Send me your Christmas reports
Occasionally some wit quips that Christmas letters are so, so droll. And I think I must truly be really, really weird for disagreeing.
I love those letters. Sure, they seldom are personal. Who has time for that? Generic is OK. Really. I don’t even mind the author writing about their part in the family epic in the third person.
I just enjoy the news, especially of their children. My generation is reaching the point where the news is interesting indeed. The kids are finishing high school, or college. They are athletes, scholars, artists and flush with achievement.
Yes, it does make you want to reply with lines like “Bubba finally got out of juvenile hall. He truly feels bad about that fire ” well, at least we’re pretty sure we believe him this time ” and the preacher’s daughter and cat and all. Sadly, though, he’s gaining all that weight back.”
You have to read between the lines. Like scrutinizing a resume for clues to what’s really going on. Not that you really want to know. The achievements, the trips to Grandma’s, the new jobs. That’s the stuff.
We write our annual letter, too. You haven’t received yours? Well, I didn’t say we actually send it. Must be the ADD.
We’ve written some classics, too. I write ” way too long. Mary deletes the parts about “Bubba,” no one needs to know about THAT. And rewrites from her perspective.
It’s been so long since we’ve actually sent one of these holiday masterpieces out that I’m pretty sure most folks don’t even realize we’ve moved to Colorado a mere six years ago. Well, OK, I’m kidding there. Most figure that we’ve moved on and just not told them yet. We used to move a lot, back when we sent letters ” if mainly to provide a new address for everyone to send us their Christmas accountings.