Christmas letters

Every year, at Christmas time, we receive a couple of letters from friends. Snail mail letters. Sounds nice, right? Snail mail letters from friends. But, ya know the kind I’m talking about – the dreaded, preachy, braggy Christmas newsletters on festive stationery. These letters aren’t in any way, shape or form, personal. Just fluffy lists of the year’s accomplishments and perhaps a mention of a pet who had a date with a bumper. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and family and believe it or not, I get a good feeling reading those damn letters. A good, belly-laugh feeling, that is. And, I’ve got the belly for a good laugh.

One of those letters comes from a couple we’ve known for almost 40 years but haven’t seen for 16 years. We met in university. We drank cheap draft together when we should have been studying. They helped us “warm” our first place. We went to their wedding. We went to the cottage together and some of us learned how to waterski off the dock and one of us didn’t. But 16 years is a long time. I’m not even sure if we’d recognize them if we saw them on the street. I know I’ve changed a lot in 16 years, heck my hair isn’t even grey any more. We read their letters and wonder who they’re talking about because we can’t remember if Andrea is their daughter or daughter-in-law and if they have grandchildren we’ve forgotten. We do know they go to Florida in the winter but, whether or not they own a place down there is beyond us. Each year, we read the letter and I threaten to write one for our family. Actually, I have written one or two letters over the years, none of them mailed because I didn’t take the process seriously enough – or so I’ve been told. So, just for snicks, I’ve written a Christmas newsletter for this, my last column of 2010. Have a laugh and, if you’re a writer of “the family newsletter” remember to loosen up and have some fun.

Dear Friends and Family, Well, wasn’t 2010 an absolute laugh riot. Before the last dong of the United Church bell on January 1st, I’d decided to keep track of my family’s comings and goings to ensure you don’t miss a drop of it. I started the New Year by getting a divorce. No, I didn’t dump the LOML, I dumped my sisters. Okay, we’re officially estranged, but you remember them, The Coven. I FedEx’d corn brooms to them for Christmas and told them to take a hike. Haven’t heard from them since. Swept the old year out and rang the new year in. January was peaceful and by February we had cabin fever. Seriously, there’s only so much time a couple should spend together in a small house. So, in March, LOML and I decided upon a weekend in Hamilton and were there for The Round The Bay Race. Older than Boston, I understand but, it’s Hamilton. Now that’s a city you should put on your list of places to visit during the dreariest month of the year. The good news is LOML completed the 30-km run with a smile on his face and I managed to capture it with my camera in that 41 seconds when it wasn’t raining. I think I’ll consider running around The Bay, backwards, barefoot and with shinsplints next year, rather than try to find something entertaining to do in Hamilton while waiting for the race to finish. In April, we drove to Boston to attend the Boston Marathon, keeping in mind it isn’t as old as the Hamilton race. What can I say about the actual trip, ain’t nothing like 10 hours in the car with the one you love to test the relationship. The first three hours was punctuated with “did you pack the” and “did you turn off the” and “did you ask Aiden to”. It was a test, the drive. By the time we got to Boston we’d run out of conversation. Boston was terrific. Beautiful architecture. Friendly people. Fabulous public transportation. We drove home in good humour accompanied by great weather. But, it was still a 10-hour trip and that’s a challenge for two people who know who the better driver really is.

We rested up long enough to be lured into taking a trip with two friends. This time we headed to Chicago by plane from the Island Airport in Toronto. Please do shut up about the Island Airport. I didn’t have to spend $685 to park my car at Pearson. We landed at Midway and took the EL into the city, arriving in time for a murder-suicide at Macy’s (less than a block from our hotel). No, it wasn’t the couple we were travelling with who were the victims. Chicago was terrific. The trip through security on the way home wasn’t so terrific. By the time we got through all of the checks we were practically naked and most of our carry-on luggage looked like a teenager’s bedroom floor. There was much discussion about who shouldn’t have answered the security questions the way she did. By August we were ready for another adventure and on the hottest weekend of the summer we decided to cycle from Brockville to Picton. (And I thought being a passenger on a car trip was a test.) It was during that ride I learned “this is the last hill, honey” is really the biggest lie in the world. I don’t care what you’ve been told. And, “let’s do this, again, next year?”, is a dare. Like “I dare you not to throw those tire levers at me, sweetie”.

So, dear friends and family, with the exception of The Coven, 2010 was a year of discovery for us, here in the County. We discovered the importance of lots of personal space and are looking into separate vacations for 2011. Masking tape and Sharpies are on our list of marking-offone’s- domain must-haves.

Yup, if I were going to send a Christmas newsletter, I’d have some fun with it. Best wishes to all y’all from me and LOML. Now pass the tape, the marker and the eggnog.