Resolve NOT to do this next year

New Year's is a time for musing

                When Mom was alive, relatives from Kansas, Arizona, Colorado, Virginia, and Texas sent out Christmas Letters detailing the main activities and changes during that year.

                But later, it seemed Christmas letters got a bad rap--like fruitcake. For a long time, I couldn’t see all the fuss over family letters. But one year, I received three. And then, I knew.

                One such missive, tucked inside the first card of the season—a Caspari (NY, Zurich) detail from George Hallowell’s “Trees in Winter,” whose purchase benefited the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston—came December the first.

                It was from a person I’d never met except by telephone and video tape for half of a joint presentation at a regional meeting of writers. When the intro for our 30-minute time slot contained six pages, I shouldn’t have been surprised at the letter.

                It contained 102 lines, single spaced, back and front of a regular sheet. The first 21 lines touted a new book and asked for help in publicizing it.

                The next 33 lines were divided into five paragraphs beginning this way: “I have continued to be active in …,” “I continue my grateful payback to …,” “I continue to exercise six days a week.” “I have enjoyed collecting . . .,” and “I have accepted a position on the board of …,”

                On the back side, the “I” rut cut deeper. “I continue to be involved in the world of …,” and gives the titles of two papers presented during the year.

                The next 40 lines summarized activities—with a spouse of 20 years, their Christmas tree decorations, “all in Star Wars, Star Trek, and NASA ornaments, which would be featured in a major city newspaper.

                The ending asked us again to plug the new publication. A handwritten note ended the letter asking me to be happy in the new endeavor.

                TMI! TMI! Don't do such next year, please!

                The second letter I received that same year began a third of the way down the page topped with a Christmas scene, brought us up-to-date on her mother’s health, their three children/grandchildren and themselves—all in 20 lines. I was glad to hear from this family who’d moved south after all our kids grew up together.

                The third letter, nine lines long, was from a sister who lived and worked in Virginia. They had fostered many children before adopting three. The news involved each member of the family, plus Sis’s church job.

                If all Christmas letters read like hers, no one could fault the practice. Curmudgeons could then disparage the ubiquitous canned Christmas music beginning before Halloween—as well as fruitcake.

        

c 2018, PL, dba lovepat press, Benton AR.