The first batch of annual letters arrived today! Oh. Joy. These are letters we get from people during Christmas that informs us how their life has been for the past year. The letters come written on paper with green and red Christmas symbols along the borders. In some of these letters modesty is abandoned and accomplishments are flaunted in print – confirmation of can-do people with great parenting skills:
“Brendon put out a big fire at the orphanage while the Fire Department watched him in awe, solved a murder case for the police and also won a scholarship for $100,000 to two universities—his choice. To demonstrate aptitude he did his college applications in Latin! He is such a funny kid.” The letter might go on to add that Brendon has a knack for finances and that Wall Street would be lucky to have him. How he achieves so much is a wonder and, yes, he is still helping at the Children’s Burn Center in his spare time on Saturdays.
Jack and Sybil love both of their new cars and the Resmonds were so struck by Germany they could have stayed longer than four weeks.
What lives! No one is sick, forgot an anniversary or suffered lower back pain. Occasionally some reality seeps in between the lines. “Alex is developing into a mature kid and his new friends are helping.” This tepid reference could mean Alex did something bad and is now serving time under armed guard.
Such accomplishments are hard on normal people like you and I. We love our children but daily joy is not what they always bring us. A teenager goes through periods of revulsion for those that love them by slamming doors, mumbled replies and glaring stares. If you ask them how they feel or you just say hello their eyes roll in their head. They say things like “I hate this place.” and “Todd’s parents got him a new car, wish I was him,” which makes you wince like you just stepped on broken glass barefooted. You’ve skipped vacations and heart surgery to buy a used car for the irritated teenager. You’ve done your best and it does not seem to be producing stellar results or gratitude.
You’re just you, a laborer in girded loins toiling in the salt mines humming “Sixteen Tons”. You pay the light bill and hope the furnace does not die.
Reality is stark and unpretentious. My letter is a lot simpler.
“Dear Reader. This year has seen me grow older and wiser. I lost some friends and made some new ones, still have a great job and decided to try something new-- writing. I write a weekly column and by the grace of God the newspaper is still carrying it, almost a year now.
Our son will reach the end of High School this year and we have been helping with the college application process. This is his last Christmas with us as our “kid”. Next year he will be a young man making his way into the world. The nest will be empty.
My wife and I are also grandparents and get to spoil three little girls then hand them back to their parents and smile-- smiles of revenge!
I would write more but there are chores to do—take out the trash, mail some bills and untangle the Christmas tree lights before putting them on the tree.
Our house is warm and there is food on the table. We are as healthy as could be expected right now and I hope to plant some azaleas beside the house come spring.
I hope you are alright. God bless.”
“Brendon put out a big fire at the orphanage while the Fire Department watched him in awe, solved a murder case for the police and also won a scholarship for $100,000 to two universities—his choice. To demonstrate aptitude he did his college applications in Latin! He is such a funny kid.” The letter might go on to add that Brendon has a knack for finances and that Wall Street would be lucky to have him. How he achieves so much is a wonder and, yes, he is still helping at the Children’s Burn Center in his spare time on Saturdays.
Jack and Sybil love both of their new cars and the Resmonds were so struck by Germany they could have stayed longer than four weeks.
What lives! No one is sick, forgot an anniversary or suffered lower back pain. Occasionally some reality seeps in between the lines. “Alex is developing into a mature kid and his new friends are helping.” This tepid reference could mean Alex did something bad and is now serving time under armed guard.
Such accomplishments are hard on normal people like you and I. We love our children but daily joy is not what they always bring us. A teenager goes through periods of revulsion for those that love them by slamming doors, mumbled replies and glaring stares. If you ask them how they feel or you just say hello their eyes roll in their head. They say things like “I hate this place.” and “Todd’s parents got him a new car, wish I was him,” which makes you wince like you just stepped on broken glass barefooted. You’ve skipped vacations and heart surgery to buy a used car for the irritated teenager. You’ve done your best and it does not seem to be producing stellar results or gratitude.
You’re just you, a laborer in girded loins toiling in the salt mines humming “Sixteen Tons”. You pay the light bill and hope the furnace does not die.
Reality is stark and unpretentious. My letter is a lot simpler.
“Dear Reader. This year has seen me grow older and wiser. I lost some friends and made some new ones, still have a great job and decided to try something new-- writing. I write a weekly column and by the grace of God the newspaper is still carrying it, almost a year now.
Our son will reach the end of High School this year and we have been helping with the college application process. This is his last Christmas with us as our “kid”. Next year he will be a young man making his way into the world. The nest will be empty.
My wife and I are also grandparents and get to spoil three little girls then hand them back to their parents and smile-- smiles of revenge!
I would write more but there are chores to do—take out the trash, mail some bills and untangle the Christmas tree lights before putting them on the tree.
Our house is warm and there is food on the table. We are as healthy as could be expected right now and I hope to plant some azaleas beside the house come spring.
I hope you are alright. God bless.”
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