Dear Mr. Hutcherson,
May I call you Josh? I realize it may be brazen but considering I am (just barely) old enough to be your mother and I still feel like spring of 1992 and hanging out at MTV Spring Break in Daytona was just a couple of weeks ago a more personal address may be appropriate. There is also the fact that I feel as if I know you since your face seems to be plastered on every electronic screen in my home, plus the posters… oh the posters.
Josh, I find that there are a few things that I need to say to you. First, I truly appreciate you. You see, my daughter is so infatuated with you she doesn’t really notice the eleven-year old boy who is constantly calling my house and riding by on his bike. She totally misses all the boys standing outside our home on nights like Halloween. She’s too busy waiting to see if you post something on Instagram or pop up on television. You provide a wholesome image for her to admire from afar. Please, don’t let that change. Please be the good boy that I and lots of other mothers of tweens need you to be.
I love that you are proud of Kentucky. Even though my kids weren’t born there, they call Kentucky home. They drink their tea sweet. They know how to get dirty and how to clean up. Most important, their blood runs blue. Please don’t let California take that away from you. Everybody craves dirt roads and rolling hills every now and then. There’s nothing wrong with wasting an afternoon with a fishing pole in your hand especially if it comes with a basket full of fried chicken and you had to get where you’re going in four wheel drive. I’m pretty sure the good people of California don’t know the effective use of bacon with potatoes or greens for that matter. Don’t get me wrong, I love the fresh food and beaches but Kentucky… well there’s just something about going home and basketball. Don’t forget basketball!
I want to thank you for caring about your many, many fans. You made my daughter’s day by commenting on her Instagram post. One comment that probably took you less than 10 seconds meant the world to her and her sister and her friends. You might as well have given them all a big old hug. You have been the talk of the town for days. Keep it up! Just so you know, she wrote a letter. It’s coming in your fan mail. Please respond, preferably before we move in June. My little military brat will need something to cling to when we go through big changes in the coming months. I’m pretty sure a brief letter from you or you PR team that she thinks is you will be just the ticket.
I hope you realize that you are developing adult fans too. My husband and I stayed up last night to watch you on Leno. We needed to see what all the fuss is about. You had my husband at ’69 Camaro. You had me when you realized a car was too much so you traded it in. I remember when my husband realized that his motorcycle, much as he adored it, was close to getting him killed. Of course it involved a little old lady, topping one of those Kentucky hills and a near death experience. I am wondering what did for you… a near death experience or your mama. I’m good either way. You’re pitching arm… I think we need proof of the 75 mph pitch. I know Peeta could do it with all that flour throwing but um the video…I’ll stop now.
All that to just say thank you. Thank you for providing my daughter with something unattainable that will hopefully keep her mind off the boys right under her nose for a good long while. Thank you for clearly loving your family. Thank you for showing your home state a little love. Thank you for using your manners and displaying wonderful hospitable behaviors. Thanks Josh Hutcherson for being you and Peeta and staying away from my daughter to truly loves you.