Merry Christmas 2009

Here is our annual Christmas letter, just slightly early this year. I have noticed over the last few years that the number of family Christmas letters we receive has fallen off a little, and I really don't know why? Of course, I'm surprised when we get cards or letters from anyone at all.

Hello Friends,
With another year having evaded us we know you are all anxious to hear what direction our lives have taken, which frankly—if true—does not speak very highly of any of you. So put down your US magazines because we bring Christmas Greetings from the swamp of banality here in America’s heartlands.

While many of you may be misled by the opulence of our daily lives we actually have very simple existence. Mary Ann still trudges in to St. Pius to lead the Advancement Team which in turn struggles to lead the Board, Principal and interested Alums into the 21st Century, often with mixed results. In the last year, fund raising has lagged in priority as Mary Ann has become increasingly responsible for cleaning toilets and setting up folding tables. She does a wonderful job, attacking each fecal-encrusted American-Standard with the same credo that took her to these heights: “Any job worth doing is worth doing right!” Pity the poor fat-ass who fouls the faculty toilet if she ever finds out who it is.

As the business has sufficiently deteriorated, LSG felt comfortable leaving Bob in charge of the shop and promoted their manager out of Kansas City. Awash in a sea of dark-ages European accounting and ever-deepening governmental regulations he once again suffers with accountability. Not unlike the President, he spends money he doesn’t have doing things the owners really don’t want done. But unlike the President, he knows that Lufthansa may eventually come to their senses and demand their keys be returned. Other than listening to everyone’s problems and working weekends, the steady stream of government inspectors and arrogant customers have created an ideal work environment. Part of life is a daily mantra just to be thankful to be working, but hardly anyone believes this who has been in any part of the airline industry.

Katie has fared somewhat better. No, she still baby sits both in a physician’s office and at the local Methodist church, but she is alive. In January, only months after having found a car with which she was truly in love, she was forced off a freeway onto the icy shoulder. Losing control on the ice she careened back across all three lanes of I-635 facing back the wrong way as she came to rest on the center barrier with her beloved chariot in ruins. “It gave its life for me,” she intoned. She acquired another car, lost fifteen pounds, joined a gym and continues to not cook, feeding mostly on crap from fast-food emporiums.

Liz and family have enjoyed the usual trappings of youth: childhood sicknesses, squabbles, injuries, etc., but the real highlight of their year came in October when Brett’s company suddenly terminated his job. Having been recruited to this company by a fellow member of the parish less than a year prior, Brett was repaid by having his insurance immediately cut off. Once the shock subsided he secured work as a limo driver. As usual, and true to life, he says lawyers are the worst tippers. Their kids are fine: Robbie is all about sports; Annie is all about being a Princess; Stevie is all about having a driveway on which to pee.

In spite of protests from the Governor and tourism office, we all went back to Colorado for our week in the mountains. It was a great week, but this year we were visited by bears raiding nearby trash containers at night. Mary Ann thought it great fun to have them around, and one even strolled past her in downtown Estes Park. Bob thought it more prudent to not stand on the deck at night, take their pictures and otherwise attract the bears’ attention as they have a limited sense of humor. We did not have the food of kings in our cabin, but bears are happy to eat crap too. Steve gleefully acquired and used a Whoopee cushion which finally split open from fatigue. He tearfully told everyone he would never, ever have another one.

Just this once, we approached the lives of real people when Mary Ann was notified she had been nominated for – and won – a civic award in the memory of Anne Robb Townsend, an honor to which she replied a gracious “Yeah, OK” to Guy Townsend when he called. With something akin to Cousin Eddie visiting the Griswold home, the whole family was invited to the River Club for the presentation ceremony wherein we were treated to drink from clean glasses and sit on unstained furniture. The River Club, we noticed, had an armed guard at the door ostensibly employed to deny entrance to people like us.

Apparently Mary Ann’s dedication, stamina and help from heavy-hitting seniors iced her win. We’d like to say the award changed her life, and it did in that her peers perceived her somehow able to clean more toilets than ever before. Mary Ann’s photo will be in At Home in the Northland, but few we know will see it as this magazine is distributed only to elegant households earning $200,000 annually and up. Of course that means we won’t see it either.

With Brett still out of work, uncertainty in the airline business, and the unbroken line of foul toilets into the horizon it has been a challenging year. We are too young to retire, too useless to find other work and pretty much unmotivated as well. So it’s good to get our letter out first this year before we receive the news from all those untouched by the stench of life that we know so well--and to which we always feel obligated to mockingly reply. With people all around us turning 60--and up—now we have to worry about ear hair and varicose veins. It isn’t looking good for us right now, but hell, it never looked good anyway, so Merry Christmas. Now let’s go take our country back!