Mail Bonding, and Occasionally Bashing : Lately I’ve received letters on such subjects as UFOs, gun control, Buddhism, school vouchers, euthanasia, politically correct language and the Denny beating

Monica (Nicki) Ganz of West Hills writes:

I am so excited that you are coming to help me celebrate my ninth birthday. I can’t wait to see you at my party.

I am asking all of my friends not to bring me any presents. After watching all of the fires that have taken away so much from people, I feel that I have all that I need. So I am asking that instead of bringing me a gift, that you bring something for the fire victims. As you know they have nothing left. So anything would be great like clothes, kitchen items, towels, blankets, pillows, flashlights, etc. All items will be turned over to the fire relief people . . . .

I wish I could say that Nicki, a fourth-grader at Pomelo Drive Elementary School, sent this letter to me personally, but she didn’t. It was sent to the son of a colleague, who passed it my way.

Just thought you’d like to see it.

My correspondents, on the other hand, tend to be grown-ups. They are therefore more contentious than content. Lately I’ve received letters on such subjects as UFOs, gun control, Buddhism, school vouchers, euthanasia, politically correct language and the Denny beating trial.

I also received a call from a man who, upon reading about the theft of my Halloween candy many moons ago, wanted to confess to the crime.

He identified himself as Bubba Trevor. Naturally, I asked Bubba if he was calling from prison.

“No,” Bubba said, “I’m calling from my law office.”

Should have known.

From Bubba, we go to Buddha.

A few readers, indeed, wished to comment on a story about the night my old Mazda broke down in east Hollywood and a young man named Edwin came to my rescue in a bikini bar, offering both jumper cables and an invitation to a Nichiren Shoshu Buddhist temple.

I had recalled this episode because Buddhism had been unfairly characterized in a Daily News article reporting police speculation that a notorious burglar’s meditative powers would somehow assist him in his nefarious deeds.

A. Moran of Agoura writes:

As soon as I read . . . of your “Chants Encounter,” I stopped breakfast to check the medicine cabinet for my “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo” card. It was there! I am not aware of why I retained it all of 20 years, all yellow and bent. It was given to me by a young lady . . . . Never knew the translation of it.

How’s this for karma: On the same day that A. Moran wrote this letter, it happened that Ann Parsons of North Hollywood, a member of the Buddhist sect that practices this chant, wrote in with the translation.

Nam Myoho Renge Kyo means “I devote myself to the Mystic Law through Sound,” Parsons writes. “We chant this, understanding that all life and the universe is interconnected, understanding the great Law of Cause and Effect on all life including our own.”

Laura Forman of Sherman Oaks writes from the perspective of both a Buddhist and a burglary victim.

The police conjecture that he uses his powerful spiritual discipline to rob houses and silence dogs is pretty amusing, Forman writes. . . . My house was one of the ones burglarized by this guy. He took my purse, my wallet, my checkbook and my keys. Also my Nichiren Shoshu prayer book and beads.

The police said he left perfect fingerprints on my windowsill . . . . I think some of the many benefits of Buddhist practice are the development of a refined feel for irony.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the mail slot . . .

Mike Ferguson of Los Angeles writes:

When we spoke on the phone, you were planning a second column about PC-speak. In today’s paper, you said you had sought the advice and counsel of Johnny Walker Black after the editors killed a column. A good traditional newsman’s response!

Could the suddenly dead column have been the second PC piece? Was the “yeoperson” (and the like) too much for the limousine liberals who run The Times?

This isn’t the first time a reader has made this mistake.

The slain column to which Ferguson refers was written by Ron Harris, not me. So it’s not my place to comment on its death.

These matters of mistaken identity are, of course, a humbling experience.

But I prefer to perceive progress.

After all, it’s been weeks since I got mail meant for Street Smart.