all about you, and we gotta lot in common, we do. You and your darling Vicki love to smoke ganja and go play frisbee golf on Sunday mornin. I used to smoke ganja and go play football on Sundays. You call it soccer. I know from TV dat America has their own football game. I'm a big Green Bay Packers fan. Didja know that I got a toe injury from soccer, and that I never fixed it right up? It infected and I got cancer from it three years later. That's why I never lived past 36. Jah's will.

I also learned that you do buyin for a livin. Purchasing be the fancy word. I know a ting or two about buyin. Well, at least I did, until we started the Rasta religion and grew crop ourselves. You might be buying bulk gizmos and gadgets, but I'll bet you know a ting or two about getting good deals on them bright greens. Keep on smokin young man. Enlightenment be findin you soon now.

I know life may seem hard sometimes, and dat things get you down some days. I know how it be. I grew up in Trenchtown. Be strong. You gotta lotta joy to spread yet in Babylon, so you stay livin down there. One day you'll find your message, and a great prophet you will be. Jah's will.

Be good my soul brother. Let the Ragga and Rasta be your guides.

One love,
4:27 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm