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Dear Family and Friends,
"I wonder," she says, "what people would say if you sent out the same Impersonal Christmas Form Letter two years in a row."
"Absolutely not!" I reply, "Absolutely against the rules. Almost as bad as not sending one out at all. Still—it's tempting."
Where, this year, can I turn for inspiration? How about our National leaders? I bet Dan Quayle writes one pip of an Impersonal Christmas Form Letter. "Dear Family and Friends: Things haven't changed much around here. Soviet foreign policy is still pretty much the same as it was under Breshnev. "
Or how about George Bush? "Dear family and friends: Things haven't changed much around here. Dan still thinks that Soviet foreign policy is pretty much the same as it was under Breshnev."
Things haven't changed much around here. Our Marxist offspring, Larry the Red, still thinks that American foreign policy is pretty much the same as it was under Lyndon Johnson.
Earlham College managed to keep him through the Winter, Spring, and Fall. He was sent home for the Summer and for the occasional protest march (Washington's only form of public festivity). As a reward for not destroying the 150 year-old institution, he gets to go back with a car. News of this decision was responsible for a 15% rise in the stock prices of rock-concert promoters.
When should a teenage mutant Marxist get a car?
Me: Winter of freshman year,
She: Never,
Average: Winter of Sophomore year.
The consulting business has never been better. The president of
Halff Resources has suckered convinced her primo
client to start a new venture destined to revolutionize the training
community with its off-the-shelf, high quality, customizable,
management training packages. The vice president of Halff Resources
is considering semi-retirement on the strength of this news. The
announcement of the venture was responsible for a 15% rise in the
stock prices of air carriers with routes between Washington and
Stamford.
What do you suppose Richard Nixon puts in his Christmas Cards. "My triumphal return to China this year reminded me of my triumphal exit from the White House in 1974."
I am reminded of my triumphal exit from the Unitarian Church's Board of Trustees. A plaque was mounted in the church office proclaiming, "On May 1, 1989, the Board of Trustees of the Unitarian Church of Arlington was returned to the state of trustworthiness." News of the event was responsible for a 15% fall in the stock prices of tranquilizer manufacturers.
"Well," she says, "have you thought about the Christmas letter."
"Yes," I grumble. "What I haven't thought of is what I'm going to say in it."
"So, don't say anything. We won't have a Christmas letter this year. After all, its already the fifteenth, and Christmas is on a Sunday, this year."
"I don't think you understand this Impersonal Christmas Form Letter business. Once you start, you can't stop, ever. You have to grind them out, year after year.
"I'll just have to make something up. I don't suppose you've kept any of your uncle's Christmas letters. We could always steal some of his old material. Maybe there's a book on the subject, say, Two Hundred and Fifty-Three Impersonal Christmas Form Letters. Maybe its even available on computer disk!"
No such luck. I'll just have to try to remember how other people like us did their letters. I'm sure that we must have gotten at least one of the kid-graduated-and-is-off-to-college-but-he's-back-home-for-Christmas-and-he's-making-life-awkward-for-us type of Christmas letter. How do they go now … . Larry graduated, to the great delight of all his relatives and to the greater delight of the staff of Yorktown High School. Earlham College (who received his transcript before the Free Speech Rebellion of 1987) has survived an entire term with him. He was sent home before Thanksgiving so that the college would have sufficient time to steel itself for a second term. He is home now with his R.E.M. CDs (compact disks, not certificates of deposit), his computer, and his 425 Chinese vocabulary cards. He can say "I'm studying Chinese," in Chinese to the staff in Chinese restaurants. He can understand their replies, sometimes, I think. He hasn't eaten meat since he got home, except for the time that he mistook Mongolian beef for family-style bean curd. We're thinking about Mongolian turkey for Christmas dinner.
Then there's the Wilbur-got-promoted-this-year-and-got-an-office-with-a-window letter. We can't write that kind of letter. Halff Resources' employees do not have career paths. Nancy did, however, get a big (really big) display for her Macintosh, and it goes quite nicely with her office window. We've paved the back yard, and every Thursday evening we point the screen out the window and put on a drive-in movie. We're hoping that ticket receipts will cover the cost of the equipment.
Then there's the George-and-Myrtle-vacationed-in the-West-this-year letter. Have you ever noticed how anonymous these Christmas letters are? You never see "George and I … ," or "Myrtle and I … ;" it's always "George and Myrtle … ." Do you suppose that George and Myrtle engage a family historian to give us an unbiased account of their year?
But I digress. The Georges and Myrtles of the Impersonal Christmas Form Letter set always seem to vacation in the West. True to the form, we vacationed in the West this year, but the name of our vacation place must remain secret. Some good friends of ours (you know who you are if it's you) love the place, and swear that the addition of even those few of you who might go there on our recommendation would spoil it forever. So let's just say Nancy and I vacationed this year in Bomumble Bay. Bomumble Bay is a neat place. For one thing, it has pelicans. For another, there is very little to do there. This characteristic of the place grated a bit on Nancy. There is nothing she likes better than planning all the stuff to do on vacation. In Bomumble Bay, there's nothing to do, so there's nothing to plan. The big decision of the day is whether to turn left or right out of the motel's driveway. To sum up, Bomumble Bay is a lazy pelican lover's paradise, and we hope you never find it so it will stay that way.
But it's Christmas, and we do hope yours is a merry one. So light candles, give gifts, sing, dance, pray, and let's all keep the spirit of the season going as long as we can.
"Villagers All" by Kenneth GrahamVillagers all, this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide,
Tough wind may follow, and snow beside,
Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours in the morning;Here we stand in the cold and sleet,
Blowing fingers and stamping feet,
Come from far away you to greet—
You by the fire and we in the street—
Bidding you joy in the morning!
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