Penpal Letters From C. Everett Koop

In 1986, I was a 4th grader attending John F. Kennedy Elementary School in Blackstone, MA. Our teacher had assigned us the task of writing a letter to any member of the U.S. Government. In this letter we had to explain why we chose to write to them.We also had to ask them a question about themselves, and include a post script.

Most kids in my class chose to write to President Reagan. I wrote my letter to Surgeon General C. Everett Koop.

I only wrote to the Surgeon General once, and in return, I received at least two letters per month for the next 21 years. I have decided to publish our one-sided correspondence in a segment I call:

PENPAL LETTERS FROM C. EVERETT KOOP.

The following was the first and only letter I wrote to the Surgeon General:


October 9, 1986

Dear Mr. Koop,

My name is Jeremy. I am 9 years old. I live in Blackstone. I chose to write to you because you don't want kids to smoke. Danny Rockwell smokes. He's bad. He is in the 7th grade. He ruined my fort. What does the C. in your name stand for?

Do you like the Celtics? When I grow up I want to be on the Celtics. Why do you wear Navy clothes? My uncle Pete is in the Navy. My grandfather was in the Navy.My cousin Scotty might join the Navy. My Dad was not in the Navy.

Your Friend,
Jeremy

P.S. What does the C. in your name stand for?


The following was the first letter I recieved from C. Everett Koop:

October 11, 1986

Dear Jeremy,

I am delighted that you chose to write to me. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that there's at least one kid smart enough to listen to this old fool from the sea. But seriously Jeremy, promise me you'll never smoke. Promise me!!!

And as far as that scumbag Danny Rockwell goes, you're right! If he smokes he is bad. And he damn well better stay the hell away from my new friend Jeremy. If not I'll pick him right up by his fuckin' throat with one hand and say 'listen punk, when you fuck with a navy man's buddy, you're fuckin' with the whole damn Navy.' And then I'll say 'whats the matter sissy... can't breathe? Hey, you're the smoker. Buy the ticket take the ride bitch'. Then I'll drop his ass. What you don't think I can do it?!?! I might be old, but you can't take the tough out of a Navy man!

Hey don't worry about that fort, man. I'm pretty handy, and I have a lot of tools. I'll fix it up for you. Make it better even.

I gotta admit it feels good to have a penpal again, buddy. It takes me back to my younger days. When I was at sea a lot of times, all I had to keep me going was a good lettter. Otherwise I'd go stir crazy and start fights. I broke this one fellers leg this one time, with this giant monkey wrench. He wasn't doing nothing wrong, I was just walking by him, and I guess he was a plumber onboard, and well, you know how it is when you see a big wrench. That's why it's good to have letters. Keeps the Koop out of trouble.

I used to get these HOT letters from this one gal named Louise Parker. Boy was she flexible. She was from New Orleans. I'd swing by to see her every now and then until she started saying that her daughter was mine. Buncha' horseshit. Kid didn't look nothing like me. And besides, the year that kid was born, I only went to see her once, and I brought this buddy of mine from the tatto parlor with me, and well, nevermind Jeremy. The point is, that kid aint mine. For Christsakes Jeremy, there's a roll of 8mm film floating around out there that can prove it.

Hey man, it was really great hearing from you, and keep those letters coming buddy. Like I say they keep the Koop out of trouble. And, oh yeah, the C. in my name stands for Cool.

Your Pal,
Cool Everett Koop